Tropic Song

Tropic Song

"What the hell are you looking at?" Marylise half-yelled, half-sobbed
at the dozen pair of eyes peering at ther from the densely thicketed
trees and bushes. "Go stare at Daniel...he's the one who wants to
photograph you. Go stare at him. Go..."
Her voice rose and then choked off as a sob tore through her. The male
monkeys growled from their positions higher in the canopy--gruff growls
that had echoed through the trees, and Marylise's head, since morning.
She knew that Daniel and his crew searched for monkeys nerby--perhaps
these very monkeys. Too bad for him--and her. Marylise did not like
monkeys. They interfered with her marriage, pulled Daniel away from
her--even this morning, when she felt nauseous and frightened. The
monkeys pulled Daniel away. Marylise had followed.
Marylise had veered off the path to rest and stumbled across this
clearing, with the small pool of clear water and the monkey lying ,
white maggots and milling flies gorging on a gaping side wound. And
here was where her daughter was born. And died.
Now, Marylise raised her hand and brushed her fingers against the
tears drying on the remains of earlier tears. She gazed down at her
daughter, limp and doughy as pasta, cradled on her lap against her left
arm.
Marylise inhaled her child's baby scent, its fading freshness
juxtaposed with the dead-flesh-and-gunpowder stench of the dead monkey.
Wrinkling her nose, Marylise pulled up the scarf she usually wore to
protect her face from mosquitos. It felt damp from her teeth gnawing on
it while she had birthed her child, squatting in the clearing as
monkeys watched.
Marylise ignored them now. She rummaged one-handed through her field
bag and found the silk blouse Daniel had given her after she told him
she was pregnant. She remembered their candlelit dinner that night, and
their lovemaking. That night he had told her about his chance ot
research one kind--Marylise forgot which kind--of Amazon monkey.
Fearing facing her pregnancy alone, Marylise had argued, for a month,
to be included in Daniel's expedition. So here she was, crouched in the
jungle, alone except for her stillborn child, questioning her decision.
She found her knife and canteen and removed them from the bag. She
closed her eyes and saw green sparks shot through the darkness behind
her eyelids. Opening her eyes, she hacked through the umbilical cord
with her knife and ripped the blouse down its main seam. Wrapping her
baby in the silk, Marylise layed her on the ground beneath the
towering, sky-shadowing tree Marylise sheltered under. Taking off and
wetting her scarf, Marylise washed her own body, slapping away flies as
she washed.
A monkey swung from one tree limb to another. Leaves rustled at his
passing, but Marylise ignored him. She dressed, paced closer to the
tree, and knelt down on the grass. Swallowing down a sob and clasping
both hands together on the knife hilt, she began to dig. She dug into
the grass, loosened it, and grubbed it out with her fingers. She dug as
Daniel gathered photos--fiercely and persistently.
She paused to wipe sweat from her eyes and to gulp down water. She
continued to ignore the monkeys. She ignored the rain misting the
clearing, pausing only to check her watch. It was almost noon. Daniel
would find that she had gone when he returned to camp for lunch.
She returned to her task and found five female monkeys and three young
monkeys digging in the grass in a circle around her. A lump formed in
Marylise's throat. Tears flickered across her eyes again. She felt no
fear. Aside from the sound of scrablling fingers and claws, she and the
monkeys worked silently.
The rain stopped just before they finished the burial hole. Marylise
stood and went to fetch her child. The monkeys waited, silent, mother's
holding their children, as Marylise lowered her baby into the hole. She
prayed the "our Father" and a "Hail Mary" then threw two handfuls of
dirt into the hole. A mother monkey copied her, and the others followed
suit. As soon as they filled the hole, the monkeys moved up into the
trees and disappeared from sight.
Marylise stood listening to the monkeys' rustling passage through the
leaves above her. Dry-eyed, she prepared to find her way back to
camp.
She thought she heard a moan from the direction of the dead monkey. As
she walked toward the body, she heard another moan. Breathing as
shallowly as possible to avoid the now wet odor, Marylise braced
herself and heaved the monkey onto its side. A newborn monkey's mouth
and hands clutched at its mother's breast. Marylise looked athe monkey
for a long moment then reached out to draw it towards he and lifted its
squirming body to her lap. As she suckled it, Marylise reflected on
decisions and coincidences and inter- connection.