The One and Only Ivan

I wonder if my mother ever worried about dropping us. We always held on, but that’s easier to do when your mother is furry.

Human babies are an ugly lot. But their eyes are like our babies’ eyes.

Too big for their faces, and for the world.

beds

One day, after many weeks of loud talking, Helen packed a bag and slammed the front door and never came back.

I don’t know why. I never know the why of humans.

That night, I slept with Mack in his bed.

My old nests were woven of leaves and sticks and shaped like his bathtub, cool green cocoons.

Mack’s bed, like mine, was flat, hot, without sticks or stars.

Still, he made a sleeping sound like the rumble my father used to make when all was well, a sound from deep inside his belly.

my place

Mack grew sullen. I grew bigger. I became what I was meant to be, too large for chairs, too strong for hugs, too big for human life.

I tried to stay calm, to move with dignity. I did my best to eat daintily. But human ways are hard to learn, especially when you’re not a human.

When I saw my new domain, I was thrilled, and who wouldn’t have been? It had no furniture to break. No glasses to smash. No toilets to drop Mack’s keys into.

It even had a tire swing.

I was relieved to have my own place.

Somehow, I didn’t realize I’d be here quite so long.

Now I drink Pepsi, eat old apples, watch reruns on TV.

But many days I forget what I am supposed to be. Am I a human? Am I a gorilla?

Humans have so many words, more than they truly need.

Still, they have no name for what I am.

nine thousand eight hundred and seventy-six days

Ruby is finally asleep. I watch her chest rise and fall. Bob, too, is snoring.

But my mind is still racing. For perhaps the first time ever, I’ve been remembering.

It’s an odd story to remember, I have to admit. My story has a strange shape: a stunted beginning, an endless middle.

I count all the days I’ve lived with humans. Gorillas count as well as anyone, although it’s not a particularly useful skill to have in the wild.

I’ve forgotten so many things, and yet I always know precisely how many days I’ve been in my domain.

I take one of the Magic Markers Julia gave me. I make an X, a small one, on my painted jungle wall.

I make more X’s, and more. I make an X for every day of my life with humans.

My marks look like this:

The rest of the night, I mark the days, and when I am done, my wall looks like this:

And so on, until there are nine thousand eight hundred and seventy-six X’s marching across my wall like a parade of ugly insects.

a visit

It’s almost morning when I hear steps. It’s Mack. He has a sharp smell. He weaves as he walks.

He stands next to my domain. His eyes are red. He is staring out the window at the empty parking lot.

“Ivan, my man,” he mumbles. “Ivan.” He presses his forehead against the glass. “We’ve been through a lot, you and me.”

a new beginning

We don’t see Mack for two days. When he returns, he doesn’t talk about Stella.

Mack says he is anxious to teach Ruby some tricks. He says the billboard is bringing in more visitors. He says it’s time for a new beginning.

All afternoon and into the evening Mack works with Ruby. Ruby’s feet are looped with rope so that she cannot run. A heavy chain hangs off her neck. Mack shows her Stella’s ball, her pedestal, her stool. He introduces her to Snickers.

When Ruby obeys Mack, he gives her a cube of sugar or a bit of dried apple. When she doesn’t, he yells and kicks at the sawdust.

When George and Julia arrive, Mack is still training Ruby. Julia sits on a bench and watches them. She draws a little, but mostly she keeps her eyes on Ruby.

Bob watches too. He’s hiding in the corner of my domain under Not-Tag. It’s raining outside, and Bob does not like damp feet.

Ruby trudges behind Mack, her head drooping. Endlessly they circle the ring. Sometimes Mack slaps her flank with his hand.

Suddenly Ruby jerks to a stop. Mack pulls the chain hard, but Ruby refuses to move.

“Come on, Ruby.” Mack is almost pleading. “What is your problem?”

“She’s exhausted,” I say to myself. “That’s the problem.”

Mack groans. “Idiot elephant.”

“Idiot human,” Bob mutters.

“Walk, Ruby,” I say, although I know she’s too far away to hear me. “Do what he says.”

“Walk,” Mack commands. “Now.”

Ruby doesn’t walk. She plops her rump on the sawdust floor.

“I think maybe she’s tired,” Julia says.

Mack wipes his forehead with the back of his arm. “Yeah, I know. We’re all tired.”

He pushes Ruby with the heel of his boot. She ignores him.

George looks over from the food court, where he is wiping off tables. “Mack,” he yells, “maybe you should call it a day. I’ll close up.”

Mack yanks on Ruby’s chain. She’s as anchored as a tree trunk. He pulls harder and falls to his knees. “That does it,” Mack says. He brushes sawdust off his jeans. “I am through playing around.”

Mack stomps off to his office. When he returns, he is carrying a long stick. The gleaming hook on its end is almost beautiful, like a sliver of moon.

It’s a claw-stick.