into the back of a truck to be transported to the airport. My mom presided watchfully over the whole process, barking out reprimands whenever the men banged the cages. Oncethe bonobos were secured in the truck, it hit me: They had to fly north, then take the cages by dugout canoe up the Congo River until they reached the release site. And once they got there, they had to introduce the bonobos, make sure they were adjusting, and make their way back. Last time theyâd been gone for weeks.
I was scheduled to fly back to Miami in ten days.
It wasnât like I thought my mom would leave without saying good-bye, but just in case, I had to get out there to tell her I was sorry one more time before she left. There was no e-mail or phone access out in the jungle; if for some reason I didnât catch her, Iâd have to sit with my guilt until she got back.
I hesitated. She was out front with the sedated bonobos, where Patrice had told me Otto couldnât go. I hadnât been apart from Otto since the day Iâd found him. Sitting him down in his favorite chair, I motioned for him to stay still while I backed toward the door. He stared curiously at me for a few seconds, wondering at this new game, then scampered over and wrapped himself around my leg. Humming softly, I set him back on the chair and held out my hand for him to stay. He was soon off the chair and running to me, but before he reached me I ducked through the doorway and, heart breaking, slammed it in his face.
He hit the door audibly and began to cry.
âItâs okay, Iâll be right back!â I called out, which only made him cry harder.
I stood there, torn by his loud shrieking. He wasnât ready to be apart from me, not even for a minute. The decision was instant: I wouldnât be going outside to talk to my mother. Iâd give up on that so Otto wouldnât give up on me.
I reopened the door. Otto was stunned for a minute and then, screeching happily, leaped into my arms. Itâs like I hadnât existed while the door was closed, and now Iâd magically come back tolife. He shivered against me, his murps only gradually quieting into contented gurgles as he calmed down.
âSophie.â
I turned around and saw my mom at the end of the hallway, framed by the front door to the sanctuary. I rocked Otto and stared at her. âHi, Mom.â
âI have to leave early for the release,â she said.
âI know. Patrice told me.â
She rubbed her head. âHoney, Iâm so sorry. But I know youâll understand this is our only chance for months to do the relocation. Iâve been preparing a year for this moment, and those four bonobos are at the perfect state to transition. If I let this chance go, I donât know when everything will come together again.â There was so much in her expression: a profound sadness to be leaving me at all during the short summer I would be home, and a principled stance that she shouldnât be too warm to me so that I learned my lesson.
Also, the weight of history. Years ago, my dad patiently begging her to move to Florida with him; he had to go to America for work and to enroll me in a good high school, heâd argued, but she could come with us. Her raging back that sheâd founded the only sanctuary in the world devoted to bonobos and couldnât abandon it. She knew it would mean splitting us all up for a few years, but she couldnât give up her lifeâs project.
That was how she put it.
Her lifeâs project.
Their marriage could have survived the years apart, but I guess it couldnât survive what my dad realized in those fights: Family would always come second for her.
And she was choosing bonobos over family again. It made me angry, but I couldnât find the words to tell her.
As if reading my thoughts, she said, âWeâve had a great twomonths. Youâre flying back next week, anyway. Patrice and Brunelle will make