by Ann Capozzoli
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\nWhat she needed was a chimp. \u00a0Then her whole life would change.<\/p>\n
She would do her homework the minute she got home from school.\u00a0 She\u2019d help her mother in the kitchen; she\u2019d chop, stir, measure.\u00a0 She\u2019d vacuum, pick up toys, put stray socks back where they belonged.<\/p>\n
Being good would be fun with a little boy chimp holding her hand, chattering to her. \u00a0He\u2019d help her clean the bathroom, scrub the tub.\u00a0 He\u2019d stand on the tips of his long-toed feet peering down into the sink, watching stray hairs swirl in a clockwise spiral around and down until they got trapped in the aluminum basket.\u00a0 She\u2019d explain why, even though he might be tempted to pick up the basket and let the hair wash down the drain, he mustn\u2019t.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou see, hair clogs the pipes.\u00a0 And when that happens, the water can\u2019t flow down the drain.\u00a0 It just stays there at the bottom of the sink.\u201d<\/p>\n
She\u2019d show him the cracked rubber implement propped in the corner of the bathroom behind the door. \u00a0\u201cWe\u2019d have to use the plunger.\u201d \u00a0He\u2019d stick out his tongue and splutter.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, I know, it\u2019s disgusting, but we\u2019d have to do it, and if that didn\u2019t work, we\u2019d have to tell my parents and they would have to call the plumber.\u00a0 Plumbers cost a lot of money.\u00a0 Mom and Dad would hate it. \u00a0They\u2019d yell at us.\u00a0 Take away our allowance.\u00a0 And we wouldn\u2019t want that, right?\u201d<\/p>\n
The chimp would shake his head \u201cno\u201d so hard his baseball cap would slip off his head.<\/p>\n
If she had a chimp, she would never get hair in the drain.\u00a0 She\u2019d even eat marmalade sandwiches.<\/p>\n
If only she her very own chimp who would sleep with her, eat with her \u2013 but what would the chimp do when she was at school?\u00a0 She could bring him with her for show and tell, but what about the rest of the time?\u00a0 Maybe he\u2019d just have to stay quiet in her bedroom, wait for her to come home for lunch.\u00a0 She\u2019d play with him.\u00a0 Checkers maybe, or Old Maid, or War \u2013 he\u2019d catch on to a game of War pretty quickly.\u00a0 Chimps are smart.\u00a0 She\u2019d make a peanut butter and banana sandwich for him, pour him a glass of milk, kiss him goodbye when it was time to walk back to Lincoln Elementary for the afternoon session.<\/p>\n
If she had a chimp, she wouldn\u2019t even care that she\u2019d never been chosen to be a safety patrol, to wear the white belt with the silver badge, the pride of the street crossing monitor who stood at the corner of Washington Street and Westfield Avenue, holding back a swarm of children with his arms outstretched like an umpire.<\/p>\n
She was in the fifth grade already and she\u2019d never been a patrol, never been given the white safety belt to wear, the power to send kids to the principal\u2019s office.\u00a0 True, not many girls were.\u00a0 But she was bigger, taller, bulkier than most of the boys.\u00a0 And she could talk loud.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou sound like a fishmonger,\u201d her father would tell her when she got excited or angry or was calling out to someone in another room. \u00a0\u201cYou\u2019re eleven years old and you have yet to learn the virtues of the well-modulated voice.\u201d<\/p>\n
If she had a chimp she wouldn\u2019t care anymore about being a patrol.\u00a0 Or, who knows, maybe they\u2019d make her a patrol once she had her chimp.\u00a0 The chimp would change everything for her.<\/p>\n
With the chimp by her side, she\u2019d be so happy, she wouldn\u2019t need to tease Sally.\u00a0 No matter that her younger sister was a spoiled brat who got everything she wanted.\u00a0 She would be having so much fun with her chimp, she wouldn\u2019t even care.
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\nOn Saturday, just after lunch, her mother drove the station wagon off to the A&P to do the weekly grocery shopping.<\/p>\n
She found her father in his bedroom relaxing, digesting. \u00a0His head rested on the pillow of the fully-made bed.\u00a0 His forearms were folded over his eyes, blocking the midday sun that streamed through the bedroom windows.\u00a0 His feet were crossed at the ankle dangling off the side of the bed.<\/p>\n
\u201cDad,\u201d she said softly.<\/p>\n
He lifted his right arm to peek at her from one dark, almost-black, iris.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat is it?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cI have to talk to you about something important,\u201d she took a few steps into the bedroom, closer to her father.\u00a0 He lowered his arms to his chest.<\/p>\n
\u201cI figured out how I can be a good girl like you\u2019ve always wanted me to be.\u201d\u00a0 She pressed her palms together. \u00a0\u201cI know I can do it, Dad,\u201d her voice was getting louder, words spilled out of her mouth like water from a tipped bucket.<\/p>\n
\u201cI only need one thing and I\u2019ll be the best girl you\u2019ve ever had, better than Sally even.\u00a0 I\u2019ll be good at school, good at church, good at home.\u00a0 Mom will be happy, you\u2019ll be happy\u2026\u201d \u00a0She was running out of steam, had to stop to inhale.\u00a0 \u201cWanna know what\u2019s the one thing, the only thing I need to be good?\u201d<\/p>\n
Her father made a noise in his throat.\u00a0 She couldn\u2019t tell if it meant yes or no.\u00a0 She decided to take it as a yes.\u00a0 She opened her arms wide and said, \u201cA chimp!\u00a0 A chimpanzee!\u201d<\/p>\n
She clutched her hands to her heart the way she\u2019d seen good girls do on TV.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, Dad, you\u2019ll never regret it.\u00a0 I\u2019ll be so good, you won\u2019t believe I\u2019m the same girl\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d he interrupted her, crossing his arms over his eyes once again.<\/p>\n
She waited for him to say something else.\u00a0 When he didn\u2019t, she ventured in a small voice, \u201cSo, do you need some time to think about it or something?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo chimp.\u201d<\/p>\n
He rolled over on to his side, away from her. by Ann Capozzoli What she needed was a chimp. \u00a0Then her whole life would change. She would do her homework the minute she got home from school.\u00a0 She\u2019d help her mother in the kitchen; she\u2019d chop, stir, measure.\u00a0 She\u2019d vacuum, … Continue reading
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\nANN CAPOZZOLI<\/strong> writes stories that take place in Westfield, New Jersey, where she grew up. She now lives in Kingston, New York, with her husband, two standard poodles and a Quaker parakeet.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"