Mind the Gap | ✔️

April 26 @ 11:30 A.M.: Evan

"What's his name?" Janice pointed a finger at the massive gorilla. The primate sat a few steps away from us, furiosly disassembling the head of green lettuce that the zoo warden had delivered.

As if he had heard my daughter's enquiry, the animal's head snapped in our direction.

I was grateful for the thick glass between us as the gorilla glowered at Janice and me, baring his teeth. All muscle and a receding forehead, he reminded me of Braces' fiancé.

"Dad... what's the gorilla doing?" Janice whispered, grabbing my hand.

I squeezed hers back with reassurance. "Don't worry, Peanut. He's just trying to understand the world. And totally failing at it. He's a bit dumb, you know."

The gorilla bared his teeth once more. Then he got up and turned his back on us, scratched his buttocks, and strolled off to join a group of chattering females.

"So, how are we gonna call the dumb ape?" She stuck out her tongue at his receding back. "What's his name?"

"We are gonna call him... Mister Chiseled Jaws," I said. The name fit him like a glove. All body and posture, no mind and spirit.

I still remembered him pawing Braces.

"Mister Chiseled Jaws? What a strange name!" Janice giggled and then tugged at my sleeve. "Come on, Dad! Let's go see the penguins."

Happy to get away from Mister Chiseled Jaws before he started making out with his female companions, I followed my daughter's shock of curly dark brown hair as she pulled me away from the primates cage.

My phone chimed, but Janice's tug didn't relent. The message, whomever it was from, would have to wait for the time being.

Next to the apes, a wire-fenced enclosure held a copse of compact and thick-foiled shrubs. For a moment, a patch of red fur flitted through the leaves, and then it was gone.

"Look, Peanut. There's something hiding between the leaves." I pointed at the spot where the fur had just vanished.

Giving the area a brief glance, Janice shook her head and marched on. "Who cares, then! If it's hiding, it means it doesn't want us to see it. So, let's go to the penguins! They don't hide. They're waiting for us!"

Knowing from experience that arguing with my daughter was pointless, I followed her without a single word.

After all, her argument was solid.

On the other side of the path, people peered into a gigantic pond, where the bodies of large, silvery fish flicked back and forth right beneath the shimmering surface.

But who cared about fish when the penguins were waiting for them? When my daughter wanted penguins, a few fish, no matter how silvery they were, wouldn't distract her.

I bumped into Janice.

She had stopped and stared at a small compound next to the trees. Thin grass grew from mounds of packed ochre earth. A few brown-furred, cat-sized animals flitted back and forth between them.

Without explanation, Janice pulled me towards them. As we reached its fine mesh fence, she let go of my hand. "What are these?"

While most of these peculiar creatures were on the move, three of them stood still and stared at us. We were their sole visitors at this moment, and we must have caught their attention. Golden eyes, pink noses, rounded ears—all of them were trained on us, eyeing, sniffing, and listening.

Their incessant scrutiny made me uneasy. There was something judgmental in it.

I peeked at the sign attached to the fence. "They're meerkats. It says so right here." I read on. "They live in Africa. And they're carnivores. This means they eat meat."

"Dad! I know what carnivore means." She sounded annoyed. "We learned that in school ages ago."

"Oh, sorry, Peanut. Of course you know."

I did feel sorry. My daughter was learning so quickly and growing up so fast. Even more so these days when I was seeing her only every other weekend.

The three animals had ended scrutinizing us, their only visitors and they now eyed the world in general. Apparently, they had classified us as neither dangerous nor edible.

The smallest one nibbled the leg of one of its companions.

Janice squealed. "Awww, Dad, they're so cute! A little family. Mother, father, and their child. Is it a son or a daughter? What do you think?"

"I don't know, Peanut." Her questions always made me feel inadequate. Most of the times, I couldn't even answer the most basic ones.

The parent stopped its offspring from gnawing on its leg by hugging it tightly. The other parent—slightly larger, he was probably a dad meerkat—was ogling us once more.

"Mom says we could be a family again, one day," Janice said, her words almost a whisper.

I looked down at her, but her gaze was still glued on the meerkats, and her hair hid her face.

Would Helen say that?

"Does she?" I nudged my daughter, hoping for her to elaborate.

But Janice just nodded.

Now, mom meerkat was preening her mate.

Helen had been more friendly towards me the last few weeks.

"But Mom is with George now, isn't she?" I said. The Chancellor was yet another alpha male, just like Mister Chiseled Jaws—the ape as well as the Braces fiancé. Women just couldn't help but dote on the type. Muscle, power, and good looks made them irresistible.

"Well, he's old." Janice reached for my hand again. "And he keeps eating all  my chocolate."

Old! Her qualification made me grin.

But then, in a few weeks, I would be old as well. My thirties would come to an end, too.

Dad meerkat now cuddled mom meerkat who, in turn, was hugging baby meerkat. The three of them formed a small ochre meerkat heap at the top of a small, ochre mound.

"Ooh, I know what their names are!" Janice clapped her hand mischievously. "The big one is Evan, the middle one is Helen, and the small one..." She looked up at me, a big smile wrinkling her freckled nose. "Can you guess what its name is, Dad?"

I hesitated, then I squeezed her hand. "Janice," I said. "Its name is Janice."

I knew I should have said something else there. Anything else, like Harry Potter or Donald Duck, deflecting the avalanche of drama. But I just couldn't deny her the reply she so wanted to hear.

She nodded solemnly.

I swallowed and looked at the animals again.

"Yes, her name's Janice," she said. "And she's very happy with her mom and dad."

I blinked as I tried to see the family of three more clearly. Human Janice was right—meerkat Janice must be happy, feeling complete and safe in her parents' embrace.

And that's where she deserved to be. That's how things were right and proper.

But what about the other two? Meerkat Evan and meerkat Helen?

Did meerkats bicker and fight?

As if hearing my question, meerkat Janice pried herself free from the family hug and dashed off, making the family heap topple. Meerkat Evan tumble-rolled down the mound, coming to a stop at its bottom. Meerkat Helen hissed at him, but he ignored her and ran after his daughter.

Janice laughed.

My phone chimed again.

I pulled it from my pocket and glanced at the message on the lock screen.

It was from the planet book woman.

We had swapped phone numbers, she and I.