Surviving

Chapter 8

The next morning dawned bright. When you awoke and exited the treehouse you were surprised to find the village almost deserted, save a handful of apes going about their daily business.

For a second you were at a loss as to what to do, staring around at the empty village. A flash of orange fur in your peripheral caught your attention and you stared, transfixed at the sight of the orang-utan teacher and his class of boisterous ape children. Your feet seemed to have a mind of their own as you made your way over to them. You stopped a while back, not wanting to alarm them, and stared in fascination as they copied the signs taught to them by the large orang-utan. He noticed your approach almost immediately but did nothing to convey the thought that he wanted you to move away. In fact, he seemed almost welcoming in the way that he shifted slightly do that you had a better view of the signs he was teaching. Deciding this was the place you were most welcome, you sat down on a convenient rock, content to watch the lesson from a distance.

You must have sat there for a good few hours because the nest you knew, the orang-utan was wrapping up the lesson and shooing the children away. They hoited at his antics as he flapped his long, furry arms at them and signed what you recognised as a goodbye to him as they scampered away. Some called him teacher, others a sign you I u didn’t know which you assumed was his name. To your surprise, one or two stopped bear you, signing the word goodbye and another sign you didn’t recognise. It confused you as you were sure you hadn’t given your name to any of the apes, not even Caesar. He hadn’t asked for it. Names did not seem as important to apes as they were to humans.

Curious and confused you turned to fund the orang-utan watching you benevolently.

“Come sit" he signed, stretching out a hand in a beckoning gesture. With some trepidation you made your way up to him. You did not necessarily fear that he would harm you, more nervous in the way you always were when meeting new people and were not sure where you stood with them.

“Hello" you said, waving nervously. “I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Y/N. What’s your name?” The ape made a clicking noise of greeting low in his throat before replying, his movements slow in consideration to your less than expert grip on the form of sign language.

“My name is M.A.U.R.I.C.E" he signed.

“Maurice?” you repeated and he nodded his great head.

“Nice to meet you Y/N" he signed. You smiled back at him.

“Nice to meet you too, Maurice” you replied, still grinning stupidly. This was the closest thing you had had to a friend in years and the feeling was amazing, a warmth spreading through you that you hadn’t realised was gone. For the first time in a while you felt alive. You sat beside Maurice for a while in compatible silence before you remember something and piped up again.
“Maurice, what were the children calling me before?” you asked.

“They were saying -" he repeated the sign again. Seeing your blank look he took a piece of chalk, writing out the word on a piece of slate.

“Ghost?” you said, confused. “They’re calling me ghost? Why?” Maurice shrugged his great shoulders.

“Your skin perhaps?” he signed “Or maybe the way you move with little sound" he began to sign something more but paused.

“What?” you asked, curious.

“I believe it is mostly because of your eyes” he signed, hesitantly. You frowned, confused.

“What about my eyes?” you questioned. Maurice seemed hesitant to answer.

“They have no spark. No life. They are empty. Like a ghost”

“Oh" you said, taken aback. You lifted a hand to your face as if to touch the feature in question, then let it drop, feeling foolish. “I suppose that’s fair" you murmured, thinking back to the day the apes had found you, or rather, the day you had found them. You shook off your melancholy mood, turning to Maurice and smiling.

“I guess I can be Ghost"

You spent the rest of the day in Maurice’s  company, asking him questions about the apes and their way of life. You found that Maurice had the heart of a teacher despite his intimidating bulk. He was patient and kind and, surprisingly, very insightful. You found it was very easy to just talk to him about everything, his calm nature relaxing you and causing you to let go of all your inhibitions and just speak your mind in a way you couldn’t remember ever doing before. He was a good listener, taking your tirade in stride and humming attentively at all the right parts. You subsided somewhat in the face of his calm, and at his encouragement, did your best to think over your past objectively.

“The past is behind you. It is fixed, unchangeable. You must learn and move on. The feelings in your past have no place here in your future or you will be stuck and will cease to live" he signed when you were finally finished with your spiel. It took you back, that he could immediately get to the crux of the issue. What surprised you even more is that hearing advice from him didn’t immediately make you defensive or bitter. Maybe it was the way he signed it, not condescending or dismissive, but with a genuine care in his eyes that made you believe that he really wanted you to have the best life possible. Time spent in his company was therapeutic, you soon realised, and you could have cried at the feeling of thankfulness that washed over you that you had someone you could finally share all your worries and fears with, that you had finally found a friend.