Room with Pink Elephant

By F C Zeri

Entered into the ORB’s HT25 Short Fiction Prize, judged by Tao Lin.

It was sudden. One day I moved in into my first adult flat. Although flat was a generous word, being it more of a dimly-lit half-underground studio where everything, living room, kitchen, bedroom, had been collapsed into a single square space. A room of my own. Perfect for an aspiring artist. The next day, as I was overcooking my pasta, I turned around to lay the table — one fork, one knife, one glass — and poof, the elephant was there. I blinked. I didn’t know how she got in. The door wasn’t damaged. The walls were still intact. The elephant was taking up the entirety of the room. She was asleep. As I stared at her, my pasta melted in the boiling water.

*

The morning after, I woke up, and she was still there. I ruled out the hypothesis of a hallucination and just sat next to her. She was bright pink from head to toe. Before her, I didn’t think pink elephants existed.

*

First I told my mother.

-There’s a pink elephant in my room.

-Nice joke, honey. Want more spinach?

*

One morning she woke up and she was hungry. She didn’t need to tell me she was. I just knew it. I googled what was that an elephant ate. About 100kg of grass per day. That is a lot, I thought. I bought her some carrots and cabbage but it didn’t seem to be enough.

*

Then I told my father.

-There is a pink elephant in my room. She moved there last month. I don’t know how she got in. She is not leaving.

He grunted.

-Have you told your manager?

-Why should I tell my manager?

-No, I’m saying you shouldn’t tell your manager. You don’t want to get fired.

-Why should I get fired?

-Well, if you don’t tell him, you won’t get fired.

*

-Now that you have a flat, can you host me on Fridays? Before the work conference.

I blinked, remembering my father’s advice.

-Sorry, I have someone over.

It was the truth, wasn’t it?

*

I had a party in my flat with friends, to celebrate my birthday. Of all my friends, I was the last to complete the ceremonies of adulthood. Still working at the same low-entry part-time job, still perpetually single but at least no longer living in uni dormitories while trying to make my art career work. They bought me bottles of red wine which I sipped, hoping I had my usual pint instead. None of them mentioned the pink elephant. I decided to play a game and stay quiet about it, seeing who would have broken first. Nobody did. My friends sat on the elephant’s back, stomped on her legs and spilt wine on her skin as if nothing was there. A couple of them wounded her inadvertently. Elephants are supposed to have thick skin, but this one didn’t. She started bleeding, but she didn’t move. As if she was waiting for my permission. After the party, I headed down to the closest Boots to buy medication. I didn’t know what to ask the shopping assistant. How do you heal elephant wounds?

*

To test a theory, I booked a hotel. When I woke up the next morning, the elephant was there.

*

I went to a coffee shop with a friend a few months later and decided to mention it.

-Oh. Okay. I didn’t want to say anything, but I had a feeling. Thanks for trusting me with this.

-Do you think others noticed?

-I don’t think so, darling. Anyway, you shouldn’t worry too much about it. Hey, do you want to order mimosas?

There was still dried elephant blood on my floor. I didn’t know how to scrub it off.

*

The elephant was perishing. I noticed it when I looked in my mirror and saw myself also perishing.

-Are you eating enough?

-Yes, I am.

Then, it dawned on me: the elephant was not. I started thinking about practicalities. Could I afford such a huge amount of grass and vegetables per day? I did some Internet research and found a big supermarket chain nearby that was getting rid of excess vegetables every evening. Reluctantly, I started spending a good portion of my not-very-good salary on elephant food. Now every evening after work, instead of going straight home and enjoying a TV show or a drink with friends, I had to drive 100kg of nutrition to my elephant. Every time I fed her, she looked at me with big unblinking eyes and I wondered if, somewhere in there, gratitude was buried.

*

Once, I brought a girl back to my flat. Of course, I was interested in her. She had a long black dress and unruly hair, that you could get lost inside. Then, I was also interested in seeing how she would react to the elephant. I opened the door of the flat and gestured at the room, in trepidation.

-That’s a lovely flat — she said.

-Can I offer you some wine?

She sat on my small kitchen table as I poured the glasses. As if on command, the elephant played her trumpet. The girl didn’t react.

-Thank you — she stared at the glass, and then at me. I wanted to turn around her and scream that there was a pink elephant staring at us. Instead, I started fidgeting with the zipper of her dress.

*

-Would you mind switching to another store for a few days? They really need someone extra at back stock.

-Sorry, I can’t. I can’t handle the extra commute.

-Oh, yeah. You mentioned not feeling well. How long has this cold been going on? You should get yourself checked.

I’d rather not, I thought.

*

Sometimes, in the mornings, I sat down next to her and watched her eat her vegetables. She was slow and methodical. Sometimes, in the evenings, I placed my hand on her back and she gave me a low rumble. Touching her felt like diving into wrinkles.

*

-So, we actually do think you’re an interesting candidate. However, would you be able to work evenings too?

-Sorry. I can’t.

-Oh, any particular reasons?

-Health conditions.

-Could you get us a certificate for that?

-I’ll see what I can do.

*

My GP eyed me weirdly.

-What do you mean, an elephant?

-I mean, there’s a pink elephant in my living room.

-Can you elaborate?

-It’s been living there for the last few months. It’s a pink elephant, I don’t know what else to say. Could you give me a certificate? They’ve been asking for it. I’m trying to get a better job. Kickstart my adult life, which is hard to do on a zero-hours contract. But since I have to take care of the elephants, I have weird hours and weird habits, and I’d need a certificate.

-About the elephant.

-No, ideally I wouldn’t want the elephant mentioned. I don’t exactly want people to know I live with a pink elephant. Who knows what they’d think?

-That’s good. That’s good. That’s a good symptom.

-Is it?

-Yeah. It means you’re committed to getting rid of it. I’ll make you a certificate for generic depressive disorder and I’ll see you in a few months, okay?

-And what should I do in the meantime with the elephant?

-Try to live as usual.

*

Before the elephant, I had hobbies. Now, I had the elephant. And I still had my hobbies. Yet now, when I watched TV, when I read a book, when I listened to a song, all I could think was that these people had no idea what it felt like to have a pink elephant camping in your living room, eating your food and your time and your life. I also thought how they didn’t know how beautiful it could be - to lay my forehead on her forehead and fall asleep on her side. I spent a lot of my life being a chronic insomniac. Now, the touch of her skin was enough to lull me into sleeping.

*

I decided to tell said friend again.

-The pink elephant is still there. It’s not moving. It’s been almost a year now.

She looked at me empathetically.

-I know exactly what you mean. I had an ant infestation once.

I blinked at her, incredulous. She went on.

-Oh, I couldn’t get rid of them for an entire week. Exhausting, let me tell you.

*

I started drawing the elephant. I realised I couldn’t draw anything but the elephant. Yet, I also realised that the world was contained in the elephant. In her melancholic non-human eyes. Her tusks were world politics, her trumpet was literature, and her melancholic eyes were ecology. Her sleep was the patience of ephemeral life.

*

Once, I brought a boy back to the flat. I was interested in him too. I was also curious. He had slim long arms and wrinkled clothes. He looked at the room, then at me and then at the room again.

-That’s cool. I’ve never seen a pink elephant.

-So, you can see it.

-Of course, I can. It’s there.

I kissed him as a thank you. He gave me a half-shy, half-curious smile.

-Can we have sex on the elephant?

-What?

-I think that would be hot. I’ve never had sex on an elephant.

The elephant did a slow bark. I escorted the boy out.

*

-What do you mean, you’re only staying for three days? It’s Easter.

-Sorry, mum. I’m doing overtime.

Which was a lie, of course. In truth, I was worried about the elephant. She had started to grow more and more restless day after day. I had to lull her to stillness sometimes. She misbehaved, I screamed at her, and then we cried together. I didn’t know elephants could cry.

*

Then, I decided to tell other friends. Not out of courage, but out of curiosity. Some people tried to show empathy.

-Oh, I had a dog when I was a child. I loved him very much.

-I got bit by a duck once.

-And mosquitos seem to love me.

Some people decided ignorance was the best policy.

-Uh-uh. Have you drawn anything good recently?

-How’s that job application going? Nice to know you’re finally getting out there.

Some doubted the existence of the elephant altogether.

-I can show you pictures.

-It’s impossible. In nature, there are no pink elephants.

-Are you sure it’s not just a cockroach?

One of them nodded.

-A bear showed up in my garden when I was a teenager.

-Really?

-Yeah.

-Have they moved out?

-No. And I don’t want him to.

*

One morning, I woke up and the pink elephant was crouched in front of the door. I tried to get out, but I couldn’t move her. I had to call in sick for work. I gave her the usual vegetables and tended to her for the entire morning. In the afternoon, I sat by her side and drew a comic about an elephant that is stuck in a flat and can’t get out.

Then I called my mother.

-I started drawing a comic.

-When are you going to finish it?

-It is finished.

She didn’t say anything for a while.

-What?

-It’s just. You usually never finish anything.

*

One day, I opened the door of my flat. The elephant seemed doubtful, but then when she tried to get out, the door let her. We went to the park together. We played catch. I threw my notebooks in the air and she caught them with her trunks. Some people pointed at me. Most people feigned ignorance. The elephant was glad to be roaming in the grass. That evening, when we tried to go through the door again, there was no trouble. The morning after, the elephant was still there. She had shrunk a little. She stared at me with unblinking eyes, waiting.

F C ZERI is an asymptote. All of their works - past, present and future - can be found in the Library of Babel.

Art by Cordelia Wilson