The One and Only Ivan

“Look how big this is.” Julia puts the last piece of Ruby’s right ear into place. “It’s huge.”

“It is definitely large,” George agrees.

Julia watches me. She chews on her thumbnail. I see the question in her eyes.

She turns back to the paintings and stares at them, looking, truly looking.

A slow smile dawns on Julia’s face.

“Dad,” she says, “I have an idea. A big idea.” Julia races around the edge of my painting, her arms spread wide. “Billboard big.”

“I’m not following you.”

“I think this is meant to be on a billboard. That’s what Ivan wants.”

George crosses his arms over his chest. “What Ivan wants,” he repeats slowly. “And you know this because … you two have been chatting?”

“Because I’m an artist, and he’s an artist.”

“Uh-huh,” says George.

Julia clasps her hands together. “Come on, Dad. I’m begging you.”

George shakes his head. “No. I’m not doing that. No billboard, no way.”

“I’ll get the ladder,” Julia says. “You get the glue. I know it’s dark out, but the billboard’s lit.”

“Mack’ll fire me, Jules.”

Julia considers. “But think of the publicity, Dad! Everybody would know about Ruby.”

“You want me to put up a sign that shows Ruby in a zoo with the word home on it in giant letters?” George gestures toward my pictures. “A sign, incidentally, that just happens to have been made by a gorilla?”

“Exactly.”

“And you want me to do it without Mack’s permission?” George asks.

“Exactly.”

“No,” George says. “No way.”

Julia goes to the edge of the ring, careful not to step on any of my paintings. She picks up Mack’s claw-stick. She walks back and hands it to her father.

George runs a finger along the blade.

“She’s just a baby, Dad. Don’t you want to help her?”

“But how would it help, Jules? Even if lots of people see Ivan’s sign, it doesn’t mean anything’s going to change.”

“I’m not exactly sure yet.” Julia shakes her head. “Maybe people will see the sign, and they’ll know this isn’t where Ruby belongs. Maybe they’ll want to help too.”

George sighs. He looks at Ruby. She waves her trunk.

“It’s a matter of principle, Dad. P-R-I-N-C-I-P-A-L.”

“L-E,” George corrects.

“Dad,” Julia says softly, “what if Ruby ends up like Stella?”

George looks at me, at Ruby, at Julia.

He drops the claw-stick.

“The ladder,” he says quietly, “is in the storage locker.”

the next morning

I watch Mack’s car slam to a halt in the parking lot.

He leaps out. He stares at the billboard. His jaw is open. He doesn’t move for a long time.

mad human

A mad gorilla is loud. But a mad human can be loud too.

Especially when he is throwing chairs and turning over tables and breaking the cotton-candy machine.

phone call

Mack is kicking a trash can across the food court when the phone rings.

He answers it, red-faced and sweating.

“What the—” he demands.

He glares at me.

“I don’t know what you’re—” he starts to say, but then he stops to listen.

“Who? Julia who?” he asks. “Oh, sure. George’s kid. She’s the one who called you?”

More talking. With the phone to his ear, Mack comes closer to my cage, eyeing me suspiciously.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says. “He paints. Sure. We’ve been selling his art for quite a while now.”

There is another long pause. “Yeah. Absolutely. It was my idea.”

Mack nods. A smile starts at the corners of his mouth.

“Photos? No problem. You want to see him in action? Come on down, have a look. We’re open 365 days a year. Can’t miss us. We’re right off I-95.”

Mack picks up the overturned trash can. “Yeah, I think he’ll be adding more pictures. It’s a, you know, what do you call it? A work in progress.”

When the call is done, Mack shakes his head. “Impossible,” he says.

An hour later, a man with a camera comes to take my picture. He is from the local paper, the one Julia called.

“How about you take one of me with the elephant?” Mack suggests. He drapes his arm around Ruby’s back, grinning as the camera clicks.

“Perfect,” the man says.

“Perfect,” Mack agrees.

a star again

A photo of my billboard is in the newspaper. Mack tapes the story onto my window.

Each day more curious people arrive. They park in front of the billboard. They point and shake their heads. They take photos.

Then they come into the mall and buy my paintings.

While visitors watch, I dip my hands in fresh buckets of paint. I make pictures for the gift shop, and pictures to add to the billboard. Trees with birds. A newborn elephant with glittering black eyes. A squirrel, a bluebird, a worm.

I even paint Bob so he can be on the billboard too. I can tell he likes the picture, although he says I didn’t quite capture his distinguished nose.

Every afternoon, Mack and George add my new pictures to the billboard. People slow their cars while they work. Drivers honk and wave.

My gift-shop pictures now cost sixty-five dollars (with frame).

the ape artist

I have new names. People call me the Ape Artist. The Primate Picasso.

I have visitors from morning till night, and so does Ruby.