Monkey Pie

“His name is Ye” Chelsea spoke thoughtfully and tapped her chin as though still processing the strange conversation.

“What did you say?” Curtis looked up from his chemistry textbook with weary eyes. For the first time he wondered if carrying a full academic load, managing a fast food restaurant, adjusting to a new wife AND becoming a Youth Director for Bent Tree Church all within six months might have been too much.

“You know, like in the Bible. Ye.”

“As in, ‘Go ye into all the world?”

“Yeah. Like that. Ye.”

“Well, I guess in China that’s a perfectly good name for a boy.”

“ Taiwan,” said his bride. “ Taipei, Taiwan to be exact. I looked it up.”

As soon as the words were out of Chelsea’s mouth, she wanted to pull them back. She had corrected her husband. Again. During premarital counseling this bad habit had been thoroughly discussed and duly condemned. Now, they were six months past the wedding and she still did it before she thought. She put a finger in her mouth and began to bite the nail, then caught herself and jerked it free. Strange. She never used to bite her nails.

Knowing the conversation wasn’t finished, she drew in a breath and summoned another cup of courage from her dwindling supply. “I think we may have another problem.” she said with slow deliberation.

Curtis put down his book. Another problem? Great. How could he possibly handle another problem? His life was stretched so thin all he really wanted to do was to run away alone somewhere and sleep for a week.

No, no, that was not quite right. If he ran he would need to take Chelsea. Life without her was unthinkable. He stopped tapping his pencil and looked up ready to listen. “Problem?”

“I think so,” she swallowed hard then continued. “Stephanie said that Ye wanted to bring something to the Thanksgiving social.” Curtis continued to look straight at her and finally shrugged encouraging her to continue. “He’ll be bringing a monkey baked in a pie.”

“You’re kidding.” The serious expression in her grey/blue eyes was answer enough.

Last week, when Stephanie mentioned that an exchange student was sitting next to her in Biology class, he thought it was an excellent opportunity for evangelism and suggested she invite him to the social planned for the Friday after Thanksgiving. That would be a perfect time to introduce a foreigner to Christian customs. The event would be casual, fun and held at the house he and Chelsea recently rented rather than the church. Perfect. At leaset, it had seemed so at the time.

“How is he going to find a monkey in Florida?” he asked incredulously.

“How should I know?” Chelsea could feel the tension rising. “There are all kinds of specialty food stores around. That new Deli by the gas station on Main specializes in food from India. Maybe somebody, somewhere stocks canned monkey.”

“Yuck! That’s gross!” Curtis closed his chemistry text and began chewing on the pencil. Stephanie was new to the youth group. She had a blue streak down one side of her hair and five earring holes in one ear with none in the other. The idea of her being friends with an exchange student who enjoyed pies with monkeys baked inside was a distinct possibility. They were both silent a moment.

“Do you think we will have to eat any of it?” he ventured.

“I don’t know if I can!” his bride responded and shook her head. “I never thought being a youth pastor’s wife would require things like this!”

“Maybe you misunderstood,” he suggested hopefully. “Exactly what did Stephanie say?”

Chelsea stiffened. She might have a bad habit of correcting him, but he had a way of putting her down without even realizing it. Did he think she was too dumb to hear?

“Her exact words were, ‘Ye wants to bring monkey pie.’ She even asked twice if I was sure it would be okay.”

“And, you said, ‘yes’?”

“What was I supposed to say? Ye helped his uncle cook in a small store in Taipei that stayed open all night and served customers on the street. Stephanie obviously wants to share the dish with the whole youth group and said it would be ‘fun’ to try something new!”

“Don’t worry,” Curtis consoled. “If someone needs to eat monkey, it should be me. After all, I am the Youth Pastor, not you.” He sighed. Being a husband certainly involved responsibilities they never told you about in seminary.

The last thing Chelsea wanted was a mouth full of monkey pie, but being clearly told that she was second class when it came to ministry was even worse. Curtis watched as a cloud passed over her face and she turned away from him resuming the chore that Stephanie’s call had interrupted.

As the vacuum roared its way to life, his wife attacked the floor with a vengeance. What was wrong? She ought to be glad he offered to eat the monkey! Was he not helping enough with household duties? They both carried full loads at college and both had jobs, so he tried to split the chores evenly. Had he missed something? Women were so hard to understand.

The afternoon wore on and each partner in the new marriage drifted toward their own thoughts and personal work. Each nursed wounds given by the other and each prayed. Also, each considered telling the other about the problem. The premarital counselor said it was the thing to do and they did want to do things right.

But, before they could make a decision about sharing, the afternoon turned to evening and slowly a different emotion filled up the space. It was a quiet but undeniable thing and it washed in like a tide slowly filling up an abandoned cove. The hurts, failures and misunderstandings didn’t melt away. They just didn’t matter so much when the new thing was present.

They lay in each other’s arms that night, sleepy and weary from a day with too much work and too little time. “I love you,” he yawned. “I love you back,” she whispered though a sleepy haze. Then, just as the dark edges of sleep rolled over them, Curtis mumbled, “We can figure out about the monkey on Friday.” “Hum hum,” was her only reply.

They had still not decided how to handle the situation when suddenly Friday came on them without warning. Racing home from classes they grabbed the folded clothes from the living room sofa and barely had time to get paper plates and other party supplies on the table before the door bell rang. Soon fifteen teens were filling the house with energy, exaggerated language and hormones. Stephanie and Ye arrived last and were the only ones carrying a dish.

“Hey everyone! This is Ye.” Stephanie stuck out her thumb and pointed to the tall, oriental looking boy behind her.

“Good evening,” Ye smiled speaking English with a vague mix of British style and hints of oriental tang. When he shook Chelsea’s hand she half expected him to bow. “Stephanie said it was approved that I should offer this to the hostess.” He held out a round Tupperware carrier with a red handle. “My American host family helped in preparation, but the recipe is one I have made many times with my uncle in Taiwan.”

With reluctant hands Chelsea took the red handle and carefully placed the container between the plastic bottles of soft drinks and the sandwiches she had prepared. She was wondering whether monkey would taste better with tuna or pimento cheese when Ye appeared at her side.

“May I help?” he offered and slipping the cover from the carrier he pulled out a plate brimming with what looked like whipped cream covered with chocolate curls and chopped nuts. “Monkey Pie” he explained. “We have sold it for many years. The best combination of bananas, chocolate and peanut butter ever to be eaten by humans.”

Chelsea caught her husband’s eye and they both privately smiled. Sometimes the problems you feared the most turned out not to be problems at all.

The evening was far more successful than the young couple could have expected. After six months the group was finally beginning to relax with each other. Everyone participated in the games without breaking into clicks and as Curtis took his Bible to begin a brief time of teaching, the young people seemed genuinely interested. He spoke of how learning to love could put the rest of life in perspective and how the thankfulness we talk about at Thanksgiving is an expression of that love.

When they closed the door behind the last of the teens, Chelsea and Curtis threw themselves on the sofa, hugged and laughed. “We are educated people!” he chortled. “Why did we think Monkey pie contained a cooked monkey just because Ye came from China?”

“ Tiapai, Taiwan” she corrected.

And they both laughed again.

Be Encouraged: The more you grow in love, the easier it will be to overlook the minor irritations of life and rise to the really important challenges!

*****

For information about Elizabeth's books and to read other stories visit her at: www.elizabethbakerbooks.com