Forty Days and Nights: Love Stories. 5. Lions

It was the boy who made the breakfast and the girl who woke up to eat it.
She looked at the food and said, this looks good. Yes, he said, it does and I made it for you.
What is it? she asked and he said, I made it up out of things in the fridge. Just now. Oh! she said, well, what a way to start the day, and he said, yes.

They ate the food and then he said hopefully, let's take a nap and she said no, we're going to the zoo. So they woke the children and fed them cereal because she told him the children would not understand the food he had made up and they might quarrel. All day. After cereal they loaded everybody into the car and drove to the zoo parking lot where the boy and girl, the father and mother, began to pay for things. The first thing they paid for was an empty space to put their car and their oldest daughter said, you know why this is a good parking place? it's so near the zoo. And their oldest son said, yes, it's good for dad to come once in a while and remind us those tricky parking spots right up close to the zoo can be used after all. Their youngest daughter said, I can read the zoo sign clearly from here! and the boy, their dad, said, that's enough, and the girl, the mother, said, alright you people, don't even think about cotton candy after that, but she was laughing and there was never even a chance she was going to pay for cotton candy anyway.

The boy and the girl got their children out of the car and paid to take them through the zoo gates with a hand stamp apiece and then everyone went back through the gates to the car to put sun screen all over them and then back through the gates into the zoo which was good because the revolving zoo gates were the best part of the whole day. In fact, they lost the youngest son to the gates for three whole rounds and the boy, the dad, got testy and said, how about you go look at animals and I'll just stand here and watch him go round and round all day, but the girl, the mom, was watching the zoo workers watching all of this and she said to the youngest son, come out of there right now or no train ride for you. Then the oldest son made a daring and dangerous dash into the gates when the opening passed by him briefly and he hauled out his brother, holding him much more tightly than was necessary and making him cry. The other children defended the oldest son to their parents on grounds that the youngest son was endangering their train ride and that he always spoiled everything for everyone. The boy and girl looked at each other and sighed at the terrible, secret, absolutely unadmittable rightness of that accusation and suggested beginning at the lions and ending with the penguins.

Later, in the shade, while the sticky children ate the snow cones the boy and girl had paid for and left most of the corn dogs and fries they had also paid for and which had cost the same amount as seats and refillable popcorn for all of them at a first-run movie, the boy watched the girl for a long time. What are you thinking? he asked her. She looked over at him and smiled. Was I thinking? she asked. Yes, he said, there was a shadow on your brow. She laughed at that, she always laughed at him when he said that. It made her think of cloud shadows crossing massive stone foreheads at Mount Rushmore. I don't know, she said, zoos always make me sad. He looked at his hands and said nothing; he knew that and wondered about it privately to himself every time she wanted to come. He could think of better things to pay for with half his brain tied behind his back, but he never said so. Their children liked the zoo, snow cones and revolving gates. She was still looking away, beyond the zoo walls, over the tops of the mountains where nearly all the snow was gone now, melted in the summer sun. Lions, she said, lions looking at the children, looking through thick glass at things to eat. Penguins, she said, swimming round and round and round as fast as they can. Swimming in a circle. Swimming back on themselves. He looked at her and his breath caught. He opened his mouth and closed it and closed his eyes and put his face down. He held his mouth shut. Held himself still. Lions, she said, and penguins. He was just waiting for her to breathe. She shook her head. Her eyes were liquid, hot and bright. That was me, she said, in that terrible empty voice and he withdrew into himself. That was me, she said, before you.

He looked so fast, so fast it cricked his neck. She was smiling at the mountains, her eyes were liquid. Hey! he said to the happy children, run wash your hands and we'll go buy one thing at the zoo shop.

Race you to the gates! their youngest son shouted as he ran to the drinking fountain to rinse one hundred per cent natural blue snow cone off his hands. No, stupid, the oldest son said, not yet. That's enough, the boy, the father, said. Zoo shop! the oldest daughter yelled, eating the last of the fries. The train, you promised, the youngest daughter politely reminded the boy, her father. Yes, he said and he smiled at her, yes, the train and then the shop. Gates! the youngest son shouted, racing back to them, hands and arms and front sopping and mouth and cheeks bright blue. Don't worry, the girl, the mother, said as she led him back to the fountain to do something about his face, we'll pay careful attention to the gates, and she smiled at the boy, the father. He gathered up the expensive food, eating the corn dog ends, happy, happy. Planning dinner made up out of what he had seen in the fridge that morning. Heaps, heaps of cereal for children, who would not understand.