The Visit

By Randy L. White


I hated my younger brother, Don. After watching one too many wrestling shows, he began his wrestling career, calling himself the Caped Avenger. He would jump onto my back, wrestle me to the ground, and put that choke hold on me, turning my face red. I hated him then to the point of wishing he would get choked himself, so he could know what it felt like.

I always managed to break free and pulverize him. I didn’t mind the whippings from Dad. In a way I felt I deserved it after Don got what he deserved. It was worth it. At least that’s the way I felt until our visit to the Westfield Zoological Park.

As we waited in a line that barely moved, the July sun glued our shirts to our backs. I knew this visit was Mom’s way of saying summer break would soon be over. I would rather have gone south, to Laurinburg, with Uncle Ken and my older brothers, Mark and Jim, but there wasn’t enough room.

“You kids better be good or this is the last time I’ll take you anywhere,” Mom warned us with a stern finger.

“We will be,” I said, promising for Kim and Don too. I wasn’t really worried, she always threatened us before going anywhere; it was family tradition. Just like my younger sister Kim, she was always getting her way, smacking on her precious cherry gum, a real smart ass. At least she didn’t copy me like Don. He was always tagging along, getting in my way—or worse, in trouble.

“I go.” Don broke free and ran for the main entrance barred by a series of gates.

“Get back here!” Mom shouted, waving at me to follow him.

“Great!” I chased him down and hauled him back to Mom. He squirmed like a worm trying to escape my grip, a waste of time. I was three years older, faster, and twice as strong; he didn’t stand a chance.

She snatched him by the shoulder and bent down. “You want to go home?”

“No. We go!” Don pointed at the main entrance.

“We have to wait our turn,” said Mom. “Be good and stay with your brother.”

“Mom,” I whimpered and gave her my lost orphan look. “You mean watch him?”

“Andy is a whiner,” Kim said, snickering. She popped a bubble in my face and shook her head. The bright red ribbons in her hair swung back and forth.

“Shut up little red riding hood,” I said.

“Mom,” Kim yelled. “Andy’s talking mean.”

“That’ll be enough!” Mom whirled around. “Get along or we’re going home right now.” She tapped her foot, waiting for a reply.

“I want to stay,” Kim said, and I begged with her as back up.

“Start acting like you have some manners. All of you.” She gave each of us the look; we all knew well what it meant, for Mom had an uncanny way of tightening the skin about her eyes as she focused her cool and calculating stare upon us.

“Okay,” Don grumbled as he folded under the pressure of Mom’s stare.

The line moved forward and soon Mom paid our way in. “There’re a lot of people here so stay close,” she ordered us once we were through the spinning bars and away from the crowded entrance. She opened the map and studied the layout of the zoo. It had a long stone path weaving in and out of exhibits.

“I want to see the birds,” Kim demanded with a chirping pout.

“I want to see the lions,” I roared.

“Me wants to see monkeys.” Don grunted, leaning over and scratching his armpit.

“First we’ll see the birds.” Mom pointed the way.

“Why do girls always go first?” I demanded.

“It’s called having good manners. That’s why girls always go first,” Mom replied.

Smacking her gum, Kim bubbled with delight as I grunted.

“Besides, the exhibits are laid out this way.” Mom turned toward the birds. “Next we’ll see the lions and then the monkeys.”

“No!” Don moaned, grunting harshly.

“Okay, now that everyone’s on board, let’s go,” Mom said. We raced ahead of her up the stony path toward the bird display.

I had to admit it made sense to first see the birds, then the lions, I ignored Kim’s smug look as we arrived at the bird display and its chirping musical. While most of the birds clung to their perches, waiting to be fed, others fluttered around their cages; their colored feathers varied like last week’s Fourth of July fireworks show.

“Oh look!” shouted Kim, pointing to a pair of pink flamingos.

I did not see why she admired those birds and their knobby knees. They stood there and did nothing. It must be the color: pink; of course, girls, I decided, rolling my eyes. I moved to the next exhibit, a pair of eagles.

The whole bird display amazed us as we moved from one cage to the next. Kim fed an ostrich her bubble gum. It swallowed the gum in one gulp. The birds liked her for some reason. Kim pointed to the peacocks; their feathers dazzled me. They were never this colorful in the library books. Here they were living and bold, and even the TV peacock paled next to a real one.

“I’m tired of looking at these dumb birds,” grumbled Don. “Let’s go see the monkeys,” he begged Mom. Scratching under his arm, he hopped around on bowed legs.

“Hey, wait a minute,” I jumped in.

“Andy’s right. First we see the lions,” Mom said. Don lagged behind until we arrived at the overlook to the lions’ habitat.

Across a twenty-foot moat was a grassy clearing with a small pond and several huge slabs of rock placed against the back wall, creating several shallow caves for the lions. A small waterfall dripped near where the lions lounged on the rocky cliffs. Ten or so lions and lionesses, a pride, prowled the little grassland and caves. A young lioness leaped from a stone perch to the cave, where a lion mounted her.

“Turn away,” Mom ordered us; she covered Don’s bulging eyes. The skin about her eyes seriously tightened, and I knew better than to complain, wondering what the big deal was. It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen a dog hump a person’s leg or other things when it was excited. After I could look again, I studied those proud and magnificent creatures moving about. Just one of those lion’s paws could knock a man’s head clean off his shoulders. The lionesses were sleeker with their thin manes, playfully attacking each other, moving like whirlwinds of fur and claws.

We stayed a good twenty minutes before Don spilled soda on Mom’s shirt and we had to go to the bathrooms so she could clean her shirt.

“Let’s see the elephants,” I begged Mom as she returned from the Ladies Room.

“Monkeys,” Don grunted at her.

“I promised him. Let’s go.” Mom led the way down the stone path to a sign saying: “Primates Exhibit.”

“Stay close and be good,” she warned Don, pulling on his arm.

“I do,” he responded, swinging loose from her grip. He dashed toward the rattling cages and stopped in front. Don paced up and down like a trapped ape, watching the other children feed the apes and monkeys. When we arrived, he focused on Mom’s purse and the peanut stand just off to our left.

I read the sign listing the species of monkeys in the cages. The scientific names were confusing; they call it Latin. Mom sounded like she had a mouth full of marbles when she tried to pronounce the names.

“Need peanuts for monkeys,” Don pouted, tugging on her purse.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “It only costs a dollar.”

“I guess.” She rummaged through her purse for some money, removing a compact, tissues, keys, and other women’s stuff. She handed me a five-dollar bill. “Get a bag and bring me the change,” she said. “Take him with you.”

“Okay.” I guided Don to the peanut seller. We waited in line. After the woman ahead of us seemed to order out the entire cart, we bought a small bag of hot peanuts.

The seller, a man with a drooping mustache and puffy lips, handed over the brown paper bag of peanuts and the change. Once I returned Mom’s money, we headed for the monkey cages with the warm peanuts.

“Give me some,” Don demanded, holding out his dirty hands.

“In a minute,” I teased him, trying to keep him at shoulder length.

“Mom,” Don whined.

“Oh here,” I said, dumping him a handful to shut his mouth. Why did he always get his way? I tossed my handful of nuts through the bars. From all ends of the cage, monkeys gathered around the pile of peanuts; all that is, except for the big one hiding in the shadows, eyes barely open. He had been sleeping against a man-made tree. The other monkeys picked apart the peanut shells, ripping them open and smacking on the nuts, chattering loudly. I tossed in a couple more.

I handed Kim and Mom a handful, which meant Don would get the last few, since I already had two handfuls. Now I was bored with the mindless brutes. Do they really sling their poop?

Don crawled up onto the railing and threw peanuts into the back of the cage. “Wow! Look at that big one.” He pointed out the huge monkey scattering the crowd of smaller primates to finish off the remaining peanuts.

“He sure is big.” Kim tossed the big ape several of her peanuts.

“Give me more,” Don shouted.

“Here’s the last.” I emptied the bag into his hands. “Hey Mom, what kind of monkey is that?” I pointed at the big one.

Mom looked at the chart and began reading off the names of various monkeys. She sounded like a toothache. Kim threw in her last few peanuts and climbed down from the rail.

Don tossed his last peanut at the big chimp. It hit the cage’s bar and fell outside, landing on the pavement below the “Keep Out” sign.

“Gosh!” exclaimed Don, jumping off the rail. He raced for the peanut.

Mom stopped reading and looked up. Her eyes grew twice their normal size, tightening the skin about them differently. “Don, get out of there!”

“What?” Don asked, turning his back to the cage. He looked up. “But Mom. I get peanut for monkey.”

Speechless, Mom waved at him as a hairy arm hovered above his head.

I watched in disbelief as the arm encircled Don’s neck and jerked him back against the bars, rattling them loudly. The big chimp tightened his grip. My brother grabbed at the arm pinning him to the cage, but he could not pull free.

I stood there, gaping, not knowing what to do.

Mom jumped over the bars while Don’s face turned from blood red to blue. She yanked at the hairy arm. Don struggled to breathe.

Mom yanked hard, but lost her grip.

His big hairy face close, the chimp sniffed Don’s right ear, smacking his thick lips. He bared his fangs and chattered loudly in Don’s ear. The sound chilled my heart. I didn’t mean to hate my brother. I love him, why would I hate him? He’s my brother! How could I ever wish such a thing?

Mom jerked at the arm around Don’s neck again. This time she jerked him free and helped him back onto the stone path.

“Are you all right?” Mom studied the red marks around his neck. The gashes were deep, but soap and water would clean up the wounds. “Didn’t I tell you to stay with your brother? Lord, boy, you’re lucky to be alive.”

“Yeah,” Don replied hoarsely. He nodded and rubbed his neck.

“We’re going home.” Mom grabbed his hand. “Let’s go.”

Too shocked to protest not being able to see the elephants, I followed Mom back to the car, hearing the monkeys behind us clamoring about their cages, chattering wildly with glee.