The kick felt so good that she kicked again, much harder.
He danced away on his other leg, grimacing, telling her all their devices and avatars had gone crazy at 10:48 on the same day. After the dust storm ended, the group had gradually collected in the store; there was safety in numbers and all the supplies were there. Nothing in the store worked, except one old battery-powered radio. They turned it on for a few minutes a day and searched the dial, but hadn’t heard any broadcasts yet.
He put his foot down cautiously. He said they’d offered to let him and Frankie join them, but not the 13 apes. They were worried about the food lasting through winter.
Did you see, he asked, Did you see how many of the kids were doing fine?
Limping slightly he led the way, circling widely around the encampment and then heading on toward the southeast.
Every house they entered, he searched systematically for books, looking for anything that might be helpful: astronomy, currents, sailing. He moved with energy now—not with the desperate speed of a sprinter, but with the determined pace of a marathoner.
*
That night, in a ranch house with a wood stove, sitting on the couch, she leaned in against him. He put his arm around her and rested his chin on her hair.
She could feel every fiber in her body, the tendons and flesh. She raised her face toward him, he was leaning down.
Then Houdina screamed and backhanded her head hard from behind.
Marge and Adele attacked Houdina. A table knocked over, a chair broken, the mayhem intense.
Ten minutes later when all the wailing and sobbing had quieted, Stotts and Frankie sat back down on the couch, staring at each other, a foot of space between them.
*
That night, as always, Tooch slept on top of Frankie. He heard something outside and tensed, waking her. The dog outside whined. The group of them woke, their breathing paused. Stotts stood up, pulling the rifle out from under the pillow and sliding the ammo clip in. They lay there still, while he stepped toward the window.
After a few minutes of silence, watching and listening, he looked back at Tooch, who blinked at him, sleepy. Stotts got back into bed.
She didn’t know if bonobos normally slept this lightly. They seemed in general more aware, more awake. During the day, exploring the world, their eyes so bright, they searched for trees to climb, toys to play with. She walked alongside them, present to the possibility of food or danger, every detail sharp, the colors shimmering. She watched Stotts—his rangy body, his stride—felt she’d never seen anyone as clearly before.
Since she’d given him the Kon-Tiki book, he no longer stumbled. His face was thinner, older now and worried, but at least his expression was alert, emotion in his eyes when he looked at them, when he looked at her.
As he lay down against her, she curled in and wrapped her arm around him.
*
That morning, Id woke before dawn and slid out of Frankie’s arms. She was eating and drinking enough to have energy again. Frankie turned over, hoping for a little more sleep, assuming Id was heading to Houdina to nurse. However when she woke up later, Houdina was staring at her. Neither of them had Id. They jolted out of bed and started searching.
Id, Frankie called, Id!
Houdina hooted, dashing this way and that. The others spread out, squealing.
Frankie looked under the beds and in the closets. Stotts sprinted into the basement, searching for where the bleach or other poisons might be.
It was only when she ran back to the living room that she saw Houdina stood now by the couch, still hooting for Id, but no longer with alarm. Instead she was slapping the cushions and rustling them around, searching theatrically, moving every pillow except the one that wiggled with laughter, Id’s toes visible underneath.
When Stotts came charging back up from the basement, Frankie pointed.
He looked, his face pale and fierce.
Houdina scooped Id up from behind the pillow. Id’s face so delighted with her trick.
In the end, he laughed the loudest, laughing until he had to cover his eyes with his arm.
*
While the bonobos were distracted by breakfast, Stotts pulled her behind the fridge to kiss her. They ground in close against each other, the slow heat rising.
Intent, it took them a bit to feel the silence all around. They pulled back to look. The bonobos had knuckled forward around the fridge, staring.
They let go of each other and backed away.
*
Her hope was by the time they reached the coast, they would have traveled far enough south for it to be livable for the bonobos. Some place that by then, next summer or fall, might be less populated than before. She imagined a national park, something with orchards nearby: Georgia peaches or Florida oranges. Once they’d found the right site, she’d search with Stotts for a nearby sailboat and start to equip it: food, water, fishing supplies. The two of them taking short trips with it up and down the coast for practice.
Each time, before they left on one of these sailing trips, she would pump her palm down, telling the bonobos, Stay. Telling them, Here. Telling them that again and again.
One day, she’d leave with Stotts in the boat for the journey, the trip across the ocean. Hoping to come back. Hoping that when she returned—with or without him—she could walk through the forest where she’d left them, walking and hooting up into the trees, until they heard her and came flying through the branches like furry superheroes, peeping with joy, to land on the ground and canter into her arms.
*
They spent that night in a house on a hill. This was a bigger home than most of the others, newly painted and gleaming. No sign of anyone having come close to it in a long time, except the prints of one wandering rabbit.
The front hall was covered with photos—children on a swing set, a couple grinning in front of a lake, an older man in a hospital bed. Halloween with one child dressed as an Oompa Loompa, the other wearing ears and a collar (A dog? A cat?). In the photos the people were so clean and relaxed, grinning. On their foreheads, their Bindis gleamed.
Stotts and she walked down the hall, staring, examining each photo in turn. He looked at the pictures of the children, his eyes warm.
The furniture was untouched, perfectly placed, the velvet throw folded over the back of the couch. She patted it, then moved to the kitchen. He opened the dishwasher to peer inside at its silence. She touched the sink faucet. The gleaming weight. Cold as a cadaver.
After they’d finished a feast of Cap’n Crunch and Vienna sausages, crackers and strawberry jam, she took his hand and led him gently upstairs. She didn’t need to say a word. He followed. She pulled him into the bedroom and closed the door. Somehow all the light in the room seemed concentrated in his face. Even in the dark she could see it perfectly.
She leaned against him and said, Now.
Then Goliath opened the door. The other bonobos were clustered behind. She shooed Goliath out and locked the door, but on the other side Tooch began to howl with terror, the rest joining in, the wails echoing with the rising screams, loud enough the noise could be heard outside, echoing in the night.
So Stotts opened the door and let them enter.
They looked at each other, over the crowd of bonobos wandering in, moving through the room, patting the pillows and opening the closets. In spite of this, the two of them stepped in to each other and kissed. The press of his body, the flesh, nothing else mattered. They pushed in closer, their hands moving.
Around them, she became aware of movement and grunting—the bonobos companionably commencing sex.
Before she’d even gotten his shirt off, the females started to squeal their orgasms, the males following. Then the bonobos knuckled over to the bed to snuggle in, chirping and pulling the blankets over them.
Meanwhile the humans (the determin
ed tortoise of sexuality) kept at it, while easing their way bit by bit toward the door until they were around the corner and in the hall. As the bonobos began to breathe deeper in sleep, Frankie and Stotts leaned against the wall and the side of a bureau, awkward but motivated, working to get a balance and a rhythm, making enough noise so the bonobos knew they were still there.
The need stronger than anything, the rising heat, time slowing, space compressing.
In the end she cried out, somehow surprised. Stotts’ noise followed, low in his chest. From inside the room, they heard Tooch coo back at them.
They stood there, leaning against each other, steaming in the night, feeling the slow breath of the other. Only as they began to get cold did they pull on clothes and move into the room, pushing the bonobos over far enough to claim a spot on the bed.
She settled against him, holding on, the feeling different now.
Home, she’d always considered an object, an address, something permanent, a structure with a roof. Lately, sleeping in a new building each night, she’d come to think of home in a different way. She understood that nothing, absolutely nothing, was permanent. All the buildings she’d occupied through her life had been only temporary shelters in which she’d laid down her head—to be forced out after a while. Her childhood house in Canada, that first apartment on 107th, her freshman dorm, the knee-wall closet on Staten Island, there’d been so many. Having to leave each now after a single night was just an acceleration of that life.
She no longer thought of “home” as anything to do with drywall or a door. She appreciated the feeling all the more for knowing there was a limit to the time she could reside within it.
She listened to his heart. His thumb ran down her spine.
Goliath rolled over and draped an arm over both of them. Marge patted Stotts’ head. Id and Tooch nursed on their thumbs with an audible suck. The slow respiration of them all.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This novel would not have been possible without my editor, Kent Carroll. Without his encouragement, I would not have written another novel.
My great gratitude also goes to the writers who helped me: Beth Castrodale, Grace Talusan, Gilmore Tamny, Mary Sullivan, Talaya Delaney, and Leah De Forest.
Finally, a deep thank you to Doug and my children, who got second fiddle while I worked.
RESEARCH APPENDIX
In this novel, I use details, stories and research from experts in order to bring to make the book as vivid and real as possible. Of course the human characters in this novel are not based on these real life experts in any way.
Below are books for you to read if you want to learn more about bonobos and the research.
Bonobos and Chimps
Any book at all by Frans de Waal
A Dutch primatologist living in the States, Frans de Waal describes the differences between the great apes with the gentle distance of a foreigner surveying an adopted land. He’s one of the world’s leading researchers of bonobos and his books are a joy.
Many of the stories and much of the research in this novel came from his books including the name of Mama, who was a relatively hairless chimpanzee at the Arnhem Zoo in the Netherlands. Another chimpanzee at the same zoo was taught to bottle feed her babies because she couldn’t supply enough breast milk for them. De Waal also describes a bonobo at Twycross Zoo in England who found a wounded bird, climbed to the highest point in her enclosure, unfolded the bird’s wings and threw it toward the sky.
If you aren’t sure which book of his to start with, try The Ape and the Sushi Master.
Bonobo Handshake, Vanessa Woods
Vanessa Woods tells the story of herself and her researcher husband, Brian Hare, who move to the Democratic Republic of Congo to study the differences between bonobos and chimps. Woods and Hare developed the experiment described in this book where food can be tugged into reach if two apes cooperate, as well as the experiment where a bonobo can choose to let another bonobo into a room to share the food.
Before a male bonobo would participate in the research, he’d frequently insist Woods touch his penis. Woods realized this touch for bonobos functioned as a greeting, like a handshake.
Many of the details in this novel come from Woods’ book, such as the bonobos imitating hairstyles from fashion magazines, playing basketball or drinking dish soap in order to burp bubbles. Perhaps most importantly, Woods described how the bonobos can fall in love with a human, flirting intensely with that person, while kicking out anyone they consider competition.
Empty Hands, Open Arms, Deni Béchard
Béchard traveled to the Bonobo Conservation Initiative in the Democratic Republic of Congo. His book describes the struggle of this remarkable nonprofit to support local initiatives to conserve land for bonobos and humans.
The Chimps of Fauna Sanctuary, Andrew Westoll
Westoll spent a summer as a volunteer caring for chimps at a chimp sanctuary outside Montreal. He found everyone he talked to who worked with great apes had dreams at night of those apes talking and driving cars.
Kanzi, PBS, RadioLab
The Kanzi RadioLab episode explores the relationships between humans and bonobos at the Great Ape Foundation (now called the Iowa Primate Learning Sanctuary). The Foundation was started and run by the remarkable researcher Sue Savage-Rumbaugh. The Great Ape Foundation in this book is named after that research center. If you ever get a chance, go visit. It’s in Des Moines.
Some of the bonobos who Savage-Rumbaugh worked with, such as Kanzi, have vocabularies of several thousand words, and can light fires, cook food and play Pacman. Some of them even struggle to speak English as best as their different vocal cords and physiology will allow. In very high-pitched, hard to understand voices, they say words such as “play,” “run” and “chase me.”
http://www.radiolab.org/story/91708-kanzi/
Flint Knapping
Making Silent Stones Speak, Kathy D. Schick & Nicholas Toth
To learn how stone tools were developed, Kathy Schick and Nick Toth traveled to Tanzania to make and use stone tools to butcher animals (including an elephant).
Toth also taught the bonobo Kanzi from the Great Ape Foundation to flint knapp. At one point, Kanzi, frustrated with the difficulty of trying to flint knapp, rolled back the rug in order to throw the rock on the cement floor and break it in hopes that he’d have created a shard sharp enough to use.
Songs of the Gorilla Nation, Dawn Prince-Hughes
The scene of gorillas eating pumpkins in this novel came from Prince-Hughes’ autobiographical book. As a woman with autism, she learned how to relate better to other humans by watching how a gorilla family related to each other.
Woman, An Intimate Geography, Natalie Angier
If you’re a female and think you know your own body, try reading this book. One of the many studies Angier describes is where Professor Nancy Burley from University of California, Irvine, gave male zebra finches hats and stockings of various kinds to find out how the hats and stockings affected mating and parenting.
Pain
The Body in Pain, Elaine Scarry
Harvard Professor Elaine Scarry brilliantly analyzes the way pain affects our culture, literature, art, medicine and politics. When a person is in pain, she notes, language disappears.
Understanding Pain, Fernando Cervero
Cervero examines the history of pain and what is known about it medically. Aristotle was the one to define our five senses and he decided to leave pain off the list.
Cervero points out that while other senses gradually get desensitized (i.e. you stop noticing a smell after a time), pain tends to increase. Long-term pain can change the look of that part of the body. A fingernail begins to grow differently; muscle tone can change; the color of the skin shifts.
Human Reproduction
A Mind of Her Own, Anne Campbell
; Campbell describes the active role women play in evolution and reproduction, explaining the research in a clear and thought-provoking way. She points out how women act differently when ovulating and how infidelity might help our species stay healthy.
Claus Wedekind
Wedekind is the Swiss researcher who pioneered the “sweaty T-shirt study.” The study had women rank the attractiveness of the smell of T-shirts that had been worn by different men. The results showed women are attracted to men who have the most dissimilar immunities from their own. To read about his work, you have to plow through science journals.
Deafness
Mean Little Deaf Queer, Terry Galloway
As a child, Galloway gradually lost her hearing. She learned to cope, becoming a successful actress in Australia. This is a funny intimate look into Galloway’s experience.
Catching Fire, Richard Wrangham
Harvard Professor Wrangham believes once early humans learned to cook—making food easier to digest—we were able to afford the extra calories necessary to have larger brains.
Other Great Books
The Rational Optimist, Matt Ridley
Living Well with Endometriosis, Kerry-Ann Morris
The Righteous Mind, Jonathan Haidt
Chimpanzee Cultures, Richard Wrangham, W.C. McGrew, Frans de Waal & Paul Heltne
Rattling the Cage, Steven Wise
Great Ape Societies, edited by William C. McGrew, Linda F. Marchant & Toshisada Nishida
Among the Great Apes, Paul Raffaele
Gorilla Society, Alexander H. Harcourt & Kelly J. Stewart
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Audrey Schulman is the author of four previous novels: Three Weeks in December (Europa, 2012), Swimming with Jonah, The Cage, and A House Named Brazil. Her work has been translated into eleven languages. Born in Montreal, she now lives in Cambridge, Massachusetts, where she runs HEET, a non-profit dedicated to the understanding of clean and efficient energy.
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