Read Larger Than Life (Novella) for Free Online Page B

year at least once, looking for my grandmother.”
    “That’s amazing!”
    “It was amazing when he was tiny. It was terrifying when he was a ten-thousand-pound
     bull.”
    I watch him open the jar. “You just happened to have coconut oil lying around?”
    “No. One of the other rangers, his wife uses it in her hair. He keeps a jar here for
     her.”
    The elephant struggles to her feet, bumping against Neo as he stands at the sink.
     He dips his fingers into the coconut oil and slips them into her mouth; I hear her
     slurping. I realize that he is no longer wearing his bandage. The scrapes on his hand
     are red and raw, but they are already healing.
    “If you want to help,” he suggests, “you can clean up a bit. No offense, but this
     place looks like a sty.”
    I open my mouth to argue but realize he is joking. Neo’s strong hand supports the
     elephant as she greedily devours this new cocktail. “Don’t worry, little miss,” he
     croons. “We’ll figure this out.”
    Suddenly, my eyes are swimming with tears. I think of Anya, whispering about me to
     the other researchers. Of my former boss, yelling as he said there was no place for
     me at Madikwe. Of the injured calf I sat with all night there, whose last breath rattledthrough me like a shiver. Of his mother, who abandoned him.
    Neo tilts his head, a silent question.
    “We,” I repeat. My voice breaks on the rocks of relief. “You said
we
.”

    When the door of my cottage flies open at 5:00 A.M . the calf is sleeping on Neo’s lap and I am sprawled facedown on the bed.
    My eyes are gritty from lack of sleep, and my mouth is dry as bone. I squint at the
     doorway, at the silhouette framed by the blaze of the early sun, but it isn’t until
     Grant starts yelling at me that I realize the figure standing before me is my boss.
     “Good God,” he says, staring at the calf. “I thought Anya was crazy when she told
     me what she’d heard. What the hell are you thinking, Alice?”
    His booming accusation wakes the calf, who pulls on the hem of my shirt as I scramble
     upright. “Grant, hear me out. She’s a newborn. Her mother was slaughtered by poachers.
     She was going to die if I didn’t do something.”
    “Exactly. You’re here to observe nature, not to change it.”
    As Grant’s voice escalates in volume, the calf leans against my hip as if she is giving
     moral support, or maybe because she needs it. “If she’d been shot and was suffering,
     we’d be allowed to call in someone from the wildlife department to put her out of
     her misery. So why shouldn’t we be allowed to intervene to save her if the opportunity
     presents itself?”
    But Grant is hardly listening to my impassioned rant. He has folded his arms and is
     frowning at Neo, who looks like he’s trying to sink through the floorboards.
    For a man who came here unannounced last night and took charge—briskly mixing up a
     concoction that actually nourished the calf, rolling up the soiled blankets and sheets
     and setting them out back to be washed—Neo seems to be suddenly, surprisingly timid.
     Like he could make himself invisible if he tried hard enough.
    Then I realize why: Neo knows he doesn’t belong in the cottage of a researcher. Fraternization
     between the rangers and the researchers simply doesn’t occur. It is why the rangers
     have their own village; it is why we never invite Neo or the others to join us forcards or a bottle of wine. It is why they are expected to get up and scout the reserve
     at 3:30 A.M. while we sleep in till 5:00. We are the foreigners, and they are locals.
     We have PhDs and book knowledge; they have grown up tracking animals from remarkable
     distances and surviving in the bush. True, we are all part of the same team, but there
     are invisible lines between us, and they are not meant to be crossed.
    “Neo,” Grant says tightly. “I expected more from you.”
    I bite my lip. It is one thing for Grant to reprimand me, but I can’t stand the