He was taking a shortcut across the park. He saw the clouds building, about to bring the long-promised rain. He wasn’t sure why he decided to walk home rather than take the bus as he usually did. He didn’t like to walk, but the doctor had told him he needed to exercise more, and he hated gyms, even if they called them Health Clubs. If you could by health, that would be one thing, but to pay for the privilege of working for health made no sense to him. He warned his wife he might be a bit late, but she was pleased he was doing something, however begrudgingly, for his health and heart. He saw her, he thought it was a her, approaching from a distance. It looked like she had a giant monkey on her back. But it was bigger than any monkey he had ever seen, closer to a skinny gorilla, and its arms were draped around her neck like a scarf. He had seen young children with monkey backpacks, but she was no child, and this was no backpack.
He knew he was staring, but he didn’t care. He figured if you wore a monster monkey draped around your neck you had to expect to be stared at. And the rain was rapidly approaching. He laughed to himself, remembering walking through a park in Toronto one late afternoon, a place called Ramsden Park when he saw a man walking a tiger on a leash. And this was no toy tiger, but a real one. “A cub,” he said, “that I’m nursing back to health. I’m a veterinarian.” It was a well-practiced speech, but you need one when you walk around with a leashed tiger. A few with cameras took pictures. No one wanted to pet the tiger, not that he would have allowed it.
As the distance between them closed, he was certain is was a female, but not a child, not even a teenager. More likely someone in her thirties, he thought, although his wife often said he was a lousy judge of women’s’ ages. She had her eyes on the ground in front of her, as if she feared a misstep might lead to disaster. The park was perfectly flat, you could play tennis on it if you cut it shorter and painted court lines and added a net. But she seemed intent on insuring her next step was safe and perfectly measured.
He thought about speaking to her. Asking her if she needed help, wondering if she was mentally a bit off, but he thought better of it. If she didn’t even engage him by sight, she would not want to be questioned. And her stride was purposeful as if she wanted to get to her destination on time for some appointment or event, or just to get there before the impending rain.She never looked up, never deviated from her path. It was as if she knew the shortest distance between two points was a straight line and set her bearings accordingly.
He didn’t stare as he passed alongside her, despite wanting to do so. He didn’t change his path to see if she would adjust hers although he also gave that momentary consideration. But once past, he did look back over his shoulder to see the monkey swaying slightly in sync with her stride. And he knew the monkey was not real, as its tail never moved independently of its body. He wanted to keep watching her. Hell, he wanted to turn and follow her, but he was afraid he would lose his footing if he didn’t look where he was going. This instantaneous debate was resolved when the first drops of rain began. They were big drops and growing rapidly in number.
He increased his pace, gave up looking back and hurried homeward. When he arrived five minutes later he entered the house like a wet dog, dripping everywhere. His wife stood at the end of the entryway, half laughing, half frowning. “Next time you decide to walk home you might want to check the forecast. Now lose that sodden mess you are wearing before you create a river through the house. As if by magic a towel quickly appeared.
Once he had dried off, taken his clothes to the laundry room, he met her in the kitchen. “The strangest thing happened on the way home,” he said. He waited for her response but was met with only with a quizzical look which he took as permission, a request almost, to proceed with the story. He told her with as much detail as he could muster about the woman and the monkey. He tried not to seem awestruck but he knew he did not fully succeed. When he was done, she allowed for a reasonable pause.
“Actually, it seems rather simple and logical. You said she was likely in her thirties. Knowing you and your judge of age, let’s say she was closer to forty, although heaven knows on which side of that number she might be. She’s a city person so she doesn’t have a car, doesn’t need one since she takes mass transit. But today is special, it’s her nephew’s or niece’s birthday, but I’m betting nephew since it was a monkey. She’s late for the party and her sister is unforgiving of tardiness. And the monkey is a gift, too large to wrap. And she keeps her head down so she doesn’t have to explain to strange people, you most of all, who urgently want to know what she is all about.”
He smiled, weakly, knowing she was likely right and the whole thing was much ado about nothing. “Or,” his wife added, “she was an escapee from an asylum or a drug mule with enough cocaine to give the whole city a fix for the next month or so. Take your pick. Dinner’s ready, pour the wine please.”

First Published in Literary Odyssey Magazine, Issue 2, March 2024
https://online.fliphtml5.com/qyrob/xcwh/#p=1