“Oh, so-so Fredo, how are you? You settled down from that sweet tied-up thing down south?”
“Sheeeet, Daiwee, she scared me; gave me the whillies, man. I never saw anybody do that, let alone a tied-up woman, man. Hey, Daiwee what would you say if I dropped out of the group?”
“Wow, I guess I’d be … puzzled Fredo. Did you meet somebody or do you just want to enjoy life, or what? Come to think of it, it’s none of my business, if that’s what you want to do just do it. I don’t think anyone would be pissed or hurt or anything. You should talk it over with the rest of the guys though, I think.”
“Fuck ‘em, man! I don’t care what they think. I mean I like ‘em, but I’m not really into permission. I just wanted to see what you said. What are you gonna to do? I don’t think we’re ever gonna to get a job like we wanted; you know helping pequenos animales that can’t help themselves and shit. I don’t know who to call or write to offer help. Yeah, it’s nice having money, but it ain’t everything, man.”
“Yeah, I feel like I’m sitting around with my thumb up my ass too. I thought Greenie could set us up, but through no fault of his own, I guess he ran up against a wall. No one will talk to him … he says. None of the rest of us have any contacts that I know of either.”
“How about your lady Sam, ain’t she a vet? She should know of some shit we could get into. How about in other countries like Africa or Asia? I read stuff all the time about elephants and rhinos and bears and stuff gettin’ killed for their parts. That’s bullshit man. We could be stopping some of it and handin them their culos on a plate.”
“You know, you’re right, I need to talk to Sam about it. She may know something I don’t. We’ve never really discussed it.”
“Yeah, it’s hard to discuss anything with your mouth full of hair, huh Daiwee, huh … hey-hey-hey.” He laughed at his own crudeness.
“Man, do you always have your mind in the gutter?”
“Hell no Daiwee, I only have my mind in the gutter about ninety nine percent of the time. The rest of the time I’m asleep with a boner.”
I retorted, “Yeah, with help from the wonderful world of chemistry. You’re an old man, why do you lie like this all the time. You should be shriveling up like everyone else by now.”
“Oh shit, I’m gonna to get off the line before you hurt my feelin’s. Will you call me if you find anything?”
“Sure, Fredo and I’ll talk … to Samantha about it.”
He made some gross mumbling with his hand over his mouth, laughed and bade goodbye. Why I never thought to ask Sam … maybe I wanted to keep her out of the garbage can of life? I had my speech prepared when she came home, but I wasn’t prepared for what ensued.
I waited until she cleansed herself of the grime from the day and came from her shower, wearing my T-shirt. She started the conversation before I had a chance to say a word. She said, “What do you want to ask me? Don’t be coy, baby, I know you a little bit by now, I think.”
“I was talking to that pervert Fredo today and he suggested I talk to you”---I saw her stiffen---“about taking a trip to Africa.” She obviously relaxed a little. “You know we have been screwing around with the idea of rescuing animals from poachers, film crews and such. ‘Trouble is, we received one chance to do anything and it was a bust. I mean we learned a lot, but didn’t do much. Do vets ever take trips abroad? Do you have any contacts in other places?”
She looked at the wall a few seconds and replied, “Well, yeah, a bunch of veterinarians make a trip to Africa and sometimes other places every year. They come from state associations, from world associations and such, but it costs like heck and unless courses are actually taught there, one can’t legally deduct the costs under continuing education expenses. The person you’re looking at right now is too poor to go on one of those trips anyway. What’re you grinning at?”
“You look so amazing when your hair is wet.” I patted my knee, “Will you sit down so I don’t have to look up at you?”
She continued to dry her hair with the towel she had loosely wrapped around her head without replying. Finally she stuck out her tongue, tossed her hair back and said, “No! Not until you tell me what you’re cooking up.” I judged she had a bad day, a bad surgery or she was just overly stressed. I knew she had a lousy boss. I said it anyway.
“I thought we’d take a trip to Africa and see what’s cooking over there.”
“Right, sure, after I quit my job and get ready, you guys change your minds and I get stuck in some other desert outpost around here spaying rabbits. No thanks!”
She swung herself around and started for the kitchen without saying another word. I sought some way to tell her what we just accomplished in Venezuela, but quickly thought better of it and kept my mouth shut. After a few minutes she yelled to ask me what I wanted for supper. I told her I wasn’t hungry, but continued to hear the pleasing sounds of her puttering about, preparing her own meal. I actually thought our relationship had gone beyond petty jealousies and recriminations, but I was older and she was younger and took nothing for granted. Fifteen years out from her divorce and she was still raw.
We didn’t say much to each other for several days, but I received her message and had learned to step lightly on a woman’s pride. Things finally straightened out a bit, but I felt the barbs between us, still. I kept busy; occupied with planning and writing to animal rescue agencies in Borneo, India, Africa, Argentina, Australia and anywhere else I heard a murmur from, or saw a nature program about. I donated to some, hoping they would ask for help in other forms. They didn’t.
Samantha must have seen a few return letters with posts from other countries, because one day I found a folded Journal of the American Veterinary Medical Association on my desk. It was opened to an article about a group of veterinarians who had gone to the Democratic Republic of the Congo to help save elephants wounded from poaching attempts. They couldn’t help much. Apparently the orphaned babies died of stress and loneliness anyway and the injured adults didn’t fare much better. I got mad and very focused.
When I went to the internet yet again and searched deeper, I found a lot of conflicting information, many pleas for money and a few more pleas for help. I assumed that anyone should be able to help, but my offers of help were answered with more pleas for money. I knew money talked, but was surprised by some of the outright squeeze plays made for bucks. I finally decided to go on my own and find out what the story was, up close and personal.
When I checked with the U.S. Department of State site, all I saw were warnings about diseases, internal conflicts, dangerous animals, and other negative cautions. After reading that, I figured Africa was the place to be. I called all four of the other cohorts and received a positive answer only from Gimp. He and Lidia were raring to go. At first, I thought … Lidia? Then after thinking over what that little girl accomplished in Venezuela, I decided that if she’s good for Gimp’s spirit and pulls her load, what the hell. I didn’t know they had personal problems while in Venezuela.
We made arrangements to fly Lufthansa and I guess I left the tickets laying somewhere too obvious, because Sam came into my office the evening before our departure and asked when I was going to be back. I hadn’t talked to her about the trip much and she hadn’t asked about what were obviously preparations over the ensuing two weeks after my little “I thought we’d take a trip” faux pas.
I really don’t think she associated my short absence to South America with anything sinister or dangerous, so the trip to Africa was not a real concern to her … until she found the tickets with an open ended return date. I really didn’t know what to think