A Beautiful Truth (16 page)

He bought another TV and one of the new VHS players for Looee’s house.

Looee had learned to restrain his habit of grooming because it had grown too painful for his groomees. He made his noises of respect and affection while he ate his popcorn and he liked Walt’s company. He watched movies for hours and got up often and brought toys to the couch.

Larry got his hands on a bootleg tape of the new Blue Lagoon with Brooke Shields and the three of them watched it at Looee’s place. Walt and Larry grew embarrassed and talked business but Looee was transfixed. He made long affectionate oooos at the blond-haired girlboy who dove in the ocean and foraged for his friend. His eyes went soft when the screen went gold with skin.

Whenever Walt went over to Looee’s place The Blue Lagoon was playing. Walt had spent a long time teaching him how to push the rewind button, and Looee didn’t understand how long he had to wait, so unless Walt rewound the tape for him he was usually watching the closing credits or the last few scenes.

Walt still thought there was a bit of a unicorn in Looee, something mythical or impossible. No matter how much work or how many complications were involved with keeping him in the family, Walt always felt lucky for having this connection. Judy said how old will he live to. How long do we have him for. They felt the fear of winter.

They were lucky, especially, in how gentle Looee was. A male chimpanzee, deep into adolescence, growing by the week, could
easily have torn the house down, and Walt limb from limb. He would soon be as strong as seven men, and by the end of the following year would weigh 170 pounds. He had all the emotions, passions and jealousies of a child; the short attention span; the need for recognition; the need to prove himself while being largely helpless. And he carried those emotions in a body that could lift a thousand pounds and had a bite as strong as a panther’s.

The very thing that made him so big was also responsible for his gentleness. Judy fed him constantly. He had masses of food in his own fridge. Like Walt and Walt’s cohort throughout the human world, Looee had no experience of starvation, and none of them knew what creatures they would be if they had to find their own food. Looee felt hunger meal to meal but his meals were two hours apart. He got irritable and desperate on occasion and trouble always ensued, but if there was food in his belly he was calm. He could luxuriate in fictions like all who choose their clothes.

And he would find no satisfaction in hurting others not only because no others hurt him but because he was a nice guy.

You’re a good man Walt said.

It was obvious. Something you knew from the moment you met him. He’s just a nice guy.

He didn’t have to do anything. He didn’t have to offer you popcorn or do any favours. It wasn’t even that he seemed to want to please everyone: he didn’t—he hated and was afraid of all kinds of different people, on TV and otherwise. He just had a look about him, a way.

Mr. Wiley said it regularly. There’s a joke in his eyes. A smart joke, a slow-builder.

Mrs. Wiley made Vesuvius-mounds of spaghetti with meatsauce and Mr. Wiley brought it regularly to Looee.

He wanted Mr. Wiley to watch The Blue Lagoon with him.

In The Blue Lagoon the blond beauty takes food to his dark-browed friend. Fish and pearls like mummy’s pearl necklace, he would love to hunt like Walt.

Looee and Mr. Wiley acknowledged it with each other, each in his own way, whenever they met: it’s great to see you, you’re a good guy.

Looee bobbed his head and smiled and went to find something to offer, a gift is the same as some words. Mr. Wiley would hold a greasy fork that Looee had just given him and would say again it’s good to see you sir, okay, great great, and Looee would bob his head some more until the fork became a different kind of exchange: Looee would take it back and offer it again and make a gigantic noise that startled Mr. Wiley, who would say okay what’s this, it’s a fork, it’s serious now, and Looee would cast about and display as if he was saying fuck I like this guy, let’s go do something important.

When he was calm he wore a look in his eyes like a kind man staring at dawn.

Coyotes yipping at night disturbed his dreams and he woke up and turned on his TV. He used the remote to press play and his dark house bloomed like an electric garden. He slept till mid-afternoon, penis and belly wet with pearls from the lagoon, and he ate from an aluminum tray heaped high with cold spaghetti.

The Senate offered a broad exposure to the world. Mike was able to meet a delegation from Quebec, some of whom actually spoke no English. They dressed well and seemed fine people, but there they were, from a hundred miles away, with nothing to speak but French. He met the Canadian ambassador, the Mexican ambassador. A delegation from Norway came over to look at the Vermont Yankee Nuclear Power Plant. Mike befriended one of them, Thor Pettersen, and has enjoyed a decades-long correspondence with
him and has even visited him in Arendal, his hometown in Norway, which reminded Mike of Burlington. Thor is a good man, and their friendship shows that once the whole earth was of one language and of one speech. Thor loved the lakes and trees of Vermont, which for him recalled Åmli and the Sagfjellstigen.

Middlebury College was part of Mike’s constituency, and despite its legion of liberals it was a source of new relationships and interesting ideas for Mike. The dean of science was a fellow Rotarian—a good man with whom Mike had had many spirited and gentlemanly debates, and whose ideas were mostly misguided. They had found common ground when the dean discussed scientific explanations of the inferiority of women, and most of their lunches were enlivened by these truths.

The dean called Mike to talk about the establishment of a research wing at the college. There had been discussions of affiliation with an institute in Florida which specialized in research on primates. The dean explained that it was getting difficult to acquire apes and monkeys for research, but Middlebury could benefit from a purchase of animals from this institute. There was much to learn, and it could be a wonderful opportunity for Vermont to get on the map in terms of primate research.

Mike made sure that his smile was powerful enough to be heard over the phone. Let me find out more about this institute and we’ll talk some more.

The last thing he could conscionably support was the introduction of more of these creatures to Vermont.

Mike’s secretary took the name of the institute in Florida and called on behalf of the senator for a later conversation. The sound of her wool skirt and stockings stayed in his head like unwanted music. It accompanied him as he took a breath outside the State House.

Senator.

Senator.

Senator.

Smitty. How’s that mother of yours.

Montpelier is the smallest capital in the United States, sometimes so small that one doesn’t know what one yearns for. Flashing lights. A truly feminine woman.

There was a dryness in Mike’s throat and a half-seen vision of tethers and confinement, monkeys in cages, a shed in the woods and no meat. There was a thirst in his loins which he did not trust, and a glimpse of Senator Turnbull’s immodest Cadillac made him think of floating through imagined blue cities, tasting sweet nights, rolling smooth on American tires over guilt and the perils of having.

He suddenly wanted to free that animal.

When he eventually travelled, in his early sixties, to Thor’s hometown in Norway, they journeyed together to ski above the Arctic Circle. They ate reindeer jerky, which Thor had made. Thor had long echoed Mike in saying there is no need to search for food beyond a hundred miles from home.

They were both hardy men with extremely good posture, even under their heavy packs.

Thor said you and I have wanted similar things in our own countries. Maybe we are friends because we are not living together. But I trust you, Mike. I feel like I never got what I really wanted.

They had seen a wolf floating on a detached sheet of ice. Thor said that wolf will starve.

For decades Mike had made coalitions, formed triumvirates, was always a tall and recognized presence in the House, but he often felt alone. Rented mouths and the smell of death at home. Alone, with Cindy and then without.

They watched the wolf drift and Mike said we can’t save him.

There were times when Podo, Mr. Ghoul and Jonathan would sit together and play. The men would touch knuckles and roll, and three inscrutable, divided nations would join in a sniggering globe. The ground would shake and the women would be happy and mornings would not be a threat.

A fragrant bundle of sticks would land from the roof of the Hard and there would be no fighting, no teeth. Magda, Fifi, Jonathan and the young ones would sit and savour the leaves. Mr. Ghoul would come and shoulder his way in, and there would be no conflict or worry about who got what.

Everyone was calm, because Podo, like that piece of the sky up there, did the same to all beneath him.

When two bodies want the same thing, a third is needed to govern them. Mr. Ghoul and Jonathan bowed to Podo.

There was oa.

The World needs a leader for stability, and the World will never stay still.

Burke charges at Mr. Ghoul and the women, and everyone scatters and screams. Magda hugs Mama and Fifi, and goes to Podo to see if he saw.

Burke settles with his back to everyone and chews on a twig, nervous about what will unfold behind him. He broadens his back and shows that all he cares about is this twig. He has seen Podo do this.

Podo is thinking about Fanta.

Magda takes Podo by the shoulder to turn him so he can see Burke. She bows and looks up but Podo will neither turn nor look her in the eyes. He is tired, and doesn’t like her.

Magda pleeps and looks at impudent Burke. Someone needs to show him that his world is not the World. Mr. Ghoul has sought some shade.

Jonathan puts his snut in Magda’s rosé and smells tuna and potatoes.

Magda wants Jonathan’s help. Jonathan follows her towards the other women and they sit and eat and think. Magda believes that Burke will not dare to run at them now that Jonathan is among them.

Burke will not turn around. The wind behind him has fingers and the leaves are whispering judgment.

Podo is asleep.

Burke stands up and walks to the side, not looking at the group but seeing them nonetheless. He waits until more than one of them lies down.

He clears a space in the dirt, flicks twigs away and starts to sway, standing tall, perfecting his terrible warning.

They all take notice before he runs at them and Magda screams as loud as she can. She grabs Jonathan’s arm and begs him to stop the onrushing Burke.

Burke did not expect Jonathan to be involved. He was running at the women. He did not expect the arm of Jonathan to be as hard as the branch of a tree.

Burke is screaming now, side-stepping quickly away from the others. Magda, Jonathan and Mama chase him to the greybald tree which he climbs and swings around until the hools subside, but he does not want them to subside. He screams and hangs from a branch and refuses to be calm.

Bodies scatter and Burke surveys his work.

Podo is awake and feels as clear as the afternoon moon, wise Podo. He senses recent commotion. He walks to the group and sits and Mama gives him an open-mouthed kiss that carries comfort and pictures.

Jonathan and Magda do not come to Podo. They ignore him. He doesn’t like this.

Magda and Jonathan groom each other. Magda turns and lets Jonathan groom her swollen fistpips. She is facing Podo and deliberately does not look at him. She looks at tossed-away husks of melon while Jonathan’s snut and fingers tickle her pink menace. Jonathan deserves her more than Podo.

She looks at Podo directly now.

Burke is watching to see what power Jonathan has. His face still hurts from being hit by Jonathan’s big arm.

Magda walks away.

Podo stares at Jonathan.

Jonathan scratches his chest, looks for a moment at Podo then away to the unknown. He does not get up and greet Podo. He is content to stay where he is.

Podo feels sick. There’s a shift inside somewhere. He forgets where he is. He remembers he doesn’t like something.

Mike spoke with Dr. Emil Heinz at the Girdish Institute in Florida. It was a large primate research facility that had started in the 1920s. They bred their own animals and acquired them from wherever they could.

Mike said you might be interested to learn that there’s a chimpanzee living right here in Vermont.

Dr. Heinz was not entirely surprised. He had acquired chimpanzees from private homes in upstate New York, Georgia, Pennsylvania. He himself had gone to these homes and persuaded the owners to give their pets to Girdish. On one occasion, while trying to anaesthetize a young chimpanzee, he accidentally injected the arm of the woman holding her.

We have a historic relationship with primates and a facility that occupies a hundred acres. The climate is similar to their natural habitat.

Mike shared a lengthy conversation with him, and the man made reference to biomedical experiments, research done for the benefit of all species. Neither trusted the other one whit. But Mike
got some sense of the Girdish Institute and Girdish gained the address and phone number of Walter Ribke.