Like No Other Boy

by Larry Center

  Christ!

  Max barked, rattling me out of my reverie, and I went to the kitchen, got out the bag of dog food, and fed Max who ate with a vigorous appetite. Then my cell phone rang.

  “Mr. Crutcher, can you give us a statement on—”

  “Leave me the fuck alone!”

  This was what I got for making a fool of myself in court.

  I let Max outside and quickly shut the door. I ate some oatmeal and fired up a pot of black organic coffee, then drank three cups before I even knew what I was doing. Ten minutes later, I let Max back in. He sniffed my hands and stared in my face, tongue out, questioning me with that doggie look. Where’s the lady from last night? Where’s Tommy?

  Sadly, I had nothing positive to say. Rachel was going to Africa, Tommy, to Houston. And I was remaining here in San Diego with my dad.

  Staring out the window with Max by my side, Rachel moments slid through my mind: The way Tommy had taken her hand so willingly and easily during that first visit, amazing both me and Cheryl, how Rachel and I had swung Tommy like a monkey between us, all of us laughing. That “breeze of understanding” that passed between us when we’d talked about Tommy and what he needed, her profound scientific explanations of Tommy’s abilities, how she’d opened up to me about her life in the rain forest, made me see and feel her experiences. Basically, she’d drawn me into the chimp world and offered hope for my son. But what had I given her? What had I done for her?

  I’d given her Tommy. I’d drawn her into Tommy’s world, and as a consequence, my own as well.

  Maybe she was torn inside about going to Africa, though she hadn’t expressed it. Maybe it wasn’t the easy-breezy decision she’d made it out to be.

  I led Max to the den and he licked my hands and my face, rubbing against me, then bowled me over. I lay on the floor and we wrestled. “At least I have you.” Max barked and then sat on his hind legs, staring at me, tongue lolling.

  “What, boy?”

  He whined and looked around the room. Then he left my side, raced upstairs, and came down with a Beanie Baby in his mouth. He dropped it at my feet, then looked deep into my eyes. He barked, then whined.

  It was Blackie, an old, worn-down Beanie bear with lots of rips and tears and food stains. Tommy used to play with Blackie when he was little, but for some reason, gave up on the black bear when he got Radar. My heart rattled inside my chest just looking at the stuffed pet.

  “Oh, Max. You miss Tommy too,” I said, hugging him. “Yes, you do!”

  Max barked.

  “No, he won’t be back, Max. That’s the thing.”

  The last I heard, Cheryl and Wade were moving in about two weeks. Tommy had been enrolled fully into Acorn.

  And then I lost it right there, the brutal realization slamming against me. I sunk into a hole, eyes wet, head pounding, heart completely broken into a thousand emotional pieces, too fragmented to ever put back together, Chris Crutcher mini-me’s, everywhere, I was shattered like glass.

  “He won’t be coming back, Max,” I said, my voice tight. “Not anytime soon, anyway.”

  Max looked around and whined, then he gave me one long doggie stare and lay down next to me, edging his body against me as a source of comfort. Overcome with sadness, I cuddled him in my arms.

  *

  That afternoon, I spied a thick book on custody law sitting on my coffee table. I’d bought it several weeks ago and had read through it from time to time. I opened it up in the kitchen, sunlight streaming through the window. I thumbed through it, trying to understand all the variables of appealing my case. But as I read, I only got more confused. It appeared that Mark was indeed right: Unless there was a chance to show that Korbovitch had made some kind of technical error, my hope for an appeal was mostly nil. But wasn’t his entire verdict a technical error? He’d made the wrong decision, dammit! Wasn’t that enough?

  Then the next thing I knew, I was walking like a zombie upstairs to my bedroom. It was five-thirty. I took a shower and crawled into bed, Max lying on the floor next to my bed. I fell asleep hard and fast.

  When I woke up, it was nearly nine p.m. and suddenly, the urge hit me hard. Something needed doing and it needed doing now. Before I even thought about it, I was throwing on a pair of faded jeans and a t-shirt, putting on my shoes, and then, without even calling, I was driving over to Cheryl’s house in my beat-up Altima. Dark outside with only a sliver of moon, it was starting to sprinkle again just as I pulled up to the curb.

  Instead of going to her door, I crept up the long driveway to the side of her house and peered into a side window. The rain fell harder, splattering me, but I didn’t care. I wanted to see how this new “family” was making it. I just needed to know. I banged my knee against the side of the house and had to muffle a cry.

  I hid in the shadows until the pain subsided and then peeked into the window. Tommy was sitting on a couch watching TV with Wade, one finger in his nostril. Radar sat next to him, propped up against him, his constant pal. My heart boomed witnessing this sight, just seeing Tommy there, with Wade. I clenched and unclenched my fists, my jaw stiffened. Sweat streamed down my face.

  Burnt-nose Wade switched on a lamp and grabbed a magazine, then suddenly turned and looked out the same window I was hovering at. I didn’t think he saw me, but still, I quickly slid away. When I got my courage up, I peered through the window again. Wade was thumbing through his magazine, while Tommy continued watching TV.

  Cheryl had switched the room around, or the TV was new—something looked different. And boxes were everywhere. Small ones, large ones, no doubt evidence of her getting ready to move. The sight of the boxes made my heart freeze up.

  But it was the lamp that got to me. That goddamn safe-looking piece of shit lamp with the yellow light. So damn homey. And normal. And . . . My breaths came fast. I should have been on that couch. As Wade continued thumbing through the magazine, Tommy actually leaned against him for a moment.

  But wait a minute . . . Tommy appeared well taken care of and this new thought made me gasp. After all, he had a stepdad, who appeared to be if not loving, at least kind and considerate. Cheryl would give him a brother or sister. She would surround our son with love. And there it was. Presto: a new life. It was the light of that lamp that said it all. This was Tommy’s new home, and it was a place where I, Chris Crutcher, wasn’t wanted.

  I slouched under the window as a tear fell down my cheek and an ache the size of Texas filled my heart. Maybe this Acorn School was the answer after all, and I was just standing in everyone’s way. Cheryl and Wade were going to make it. Wasn’t I the one who wasn’t needed? Hadn’t a new relationship formed? Suddenly, Wade stood and came up to the window, a suspicious look on his face, and I moved to the side, standing next to a row of bushes hidden from the sight line of the window.

  I slugged through the increasing raindrops, head down, thunder booming above. My hair was wet as were my shoes, which were covered with wet grass. I made it back to my car, popped the trunk, and grabbed a towel before getting in the car. I wiped my face with it, then called Cheryl on my cell.

  “Put him on the phone, please,” I said when Wade answered.

  “Sure thing.” His smooth voice rattled me.

  But finally, I heard Tommy’s voice. “Huh?” Tommy said. “Huh?”

  “Hey, Tom-Tom. It’s Daddy.” Yes. Daddy! For whatever I was worth. “How are you? You doing okay? You having fun?”

  “Daddy! TV, Daddy.” The sound of his voice, the closeness of it in my ear mixed with his innocence felt like it was singeing my soul.

  “That’s good,” I said. I tried not to breakdown. “What’s on, son?”

  He breathed into the phone, but he didn’t answer.

  “Listen, there’s something I want you to know.”

  “Huh, Daddy? Daddddeeee.” He was pressing his mouth against the phone so close I could practically feel the sound of his voice inside my ear, his breath against my face. So close and yet so miserably far away . . . I’d h
eard it said that love’s the shortest distance between two hearts. Maybe for most people, but not for me, not right now.

  “Huh?”

  “I want you to know that somehow I’m going to get you back with the chimps, with your friends, Tommy.” My hands shook. “That’s a promise, Tom-Tom. I don’t know how yet, and I don’t know when, but it’s going to happen, okay? Even if you’re at the new school. Don’t you worry. Maybe there are some chimps in Houston. Don’t give up. I’m working it—”

  “Chimpies?”

  I was sure he didn’t even understand me. But I rattled on. “Yes! I swear it! Somehow. Do you understand me? I won’t give up, Tommy. I’ll never give up. You’re my—”

  “Daddy, can I—” Then he was gone.

  “Okay, that’s enough,” Cheryl said, her stern voice like a slap in the face.

  “I have every right to talk to Tommy over the phone.” I spat out the words.

  “Okay, Chris. Let’s make a deal. Every night at eight you can call if you want. Okay? But not about those damn chimps.”

  “Fine. And Cheryl?” I asked.

  “Yes?”

  The question popped into my head. I hesitated, staring up at the sliver of moon that peeked out behind the clouds, then spoke softly. “Can I ask you something kind of silly?”

  She sighed, telling me how tired she was of dealing with me. “Fire away.”

  I spoke with a fragility I’d never felt before, a sudden tenderness that arose from somewhere deep inside me. “Just wondering . . . ”

  “What?”

  “Who combs his hair before he goes to bed?” My heart palpitated in my chest as the words poured out of me. “I’m just curious.”

  “Who—What? What do you mean? What are you talking about?” she said.

  “Doesn’t he ask for it at his bedtime? Someone to comb his hair?”

  Cheryl was silent, and then: “No, he doesn’t,” she snapped. “Goodbye, Chris. And please don’t start harassing Tommy about the chimps again. It’s over. Just give it up. You lost. I won. It’s done.”

  I was unable to move when the call ended. I closed my eyes as the rain splattered against the roof of my car. I could almost feel my son’s soft hair against my fingertips, and I could hear the pulsating urgency in his voice when he’d said, “Hair, Daddy. Hair.”

  The hair combing was our thing, Tommy’s and mine. It was our special time together. Irreplaceable. He needed me, his real father, after all.

  Chapter 17

  After I begged and pleaded, appealed to her heart, while at the same time, promising that I would do as much as possible to stay out of her life, Cheryl granted us one final visit with Tommy’s friends. Tommy and I drove out to Weller on a Tuesday afternoon, about a week before Cheryl and Wade would travel to Houston. As soon as he came in contact with the chimps in the play yard, Tommy’s beaming face, his blue eyes alive with light, and his flicking fingers told me he was completely immersed in what he loved most. Rachel wasn’t there. She was getting ready for her trip and had to go to L.A. for a meeting with the staff of National Geographic. But Marcy was with us, standing next to Tommy as he interacted with Mikey, Obo, and SeeSaw.

  Of course, I’d struggled with letting Tommy say goodbye, thinking perhaps I shouldn’t even push for it. Why cause the pain that I was sure would follow? But in the end, I decided he had the right to say goodbye to his best friends, he needed to say goodbye, he needed one last time with them, and I would regret it if I didn’t follow through.

  “Obo. Here!” I said. “Here!”

  Unlike the others, Obo stayed in the corner, hiding his face with his hands.

  “He’s been regressing since Tommy stopped coming around,” said Marcy, who was standing next to me. She frowned, arms folded across her chest. “We really don’t know what to do.”

  Tommy marched toward Obo like a disappointed parent and plopped down in front of the chimp. Obo lowered his head and bit himself, then raced to the other side of the enclosure. Tommy followed. Self-confident Seesaw strutted over to Tommy and got in his way, beating his chest and then racing up a tree. Tommy studied Seesaw, tapping a foot on the ground, and for a moment he seemed to forget Obo. Rose came up to Tommy and put her arms around him. Tommy finger flicked. Rose, a new chimp introduced in the compound, sat down on the ground, curled her toes up, and stretched her mouth wide.

  “Rose want fun,” Tommy said to me and Marcy. We were both in the play yard, supervising Tommy’s every move. “She like fun.”

  Cheryl had broken the news to Tommy, informing him he was going to a school in a different city, but I doubted Tommy even made the connection that the chimps would be gone from his life. I wondered if he even comprehended the idea of moving to another state. She’d left me with the task of telling him he wouldn’t see his friends again.

  And that I would be gone from his life too. At least for a while.

  Finally, after Tommy had gotten his fill of the chimps, the time came for us to leave the play yard. Sadness walked across my heart. How was I going to do this?

  “Tell the chimpies goodbye, Tommy,” I said. “You won’t be seeing them for a long time, I’m afraid.” The sadness of this thought made my eyes get misty. It was miserable. You may not be seeing me for a long time, either.

  The pain of it all flashed through me.

  Tommy looked down, then gazed around the play yard.

  “Bye, bye,” he said. “Bye.”

  The chimps shrieked at him. Except for Obo, they all trudged up to Tommy, fumbling over each other, shrieking and scratching. They gestured, pointing, waving their arms, then huddled around my son, playfully bumping into each other in the process. Tommy hugged them back, one at a time, Mikey, SeeSaw, Rose. God. I hated it. The entire dream, gone, Tommy’s hope to fulfill his unique ability, taken away from him. I blinked back a tear. And Weller too. Dr. Evans had returned to Washington for his job there. The entire program, scrapped. Rachel had found her replacement, according to Marcy, a primatologist named James King, Ph.D., who would continue working with the chimps while Rachel was gone. She said he was an excellent researcher. Then a new thought occurred: With Tommy gone to Houston, would Rachel still be drawn to me once she returned from Africa? And then again, maybe she’d extend her stay there; maybe she’d loved it so much in the land of the Gombe rainforest that she wouldn’t return at all.

  “There you go. And now we need to leave them, okay?” I said.

  Tommy looked up at me and gave me direct eye contact. “’K.”

  We walked out of the play yard, went to the cleaning room and washed our hands, and then I escorted Tommy back to my car with Marcy joining us. Surprisingly, Tommy didn’t pitch a fit when we departed. He seemed to accept the conclusion of the visit with understanding, even a bit of maturity, and I was relieved.

  “What’s the latest on Albert?” I asked Marcy as we passed through the courtyard, then out the door that led to the parking lot. Tommy followed behind us. “Oooouuu . . .” I’d lost him to his inner world.

  “Oh, poor Albert,” Marcy said. “He’s getting even sicker, I’m afraid, and Dr. Rekulak’s unable to transport him to the sanctuary in Mexico.”

  “Really.” I rubbed my chin.

  She whispered so that Tommy wouldn’t hear. “He’s too fragile it seems. So he’s staying by Albert’s side, nursing him as best he can, basically waiting for him to die.”

  “Oh. That’s too bad.” I frowned. I recalled how Albert had moved me with his wisdom, his gentleness, his keen perception of his surroundings, and drew a sad breath. Poor Albert. He was the best.

  Finally, Tommy and I told Marcy goodbye, and then alone with him in the parking lot, the chimps shrieking in the distance, I bent down to Tommy’s level. Other than the shrieks of the chimps, the underlying quiet of this out-of-the-way area seemed to almost have an intelligence of its own, deep and rich.

  We were standing next to my car, that old man with metallic arthritis. It was time for me to give Tommy the heartb
reaking news, that he’d no longer be seeing the chimps and that I would, at least for a while, be out of his life when he moved to Houston. How cruel could it get?

  But he had to know.

  The sun burned hot on my back, the blue umbrella sky wide, high, and omniscient. I wanted to scream at that sky, but I fought to keep myself under control.

  “Daddy, chimpies fun,” Tommy said. He gave me direct eye contact, then put a hand in his mouth. He stepped a bit closer to me. He took a satisfying deep breath.

  “They are fun, but you know what? There are other things that are fun, too. Like puzzles and games and playing outside.”

  Tommy fidgeted, looked down, then put a hand in his mouth.

  I forced myself to continue. “Remember that school Mommy talked about where she wants you to go?”

  “School.”

  “Yes. The Acorn School.”

  “Go.” Tommy looked right and left, then swirled around. He thwacked his face and I grabbed his hands and placed them at his sides.

  “No, son. Please don’t do that.” I took a breath. “Anyway, you’re going to go to that school soon. But what you need to know is . . . ” My voice, my instrument, my moneymaker, suddenly stopped working, as if the mechanisms ground to a halt. I swallowed. Finally, I pushed on. “What you need to know is that Daddy won’t be coming with you, at least for a while anyway. It’ll just be you, Mom, and Wade. But that’ll be fun, won’t it?” I felt sweat trickle down my sides under my shirt.

  “Daddeee,” Tommy said.

  “I’m sorry, Tommy.”

  “Daddy. No.”

  “No, I’m sorry. Daddy, no. I am really sorry, but your mom has made it so . . .” Could I really tell him? I could hardly breathe.

  He seemed to get the message: “No no chimpies.”

  “Well . . . Maybe again someday. I’m going to work on that, for sure.”

  Tommy turned away from me, looking back at the chimp enclosure.

  “But I’ll come to visit you soon,” I said, forcing a smile on my face. “That’s for sure.”