Douglas patted his shoulder. “Working?” he asked.
“Like dog,” Vernon said, and resumed typing.
Annie sat outside on the back porch. Douglas opened the door and stood beside her. She looked up at him, but—like Vernon—made no move toward the customary hug. The morning was still cool, the shadow of the building still long in front of them. Douglas sat down.
“Annie,” he said softly. “I’m sorry. I’ll never do it again. You see, I felt…” He stopped. It wasn’t any easier than it had been to talk to Oona, or Wendy, or Shelley, or Therese…. He realized that he didn’t understand her any more than he’d understood them. Why had she rejected him? What was she thinking? What would happen from now on? Would they be friends again?
“Oh, hell,” he said. He stood. “It won’t happen again.”
Annie gazed away into the trees.
He felt strained all over, especially in his throat. He stood by her for a long time.
“I don’t want write stories,” she signed.
Douglas stared at her. “Why?”
“Don’t want.” She seemed to shrug.
Douglas wondered what had happened to the confident ape who’d planned to write a best-seller the day before. “Is that because of me?”
She didn’t answer.
“I don’t understand,” he said. “Do you want to write it down for me? Could you explain it that way?”
“No,” she signed, “can’t explain. Don’t want.”
He signed. “What
“Sit tree. Eat bananas, chocolate. Drink brandy.” She looked at him seriously. “Sit tree. Day, day, day, week, month, year.”
Christ almighty, he thought, she’s having a goddamned existential crisis. All the years of education. All the accomplishments. All the hopes of an entire field of primatology. All shot to hell because of a moody ape. It can’t just be me. This would have happened sooner or later, but maybe… He thought of all the effort he would have to make to repair their relationship. It made him tired.
“Annie, why don’t we just ease up a little on your work. You can rest. Today. You can go sit in the tree all of today and I’ll bring you a glass of wine.”
She shrugged again.
Oh, I’ve botched it, he thought. What an idiot. He felt a pain coming back, a pain like poison, without a focal point but shooting through his heart and hands, making him dizzy and short of breath.
At least she doesn’t hate me, he thought, squatting to touch her hand.
She bared her teeth.
Douglas froze. She slid away from him and headed for the trees.
He sat alone at home and watched the newscast. In a small midwestern town they burned the issues of the magazine with Annie’s story in it.
A heavy woman in a windbreaker was interviewed with the bonfire in the background. “I don’t want my children reading things that weren’t even written by humans. I have human children and this godless ape is not going to tell its stories to them.”
A quick interview with Dr. Morris, who looked even more tired and introverted than usual. “The story is a very innocent tale, told by an innocent personality. Annie is not a beast. I really don’t think she has any ability for, or intention of, corruption…”
He turned the television off. He picked up the phone and dialed one of Therese’s friends. “Jan, have you heard from Therese yet?”
“No, sure haven’t.”
“Well, let me know, okay?”
“Sure.”
He thought vaguely about trying to catch her at work, but he left earlier in the morning and came home later in the evening than she did.
Looking at her picture on the wall, he thought of when they had first met, first lived together. There had been a time when he’d loved her so much he’d been bursting with it. Now he felt empty, but curious about where she was. He didn’t want her to hate him, but he still didn’t know if he could talk to her about what had happened. The idea that she would sit and listen to him didn’t seem realistic.
Even Annie wouldn’t listen to him anymore.
He was alone. He’d done a big, dumb, terrible thing and wished he hadn’t. It would have been different if Annie had reciprocated, if somehow they could have become lovers. Then it would have been them against the world, a new kind of relationship. The first intelligent interspecial love affair…
But Annie didn’t seem any different than Therese, after all. Annie was no child. She’d given him all those signals, flirting, then not carrying through. Acting like he’d raped her or something. She didn’t really have any more interest in him than Dr. Morris would in Vernon. I couldn’t have misunderstood, could I? he wondered.
He was alone. And without Annie’s consent, he was just a jerk who’d screwed an ape.
“I made a mistake,” he said aloud to Therese’s picture. “So let’s forget it.”
But even he couldn’t forget.
“Dr. Morris wants to see you,” the secretary said as he came in.
“Okay.” He changed course for the administrative office. He whistled. In the past few days, Annie had been cool, but he felt that everything would settle down eventually. He felt better. Wondering what horrors or marvels Dr. Morris had to share with him, he knocked at her door and peered through the glass window. Probably another magazine burning, he thought.
