Swing Into My Heart

I quickly swing through the lianas. I’m swinging much faster today than I usually do. I woke up this morning, extremely happy. I’m not sure why, but when I grabbed onto the first liana, I felt a rush of excitement and as I’m swinging quickly through my jungle, I have this tingling feeling in my stomach.

I’ve had this feeling before. Or at least a feeling like this one. When I won the liana-swinging-contest of the year of the anteater, I was going so fast that I almost threw up once I landed. But while I was swinging, my stomach was tingling.

It’s like that, right now. Only a lot stronger.

I grab the last liana, swing through a few leaves and fall to the ground.

But I fall harder than I predicted.

What I judged as being a simple swing through some leaves, turns out to be a swing into a thick branch. The liana get caught and I get uncaught. Well, I lose my grip. When it hits the branch.

Anyways, I’m on my, very sore, ass right now.

“Frank!”

I look up happily, even though my ass aches, and spot Gerard smiling down at me. My happy face turns into a wide grinning one. If my face can be wider, that is. I don’t think it can.

Anyways, Gerard is here!

“Gerard,” I call out and jump up directly into his arms. And I do mean into his arms, ‘cause they weren’t open.

I wrap my arms around his shoulder, hoping for a hug back.

I suddenly see something that makes me forget about our hug. It’s…me?

I pull away from Gerard and step past him closer to…me?

I point at…

“How-” I ask, cutting off myself when I run out of words to use.

“Do you like it?” Gerard asks hopefully. I frown at…me and tilt my head to the side in wonder.

I’ve tried this before, by the lake. When I look into the water, I see myself. When I move, well; then I move. In the water. And if the water is real still, I can see myself really clearly.

But this isn’t water.

I reach out and touch the…bark?

It’s smoother than bark, and it’s definitely not wet.

“How come I can see myself without getting wet?” I ask, pondering deeply.

How is this possible?

And how come I’m grey? Have I really gotten that old since I last looked at myself in the water? This morning?

“It’s a drawing,” Gerard answers, stepping forward to stand beside me. I turn my head to look at him – to understand him.
“I use charcoal to paint you on this paper.” He holds up a piece of coal. I look down at the coal, look up at his eyes and then back at…me.
“Look,” he says, then draws a line on the smooth bark.

Paper.

Odd.

“I know what coal is, but what is this?” I ask, touching the paper.
“It’s so smooth.”

Gerard giggles. I look at him and giggle back. His giggles are so contagious.

“It’s paper. It’s made out of wood.” I smile. Then I was right about the bark-thing. It is bark. Well, at least it’s related to bark.

“But how do you get me on it?” Gerard giggles again, and I quickly giggle, before continuing:
“I mean, I know how you draw. And this paper-stuff is really nice. But how do you- I mean-“ I don’t know what I mean. I mean, I know what I want to mean, but I don’t know what I mean. Do you know what I mean?

“Here,” Gerard says quickly, then pushes me gently to the side.
“I’ll show you,” he says and pulls the paper with me on it away, revealing another paper behind it.

He suddenly looks at me. Well, he doesn’t just look at me, he stares. He studies me.

“What?” I ask, hoping I don’t have a twig in my hair or a piece of mango in my teeth.

“Just,” he says, cutting himself short. He stares at me again. I start to shift a bit, feeling oddly uncomfortable, yet comfortable. I can’t really explain it. It’s like his attention makes me nervous, but at the same time it makes me…blush.
“Could you stand like this,” he says, suddenly grabbing onto my arms and moving them and me around. He turns me so that I’m facing the sun, and my arms are crossed over my chest.
“Straighten your back,” he orders, and I do.

I usually never take orders. I’m not much for giving them out either, but I do if I have to. But I never take them. No one ever orders me around. I’m the king of this jungle, for the love of rhinos!

He’s about to put the coal to the paper, when he suddenly stops himself. He’s still staring at me.

“Could you, like…” he says, trailing off. I nod my head forward, trying to get him to speak. Why is he so quiet all of the sudden? He was so talkative yesterday.
“Look more regal?” My jaw drops at that. What?! Me? More regal? I’m the fucking king of this jungle! I always look fucking regal! He’s the one looking…so…un-regal!
“I’m sorry. I mean, I just want you to…” he says, flailing his one hand around, while the other is holding the coal very still against the paper.
“Boast,” he yells suddenly.

I frown at him briefly, shrug and then boast. When he smiles widely at me, I smile back quickly before I focus on boasting.

He starts drawing quickly on the paper – grey lines appearing here and there, looking like nothing but grey lines.

Gerard quickly wipes a strand of hair out of his face, leaving a grey smudge on his forehead. I inwardly grin at him, keeping up my regal posture.

He focuses hard as he draws. His tongue is poking out slightly between his thin, tense lips. His eyes keep narrowing every time he draws a line, then relaxes when his hand stays still. He wiggles his nose twice, glances up at me and then starts drawing again – his face contorted in concentration. His arms moves slow as the coal grazes the paper. His legs are firmly planted on the ground, slightly spread apart with one in front of the other.

“Boast,” he suddenly says. I look up at his eyes to see him focusing on the drawing. I quickly straighten up again and boast as instructed.

The smudge on his forehead is still there, now hidden behind a bit of black fur.

Hair.

He told me we have hair, not fur. He told me a lot of things. Half of them, I don’t believe. The other half fascinate me. But no matter what, with everything he tells me, I trust him.

“Keep still,” he says quickly.

“I am,” I retort just as quickly. I am standing completely still!

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am!” I’m not moving a muscle!

“You’re talking.”

“So are you.”

“Talking is moving.”

“Well, you made me to talk.”

“No.”

“Yes! You talked to me, so I talked.”

“But I didn’t encourage you to talk.”

“Yes, you did!”

“No. I simply told you to stay still. Which you are not,” he says stubbornly, yet with a soft tone of voice.

I tighten my crossed arms and give up. How did he win this argument exactly? He was the one who made me talk.

“Boast,” he orders.

I’m about to yell out ‘I am’, when he says;

“Not pout.” I frown quickly, but the faint smile on his lips and the slight blush in his cheeks makes my face go numb.

The shy look in his eyes makes me all gooey inside.

I grin out loud, sounding like a fucking retarded giraffe.

I boast quickly to regain some dignity.