Because He Was A King

Ann stood and looked at the ape. He was growing old, his black pelt flecked with snowy touches of grey and so thin in places she could see the skin beneath; even his posture betrayed it, his back curved forwards, his arms hanging heavily off his slumped shoulders, his head drooping down, staring at the floor. Did he know she was there? Once those great nostrils could tell her a mile off, felt like they were consuming her whole essence when they flared wide. Now they only flexed with the effort of breathing; slow, massive, exhausting breaths. She did not go up to him, she just stood by the door and watched him. Watched him breath.

'I'm dropping evenings.'
'You can't!'
'I have to babe. We don't get enough in to pay rent on the hall. Rock n' Roll bands, that's what the people want. The ape is ... family entertainment. Small kids. Grandmas. Matinee stuff.'
'What days?'
'Saturday and Sunday, maybe extra in the school holidays.'
'Two days a week!'
'And school holidays.'
'That won't cover his upkeep.'
'You said yourself he can't take the pace.'
'Carl, don't pretend your doing this for his benefit. I know you too well.'
“Babe ...'

The kids weren't scared any more. After the shows they threw stones from within range of his arms. The braver ones ran right up to the cage and tugged on his coat, a few even pulled a hair out and got away with a souvenir. A growl would scatter them like pigeons but they always came back and these days he tolerated the abuse. You could see it in his eyes, that powerlessness. It was a particular cruelty.

'John.'
'Ann? Jesus! I haven't heard from you in ages. How are you?'
'I'm good. I'm fine. How are you?'
'I'm good. How's ...?'
'Old.'
'You said last time.'
'Well worse now. John, Carl's up to something.'
'Like what?'
'I don't know. But he's dropped us to two afternoons a week when he knows that won't pay the bills, and yesterday I overheard him on the phone booking concert venues. He can't tour John, it'd kill him. He hates trains, and you know how cars frighten him and there are so many of them around these days and they're so much faster than they used to be. And Carl mentioned New York. New York would kill him John. You know it would.'
'Shh ... It can't be a tour. The last time you toured it lost money, and Carl never did anything except there was a buck in it.'
'Well he's up to something John. I know it.'
'Have you asked him.'
'We both know that'd do no good.'
'You should get away from him Ann.'
'Carl's not why I'm here.'
'I know.'

He had an open sore on the back of his right ankle that would not heal. They couldn't afford proper salve for it, and he ripped off the bandages. Ann gently ran buckets of salt-water over it every evening, turning away as he winced. The matinee shows were not the hit they needed to be. They talked about changing the routine but everything cost money; bands, sets, dancers, other animals. They were reduced to the same old schtick, Carl telling the story while she pranced about in greasepaint and a silk dress, pretending to be twenty-one again. At least He still roared on cue. He'd always done that, and the audience still loved him for it.

'Carl, are you planning a tour?'
'A what?'
'A tour, Carl. Are you planning a tour? Because I overheard you booking venues the other day.'
'What … that was … that was something else entirely Ann, a different project. I told you I'm getting in to rock n' roll. It's going to be big. That was … that. I wouldn't tour you. I couldn't tour you, it costs too much. The trucks, the trains, the locations, the food. Jesus Ann, you know how much it costs to feed him here, imagine how much it would cost to truck that in to a different location every week.'
'Carl, do you remember the reservation?'
'The reservation? What's got you thinking of that again.'
'Oh nothing.'
'Are you okay babe?'
'Yeah Carl, I'm fine.'

The food composted and stank in the corner of the cage. Carl got it cheap, out of date stock from local supermarkets. Sometimes there wasn't enough, and sometimes there was too much and it rotted before he ate it. She stroked his finger while the men manacled him into the chains, a stipulation of their licence. The chains were hollow these days, the old solid chrome steel ones - rusting in a pile outside - were too heavy for him to lift. That afternoon she missed her mark by a yard and saw it, saw the cattle prod into the ankle that made him roar on cue. Saw those big black eyes fix on her, fix on her alone in the entire theatre.

'John.'
'Ann, are you okay? What time is it?'
'I'm sorry John. I just needed to talk to someone.'
'What is it?'
'Did I wake you?'
'No ... Yes. It doesn't matter. What is it?'
'Do you remember the reservation John?'
'Of course.'
'A place of his own, you know, just to be in, to be him in, you understand?'
'Of course I understand.'
'We did everything we could, didn't we?'
'It was too much to ask Ann. You know that. Too much land. Too much money.'
'I know.'
'You okay?'
'Just upset, you know. I'm sorry I bothered you.'
'Any time Ann, you know that. And anyway, since you did ...'
'What?'
'I asked around, and you remember that millionaire. The one who wanted to stage a fight?'
'With the T-Rex.'
'Yes, him. He's mounting another expedition.'
'But they all die. They all died. The dinosaurs all die on the ships.'
'Another's been spotted and it looks like he might get it. He's refitted an oil tanker, put in massive heat lamps, got any number of experts with him. He might do it.'
'But Carl wouldn't. He couldn't.'
'You know as well as I, there's nothing Carl wouldn't do.'
'Oh Jesus John.'
'I know.'
'He's so old John. He's so old.'

She let him hold her like old times, cushioned in his palm, her head resting on the thumb of his knuckle. Always like this she felt perfectly safe, the world could end but the strength of his arm would save her. He rested with his head on the floor, just looking at her, and she just looking at him. The world could end and she would not care, safe within his infinitely gentle, infinitely powerful grip.

Carl came in to the cage.

'Ann. Ann, I've just had John on the phone. John Driscol. He told me what he told you.'

She didn't answer, just stared into those huge black eyes.

'I'm losing money Ann, and I'm in debt. In a lot of debt.'

She ran her hand over the cuticle of his thumbnail and kissed him gently on his leathery skin.

'This guy outmanoeuvred me. He went to my creditors first with the deal and now I've got no choice. The tour will be short, just the big cities. Drum up interest. It'll be his last hurrah. After that we can retire him, maybe get him that reservation you always wanted. We'll try again with the publicity, take donations, people are wealthier these days.'

If she asked him to he would do it. If she was there, if she watched, he would fight a T-Rex. Even in the shape he was these days he would do it. He would do it for her. Because he loved her.

'It could be the best thing for him Ann. Even ... you know ... even if it doesn't go well.'

Because he loved her. And because she loved him.