Jonathan looked up from his Nintendo DSi when the piercing, two-tone chirp sounded from the papaya tree just outside the window – which was disconcerting. He had begun to fancy that the game player was a flashing ornament hanging from Jonathan’s nose.
“What the hell is that?” Jonathan said.
“A tuko,” he answered reluctantly. “That’s what we call them. It’s, like, a gecko.”
“Seriously? Like that little car insurance dude?” Jonathan saw his blank stare. “What? You don’t have that commercial here?”
Well, no. He turned away to mask his thoughts. Just because you see something in Seattle
The chirps came every few seconds now: Took-koh! Took-koh! Jonathan sniffed. “I guess it’s obvious where their name comes from.” After a minute’s listening: “That’s wild. They eat bugs or something?”
“Yeah, all kinds. Flies, mosquitoes, centipedes.”
“Well, they must think it’s a bug smörgåsbord out there. I swear, dude, you guys have a lot of bugs. I’ve been itching since I got here. Don’t know how you stand it.”
He returned to his book and shifted in his cot – his bed until Jonathan left – feeling like he had an itch himself he couldn’t scratch.
His uncle’s family had flown in from the States for the summer. Jonathan had walked in a full head taller than him, with hair to his shoulders and a studded leather bracelet on his wrist. His father had said, “He’s your age” – meaning his responsibility – though at 14, Jonathan was actually a couple of years older. So for three days he had dutifully tagged behind this sullen, disdainful giant, until he began to feel he was dissolving into the videogame noise cloud that trailed Jonathan wherever he went.
But Jonathan was intent on the tuko now. “How big are they?”
“Oh, all sizes. Some of them grow maybe a foot long.”
“They’re not, like, poisonous, are they?”
“Umm, no.” He put his book down. “They’re actually pretty shy, though they can be nasty if you poke them. They’ll bite you and won’t let go, and they’ll take a chunk of your skin if you try to pull them off. Some boys at school used to catch them and make them fight, until somebody's finger got bitten. The nurse had to drown it in a bucket before it let go.”
Jonathan was looking at him. Sensing he had the upper hand for the first time, he continued: “They’re an endangered species, you know. Some people think their tongues can cure AIDs, so people have been catching them and selling them in the black market. It’s illegal, but the police don’t really try to stop it. I’m surprised it’s here now, I haven’t heard one in years.”
Jonathan said, “Maybe it heard I was coming.” Then: “You sure know a lot about them.”
He shrugged. “I’m a nerd.” He surprised himself by how matter-of-fact he said it.
Jonathan nodded. Then he frowned. “I’m not doing too good in school.”
He nodded in turn. He had heard. “Smart, but dyslexic,” his father had said.
The tuko had stopped chirping. Taking it as a cue, he said, “You think we can go to sleep now?” The lamp was on the side table beside Jonathan.
“Sure.” Jonathan reached into the lamp and the room went dark.
He turned over and closed his eyes.
“Hey, Mario.”
What? he thought irritably – then pulled up, realizing Jonathan had just called him by name.
“You think tomorrow we can look for that gecko? I’d sure like to see it.”
“Sure.”
(October 2011)
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