Once Upon a Road Trip (8 page)

She was glad to be getting out and about. A good night’s sleep hadn’t done as much to improve her outlook as she had hoped.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

On the whole, Angie was impressed with the Detroit Zoo. The grounds were lush and expansive, offering hours of self-paced sights and educational activities. Although, in Mark’s company, she struggled to keep any sort of casual pace. The young man flitted from one exhibit to another, reading aloud from the plaques and offering an array of accompanying details he recalled from previous visits or books he’d read. She was reasonably sure that anyone overhearing would think that he was vying for a position as a tour guide.

At one point they passed through a tunnel-like construct overgrown with leafy vines and other foliage, supported by a grated iron frame that allowed sunlight to filter through. She called for Mark to stop for a moment while she took a picture. Angie hadn’t noticed the hedges along either side were filled with white roses, until Mark spontaneously broke into a short musical number over them.

“ . . .everything’s coming up roses!” His rich voice carried as he did a tight spin and gestured to the flora. The outburst briefly drew the attention of a half dozen people nearby, who didn’t seem to know what to make of it. If Mark noticed the stares, he didn’t acknowledge them.

“What’s that from?” Angie asked quickly, concerned he might progress to a full-fledged production if he wasn’t redirected. 

“Gypsy: A Musical Fable.” He appeared momentarily aghast at her lack of recognition, clawing his upturned hands before himself. “It’s only considered to be the -greatest- American musical of all time!”

Angie watched out of the corner of her eye as a passing woman steered her two small children by their shoulders, giving Mark an excessively wide birth. “Okay, sure. Gypsy,” she said and then paused. “You know what? I like the sound of that.” She gave Mark’s shoulder a firm, congratulatory pat. “Thank you. You just found the perfect name for my car.” She continued walking, taking the lead on their way to the Penguinarium.

Mark lifted a finger in a look of confusion before hurrying to catch up with her. “You’re welcome?” He glanced at his watch, falling in line with her stride. “We ought to be right on time. This is my favorite habitat by far, even though they only have three of the seventeen existing species—”

Angie kept her camera in hand as they stepped into the cooled air of the rounded, concrete building. Her attention was immediately drawn to the cylindrical structure filling the center of the room. The rocky, three-sided habitat rose up surrounded by a glass-encased pool that stood well above waist level. As they moved closer, she could see the pool was continuous, flowing in a rapid counterclockwise motion around the central habitat. Penguins of varying sizes plunged into the water to swim against the current, taking on the characteristic underwater flying pose she’d often seen on television.

“Huh. It’s like…a penguin treadmill,” she mused aloud.

“Precisely.” Mark shuffled to her right, watching as the largest of the penguin species were tossed small fish by their handlers. “It’s one of the few zoos in North America to utilize this form of containment.”

A sprightly young girl pointed toward the most sizable of the flightless birds. Too small to see over the top of the pool, her pigtails bobbed freely as she bounced up and down. “Look mommy! It’s an Emperor Penguin, like from my book!”

“I wish it were.” Mark bent slightly at the waist, coming closer to the child’s level while giving her a singular pat on the head. “Actually, that’s a King Penguin. It’s an easy mistake to make, they’re very closely related.”  His tone was pleasantly authoritative, as it tended to be regardless of who he was speaking to. He also appeared unaware of the irritation that soured the face of the little girl’s mother.

“Oh,” the child said, giving Mark a confused look before turning her attentions to a smaller penguin nearby. Her mother eased to her side, placing an arm around the girl while subtly positioning herself as a buffer between her offspring and Mark. Mark, however, showed no signs of recognizing this. He’d already moved on to another section of the habitat.

Angie followed after him. She was becoming convinced that her friend had no idea of when his behavior or choice of words could be considered off-putting. She knew he meant no harm whatsoever, but she also knew the general public wasn’t privileged with the kind of background knowledge she’d accumulated about him. If today was any indicator of a “normal” outing for him, she had to wonder if his future would hold to a pattern of unwitting alienation. She also wondered if it would do any good for her to obey the urge to talk to him about it. After all, when it came to social graces, she was a far cry from savvy herself.

Several feet away, a boy she guessed to be around the age of six was staring intently at a section of information on the wall, struggling to sound out the scientific name for the Macaroni Penguin.

“E…you…youdip…youdipits cris…sol…pus…” The boy dragged his finger along underneath the word as he attempted the pronunciation.

Mark clasped his hands behind his back and leaned aside toward the boy.
“
Eudyptes chrysolophus,” he amended, gesturing to a set of smaller penguins that were swimming past behind the glass. “They’re closely related to the Eudyptes chrysocome, but you can see the difference in their crests.”

Angie sighed at her friend, thinking he sounded a little too much like the character he most favored using for storylines in their online writing community—a mad scientist. She then noticed that a gruff-looking, middle-aged man standing a few paces behind the boy had frowned and shifted his stance.

Undeterred by the correction, or simply ignoring Mark, the young boy stepped aside to the next plaque and repeated his stumbling efforts with the King Penguin. “Ap…ten…odits... Pat…ago…nice…”

“Aptenodytes patagonicus.” Mark piped up again, matter-of-factly.

“Excuse me...do you work here?” asked the man Angie had deduced was connected to the little boy. His tone was demanding and laced with agitation. He was tall and thickly built, wearing an old Harley Davidson t-shirt that must have started out black but had faded to gray. The scruffy start to a beard showed a salt and pepper mingling, which could have placed him as either an older father or a younger grandfather. Either way, he made for an intimidating figure.

Mark smiled as he looked back at the man. “Oh, no. But I have thought about applying for a seasonal position. I’m here nearly every week as it is.” His expression brightened. “I highly recommend the membership program. It comes with a magazine subscription that I’m sure could improve his familiarity with Latin pronunciation,” he said, gesturing to the boy.

The man folded his arms across his chest as he stared at Mark, his face darkening into what Angie interpreted as mounting hostility.

“Mark! Come on, I need to show you something,” Angie blurted out, unable to come up with a better excuse for ushering him away. She gave the angry looking man an apologetic smile, grabbed a handful of Mark’s shirt, and pulled him along toward the door.

Mark allowed himself to be led, but appeared thrown off over having his one-sided conversation interrupted. “What is it? This was supposed to be our last big exhibit.”

Angie released him once the door of the building closed behind them. “Okay, so I don’t actually need to show you something. I just didn’t want you to get hit in the mouth.”

Mark gave her a bemused look. “And why would you be concerned over something like that?”

She sighed, wracking her brain for the best way of illuminating the situation for him. “Because…you were starting to piss that guy off with critiquing that kid. I know you thought you were being helpful, but I’m pretty sure he wasn’t seeing it that way.” 

“What other way was there to see it?” Mark gave her an incredulous look as he smoothed out the crinkled spot on his arm where she’d gripped his shirt.

“That you were being an arrogant know-it-all?” she said, bluntly.

“Nonsense! I was only—”

“Hey, you asked.” Angie held up a hand to halt his brewing logistical argument. “I know you don’t mean to sound that way, but you do sometimes.” She held up her other hand to fend off the interruption. “People who know you know better, but in the rest of the world, people tend to make snap judgments about strangers. And when it comes to their kids, they’re going to be protective and even less willing to try to understand where you’re coming from. You need to be more careful. Establish a rapport with people first, you know?”

Mark considered this for a moment, his bright gaze bouncing over directional signs and passersby without any clear focus. “I thought I was being sociable.” His insistence began to sound wounded.

“I know.” She smiled in sympathy. “But being sociable includes showing that you’re interested in other people, not just inviting yourself in on a topic you think you have in common. What you have to say doesn’t tend to mean a lot to people, unless -you- mean something to them.”

Mark frowned slightly. “That sounds…reasonable.”

Though Angie wasn’t certain that he’d understood what she was getting at, she decided not to press the issue. It didn’t seem likely a single conversation would be enough to temper how he related to others. At least a potential conflict had been averted. “Come on, ” she said. “I want to stop by the big cats again before we go. Maybe a few of them are done napping.”

Mark’s amiable expression returned. “I’d say the chances are good. Cats are most active at dawn and dusk, and the sun should be setting soon.” He nodded to the west where the glowing orb was about to sink beyond the horizon. Taking long strides on short legs, he set the pace for them down the cement walkway in the direction of the feline exhibit.

Angie smirked to herself and shook her head, launching into a sprint to catch up to him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Angie waited until after dinner to call Zak. She knew his high school classes wouldn’t be over with for several more days, and she wanted the best chance of catching him at home. The phone rang several times before a woman picked up on the other end. Angie infused cheerfulness into her voice as she asked for Zak, hunching herself forward in the computer chair as she waited.

“Hello?” A mellow baritone voice came on the line.

She swallowed back her surprise. With the cost of long distance phone calls to Canada being twice that of calls in the US, she’d never actually spoken to him outside of a somewhat garbled computer chat function. “Zak? This is Angeli.” She waited, allowing the information to sink in.

On the other end there came a sigh. “Look. Don’t be mad. I didn’t think you’d actually come. Lots of people make plans and talk big, you know? I just figured—”

“That I’d chicken out?” Angie said, blandly.

“Well, sorta.” Zak confessed, tone filling with regret. “I’m really sorry. I’m going to break it to my mom tonight and see what I can do. I can’t make any promises though. I mean, I can at least show you around when you get up here. I just don’t know if I can convince her to let you stay at the house.”

“I’d settle for a safe place to park my car, if you know of any parks or camping spots.” She found herself sounding more dismayed than upset with him.

Zak seemed to hesitate. “I don’t know that I’d feel great about that, but I’ll look into it.”

“If it helps at all, your mom can call and talk to my mom. And the family I’m staying with now can vouch for me not being psychotic. I’ll send you an email tonight with the phone numbers.”

“That couldn’t hurt,” he said. “Just give me a day or two and I’ll get back to you, eh?”

“Okay. I’ll be here a few more days. Let me know what’s up as soon as you can,” she said, trying not to sound pleading.

As Angie hung up the phone, she felt somewhat better. There was nothing to do now but wait for the verdict. She could at least try to enjoy herself in the meantime. Hearing Mark and his mother laughing in the dining room, she got up to join them. Cutting through the entertainment room, she was given only a slight start at finding Mark’s father slumped over asleep on the nearest side of the sofa. She was beginning to regard him as a sort of randomly relocating effigy. 

Sandra smiled after noticing her entrance. “There you are. Mark was just telling me about your little mishap with the car.”

“Oh, that.” Angie recalled with mild embarrassment as she sank into a chair beside Mark, across the table from Sandra. “I can’t believe I left the door ajar while we were in the zoo. I’m just glad I had jumper cables with me.”

“I can’t believe I couldn’t persuade anyone to pull their car around and give us a jump-start,” Mark said in a bewildered tone. He gave Angie an inquisitive look. “And yet, somehow, you managed to coax the first person you asked into helping us.”

“I shouldn’t have asked you to flag someone down in the first place.” Angie laughed. “We were in the middle of Detroit, at dusk, stuck at the back of a giant parking lot. You’re a guy with a beard, who could pass for being ten years older than you are. And I’m…a generic eighteen-year-old girl. Guess who looks least like a serial killer between the two of us?”

“Well, that’s…discrimination!” Mark forced a theatrical tone of outrage.

“You bet your Blarney Stone, it is.” Angie chuckled. “But it’s also survival instinct. I would have picked me, too.” She reached over and gave his russet hair a good-natured ruffling.

“I’m not Irish!” Mark leaned away and immediately began grooming his hair back into place with his fingers.

His mother laughed. “I can just imagine it. At least you weren’t stuck somewhere downtown. I’d think it would have been even more difficult to find a good Samaritan.” Sandra stood and headed back toward the kitchen. “The tea should be about ready.”

Angie looked to Mark. “Downtown… is that where we were when we passed the burning car?”

Mark bobbed his head in a nod. “Technically, yes. That was an unusual sight, in my experience. Even more unusual that there weren’t any first responders on the scene yet.” Mark’s head twitched aside toward his right shoulder as he spoke.