At least my favorite gorilla doesn’t insist that Kai’s an angel. Unlike Elle and Sam, Zuri only grunts and makes a throat-clearing noise when I tell her how much he sucks.
“And then he called me glaringly incompetent,” I explain, watching as she uses an enormous hand to swipe a paintbrush across a sheet of butcher paper. “Despite the fact that he hasn’t even read Dr. Kimber’s book.”
Zuri blinks at me before plopping her brush in purple paint and dripping some onto the paper.
“And even though I am glaringly incompetent, that’s not something you say out loud,” I add. “It’s just, like, basic manners.”
Grunting as if to say, But didn’t you call him an overhyped moron? or I want more grapes, Zuri twirls her brush in the air.
“I know you like the blue paint best,” I tell her, passing her a grape. “But you used it all yesterday, remember?”
Painting is one of the gorillas’ favorite enrichment activities, and it’s a fun way to practice their hand-eye coordination. Unlike Mac, who prefers holding the brush in his mouth, Zuri is a proper artist.
“Waaargh,” she vocalizes, abandoning the purple paint for pink.
“I agree. Kai is a rude man, and I’m glad you can see that.”
I pass her another grape and try not to think about my upcoming meeting with Kai. I’m not actually an insane person who thinks Zuri understands what I’m saying or cares whether I get promoted. I’m not a deranged Dr. Dolittle. But it feels good to vent to someone without being bombarded with shirtless pictures of Kai in response—even if he does look infuriatingly good without a shirt, and even if the someone is a two-hundred-pound gorilla.
It’s one of my favorite things about gorillas: what you see is what you get. When Ozzie the silverback pounds his chest, I know he’s angry. And when Zuri turns a grapefruit husk upside down and wears it like a hat, I know she’s feeling playful. Gorilla social dynamics are complex, but it’s a language I can mostly understand. They don’t use words to obscure their true emotions or manipulate each other. A silverback would never say, “I thought my happiness mattered to you,” when you declare for the umpteenth time that you don’t want to have a baby. A mother gorilla would never look into her youngster’s eyes and say, “See you next week,” when she has no intention of doing so. They can’t use words to hurt or lie to each other, and I have an easier time understanding them than my fellow humans.
Hence why I’m spilling my life problems to Zuri, who probably wishes I would shut up and let her paint in peace. But she’s always been a good listener, ever since I was ten and Nona brought me to the zoo for the first time. In the months after Karina deserted me, once I realized she wasn’t coming back, I started acting out. First I endangered the life of Nona’s pet goldfish Marigold by substituting Pixy Stix dust for fish food. Then I attempted a midnight excursion to the bus station, where I planned to book a ride back to California. When that didn’t work, I spent every fourth-grade recess period bragging to the other girls about my made-up voiceover role in an episode of Kim Possible. But the final straw for Nona was when I racked up a three-hundred-dollar phone bill making daily calls to Miss Cleo, the honey-voiced TV psychic.
After that, she dragged me to work with her every day after school. She was a cardiologist, so I spent most afternoons hanging out in the waiting room and contemplating ways to ruin her life, but one day she was called to the zoo to help with an echocardiogram on a gorilla. When we walked inside Ape House, I was convinced that Nona was going to feed me to the macaques, but instead, a khaki-clad zookeeper guided us to an exhibit that housed the most beautiful animal I’d ever seen: a gorilla with a strip of copper fur on her head. Zuri. I got to pass her slices of pumpkin while Nona did her ultrasound, and suddenly the girl who lived only to put vinegar in her grandmother’s herbal tea had a new obsession: gorillas.
I begged Nona to take me to the zoo every Saturday. I plastered my bedroom walls with pictures of Koko and his famous kitten. The only movie I wanted to watch was Majesty on the Mountain, and the only book I wanted to read was Dr. Kimber’s. Whenever Nona went to the zoo to assist with a primate cardiac procedure, I’d camp out in front of Zuri and talk her ear off about anything and everything: How much I missed my mom. My undying passion for Chad Michael Murray. An in-depth review of the Disney movie Treasure Planet. I was at a phase in my life when I desperately needed someone to listen to me without casting judgment, and Zuri became that someone. And sometimes, even though the Chad Michael Murray thing turned out to be a bust, she still is.
I’m passing Zuri another handful of grapes when my phone vibrates, and I glance at it to see Nona calling me for the third time today.
Zuri lets out a hoot bark, and I know she wants me to pass her the phone. There’s nothing she loves more than staring at a screen, and the one time she managed to grab Lottie’s iPad through the mesh, she spent three hours watching Netflix on a hammock.
Sighing, I press the phone to my ear. I felt okay ignoring Nona’s first couple of calls, figuring that she just wanted to share her thoughts on the newest episode of Grey’s Anatomy. But a third call might mean something important.
“Hello?”
“Lucy,” my grandmother says, relief flooding her throaty voice. “Thank God. I need a favor.”
I instantly regret my decision to answer. “No, I will not leave work to watch Joey Macoroy wash his car with you.”
She huffs. “Joey washes his Mustang on Saturdays, Lucille. And I know this is a big ask, but can I drop Mia off with you? Please?”
No way, I mouth to Zuri, who resumes painting something that vaguely resembles a three-eyed platypus.
“I wouldn’t ask if I weren’t desperate,” Nona continues, not giving me a chance to shut her down. “I’m supposed to watch her this afternoon, but Dr. Richards is sick, and I have to manage her caseload for the day. Can I drop Mia off with you for a few hours?”
“Have you tried calling Karina and Alfie? You know, Mia’s parents?” I ask, not hiding the saltiness in my tone.
“Yes. Alfie’s in Chicago for work, and Karina’s teaching an acting course in Cleveland. I called Trudy, too, but her boyfriend sprained his ankle at bowling league, and she’s taking him to urgent care.” Nona sighs. “Look, I’d bring her with me, but we both know that if I turned my back for a second, she’d have a defibrillator cranked up to max voltage on some poor soul who just came in for a checkup.”
“And you think dropping her off at a zoo, where there are wild animals, is a safer alternative?” I ask.
“I think leaving her under the close supervision of her older sister, for whom I will bake anything she wants, is my best option.”
I scan my brain for an excuse as to why I can’t help, but Nona’s pleading tone weakens my resolve. It’s tough to say no to the woman who practically raised me and funds the premium Hulu subscription that lets me watch The Real Housewives ad free.
Dammit.
“Tiramisu,” I say finally. “With homemade espresso. And no more bugging me to hang out with Karina for at least a month.”
“Have I told you that you’re the best granddaughter in existence?” Nona asks.
I only grumble in response and mouth Help me to Zuri, who presses a hand to the mesh for another grape.
“We’ll see you in twenty minutes,” Nona says. “And don’t worry, Mia promises to be quiet as a mouse.”