Here I Am by Jonathan Safran Foer(132)

Animals were always mysteries to Jacob, but never more than when they slept. It felt possible to outline—if only a crude, gross approximation—the consciousness of a waking animal. But what does a rhinoceros dream about? Does a rhinoceros dream? A waking animal never startled into sleep—it happened slowly, peacefully. But a sleeping animal seemed always on the verge of startling into wakefulness, into violence.

They reached the lion enclosure and Tamir stopped. “I haven’t stopped thinking about this since we were here this morning.”

“About what?”

He put his hands on the rail and said, “I want to touch the ground.”

“You are touching the ground.”

“In there.”

“What?”

“For a second.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m serious.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yes. I am.”

“Then you’re f*cking crazy.”

“Yes. But I’m also f*cking serious.”

Tamir had taken them, Jacob then realized, to the only part of the enclosure where the wall was short enough for some DSM-5 exemplar to be able to climb back out. He’d obviously found it earlier in the day, maybe even measured it with his eyes, maybe—certainly—played out the scene in his mind.

“Don’t,” Jacob said.

“Why not?”

“Because you know why not.”

“I don’t.”

“Because you will be eaten by a lion, Tamir. Jesus f*cking Christ.”

“They’re asleep,” he said.

“They?”

“There’s three of them.”

“You counted?”

“Yes. And it also says so on the plaque.”

“They’re asleep because nobody is invading their territory.”

“And they’re not even out here. They’re inside.”

“How do you know?”

“Do you see them?”

“I’m not a f*cking zoologist. Of all the things that are going on right now, I probably see about none of them.”

“They’re asleep inside.”

“Let’s go home. I’ll tell everyone you jumped in. I’ll tell them you killed a lion, or got a blowjob from a lion, or whatever will make you feel like a hero, but let’s get the f*ck out of here.”

“Nothing I want here has to do with anyone else.”

Tamir had already begun to hoist himself over.

“You’re going to die,” Jacob said.

“So are you,” Tamir responded.

“What am I supposed to do if a lion wakes up and starts running for you?”

“What are you supposed to do?”

That made Jacob laugh. And his laughter made Tamir laugh. With his small joke, the tension eased. With his small joke, the stupidest of all ideas became reasonable, even almost sensible, maybe even genius. The alternative—sanity—became insane. Because they were young. Because one is young only once in a life lived only once. Because recklessness is the only fist to throw at nothingness. How much aliveness can one bear?

It happened so quickly, and took forever. Tamir jumped down, landing with a thud he obviously didn’t anticipate, because his eyes met Jacob’s with a flash of terror. And as if the ground were lava, he tried to get off it. He wasn’t quite able to reach the rail on his first jump, but the second try looked easy. He pulled himself up, Jacob hoisted him over the glass, and together they fell onto the pavement, laughing.

What did Jacob feel, laughing with his cousin? He was laughing at life. Laughing at himself. Even a thirteen-year-old knows the thrill and terror of his own insignificance. Especially a thirteen-year-old.

“Now you,” Tamir said as they picked themselves up and brushed themselves off.

“No f*cking way.”

This is so unlike me.

“Come on.”

“I’d rather die.”

“You can have it both ways. Come on, you have to.”

“Because you did it?”

“Because you want to do it.”

“I don’t.”

“Come on,” he said. “You’ll be so happy. For years you’ll be happy.”

“Happiness isn’t that important to me.”

And then, firmly: “Now, Jacob.”

Jacob tried to laugh off Tamir’s flash of aggressiveness.

“My parents would kill me if I died before my bar mitzvah.”

“This will be your bar mitzvah.”

“No way.”

And then Tamir got up in Jacob’s face. “I’m going to punch you if you don’t do it.”

“Give me a break.”

“I am literally going to punch you.”

“But I have glasses and acne.”

That small joke diffused nothing, made nothing almost sensible. Tamir punched Jacob in the chest, hard enough to send him into the railing. It was the first time Jacob had ever been punched.

“What the f*ck, Tamir?”

“What are you crying about?”

“I’m not crying.”

“If you’re not crying, then stop crying.”

“I’m not.”