Do You Know the Monkey Man?

by Dori Hillestad Butler

  Joe held the phone out to me again. “Would you please just tell them you’re coming? You don’t want that social worker to come over here and start nosing around again, do you?”

  Of course I didn’t, so I took the phone. I knew Joe would stand there until I made the call, so I went over to the answering machine, rewound the tape, and got Suzanne and Sam’s phone number. My finger shook as I punched in the numbers. If I was lucky, no one would answer.

  Two rings … three rings … four rings … click. “You have reached the Wright residence.” Yes! An answering machine. “We can’t come to the phone right now, but if you’ll leave your name and number, we’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

  “Hi. This is—” I had to stop and think. I was T.J. As far as I was concerned, that was my name.

  But they—Suzanne and Sam—knew me as Sarah.

  Well, tough. “This is T.J.,” I said. “My bus gets in to Cedar Rapids at 6:30 on Wednesday night. See you then.” I hung up and handed the phone back to Joe.

  He winced.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You could’ve been a little friendlier.”

  Considering none of this was my idea, or my fault, I could’ve been a lot unfriendlier.

  Chapter Two

  I’ll pick you up after softball today,” Joe said as he packed two peanut butter sandwiches, a bag of chips, and a Coke into his lunch box.

  I unwrapped a square of grape bubble gum and popped it into my mouth. “I’ll take the bus,” I said between chews.

  “Don’t be difficult. You know your coach doesn’t like it when you take the bus.”

  “My coach needs to get a life,” I said. What did he think was going to happen to me on the 4:44 bus anyway?

  Joe grunted. “I agree. But what if that social worker has been talking to him? Do you really want your mom to find out I let you take the bus by yourself?”

  I shrugged. There were worse things she could find out.

  “If I pick you up, we can go visit Gram afterwards,” Joe said. “You do want to see Gram before you leave on Wednesday, don’t you?”

  I’d been planning to go see her anyway. On the bus. Just like I did every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday since she went into the nursing home.

  Joe made me promise I wouldn’t tell Gram about Sam showing up three weeks ago. He didn’t even want me to tell Gram that I was going to visit Sam and Suzanne. He said it would confuse and upset her. I didn’t want to confuse or upset her, so I kept my mouth shut. It was hard, though. My whole life, no matter where Joe and I were living, no matter what was going on, Gram was the one I called when we were in trouble or if I needed something. She told me what to do when I got my period for the first time; she told me what to do when Joe got sick and when he got arrested; she even took us in two years ago when things got really bad. She made Joe go to rehab and she took care of me, even though she was already starting to get a little forgetful. Gram had always been my safety net, but now I had to go it alone.

  “We can pick up Chinese on the way home and watch the Twins game while we eat,” Joe went on. “What do you say?”

  “I say, what’s the occasion?” Chinese food was expensive. We normally only got it for special occasions.

  Joe walked over to me. “The occasion is you’re leaving in two days, and I’m going to miss you,” he said, cupping my chin in his hand. “I want us to do something special before you go.”

  Why? In case I didn’t come back? I was coming back!

  Whatever. If it was that big of a deal to him … “Practice is over at 4:30,” I said. “Don’t be late.”

  “I won’t,” Joe said.

  Right. Joe was always late. That’s why I started riding the bus.

  Big surprise. It was 4:45 and no Joe. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and I gazed up at the greenish purple clouds that drifted slowly across the sky. It was growing darker by the minute.

  Great. I’d just missed the 4:44 bus and there wouldn’t be another bus until 5:10. I sure hoped Joe was really coming.

  I leaned against the chain-link fence and lazily swung my gym bag back and forth in front of me while Monica and Megan Hayes ran around picking up all the bases, stray balls, and other equipment. Their dad, who was our coach, was jotting last-minute notes on his clipboard. Everyone else had already left.

  Monica and Megan were identical twins. Like me and Sam. Funny, I’d never noticed how many twins were out there until I met Sam. The only twins I’d ever paid attention to were the Minnesota Twins, as in the baseball team. Now I saw them all over the place. Monica and Megan were an especially annoying set. Everything about them was, well … identical. Not just their looks, but the stuff they did for fun, their friends, everything. Was that what most twins were like?

  Would Sam and I be like that if we had grown up together?

  I doubted it. The only thing we had in common was our parents.

  Coach Hayes shoved his clipboard in one of the duffel bags and zipped it up while his clone daughters zipped the other. “Is your dad on his way, T.J.?” he asked as the three of them strode toward me. They were such a perfect family. Perfect dad and perfect kids. I’ll bet when Coach Hayes says he’s going to pick Monica and Megan up from the mall at a certain time, he does it.

  “Probably,” I said. But who knew?

  Thunder rumbled again. Louder this time. Streetlights up and down Washburn Avenue clicked on.

  “Have you called him?”

  “Uh, I don’t have a cell phone,” I said.

  The clones looked at me like, how could you not have a cell phone? But hey, cell phones cost money. And unlike the rest of the world, we didn’t have a money tree growing outside our house.

  Coach unclipped his phone from his belt and held it out to me. “Use mine,” he said. “If your dad can’t get here in the next couple of minutes, I’ll just take you home.”

  Monica and Megan glanced at each other out of the corners of their eyes. I could tell they didn’t want to give me a ride. Let’s just say the three of us didn’t hang out with the same people.

  “That’s okay,” I said. I didn’t need a ride from them or anyone else. “I’m sure my dad will be here any minute.” And if he’s not, I’ll run down and catch the 5:10 bus.

  “Well, I can’t leave you here by yourself,” Coach said. “And I can’t wait around much longer. So why don’t you call and see what’s going on?” He handed me the phone.

  I had to stop and think what Joe’s phone number was. He only got a phone a couple of months ago when he started working for Floyd Construction. I punched in a number I thought was Joe’s and put the phone to my ear.

  A loud clap of thunder sounded right above us. Large drops of rain plunked against my arms and dotted the sidewalk.

  Monica and Megan shrieked in unison, then took off toward a black Toyota that was parked across the street. Coach touched my elbow. “Come on, T.J. Let’s go.” Rain poured down all around us.

  Still holding the coach’s cell phone to my ear, I hoisted my gym bag up onto my other shoulder and hurried after him. My feet slapped against the wet pavement and my toes squished inside my sopping wet socks.

  “Hello? Joe?” I said once the voice mail kicked in. “Softball got out like twenty minutes ago. Where are you? Coach Hayes won’t let me wait by myself, so he’s going to bring me home. I’ll see you there.”

  The clones had left the back door of the Toyota open for me, so I crawled in and the coach slammed the door closed behind me as the rain poured down even harder. It sounded like marbles rolling across the roof of the car.

  “Did you get ahold of your dad?” Coach Hayes asked once he was settled in the front seat.

  “Yeah,” I lied. “He’s stuck in traffic. The rain, you know.” I handed him his phone. “He said to tell you thanks for bringing me home.”

  I shook the water out of my hair. The clone who was maybe Megan leaned way away from me like I was spraying germs all over her.

  “So, wh
ere do you live, T.J.?” Coach asked as he stuck his key in the ignition. The air conditioning came on full blast.

  Goose bumps popped out on my arms and I shivered. “Over on Sheridan,” I said, rubbing my arms. “Sheridan and 74th.”

  “That’s not too far,” Coach said.

  Hugging my gym bag to my chest, I leaned back against my seat and watched the little rivers of rain run along my window. The clones carried on some dumb conversation about who’d said what to whom the whole way to my house. Fine with me. That way I didn’t have to talk to them. Gram was always trying to get me to make friends with the girls at school. That’s why she made me join band and softball and anything else I could stand to be in for ten seconds. She didn’t get that I just didn’t fit in. But so what? I had Joe and Gram, and Nick and Dave next door, and my dog. That was enough.

  “Which house is it?” Coach asked as he turned onto my street.

  “That brown one on the left up there,” I said. “The one with the broken garage window.” Joe had promised Gram he’d fix that when he got out of rehab and he still hasn’t done it. But then again, Gram’s not here to know that he hasn’t done it.

  By the time we pulled into the driveway, the worst of the storm had passed. Just a light rain was falling now. “Thanks for the ride,” I said, reaching for the door handle.

  “No problem.”

  Coach waited while I walked up to my house and unlocked the front door. As soon as I did, Sherlock lunged at my knees and wagged his tail in greeting.

  I smiled. “Hey, boy,” I said, bending to pick him up. I held my dog in one arm, waved to Coach with the other hand, then nudged the door closed with my foot. At least he didn’t come in and make sure I wasn’t alone in my house. I guess he wasn’t worried that someone might break into my house and kidnap me. He only worried about something happening to me on the 4:44 bus.

  Sherlock wiggled around in my arms and licked my face. I kissed him on his nose and he licked me even more.

  “Is Joe here?” I asked my dog as I carried him past two overflowing baskets full of laundry into the kitchen. I doubted it. The house felt empty. And I didn’t see Joe’s wallet or keys on the counter.

  I checked the answering machine. No blinking red light.

  Well, if he couldn’t even leave me a message telling me where he was, why should I wait around for him? I put my dog down and grabbed the leash from the hook by the back door. Sherlock went totally nuts, leaping against my legs and running all around me.

  “Yeah, you need a walk, don’t you, boy?” I said as I snapped the leash to his collar and gave his head a quick rub.

  I checked the clock on the microwave on our way out: 5:15.

  We took a quick jog around the block, splashing through every puddle along the way. Then we loped over to the park across the street. Usually when Sherlock and I run around in the park, Nick or Dave comes over with one of their dogs. But their house looked pretty dark. They probably weren’t home.

  I wished we had a real dog park around here. Sherlock likes to run free, but I didn’t dare let him off his leash completely. He might take off for Penn Avenue and get hit by a car. So I just let his leash go and ran with him a little bit. That way if he got away and didn’t come when I called, I could catch him by jumping on his leash. But he stayed right with me today. He was getting better about that.

  The storm had cooled things down. It actually felt kind of nice outside now. The trees dripped water, but the sun was trying to poke through the clouds again. After half an hour of chasing sticks and squirrels, Sherlock was ready to go home. So we walked back across the street and went in the house.

  Joe still wasn’t home.

  I kicked off my shoes, peeled off my wet clothes, and changed into dry ones. It was almost six thirty and I was starving. I had a feeling the Chinese food wasn’t coming, so I stuck a frozen burrito in the microwave. While it spun on the carousel, I poured food into Sherlock’s bowl. The microwave dinged, and I took my dinner into the den and turned on the TV. The game would be starting soon. Where was Joe? I’d really believed him when he said he’d pick me up at softball and we’d do something special tonight.

  I peered out the window. I didn’t see or hear our truck rumbling down the street.

  Had he gone to see Gram without me? Had he forgotten we were going to go see her together? Or … had something happened to Gram? Oh no! Why hadn’t I thought of that before? I picked up the phone and quickly punched in the number for the nursing home.

  Someone picked up on the second ring. “Valley View. This is Kari. How can I help you?” Kari was one of the nice nurses.

  “Hi,” I said, gripping the phone with both hands. “This is T.J. You know, Eva Wright’s granddaughter?” I waited, but Kari didn’t say anything about Gram being rushed to the hospital or anything. So I said, “I was wondering if my dad was there?”

  Kari paused. “No, he’s not, T.J.,” she said. “In fact, he hasn’t been in at all tonight. That’s a little unusual, isn’t it?”

  “A little,” I said. Joe wasn’t the most reliable guy in the world, but he was pretty reliable about visiting Gram. He visited her twice a day. Once on his way to work and once on his way home. Half the time Gram doesn’t remember the last time someone visited, even if it was just ten minutes ago. But he still visits her twice a day anyway.

  “Can I talk to my grandma?” I asked.

  “Sure. Hang on.” It took a while for Kari to take the phone to my grandma.

  “Is it Joseph?” I heard Gram ask Kari.

  “No, it’s your granddaughter,” Kari told her.

  There was a shuffling on the phone, then Gram came on the line. “Hello? T.J.?” she said in a gravely voice.

  “Hi, Gram.”

  “Where’s your dad? Where’s Joe?” I had to hold the phone away from my ear because she talked so loud.

  “I … don’t know. He’s got a big job right now.” She always forgot he had a job. “I think he’s working late. He might not be able to see you tonight, but he’ll be there tomorrow. I promise.”

  “Something’s happened,” Gram said suddenly.

  “No—”

  “Yes,” Gram insisted. “Something’s happened. That’s why he’s not here.” She sounded a little freaked out. She got that way sometimes.

  “Listen, Gram.” I scratched the top of my head. “Do you want me to come see you?” I could probably still catch a bus over there if it would make her feel better.

  There was a shuffling sound on the phone again. Then a thud.

  “Hello? Gram, are you still there?”

  Nothing.

  “Hello!” I said louder. I pounded my hand against the phone, even though I knew that whatever was wrong wasn’t in the phone. “HELLO? IS ANYONE THERE?”

  “I’m sorry, T.J.” It was Kari again. “Your grandma doesn’t want to talk anymore.”

  “Is she okay? Should I come down there?”

  “No. She wants your dad. She’ll be going to bed soon, though. She’ll be fine.”

  “Okay,” I said, hanging up.

  I looked out the window again. Still no truck.

  I even went outside and jogged down the driveway. Sherlock didn’t like that I’d left him in the house. I could hear him barking at me.

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” I told him. Then I walked down to 76th Street to see if I could spot Joe’s truck getting off the freeway. I saw a blue truck turn onto Penn Avenue, but it wasn’t rusty enough to be Joe’s. I stood there watching the cars and trucks and minivans for what felt like half an hour, but in reality it was probably only about ten minutes. Then I slowly dragged myself back home.

  Sherlock had his little paws up on the screen door when I got there. He woofed when he saw me walking up the driveway. I went inside, picked him up, and carried him back to the den.

  I didn’t even care about the game anymore.

  Where was Joe?

  At 8:45, the phone rang. I picked it up. “Hello?”

 
; “Finally! You’re home,” a strange man’s voice said. “Is this Joseph Wright’s daughter?”

  Joseph Wright’s daughter? “Yes,” I said carefully. “Who’s this?”

  “You don’t know me, but my name is Russell Teagues. I’m the contractor who hired your father.”

  The phone grew slippery in my hand. “Uh-huh,” I said, gripping the phone tighter.

  “I’ve tried calling you a couple of times this afternoon and this evening, but I didn’t want to leave a message. I wanted to tell you directly.”

  Tell me what?

  “I’m afraid I have some bad news.” The man paused. “Your dad was involved in an accident today.”

  My throat closed.

  “We were shingling a roof over on 16th Street, and I don’t exactly know what happened … but somehow he slipped.”

  “He slipped off the roof?” I felt sick. Really sick.

  “Yes. He was taken to Fairview Southdale hospital.”

  “I-is he okay?” I asked.

  “I don’t know—”

  “What do you mean you don’t know?” I shrieked.

  “He’s in the hospital. It looks pretty bad.”

  Oh, God.

  “D-do you have someone to take you to the hospital? And someone to stay with you tonight? I know it’s just the two of you; I could maybe make a few phone calls—”

  “No,” I stopped him right there. “I mean yes. Of course, I have someone to stay with me, and someone to take me to the hospital.” The last thing I needed was some stranger making a bunch of phone calls. I had the MTC bus driver to take me to the hospital, and I had my dog to stay with me overnight.

  I didn’t need anyone else.

  Chapter Three

  The first thing I had to do was find out just how badly Joe was hurt, so I headed over to the hospital. Unfortunately, it was almost nine o’clock. There weren’t many buses running this time of night, but I walked along 76th Street instead of the side streets, just in case one came rumbling along behind me.

  As I walked, I replayed everything Russell Teagues had said over and over inside my head. Accident … slipped off the roof … Fairview Southdale Hospital … pretty bad …