By Nancy Coggeshall
“Oh, honey,” he said, trying to nuzzle the back of her neck through a skein of corn silk hair. “Please, stop. She’s not here anymore.” He paused. “She’s in the other room.”
The sobbing continued.
“She must have slipped the catch,” he said, hoping that the sobs would subside. “She’s back in her cage. I fixed the door real good. Houdini couldn’t get out.”
The crying slowed. “Houdini’s not a monkey. And besides, you promised that when she came in here the last time—and we were, we were,” Wendy stopped and breathed heavily. “You promised it wouldn’t ever happen again.”
“I know, honey,” he said. “But she’s just so bright. And curious. She likes you too.”
“Then why,” and he heard the now unmistakable burble of more sobs beginning, “Then why did she mess on my sweater?”
“Ah, gee, honey. It was an accident,” he said, trying to hold her more closely. “I think she got excited when you started screaming.”
“She was sitting on the brand new sweater that Daddy gave me for my birthday. She messed all over it.”
“Honey, she didn’t.” He stopped for a moment and continued slowly. “She didn’t mess all over it. There was just a small spot on the sleeve. It’s organic. I wiped it off. There’s barely a stain. I’ll send it to the cleaners.”
“It’s ruined.”
“I’ll get you another one,” he replied.
“You can’t afford it,” she said. And he felt her body stiffen, her breathing shifted, another sharp intake of air. Then the sobs scaled and became a high-pitched lamentation, some primal wail.
Oh, no, he thought. Won’t she ever stop? It’s a good thing the neighbors all left for work early. They’d call the cops. From the way she was carrying on, anyone would think she was being tortured. Raped.
That monkey. Oh, she was going to be the best he’d ever worked with. So bright. So responsive. She’d learned hand shaking in a minute. She really handled well. Already she knew the shell game and the card trick. She was a treat.
So she, what did Wendy call it? She messed. That was an accident. Hell, he’d nearly messed too when he heard Wendy’s scream. It was just a sweater. What’s the big deal?
“Honey, honey,” he said, kissing her shoulder. “Honey, why don’t you stop crying. I’ll get up and make you some tea.”
There was no response.
Mikey rolled over and lumbered out of bed, picking up pieces of his clothing and putting them on as he left the darkened room. In the kitchen he boiled water and made coffee for himself, then put a tea bag in a stoneware mug and poured water over it to steep.
How long had he been seeing Wendy? He pulled on the end of his moustache. Two months? No, three. That’s right. They’d met at the zoo fundraiser. She was one of the volunteers. High cheekbones, pale skin, correct accent, tweed. Not one of his old buddies from high school would have glanced twice at her. Too chilly. Too thin. But Mikey looked at her and saw the girl he’d always dreamed of: a whippy, little Brahmin built for speed. And just when he thought she was beginning to really relax with him, Popo has to get out of her cage, tear into the bedroom, swing from the headboard onto the chair. And crap on Wendy’s clothes.
Why was she so upset? Hadn’t he enchanted her with his act? It was tough to resist. A Capuchin monkey wearing a miniature Red Sox batting helmet, performing atop a hurdy-gurdy for the Zoo Day crowds. Obviously, a monkey that was part of an act to raise money for charity was one thing, but a monkey overhead when she was getting laid was another.
Funny, none of his other girlfriends had minded that much. In fact, what’s her name thought it was pretty interesting.
He padded back to the bedroom to proffer tea and suggest going out for breakfast, but when he got there the bed was empty and he could hear the shower.
“Wendy, I have some tea,” he said through the bathroom door. He knocked. “I have some tea,” he said more loudly. “Wendy?”
The door opened, Wendy reached for the tea with one hand and clutched a towel around her with another. Oh, she’s sweet, thought Mikey. “We could go out for breakfast,” he said.
“No.” She said, “I have to go to the office today, and I’ll have to go to my apartment first. I’d appreciate it if you’d take me there. I’ll have to change my clothes.”
She closed the door. Mikey regarded the brush strokes on the door’s painted finish for a moment or two, then returned to the kitchen.
“I didn’t do anything to provoke her,” said Wendy. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her complexion, despite the shower, was still splotchy. She really looks like hell when she cries, Mikey thought. “You said she likes me.”
”I know. I know,” he said, turning the wheel of his van as they drove toward her apartment. “Sometimes there’s something about you.” His voice trailed off.
“Something about me,” she whispered.
Mikey inwardly moaned. Does this whispering mean more tears? “I think you make her nervous. She like gets into a mood.”
Wendy tucked her legs closer to the seat. “I’ve worked with animals before.”
“It will be okay. From now on when you come over, I’ll put Popo in the back. She can’t get out of a cage and a locked room.”
Wendy presented her perfectly patrician profile and stared at the traffic ahead.
“Who’s the blonde?”
“What blonde?” Tony grabbed a bunch of celery and began chopping it.
“The blonde I saw you with Thursday morning.”
“Give me those bananas.”
Mikey’s niece asked again, looking at him directly. “Well, who is she?”
“Someone I met at the zoo.”
“I meet people at the zoo too, but they’re not at my house at seven o’clock in the morning.”
“She likes Capuchins,” he said, placing pieces of fruit and vegetables in plastic bowls. “She told me they’re being used with people who are completely handicapped. Bed-ridden. She had some information about it. I thought I could maybe get into that too.”
“Did you get lucky?”
“What do you know about luck?”
“You didn’t look very happy,” Angela said, snitching a piece of cantaloupe for herself. “Neither did she.”
“Popo crapped on her sweater.”
“Popo doesn’t crap on people,” Angela said defensively.
“She wasn’t wearing it.”
The girl hesitated. “What do you mean?”
“Never mind.”
“Oh!” said Angela. Then still looking at her uncle, she leaned back and laughed.
“I ought to rap you with this banana,” Mikey said, and his face broke into a warm slow smile.
“Are you going to see her again?” Mikey shrugged. He had to admit things really didn’t look too good. Monkey shit loomed like the Great Wall of China between him and the girl of his dreams. “Why don’t you bring her to the christening? When is it? She could meet the whole family.”
Mikey shook his head. “I’m going to the Cape that weekend. Remember? A family reunion in Wellfleet. I’m taking Popo. And Freddie. I’ll leave Joey and Lili with you.”
“Why don’t you ask the blonde to go with you?”
“I don’t think she’d like that.” He’d like it. He’d like it a lot. The beach at night. A little wine. Some grass. WhenWendy let go, she was like an eel.
“Mikey.” Angela repeated his name. “I’ve got to go now. I have to walk the Frasers’ Great Dane.”
“Okay, Angel. I’ll pay you when I get that check for that Wellfleet party.”
“So how was Popo?” asked Angela as she burst into the monkey room in Mikey’s house. Her uncle, unshaven, wearing black sweat pants, was standing beside a cage. Popo was on his left shoulder with her right paw resting on top of his head. He put his index finger to his lips. “Company?” replied Angela. Mikey nodded. “The blonde?” Mikey shook his head. Angela clucked at Popo and rubbed her finger against the monkey’s chin.
“I’ll get some coffee,” said Mikey. “We can sit outside.”
“Bring your checkbook too.”
“So how was Popo?” asked Angela again, this time sitting on the back steps, taking a sip of coffee.
“Real good. Real good. I knew she was bright. Aren’t you, girl? he said to the Capuchin, still sitting beside his head. “And she was real good with the crowd. I used her and Freddie together. First one and then the other. I’m real pleased. Here’s your check.”
“Thanks,” said Angela, brightening when she saw the amount. “So who’s your company?”
“You don’t know her.”
“You sure recover fast.”
“Recover?” he said as he stroked Popo’s tail. Maybe I woke up, he thought. You should only date dream girls when you sleep. Otherwise, they turn into nightmares that spook and confuse you during the day.
“I really didn’t like the looks of that blonde, Mikey.”
“You only saw her once.”
“Doesn’t matter. So what’s this one like.”
“Her name is Carol.”
“Is she blonde?”
“No. She’s Italian,” he said as Popo proceeded to groom him. “She’s a para-legal. And he turned so that the monkey could groom the back of his head. “She’s allergic to cats. And she’s never seen a Capuchin monkey before.”
“That’s okay,” said Angela, finishing her coffee. She got up from the steps, peered into the monkey’s face, and again touched it under the chin. “Thanks for the coffee. And the check.”
“See you tomorrow? Same time?”
“Yeah.”
“Bye.” With Popo still holding his head, Mikey picked up the coffee cups. I think I will look into that business of using Capuchins with the handicapped. That could be interesting. Maybe profitable, he thought. I’ll contact that woman in D. C.
Walking through the monkey room and into the kitchen, Popo’s head turned from cupboards to windows to floor, her eyes black and wide. Mikey’s musing continued as he put the dirty coffee cups on the sink. And he and Popo walked toward the bedroom door.
Copyright 2009