Ape See, Ape Do

The heavy rain was deafening on the truck’s loose roof paneling but it wasn’t enough to drown out the noise of the old diesel engine screaming in protest as Wyatt forced it into the next stiff gear. Wyatt bounced jarringly in his seat as he slid around a corner followed by the stress-inducing sound of cargo tumbling in the back of the truck. Either the contents fell or the truck's panels had finally given out. He hoped it wasn’t the cargo; he couldn’t afford more truck repairs but losing the product would mean he wouldn't be paid either. His phone glowed on the dashboard as his destination came into view: a large theatre, painted red, trimmed with gold and illuminated by glowing signs of upcoming acts. Wyatt picked up his phone.

‘Emily! It is good to hear from you, how are you?’

‘Hi Wyatt. Are you - are you driving?’

‘No, not at all,’ Wyatt winced as his heart squeezed with his obvious lie. He quickly twisted the key in the ignition and the truck slowly rattled down to a stop.

‘Okay. Look, I know we agreed that you would have this weekend for Amalia but one of her friends is having a birthday party and she wants to go to that instead.’

‘Oh, and you are only finding out about the party now? It’s Friday.’ Wyatt waited for a response but only heard the soft static of breathing on the call. ‘It’s okay. Of course Amalia should have fun with her friends; I can see her next weekend.’

‘I will tell her for you.’

‘Is she there? Can you put her on?’

‘No she isn’t here. I will call you later next week. And, uh, how are you doing?’

Wyatt’s chest tightened up. His recent misfortunes weighed heavily on him. Driving this dilapidated truck full-time was him slowly earning his way back into their lives, rebuilding the trust he had broken, one dollar at a time. He was glad Amalia was too young at the time to feel hurt by him, or so he at least hoped.

‘I’m doing really well, actually. Yeah, I’m very busy with work which is good, and I am looking forward to taking Amalia out for lunch next weekend. Would you maybe like to come with us?’ Wyatt held his breath nervously.

‘Thanks, but I don’t think that is a good idea, Wyatt.’

He knew the answer before he heard the words, but it still hurt like every other time he was rejected. ‘Okay.’

‘Goodbye, take care.’

‘Bye.’

The trucked door screeched on its hinges as Wyatt pushed it open and then trudged to the back of the truck. As he battled with the rusted door latches, a neatly dressed man emerged from the theatre entrance with a black umbrella. Wyatt threw open the back door and climbed up into the back. The large box with a red company label printed on the side sat lonely, Marek’s Mysterium, with the last three letters smudged. He heaved it backwards.

‘It’s wet,’ said a smooth voice from behind him.

Wyatt turned, puffing, staring at the suited man who stood at the end of his truck. ‘Sorry?’

‘That is my delivery,’ he pointed at the box at Wyatt’s feet. ‘It’s wet. It has been damaged in your truck.’

Wyatt wanted to protest, but his eyes followed the man’s long pointed finger to the top of his truck where a metal panel was missing, likely pulled off by the wind.

‘I am sure the contents are -’

‘It is clearly labeled, do not get wet. I know already that my goods are ruined because of your truck and carelessness.’

Wyatt gritted his teeth. ‘Look, I am sorry, but -’

‘You will have to reimburse me now,’ the man shrugged, like there was nothing he could do to help it.

‘What?! But - but the weather isn’t my fault, Mister.’

‘The quality of your truck is.’

‘I can’t afford -’

‘Your advertisement said guaranteed quality delivery,’ he said loudly in an accusing tone.

‘Your contents are fine,’ Wyatt insisted.

The man raised his eyebrow and with one fluid movement of his arm the box slid open and unfolded itself as if it only took a wave of his hand. Wyatt frowned, not noticing a knife which could have cut the box open. He didn’t dwell on it for long, for as soon as he looked at the box his heart ached. Inside, a stack of furs were soaked with some furry lumps already detaching from the suits.

‘Mister, I am very sorry about your delivery, but I can’t afford to reimburse you for the damages.’

He nodded slowly, pursing his thin lips. ‘You seem like a genuine person, perhaps we can come to a deal and repay me for what you owe. I have a performance scheduled here over the next three days but two of my actors have quit. Please, join me for three shows as a replacement. We can consider your debt cleared by this favour and I will even pay you for your time.’

Wyatt blinked in confusion a moment. Am I being offered a job? he wondered, standing quietly for too long. With this debt hanging over his head he wouldn't be able to give Emily the child support he already owed, let alone what he had promised this month on time. He couldn’t believe the man was offering to pay him money and drop the issue with the damaged goods over one weekend. It was perfect timing to earn some extra cash and show his family he was dependable now.

‘Okay, sure. I’m not an actor, what kind of performance is it? I’ll try my best!”’

The man beamed an unsettling grin ear to ear and his dark eyes thinned. ‘Park your truck around the alley there and come in through the side entrance. Bring in my old suits that you ruined, too.’

Wyatt loathed the way the man nonchalantly blamed him for the damage; it had been raining all week, there was no way he would have been able to avoid this outcome. Inside, the theatre was warm and dark. Wyatt followed the hallway through to a main foyer with a ticket booth and a large banner advertising Marek’s Mysterium. Three sets of grand double doors lined in golden trimming were opened wide, welcoming him into a magnificent spacious theatre with hundreds of seats directed toward the stage ahead. The sound of rain hitting the building echoed softly like a very distant waterfall. The stage was lit and the curtains were pulled back revealing the backstage props where the man was waiting impatiently.

‘So is your name Marek?’ Wyatt called as he descended the steps toward the stage.

‘Marek Montgomery, head of Marek’s Mysterium? Yes, the one and only. My actors will be arriving in an hour. We have that time to introduce you to the show and you can rehearse with them when they arrive.’

The Friday night performance passed agonisingly slow for Wyatt. When the five other actors joined Wyatt onstage for warm-up before the show, they were already suited up. They each ambled onstage in varying ape costumes, swaying side to side with their long arm pieces and narrow waists as they walked. They had perfected every movement, unlike Wyatt who felt so hot and uncomfortable in his own gorilla suit. The suit was thick, smothering him with stale hot air. It weighed heavily on his shoulders making it hard to swing his arms in time to match the other performers.

During the performance the crowd clapped and cheered as Marek Montgomery waved his arms and projected his voice with enthusiasm and grandeur, every eye on him while he directed his actors in lifelike animal suits around the stage. As the show went on, Wyatt felt a subtle pull of his limbs, like phantom strings directing his movements. He noticed Marek’s movements matched his and the other actors’ in perfect sync like a puppeteer with his puppets.

The moment Wyatt dreaded was the crescendo of the performance when the actors would beat their chests and leap into the front row of the crowd only to catch a giant trapeze bar that swung down over the heads of the audience at just the right instant. He felt his nightmare of falling into the audience and losing the job was about to become reality but he felt the phantom strings hurl him the distance he needed to reach the bar. The poor delivery man clung for his life while his fellow actors swung on the bar over the heads of the audience, back and forth, standing and swinging with their feet. Wyatt could only hold on until it stopped, caught by a hook that swung out from the stage, suspending them over the platform. Wyatt dropped from the bar, missing his footing and falling over. The suit was clinging to his skin, burning and itching like a rash. It took all his focus to get back to his feet and mimic the pose of the ape costumes beside him and wait for applause as the audience laughed at him.

Only the thought of his daughter smiling at him next weekend held back the embarrassment. With only three days of discomfort he would be with his family and prove to them that he could be a trustworthy father.

_______________________

On Saturday night Wyatt eyed the gorilla suit with dread. Marek strode through to backstage with his half-cape whipping behind him.

‘You, put on your suit, quickly now!’

‘Mister Montgomery, the suit is really itchy, though,’ Wyatt said weakly.

Marek flashed a wide grin. ‘I promise you the suit will be much more comfortable, it just takes some getting used to, unlike the suits you ruined...’

Wyatt felt anxiety wash over him as Marek put a hand on his shoulder, dark eyes resting on him. Even when not in a performance Marek had a magically entrancing presence.

Off the backstage area an exit door opened. A man carrying a clipboard wandered in and his attention was grabbed by Marek waving him over to a group of boxes.

‘Only this one for delivery please, Royal Theatre on 34 Pasade Street,’ Marek pointed to the box with Marek’s Mysterium printed on the side, the last three letters smudged. ‘How is the weather this evening?’

‘You kiddin’? It’s rainin’ all week,’ the delivery man grumbled.

‘Oh good, good,’ Marek’s toothy grin spread across his face.

Wyatt felt Marek’s words ring true as he zipped up his costume. The gorilla suit was smooth on his skin, breathable, flexible. The mouthpiece didn’t smother his airway.

‘Ah, see? You and the suit are becoming one and the same! You look very good. How do you feel?’ Marek’s hand again rested on Wyatt’s shoulder and he felt a tingling through his body from Marek’s approval.

‘Good, much better than last night! Hope backstage crew members get here soon, theatre filling...’

‘There are no crew members, only myself and my actors,’ Marek said.

‘Ooh... you have reliable rigging, to time trapeze?’

‘I promise an authentic magical performance for my audience. My guests come to watch me direct well-trained apes like a circus, command the stage unlike anything they have seen before! The mystery of the trapeze is all a part of the show. I am both a magician and a stage conductor.’

‘I not seen from audience eyes. Bet it real exciting when actors jump on bar. The way they walk and swing, too, very real.’ Wyatt said jarringly.

‘Yes, only the best for my audience. You, too, will be as good as them by the time we finish tomorrow’s performance. You have some natural primate talent!’

Wyatt wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or an insult, but he felt Marek’s confidence invigorate him.

The second night's performance went perfectly! Wyatt felt no resistance from the suit. While it was still clingy it no longer itched or obscured his face. He could now see clearly through the eye holes as they lined up with his own eyes.

Wyatt was enraptured now by Marek’s fantastical performance. Wyatt watched Marek as if hypnotised like every other audience member by his art. His voice boomed louder than it should have, his eyes glowed blue in a way Wyatt had never seen, and objects appeared onstage that weren’t once there before. Wyatt looked around for the non-existent stage crew for an explanation: he found none.

Marek’s gestures were like strings attached to the actors and each time the glowing blue eyes rested on Wyatt, he moved mindlessly to match each directed gesture. The trapeze appeared, conjured out of thin air and hurdling down toward the stage for Wyatt to leap out. His fellow performers swung in the exact same movements as the night before, and this time Wyatt stuck the landing to a standing ovation.

The other actors retreated into a back room, still in character every moment they were around Wyatt, never speaking a word. He guessed that was the difference between him and the professionals.

‘Fantastic performance from you tonight, well done. You look very tired. Stay a while for some dinner and rest in one of the change rooms.’ Thin lips twisted into a smile, eyes now like dark blue spinning pools, Marek spoke to Wyatt, ‘Please, I insist.’

Wyatt did as he was commanded and grabbed some food from the back table, eating through the suit. As he ate, the theatre grew quiet and with a wave of Marek’s hand the lights shining on the velvet red curtain dimmed.

Sleep overtook as Wyatt lay down on a back couch, the suit acting like a warm blanket.

_______________________

On Sunday, Wyatt wore the suit all day. He even shocked himself as he reached out for food and saw the large gorilla hand move with him; Marek hadn’t asked him to take off the suit so he hadn’t. During the third night's show, Wyatt found strength in his posture like that of a gorilla wearing the suit that now felt like his own skin. Marek’s eyes glowed and Wyatt swung with power and agility on the trapeze before landing gracefully.

Tonight was the strongest he has ever felt. He was confident that he would win back his family. After this performance he knew he would never fail them again.

The lights dimmed as usual and Marek waved his hand and the actors left silently.

‘Marek, my pay.’ Wyatt reached for his zipper and froze, there was no zipper. ‘Oooh -’ Wyatt choked on his words. ‘No zi-hip. NO ZIP.’

‘You won’t find one. You and the suit are one and the same. I am an artist and insist that for my audience, I give them the best.’

Wyatt stopped, feeling his thoughts scatter and words begin to fail him.

A sly smile appeared. Marek’s eyes glowed. ‘Now go eat and sleep.’

Wyatt did as he was told.