by Larry Center
“We have some additional paperwork for you to review,” Dr. Simmons said. “And there’s one more issue we need to discuss—your legal relationship with your son. Are you the primary custodian?”
“No. We have shared custody, me and Cheryl.”
“You see, from a legal standpoint, for Tommy to participate in this program, we’d need the signatures of both parents.”
“I don’t think she’ll have a problem signing,” I said.
“Good. But are you sure?”
“Why?” I asked.
“Well, quite honestly,” Dr. Simmons cleared her throat, “Ms. Bridgewater called me and we talked and well, I was sensing some negativity from her, about Tommy and the chimps, that is.”
“Really?” I leaned forward, surprised.
“Yes. It seems that she has this school in Houston in mind, and she was thinking about visiting there and seeing if that might be the appropriate place for your son.”
“She didn’t tell me you’d talked with her,” I said, feeling a tinge of anger.
“I didn’t think she had.”
This news set me on edge. We had argued before over the best therapy for Tommy, and usually, she either won or I let her win. Lovaas. Applied Behavioral Analysis. These were all the standard treatments that Cheryl had wanted to employ. And when we discovered that they weren’t as helpful as we’d hoped, she’d pushed forward with other methods, searching night and day for anything that would help. But sometimes I thought her zealous need to help Tommy seemed to go over the top.
But the Acorn School, when the chimps looked so promising? I was totally confused. Had she already made up her mind?
“And what if she refuses to sign?” I asked. I didn’t think she would. But now I wasn’t sure. My hands grew wet.
“Well, there’s still a way to work around that, as shared custodian. You see,” Dr. Simmons cleared her throat, “it all depends on the exact arrangement of your agreement. We’ve actually talked to our lawyers about this and, well, the hopeful part is that if there are certain educational provisions in your agreement, which are in fact typical for the state of California, then you alone would be able to sign off on the program. But we wouldn’t know for sure until we’d actually looked over your divorce agreement.”
“I see. Well, then. I guess you’ll need to see a copy.”
“Exactly. We’ll have our lawyers go over it ASAP. Also, there’s one other thing I need to tell you about.”
“Which is?”
“If this all comes to pass, there’d be a stipend for you and Ms. Bridgewater as Tommy’s parents.”
“A stipend?” I gulped.
“Yes, a stipend is fairly standard in all of our research grants. We’re thinking something in the order of twenty thousand dollars every three months. Plus, ten thousand dollars to your son in trust for his future education. Does that suit you?” I felt her eyes linger over me, questioning. Was she thinking I would ask for more?
My bills, my condo. This was an answered prayer, for sure.
“So, the money would be split between me and Cheryl?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Well. That does suit me.” I couldn’t stop the smile that broke out on my face. “I’m not sure how my ex’ll react. But still. It sure will help me out. Things have been kind of tight lately.” I shifted Mister Backpack. “And of course, it would go to anything Tommy needed as well.” I wished that I could afford to give it all to Tommy. Still, this was amazing. I took a thankful breath.
“So, it will help. Good. Let me show you something, Mr. Crutcher.” Dr. Simmons’s scientific voice kicked in.
“Please, call me Chris,” I said, taking a long sip of coffee.
She smiled at me. “Fine. And I’m Rachel.”
“Rachel, then.”
When our eyes met, it was as if a breeze of understanding passed between us. Blood rose on my cheeks and I saw real determination in her blue eyes. Even though she was a primatologist and was principally interested in chimpanzee research, I felt that she also believed in chimp therapy as a way to helping Tommy—believed in it as much as I did, and this was amazing; she was a professional who was on my side.
“Thank you so much for this,” I said, unable to hide my happiness. The lightness in my chest expanded with excitement. I felt like a door had opened at last for Tommy and now I was able to walk him through. On the other side was help, hope, the possibility for a more normal life. Everything.
“Thank you, Chris.” She spoke firmly. “This is the chance of a lifetime for Weller as well.”
So, we were in this together. Great.
Rachel hit play on an iPad she brought over from the office next to the observation deck and I watched, mystified, as the slow-motion video of Tommy played before my eyes. Obo was fixated on Tommy. But now, the action was slowed down so that I could really see what was going on. I now realized that Obo stood up and went to eat with the others that day because the chimp had locked his eyes on Tommy’s hand movements. But it was more than just his hands.
“See?” Rachel said after we watched for a minute or two. “There’s a pattern. Tommy signs, Obo nods, but then they just stare at each other for quite a while. See that? See how long the staring pattern is? And then Obo nods again, more staring, then looks right and left, and slowly stands. Tommy flicks his fingers and Obo looks fixated on that gesture, then nods again. We think that that’s the point when the communication occurred. It was remarkable. Human to animal. It’s never been captured before like this.”
“Yes. I see that.” It was remarkable. I gave a slow, disbelieving shake of my head as I felt blood rush to my face. “But how could it happen?”
“You see,” Rachel explained, “a chimp has a far more powerful visual memory in some ways than a human.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Yes. Their memories are actually photographic and lightning fast. This is a fact. For example, if you show a chimp a pattern of nine numbers in random order that flashes before their eyes in less than two-hundred milliseconds, they can recall those exact number patterns when prompted on a screen. No human brain can come even close to doing that.”
“Really.” I rubbed my chin, fascinated.
“Yes. It’s true. So, that’s why signs can be so effective with chimps. They have such wonderful sight memories. They can remember patterns quite quickly. And from what we’ve seen thus far, watching his interactions and gestures, we believe Tommy has a similar ability. But there’s even more to this than just signs, Mr. Crutcher.” Rachel’s eyes sparkled. “Have you heard of someone named Temple Grandin?”
“The animal scientist with autism?”
“Exactly.”
I hadn’t connected her abilities with Tommy’s, but now, come to think of it. Was there a connection?
“As you probably know, she too has a high-level sensitivity to animals,” Rachel went on. “The way she tells it, she doesn’t think in words as much as she sees pictures in her mind. She intuits what’s bothering or irritating an animal and can actually in a way “read” them, understand them. Being around animals changed her life, opened her up to a new world in which she could feel comfortable to express her true self.”
“Amazing. So that’s why Tommy communicated with Obo? Because of signs plus mental pictures?”
Rachel nodded excitedly. “Yes. Exactly.”
I thought about how he’d known the chimp was pregnant at the zoo. Was he seeing pictures in his mind that described their conditions to him?
“Wait a minute,” I said, suddenly sitting up straight. “My Dad does something similar as well.”
“How so?” Rachel cocked her head.
I told her about my father’s unusual gift, how he claimed he saw pictures in his head when he handled the horses on his farm in Georgia as a young boy, when he walked them around and fed them. He’d told me this several times, though I often wondered if he was just making it up. He’d also told me he owned a baseball bat with Ba
be Ruth’s signature. That was a complete hallucination.
“He says he can read horses by the way they swish their tails and their postures.”
“Well, there you have it then.” Rachel’s eyes sparkled. “Tommy’s ability most likely has a genetic component, handed down from your father. This is another area we need to explore.”
“So, just to get this straight in my mind. Tommy has this unique gift then, part genetic, part neurological, something in the wiring of his brain perhaps due to his autism and his lack of normal human speech, that allows him to understand chimp thought through mental pictures and gestures and basic instinct. Is that the gist of it?”
“That’s about it. Yes.” She laid her iPad on the floor next to her.
“But what about other children with autism?” I asked. “Will they be able to benefit from this research?”
“I think so. It’s true that there are documented cases of children with autism benefitting from animal relationships. And we have found that the chimp brain does have similarities to the autistic brain in how it processes speech and language. Thus, working with Tommy, we’ll be able to understand this autism-animal relationship better as well, and hopefully, come to understand the nature of autism as a whole.”
“That’s great. What do you think the long-term benefits of this would be?” I asked, leaning forward.
“Good question. I must say, I can see your son definitely working with chimps in some capacity, that’s for sure.” She smiled.
Suddenly, I did too. A future with chimps. Why not? Tommy, the primatologist?
“Daddy. Come.” Tommy stood at the glass, looking up at me, and beckoned me inside, his voice resounding over the microphones. “Daddy. Obo!”
“What?”
Tommy pointed toward Obo. He clapped his hands and gave me excellent eye contact.
“Would it be all right if I go inside with him?” I asked.
“Actually, we’ve discussed letting you inside the play yard as well as your son. And we’ve concluded that we do believe you should be involved. We’re thinking you could possibly accelerate the relationships, so, by all means.”
When I entered the enclosure, Tommy grabbed my hand without hesitation and tugged me along. “He want see you.” Tommy led me over to his best friend. “You, Daddy. He w-want see you. Obo like you, Daddy. He be look at you and I show him you and he like you so much.” Tommy pointed excitedly. He flicked his fingers then made several signs: WANT. DADDY. CHIMPS. SEE. He jumped up and down, then clapped his hands. “Come, Daddy! Obo not be shy no more, Daddy. Obo not hurt no more. No hurt him. He like you, Daddy. He want show you here . . .” Tommy scrunched up his red face, wrinkled his nose, and pushed out the word, “every . . . thing.”
My mouth fell open, jaw hitting the ground as goosebumps dotted my arms. I had to contain myself because I felt tears filling my eyes. Rachel had followed me into the enclosure and I turned to her and beamed. We both understood without saying a thing:
For the first time in his life, Tommy had just produced a real flow of words. At least four or five sentences, all at once. But it was more than a flow. Compared to Tommy’s usually primitive level of speech, this was a river, a torrent of consonants, vowels, and syllables streaming from his lips, and most of them made sense. From his lips to my ears. They were not monotonic brick-words at all. This was real speech.
“Come, Daddy. Obo, come. He want show you.” Tommy’s voice was completely different, inflections and emotional resonances underlining every syllable. My heart raced and blood pulsated in my ears.
Holding him by the shoulder, Tommy edged Obo forward toward me, closer and closer, and Obo obeyed. I knelt down and patted Obo, who made a guttural noise I decided to take as friendly. I grew nervous, my stomach fluttering, until the chimp reached out and gently touched my arm. Then I found myself relaxing. He carefully shuffled even closer, taking his time, lowering his head and softly jabbering. Such a shy thing. His musky body odor surrounded me, pungent and thick, and his breath fanned warm air against my skin. I peered into the dark pools of his eyes. A knowing consciousness radiated out at me.
I laughed when Obo worked his mouth and jaws as if he were trying to speak to me too, the poor soul. Obo placed his hand on my shoulder and nodded at me vigorously. This was too much. The self-awareness in his piercing gaze as he studied me was indisputable. This was far different from Max’s doggie look, understanding as it was. This was real consciousness apprising me, real cognitive understanding. This was my ancestor. My cousin. My genetic inheritance. I chilled inside.
He seemed more sensitive and, in a way, more intelligent than the other chimps in the compound, but also far more tentative and afraid. A complicated guy, no doubt about it. He puckered his lips at me and I found myself puckering back as if I were speaking to a toddler.
“Nice, Obo. So cute,” I said softly.
Tommy stood back, his hands at his sides.
“See, Daddy? See?” Tommy jumped up and down.
Obo opened his arms to me, exposing his hairy stomach and the broadness of his chest. When I sat down cross legged on the ground, the young chimp whimpered, then slowly climbed in my lap and wrapped his arms around my neck, his strong arms laced with muscle. He cooed. Hardly three feet tall, built like a fireplug, surely this was a courageous act for this sensitive primate. But I knew it was Tommy-inspired. My heart melted. Again, he stared deep into my eyes. Was he trying to tell me something? Was he trying to take me on a journey into his world? If only I could go there. I felt so close to this chimp in one way, and yet, the journey between our two minds was a million years away. Suddenly, I realized that the other chimps, Mikey, SeeSaw, and Rose had formed a circled around us, and were quietly watching. Again, goosebumps dotted my arms.
I looked over at Rachel who, like me, appeared to have misty eyes. Dr. Evans had also joined us, his clipboard at his side, a wide smile on his face.
“Ball, Obo,” Tommy said.
Obo opened his mouth wide, sticking his tongue out and encircling his lips with it the way Tommy had always done. Christ! Another similarity. One more dot to contemplate.
“Ball red. You good chimpie, Obo. You like play ball. I do too. We play together. And we have fun here. With my daddy too. Daddy, you like Obo?”
“Yes, son, he’s great. I like Obo lots.”
Tommy signed again and then spread his arms wide. “He this big great happy. He make me happy. I like that. Yes, Daddy. I love that.” Tommy beamed.
I nearly fell back. I was ecstatic. I grew giddy and for a moment, lost the ability to speak myself.
“I hate to get unscientific,” Rachel said, dropping her scientific voice completely as she gave me a wondrous smile, “but to put it bluntly, that little boy of yours has so much intuitive knowledge with the chimps that it’s blowing our primatological minds.”
Dr. Evans laughed, beaming as he gazed at Tommy. “It’s true,” he said. “It’s so very true. We’re all literally astounded.”
* * *
We arrived home two hours later and I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d witnessed. Surprisingly, Tommy hadn’t put up a fuss when it was time to leave his friends on this visit. I had prepped myself for another stormy departure tantrum, but it never manifested. Talk about being relieved. Now, I placed Tommy by Max’s side in front of the TV to watch his new, favorite channel, Animal Planet. I did my best SpongeBob voice with that crazy laugh of his: “You stay and watch some TV, Mr. Crabby Patty, I’m going to call your mom. Okay?”
With Radar on one side of him and Monkey on the other, Tommy looked up at me and giggled. I saw the flicker of a real smile on his face and I smiled back. The positive effects seemed to be lasting. How long it would continue, however, I had no idea.
I stood in my kitchen, looking out the window at the bay, and called Cheryl. She answered immediately.
“What’s this about talking to Dr. Simmons?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm.
“Oh, Chris. I don’
t want to be a thorn in your side. I really don’t. But I’ve been doing lots of research on this chimp issue,” she said.
“And?”
“And, well, to be honest, I’m afraid that the chimp angle isn’t as good as I thought it might be.”
“Why not?” I sighed depressively, staring at a sailing boat in the distance.
“Because it looks like it could make him obsessed with chimps. You know how children with autism can become obsessed?”
“Cher, so what if it’s obsession? If it’s benefiting him, I don’t care.”
“Look. I really don’t want to argue with you over this. And I know how much you care about Tommy. So, I’m not trying to cause waves over this at all. I mean I love that little boy and only want the best for him. As do you, right?”
“Of course.”
“So, we’re both on the same page. It’s just that I’ve talked to a few psychologists, including Dr. Landrum, that research psychologist that we both respect from UCLA, you know? And a few M.D.’s as well, plus others in the autistic community, and they all said the same thing.”
“Which is?”
“They all said that if we keep exposing him to chimps, there’s a very good chance he’d only use them as a way to hide from humans, that he’d become more like a chimp-boy and isolate himself even more. I don’t think I can take that risk. Can you? Do you see what I’m saying?”
I didn’t know what to say. My mouth hung open. My pulse raced.
“I mean I’m only saying this because I want what’s best for Tommy.”
“I know you do. I do too.” I scratched my head.
“And besides, that Acorn School, I mean how can you compare a chimp facility with a well-researched program run by professionals who specialize in autism?”