Captive Ape

Fiction

A Tacit Agreement

by Jens

I pull the cord on my saw. Nothing. I pull again. Nothing. Swearing, I pull a third time. The motor roars to life and I am relieved. I won’t have to drive all the way back home so early in the day. I can down a lot of trees before the setting sun forces me to stop my assault. Grateful, I begin to cut into a large red pine. Red pines are soft, easy. My mind begins to wander.

I think of my mother. I wish I had known her. Dad said she was a beautiful woman. Always smiling, and clucking in her native Viet Namese. Dad always said that the reason they got along so well is because neither of them could tell what the other was saying. He said he liked to look at her hands in his. The almond of her skin seeming to glow against the black of his large “boxer’s” hands.

When they mortared my mothers village, nearly everyone died. Dad came find us, and bring us to safety. He found us, but my mother was dead. He brought me back, and was then dishonorably discharged for stealing a Jeep and abandoning his post.

I cut the engine and turn to survey my progress. I’m doing OK. Another two days and I’ll have enough for the rig to come pick up. I am amazed at the silence of the forest. No birds even. I grab my lunch box and thermos and sit on the back of my truck. As I eat, I let my legs dangle like a kid. I swallow the rest of my sandwich and pick up my saw. I fill the tank with gas and then pull on the chord. Nothing. I pull again. Nothing. I swear and pull a third time. The saw roars, and I continue with the red pines.

I think of Mia, my girlfriend. She’s the only other person up here who isn’t white. She’s adopted and lives with her parents in the summer, but moves south to the university during the school year. I miss her when she’s gone, but we make up for lost time in the few months that we have together. She is so beautiful I think I go crazy when I’m around her. I tell her if I don’t get affection soon, it’ll turn blue and fall off. She just laughs at me, pats my knee and says. “Poor Hiro. Poor, poor Hiro.”
I smile and look up at the sky. I really should work for another hour or two. Mia isn’t expecting me until 9. Oh well. I’ll surprise her. Maybe we’ll go out to a movie, if I have enough gas to get into town. If not, I’m sure we’ll find something else just as fun to do. I put my saw in the bed of the truck and get in the cab. I throw the truck into gear and barrel down the gravel trail.

Seven minutes later, I’m standing on Mia’s porch. I don’t hear anyone, but Mr. Davis’ blue Bronco is in the driveway. I knock lightly and let myself in. If I can see Mia without dealing with Mr. Davis that would be best. He doesn’t like me too much. He’s a very religious man, and thinks I’m a heathen because I haven’t been baptized. I believe in God and Jesus, and I’ve told him that, but it doesn’t seem to change his mind. I should do that soon, get baptized. I make a mental note to go find a pastor this week. I walk lightly through the kitchen and up the stairs, being careful to skip the third one, because it squeaks. Halfway up the stairs I hear the shower start running. I freeze until I hear Mr. Davis’ bass voice start belting out showtunes. I smile and walk up the rest of the stairs. I stride around the corner and into Mia’s door. I stop again, confused. It takes me a moment before I can make sense of what I see. Mia is lying on her bed, with a pillow clutched to her face. Her nude body is covered with sweat. Her chest jerks in time with her sobs, and her clothes are folded delicately on the chair next to her bed. I back out of the room silently; she doesn’t notice me. I turn and stride to the bathroom. I lightly try the nob. Locked. I turn my back to the door and begin to hyperventilate. On the wall opposite the bathroom is a picture of Jesus. His blue eyes look into my brown. We look at each other while Mr. Davis switches showtunes, and washes his daughter’s juices off of himself. After a few seconds of intense negotiation, we come to a silent agreement. I walk down the stairs and out of the house, reach in the truck’s bed and pull out my saw. Liking the feel of it in my hand, I walk back in, and up the stairs this time not caring about the noisy third step. I turn the corner at the top of the stairs and reach in and close Mia’s door. I walk ahead to Jesus and the bathroom door. I look at him and he looks at me. If either of us are having second thoughts we’re both keeping them to ourselves. Mr. Davis stops singing and the water stops. I close my eyes, reach down and pull the cord. It starts on the first try.