Apeshit

  MacDowell asked Boris to come in at his earliest convenience, which, for Boris, was immediately. He hung up the phone, pulled on his jumper and headed for the door.

  The admissions attendant at the main entrance to the zoo recognized him and waved him through. Boris nearly trampled a tour guide and his entourage as he hurried down the corridor that lead to the primate building. Patrice was waiting for him at the security door when he arrived at Gee’s cage. The cage was empty.

  “Thank you, thank you for coming, Boris. Gee will be so happy to see you!” She gave him a huge hug, and then led Boris past the side door that joined the front of each exhibit and into what he secretly called “the inner sanctum.” They walked down a short, very white corridor. Boris peeked into a few doorways to see metal counters topped with glass containers and a few cages. He heard the familiar, high-pitched screams of the chimpanzees and the guttural voices of the other primates. Then Patrice came to a stop in front of an aluminum door and peered through a little portal at the top.

  “Gee’s awake,” she said, turning back to Boris. “Now, let me just give you a few guidelines, as these are very strong animals. Even Gee, in her weakened state, could break your back if she wanted to.” She paused and searched Boris’ eyes for a sign of fear or hesitation.

  “I’m fully aware of the danger,” Boris said firmly. “Please, just let me see her.”

  “Alright then, we’ll go inside. Just please don’t move quickly, do not turn your back on her at any time, and most importantly, do not look her straight in the eyes. That’s a sign of challenge in the gorilla world.” Patrice rested her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I can sedate her quickly if she has a stress reaction or becomes aggressive. But the more prepared you are, the better. If she does well with you today, the next step will be trying to get her to eat something. Now, Boris…I want you to warn you. Gee’s not the same gorilla she was a month ago. She has lost some weight, and she’s very lethargic.” Patrice rubbed circles on her forehead.

  Patrice began to open the door and then jerked it closed again, asking, “You’re not sick, are you? Some human diseases can transfer to primates, so I need to be sure.” She seemed to be stalling, perhaps having second thoughts. Boris assured her that he was completely healthy, had all his shots and all that, and then Patrice opened the door. Boris squeezed past her to see his friend huddled on a gray blanket on the floor. She looked much smaller than he remembered. He felt a tremor in his chest.

  “Don’t approach her. See if she comes to you,” Patrice whispered, standing close by. Gee lifted her head, but didn’t move. He could hear a little sound escape her throat. It sounded like a wheeze, but he wasn’t sure. Boris waited for what seemed like ages, and then spoke to her in his usual story-telling voice.

  “Hello, luv. It’s your old pal back again. Oh, I missed you like the dickens.” Boris moved a little closer and then crouched down to her level. And then he saw a flicker of recognition in her caramel eyes, a drift of spirit returning. She furrowed her brow and lifted her arm to stretch across her head, as if in puzzlement, her eyes meeting his. He averted his eyes downward, as he had been instructed, though he thought it was silly. She made another wheezing sound and a long groan. And then she moved forward.

  “Easy now,” Patrice said. “She’s most likely just coming in for a closer look, so stay put.” Gee was slow in coming to Boris, but her motion was deliberate. When she got within reach of Boris, she extended her hand toward him. With her fingers pointed downward, Gee touched his knee and rested it there. She sat down next to him and began to whimper. Don’t look at her, he thought, don’t look. He didn’t want to be thrown across the room by an enraged female primate. Gee made a clicking sound and then leaned her face closer to his.

  “Hello, sweetheart. How’s my girl?” Boris said softly, his eyes still observing the floor. He slowly lifted his hand up on to his knee, and then touched hers. She wrapped her fingers around his, pressed her shoulder against him. A soft cooing sound came from her lips. And then he had to do it. It was a trust issue, and he knew he had hers. He peered straight down into Gee’s eyes. They were red-rimmed and explored his own, searchingly. And then he was huddled into a gentle fur embrace that was Gee’s gift to him. Complete and utter trust. He felt it in her touch, saw it in her eyes. Gee remembered him, and her warm reception proved he had been forgiven. “I take it our dinner date is back on, then, eh?” He laughed, sliding his arms around her then. A soft purring vibrated her chest. “Oh, Gee, you are a charmer.” Young, caramel brown eyes peered up to meet old, dimming gray eyes. No glass between them, no barriers, thought Boris. He marveled at the bond they still shared. Patrice coughed in a funny way. The kind of cough someone makes when they are trying not to cry. He looked up to see her beaming with delight.

  Boris pondered on his own emotions which flooded him as he sat there, embracing and being embraced by a child gorilla. And he realized the joy he felt was akin to something paternal. He loved this gorilla more than he could ever imagine loving a daughter. Gee reached up and touched his face with her leathered palm, and yes, it was soft as butter.

  ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

  Carrie Ryman (Strange Companions at London Zoo) lives in Mukwonago, Wisconsin. She attended Kent State University and has had her work published in The Binnacle, Inwood Indiana Press, Big Pulp, Quail Bell, The Awakenings Review, Loco-thology: Tales of Fantasy & Science Fiction (Loconeal Publishing), Erotique, Traveling Poet Society, bestnewpoems.com and baseballbard.com. Carrie has participated in CVNRA’s Nature Writers’ Workshop and AllWriters’ Workshop, as well as community events to promote literature. She has provided poetry and fiction reviews for the Sotto Voce magazine and has read her poetry at Martha Merrill’s Books, Brady’s Café and Arabica Coffeehouse.

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  DILEMMA

  by Cheryl Elaine Williams

  I have a talent that I share with nursing home cats. I can smell death on a patient halfway down the hall. Lately the scent of death has hung heavy over a private patient of mine, my quadriplegic younger brother Brad. The odor is all around him and you can’t miss it when you walk into his townhouse unit. The scent is as overpowering as skunk spray and just as nauseating.

  Hey, I don’t like acknowledging what I sense about my brother, but there it is. My sniffer tells me death is coming. Brad has held on for fifteen years since his motorbike accident. You could say he’s been dying ever since he lost control over his limbs. He’s had a couple close calls with breathing problems, and lately I’ve been listening more attentively to how he breathes. It’s normal, nothing to call the doctor about. But then again, he doesn’t breathe with the same sense of life he had before.

  I’m hearing it. The rhythm’s not there. Is he giving up? No matter what the pulmonary physician says, things are just different with him, I’m telling you. And it breaks my heart. I don’t want my one and only brother to die. He’s a rebel and a fighter and I hope to pull him through this, whatever it is he’s going through inside that weakened body of his. Brad’s thirty-nine years old and I want him to see age forty.

  That is, if he himself really wants to hit that milestone. It’s all up to Bradley Michael what he wants to do. In any case, he keeps me, Big Sis, his caretaker nurse, hopping. Every morning I head across the street from the townhouse I share with my husband to Brad’s smaller unit at the end of our cul-de-sac. It’s a lovely housing plan, quiet, minimal traffic. Brad as a quadriplegic can live here independently—with a little assistance from his animal friend. That’s Percy, a trained companion monkey that the Animal Friends of the Disabled assigned to him.

  And guess who’s caretaker of both Brad and Percy?

  It always falls on the available female in the family to do it. I’m not complaining. I’m doing this for Mum and Dad who have to be watching down on us from Heaven. I only hope the angels are keeping score, too, because it’s a back-breaking job for me. Brad pays me from his disability c
heck. I sit with him four hours a day and then do another four hours at Hilltop Retirement Residence. That’s where Brad should be but none of us can afford the four thousand a month fee. All our extended family, who live too far away to help, call me a saint. Saint Maggie.

  If it makes them feel better, I’ll claim the title.

  Another day starts. “I don’t know how you do it,” says my husband Jim as I head out the door. He’ll be off to his own job by the time I give Brad his morning bath. Then I have to make breakfast for both Brad and the monkey. That’s part of our arrangement with the animal charity. The monkey needs a Mama, too. I have to guarantee that the animal’s physical and emotional needs are cared for. That’s only right.

  Percy’s the dearest little capuchin monkey. Think of an organ grinder monkey and you have a good mental picture of him. Light tan face, chest and upper arms. The rest of his body is dark brown like he’s covered with a friar’s robe. The brown ‘skullcap’ on top of his head makes him cute as a button.

  Brad’s monkey companion is good for incidentals. Fetching a drink from the fridge, picking up something that fell on the floor, changing the DVD’s in the DVD player. While I monitor their interaction, I make mental notes for my weekly report to the charity organization. I also do light housework for Brad and clean out Percy’s large and comfortable cage which takes up the back corner of Brad’s living room.

  Both of them are like ‘kids’ to me. Another day is starting. I don’t mind that the caregiving is starting all over again.

  “Hello, hello,” I called out as I unlocked the door to Brad’s unit. I could hear Percy chittering from inside his large cage in the living room. That made me smile.

  “Morning, Mrs. Keller.” The night sitter met me in the hallway. Jeffie was a young college student who we hired to stay with Brad at night. His main duty was to turn him over every half hour so he didn’t get bedsores. He was also strong enough to help Brad onto the commode and he had CPR training, if needed.

  “How’s Brad today?” I asked, hoping this morning would bring a good report. Instead, my insides clenched as I watched Jeffie struggle to give an answer.

  “Um, not as good as yesterday. He’s—not talking. I mean, nothing happened during the night. He slept okay.” Jeffie gathered up his jacket and textbooks from the hall table. “You’ll have to look at him. He’s a little ‘off’.”

  “Oh?” I walked into the living room area where my brother lay under warm blankets, secure in a high quality hospital bed. “Good morning, Bradley Michael. How you feeling, brother?”

  No answer. His eyes were open. They even blinked a few times, so I knew he was awake. But how alert could he be?

  “I tried to get him to talk.” Jeffie followed me into the sick room. “He’s like you see him. He wouldn’t sit up. I tried to get him to sit up, but he fought me on it.”

  “He fought you on it? So he showed a little activity, right?”

  “Yeah, and then he went into how you see him now.”

  “Did he now.” I leaned over the sidebars of the bed and gave my brother a smacking kiss on the forehead. “There’s my favorite guy. Good morning, Brad. You know I love you, buddy. Lots and lots.”

  No answer. “You ready for breakfast? I was thinking oatmeal and syrup.”

  No response. His mouth twitched, but his gaze looked beyond me. His eyes focused on the ceiling. I wondered if he was seeing anything at all.

  They get like this when they’re giving up on life, a little voice reminded me. Memories of patients in the past. When the threads are life were about to be cut.

  I turned to Jeffie. “What about Percy? Did Brad want to see Percy at all?”

  “Uh-uh. I told him Percy was bouncing around his cage. I said I’d go bring him out.” Jeffie raised a hand in the air and let it fall. “He didn’t give me an okay. So I have to leave the monkey in the cage, right?”

  “Right. We can’t force the monkey on him.” Not on a dying man, the thought came to me.

  We both turned toward the monkey cage. The little capuchin hung on the bars, gazing out at us much like a baby standing in a crib, begging to be picked up. Percy wanted to be let out and given some love. The eighteen-thousand-dollar monkey, for that’s what his training had cost to turn him into a caregiver companion, now wanted his share of caregiving.

  “Sorry, Percy,” I said. “We got us a problem here.” I laid a hand on Jeffie’s arm. “Could you stay a few minutes more, please? I think Brad should go to the emergency room. I’m not fooling around with this. I want him checked.”

  “Good idea,” Jeffie agreed.

  “The 911 people may have questions to ask you.”

  “No prob,” Jeffie said. He checked on our too-quiet patient, then made a face that I took to mean it was all too big for him, which I thoroughly agreed with. I reached into my jacket pocket for my cell phone. Mercy Hospital was ten minutes away and the local police station had an ambulance on site with emergency technicians ready to respond to any call.

  As I made the call, Jeffie ambled over to the monkey cage. “Bad news, Percy boy. Your friend’s going away.” He reached through the bars and rubbed Percy’s black cap of fur. The animal clutched at the young man’s fingers with his light-colored paws, seeking consolation.

  Amazing, I thought, watching them as I gave details to the dispatcher. The monkey looked as sad as the humans around him were surely feeling.

  I stuffed the phone back in my pocket. “I should get a bag ready for Brad.” My mind was reeling. I couldn’t think clearly.

  “I think he knows,” Jeffie said, indicating the monkey.

  What, that my brother was dying? Yes, animals were extraordinarily sensitive to such things. It was entirely possible. “He looks damn sad,” I whispered.

  We kept our voices down. My brother lay close by and neither of us wanted to say anything that he might overhear. “Is this it?” Jeffie mouthed silently, the movement of his lips exaggerated.

  I felt my stomach turn over. “It’s very bad,” I mouthed back. “I’ll, uh, keep you informed. I’ll call you later today. So you know about—tonight.”

  He looked at me like he knew he wouldn’t be coming over to work that night.

  The monkey screamed then. I knew his species could get loud, but this was the sharpest cry I had ever heard come out of that animal’s mouth. This was all I needed, to have the caretaker monkey disturb the peace of my poor brother.

  “Hush a boy, baby.” I hauled butt over to that cage. “How are we, baby?” I found myself reaching through the bars. “You want out, I know. But I can’t take you out, sweetness.” It was morning and he wanted to run free. “The ambulance people are coming. Sorry, Perce.”

  The animal grasped my fingers, then kissed them with his wet lips. Oh, it was going to break my heart, it was.

  “I guess I could take you out. If you behave.” For one last look at his friend. This could be it. The last meeting.

  The final goodbye.

  My eyes started to tear over as I opened the cage. The animal jumped right into my arms. Percy held on for dear life and I cooed to him, telling him everything was alright.

  “I’ll take care of you, sweetie,” I promised him. “There will always be someone to take care of you.” I carried him over to Brad’s hospital bed. His inert form lay there like a lump of lead. Had he had a stroke? I stopped with Percy at the foot of the bed and didn’t go any further. I felt not to take him too close. The animal was agitated enough and I didn’t want to risk another scream possibly agitating Brad in whatever state he was in.

  In whatever dimension of life he was in.

  And then the strangest feeling came over me as I held Percy to my chest. There was more life in that bundle in my arms than what remained in the twisted body on the hospital bed.

  Sad. I bit back tears.

  The monkey wasn’t fussing, so I took a hesitant step closer. “You want to see Bradley? You want to see him one more time?”

  The animal balked. H
e obviously smelled death the same way that I did. He climbed up onto my neck and hid his face. I understood this perfectly. Percy did not want to get closer to a dying being. He had taken his last look. In his own way, he had made his peace with his human companion.

  “Brad loves you, Perce. He loves you.”

  I gave a long sigh, then carried the capuchin back to his cage. He allowed me to put him inside with no argument or complaint. He swung over to his food dish and picked at the goodies inside. I thought he looked relieved to be back in a familiar place.

  “Good boy, Percy. You’ve been a good boy for Bradley.” I dabbed at my nose with a tissue. “Thank you, sweetie. You’ve been good to us and we thank you.”

  I was speaking for myself. The monkey didn’t pay me any more mind.

  My brother was admitted to hospice care. He passed away two weeks later. My husband and I took turns in caring for the monkey until the animal homecare team could arrange a pickup for him. He’s now been placed with a disabled teenager across town.

  I figure she’s a lucky girl to have him.

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  Cheryl Elaine Williams (Dilemma) resides in Pittsburgh PA and has been published by tabloids The Sun and The Weekly World News, Chicken Soup anthologies, Hellfire Publishing, Dorchester media, and through Smashwords and Amazon online publishing. She’s currently working on a 90K Young Adult angel romance.

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  IF AN INFINITE NUMBER OF MONKEYS...

  by Pete McArdle

  This could be my big break, thought Chad, an interview with the great Norman Gross, billionaire author and recluse, the most prolific writer in English history. Chad was a decent writer himself, he had a flair for the right words and phrases, and no problem churning out pages. He simply couldn’t get the publishing hierarchy’s attention; he had lousy people skills and not a single connection.