Later that afternoon, when she was pruning her roses, she realized that Melinda had caught Carl with another woman at the local bingo casino and ended the relationship herself. Melinda had booked passage on a cruise to Alaska, alone. Carl had gone out drinking and wrecked his car. His arm was broken in two places.
She would not think about it, Ally told herself firmly. It was just her imagination running away with itself. She would call her friends, Lynn and Ron, go out to dinner, and forget all this nonsense.
They accepted and agreed to meet her at a favorite local Mexican restaurant, the one that resembled a festive village inside and featured a two-story waterfall. But she waited there at the hostess station alone on the green vinyl couch, as parties of diners came and went, for forty minutes until her cell phone rang.
Where was she, Lynn wanted to know. They were at Caruso's, a popular Italian buffet, and the hostess wouldn't seat them until Ally arrived. Aghast, Ally pleaded car trouble and apologized, then went straight home and shut herself into the dimness of her bedroom. Hungry, head whirling, she curled up in her favorite old green throw.
* * * *
The next morning, Saturday, she remembered that the three of them had eaten dinner at a P. F. Chang's restaurant, how Ron, engaging as ever, had teased her about the threads of gray in her auburn hair, and Lynn had told stories of her fourth grade classroom. They'd ordered the monstrously large chocolate cake, split it among the three of them, and still couldn't finish.
Her life seemed to be going on without her, splintering off into a hundred different directions. Maybe she needed Prozac, she told herself. Or Valium. Maybe it was time to hibernate, or she should talk to a counselor.
But no. She was just letting her mind wander. All she had to do was pay closer attention to what was going on around her and all this ... confusion ... would melt away.
Just after lunch, Lynn dropped by to see Ally as she was trundling the lawn mower around to the backyard. Her friend parked her Ford SUV on the street and got out, long legs tan and fit. Her dark hair was caught up in a clip on the back of her head and she wore threadbare cutoffs. “Wasn't that Barry a card last night?” she said as she walked across the grass. “I don't know when I've laughed so hard!"
Lynn and Carl had brought a friend—a single gentleman her age—with them to Fuddrucker's, Ally realized. He'd had thinning silver hair and deep brown eyes half-buried in smile lines. He worked at the zoo with the hoofed animals, technically known as “ungulates,” specialized in zebras, and had been divorced for five years. She stared at Lynn, clutching the lawn mower's battered handle, unable to speak.
"He wants to go out with you.” Lynn waved a persistent fly out of her face. “It's okay that I gave him your phone number, isn't it?"
"Sure,” Ally heard herself say, though her voice trembled. Sweat soaked the back of her old T-shirt. “He was quite—charming.” And he had been, she knew now. How could she have forgotten?
"Who knows?” Lynn said with an affectionate smile. “This could be the start of something big."
* * * *
Barry called that afternoon. They made a date for that evening, dinner at a retro diner that served wonderful milk shakes, and then a movie. Ally hadn't been out on a real date for more than a year now. Sweet old-fashioned anticipation washed through her, laced with a bit of fear. What if he hadn't really called? Any minute now, she might remember how much he'd disliked her.
But the day wore on and the date stayed firm. Maybe she'd just dreamed all those other things. Maybe she'd even go see the pointer's family and assure herself that Sadee still romped in her own backyard. Everything would be all right.
She dressed in a cool white summer skirt with her favorite aqua blouse and met Barry at the door. He was taller than she remembered and mostly bald. His lips were thinner, and he didn't look like he found much in life amusing.
"Did you work at the zoo today?” she asked as they walked to his car. The air was hot and sticky, and she fanned herself with one hand. Cicadas were droning like a Greek chorus in the neighborhood trees.
"I sell life insurance,” Barry said, giving her a sideways glance. “I thought Lynn told you that.” He opened the car door. It was a black Jaguar, low-slung, sleek, and somehow menacing.
Ally slid in across the fine leather seat, heart thumping.
They drove to Finelli's, a shadowy Italian restaurant staffed by sneering waiters, to eat bruschetta and garlicky ravioli. He related mind-numbing tales of his best sales months, the reluctant clients he'd coaxed aboard, and the thrill of exceeding his quotas, then drove her to a claustrophobic club to listen to progressive jazz.
The discordant music washed over her, battering her nerves. Each chord seemed to reinforce all the strangeness of the last few days. She knotted her fingers. What had happened to the other Barry, the one with the shy smile? That was who she was supposed to see at her door tonight, not this slick stranger with his intimidating expensive car.
It was like the universe was playing tricks on her, tantalizing her with the promise of one thing, then sending her quite another. All her life, she had determinedly dealt with whatever came her way, but she didn't know how to cope when everything kept changing, second by second.
He took her home at midnight, and they parted with only a chaste peck on the cheek. She wasn't to his taste, she was quite certain, and she had definitely been expecting someone else when she'd answered the door.
Her sleep was filled with dreams of a silver-haired Barry who charmed her with tales of fractious zebras and red-spotted deer. They finished huge chocolate milk shakes, then left the diner, skipping the movie to walk the zoo after hours, where he pointed out the different ungulates in their paddocks by silvery moonlight.
When she woke, though, that scenario stayed only a dream, the night with insurance salesman Barry a reality. She was disappointed. Though the chronic changes of the last few days had been disconcerting, just this once, a different outcome would have been welcome.
* * * *
Insurance-Barry didn't call again, nor did she expect that he would. Most likely he'd made the date with someone else, too, a different Ally, who was sure and sophisticated, twenty pounds slimmer, well versed in progressive jazz, and decked out in tottery high heels. Perhaps the universe had played a trick on him, too. If so, she was sorry for her part in the deception.
Thereafter, life calmed down for a few days, running only on a single track, almost boring. Lynn called to see how her date had gone, but wasn't surprised. “He already has four ex-wives,” she said. “I was surprised you agreed to go out with such a jerk. Ron only asked him to sit down with us at dinner because it was obvious he wouldn't go away."
Of course, she hadn't agreed to go out with that particular Barry, but she couldn't explain that.
At loose ends that afternoon, after watering her backyard impatiens, Ally drove across town to the zoo and walked its winding pathways for hours. The ungulate paddocks were just as she'd dreamed them, though not nearly as glamorous by daylight. She hung on splintery wooden fences and studied water buffalo, camels, giraffes, and the exotic okapi with its striped legs. Large and small, they each moved with a grace that brought peace to her heart.
"Lovely, aren't they?” a voice said behind her shoulder.
She looked around. “Barry?"
His silver hair gleamed in the late afternoon sun. His eyes were half-buried in smile lines. “Have you been here before?” he asked. His name was stitched in red thread across the khaki shoulder of his keeper's uniform.
"No,” she said slowly, heart thumping, “but I've thought about it.” She watched the stately giraffe amble across its paddock, ears waggling. “It's a bit like my gardening, so many different varieties, each with its own requirements for water, sunlight, and food."
"Exactly.” He leaned on the rail beside her and gazed at the giraffe as it stretched its elegant neck to nibble oak leaves. His face creased in thought. “Most people prefer the big cats, though, b
ecause they're so dramatic, or the reptile house for sheer shock value."
"They have their own attractions,” she said, “but I've been dreaming about these."
"I'm pretty much finished with my duties for the day,” this Barry said. “Would you like a backstage tour of the facility?"
So they walked through the barns as he explained each species, what was special about it, what unique care it required. The smell of baking earth, hay, and feed filled the air, along with the redolence of dung. She watched his face more than listened to his words. He loved his work—in fact, in many ways, he was his work.
The zoo closed at six, so he walked her back to the entrance as families of tired children drifted toward the parking lot. “This was lovely,” she said, stopping beside the pond that isolated Monkey Island. The green water rippled, and then a turtle head broke the surface to stare at them. “Thank you so much."
"We're always looking for volunteers,” he said, “especially docents to handle tours."
"I would like that.” She fumbled in her purse for a stray scrap of paper, then wrote her name and number. “Please give my information to the proper authorities."
She drove home in a warm joyous haze. She had taken her fate into her own hands, and for once things had come out at least close to the way she wanted.
* * * *
The next morning, she knew that she had encountered only a mumbling man named Art working the ungulates section of the zoo. She'd walked for hours and seen nothing of interest but animals half-stultified by the intense heat. Now all she had to show for the adventure was a sunburn.
But the afternoon with Barry had happened too. They both were true. When the phone finally did ring, it was like an electric current ran through her—but it was only Melinda, planning her Puerto Vallarta honeymoon, not Barry, or even the zoo, confirming her offer to volunteer.
She met Lynn for lunch at a local sandwich outlet and ordered a steaming meatball sub. “That wretch Barry called Ron last night,” Lynn said as she slid into the booth. “He had the nerve to ask us if we had any friends with a bit more ‘go.’”
Insurance-Barry, Ally hoped, not Zoo-Barry. “Well, he's certainly not my type,” she said. “Ron should do it, if he wants."
"So he can insult another friend of ours?"
"This is bald Barry, isn't it?” Ally asked as the blood pounded in her ears.
"Bald as a billiard ball,” Lynn said, “if you don't count that silly comb-over.” She'd only ordered a salad and now picked at a cherry tomato perched on top.
They chatted through the rest of the meal, then Lynn looked at her watch. “Goodness!” she said. “I have to drop by school to pick up Carina for her doctor's appointment."
"Carina?” Ally's fingers gripped the plastic soda cup too tightly. It crunched in, portending collapse.
"My daughter,” Lynn said with a wry smile as she picked up her purse. “Your goddaughter. That Carina."
Lynn and Ron had no children. But with a rush, Ally realized they had three: two boys who were excellent students, currently in third and fifth grade, and then Carina, sixteen, in high school, who was always getting into scrapes. She smiled as best she could, which wasn't very well at the moment. If this went on, she thought, she'd never have to worry about smile lines around her eyes. “Of course,” she said, as a hot flush crept up her neck. “Give her my love."
* * * *
The zoo never called, nor did Zoo-Barry, though another zoo memory surfaced to take its place beside the others: a middle-aged zookeeper, a woman named Emma, who had stopped to chat as Ally watched the caribou.
Emma had complained about the heat, her wages, her coworkers, and zoo patrons who fed the animals even though it was strictly forbidden. The woman had droned on and on into Ally's ear until she fled the zoo well before closing time.
Lynn's daughter, Carina, came by to drop off some gardening magazines, and Ally wondered how she could ever have forgotten that angular young face, topped at the moment by a bristle of outrageously red hair. “Are you dating anyone special?” she asked her goddaughter as she opened the front door.
"God, no, Aunt Ally!” Carina laughed. “This isn't Leave It to Beaver! No one dates anymore! That's so hopelessly—retro!"
"Yes, I suppose it is.” Ally shared a Diet Coke with her, then watched the girl drive off on her orange motorized scooter.
Lynn and Ron had been seriously committed to the Zero Population Growth movement. They'd never wanted children, had in fact taken early steps to end their fertility. She knew that as well as she knew Carina's face.
Maybe if she didn't go anywhere or see anyone, things would calm down. All the alternate memories that kept bobbing like corks up into her consciousness involved people, so if she just stayed home, there would be nothing to drive her crazy.
Zoo-Barry called that night with the schedule for upcoming docent training classes. She'd meant to turn down all potential interactions for the time being, but found herself agreeing to attend.
All the way across town to the zoo the next day, she kept telling herself he wouldn't be there, the Barry she wanted to see. It would be someone else, taller, skinnier, fatter, meaner, female, older, or younger. That was the only given she could depend upon these days. Every time she thought she had a handle on reality, it twisted out of her grasp like a snake, as though someone Up There were having a really good laugh at her expense.
Of course, it was possible, she thought with a shudder as she turned into the vast zoo parking lot, that she might be slipping into early Alzheimer's; but if so, she wanted to keep it to herself as long as possible.
Admissions checked off her name on a list, then sent her to an administration building. The day was already hot as she followed the sidewalks, dodging eager children towing balloons and detouring dropped Popsicles melting in the sun. Over on the east side of the zoo, one of the elephants trumpeted as though to welcome her.
When she reached her destination, most of the other potential docents were at least her age, older genial people with time on their hands and an interest in nature. She sat at the back of the room, perched on a metal folding chair, and listened to the zoo director, a tall lean woman with an intense manner and braided graying hair, as she explained their educational “mission statement."
Barry was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he was feeding the elk, she thought, or maybe whatever Barry was in existence today liked working with the tigers or the penguins instead, and had no time for the poor ungulates.
The trainees split into small groups, each led by an experienced docent, and went out into the zoo to start learning the facility. Ally's instructor was a seventyish man named Oliver who had volunteered here for eleven years. The gorillas were his passion. He knew everything about them, regarded them, in fact, as surrogate children and visited them even on days when he wasn't working.
She found them unsettling, though, their gaze so humanlike and yet so alien, and was relieved when their group moved on to the Large Cat Pavilion.
A sinuous black panther, sprawled in the midst of a faux jungle, stared through the glass as they walked into the air-conditioned coolness. Its golden eyes were heavy-lidded, its manner disdainful. A man in a khaki uniform and work boots was examining the exhibit, checking off items on a clipboard. He had more hair than Barry, was a bit shorter, a tad stouter around the middle.
He turned around as Oliver was explaining the history of the two cats on display, and she felt her cheeks warm. “Barry!"
The man smiled uncertainly. “I'm sorry. Have we met?"
This Barry had blue eyes rather than brown, but he was pretty much the same guy. “Back when you worked the Ungulates area,” she said, easing away from her docent group as Oliver droned on about feeding schedules and the success of the breeding program. “You were the one who inspired me to volunteer."
"Gosh.” Barry scratched his head. “That's been a good two years now. You'll have to forgive me. I'm not very good at remembering faces, Ms.—?"
/> "Coelho. Allison Coelho. My friends call me Ally.” She put out her hand and he automatically accepted it. His grip was warm and firm, and, this close, his uniform gave off the aroma of sun-warmed hay. Her head whirled and she had to make herself release his fingers.
"Are you going to specialize in one particular area,” he said, glancing at the trainees, “or work as a general guide?"
"I'm especially fond of the ungulates,” she said.
"Really?” He smiled and there were all those smile lines, nested at the corners of his eyes, just as before. “We don't get too many volunteers requesting that area. Ungulates were my particular favorites until I got promoted. I still spend as much time with them as I can manage."
He fished in his pocket, came up with a battered black case, and removed a card. “Please feel free to call me if you have any questions after you complete your training."
She clasped the card in nervous fingers. “Th-thank you,” she managed as he tucked the clipboard under his arm and strode back out into the fierce June sunlight.
On the other side of the glass, the panther leapt to its feet and snarled. Its eyes, she noticed, had gone green.
* * * *
Twice a week thereafter, Ally reported for docent training, but never saw Barry again. Once she asked about him at Admissions and was told no one named Barry worked on the staff. After that, she was afraid to ask, as though her conscious efforts forced him farther away in this vast river of possibilities that was carrying her along.
Carina dropped by again, decked out in a nose ring and dog collar, and shyly admitted that she was hanging around quite a bit these days with a guy in her “posse” by the name of Jerret. “Not that we've got a thing for each other,” her goddaughter said defiantly, waving a Twinkie in the air like a conductor's baton. “We just, like, see eye to eye, some of the time, and I'm way better in math than he is. The poor slob can use all the help he can get."
Hang onto him, Ally wanted to say. If you're not paying attention, the universe can sweep him away any second. But she just smiled and opened a second package of Twinkies, Carina's current poison of choice.
FSF Magazine, May 2007 Page 10