Speaking to Jake
"We must first speak with ourselves before we can talk to others."
It is well known that to keep a muscle strong, one must exercise it.
Can the same be said of language? Surely, it can. Yet language is not restricted to stretches of the tongue, the curve of lips, the press of air through lungs. It is not even limited to facial expressions, tone, gesture, pose, and all that which we call body language. Language is also in the mind. If you can, imagine the electric pulses making sprints through the brain, exercising words, concepts, syntax and grammar. We must first speak with ourselves before we can talk to others.
For such a fundamental thing, it is amazing how easily language is lost.
Jake was old. He could feel it. Some describe age as an ache in the bones, a slowing of reflexes, a dulling of sensation.
Yet he could run as fast as before, for as long as he wanted. He could hear the faintest whisper, smell an approach from miles away, feel individual hairs, and could tell the exact tree a fruit had grown from just by its individual taste. Neytiri was as clearly beautiful to him as the day they'd met.
How was he old?
He sat by the fire-pit. His daughter at his side, a child in her lap who was chattering incessantly. The words were absolute gibberish to Jake. "Is she making that up?" he asked.
His daughter turned wide eyes to him. "Father. That is InglisÃ. Don't you remember it?"
"Of course I do, ma 'evi," he said, leaning over, tickling the toddler's cheek. "Hell."
"Helo," his daughter corrected him, with a slight frown.
"I re...mend... remend?" Jake frowned. It had been years since he'd used English. He spoke, thought, dreamt in Na'vi. His head just hurt as he tried to find the sounds of his old world, match them to old meanings.
"Elo, gramda," the toddler replied, catching his finger and wagging it. Jake was still frowning. Somehow the baby's words seemed off, but he couldn't remember what they should be. He thought to himself with a sinking heart that his grandchild probably had it right and he had forgotten English, completely.
That night, for the first time in years, he dreamt of his brother.
Tom was tugging him out of the building. "Come, Jake, you slowcoach! Come on!"
"What's so great about it anyway," Jake whined, trying to yank his thin boy wrist from his twin's hand.
"You have to see, come on, you must see me ..."
"I don't wanna see!"
"You do, you do," Tom said, planting his feet on the concrete and yanking Jake forward. "One more block, I promise, it's not far!"
They turned the corner. A park opened up, barely more than a block of ground covered in brown grass, a swing set and a slide. Jake wrinkled his nose. The playground hadn't been used in years, clearly, and it wasn't hard to guess why.
Except for one thing. In the middle, under the light of a glass-floored gym above, grew a tree. It was twisted and sick, growing in artificial lights designed to tan protein pumping gym-freaks, but nevertheless, it was a fully leaved tree.
Tom dropped Jake's hand and ran forward, schoolbag flung into the dirt, and he leapt, pantha-like up the trunk, using his hands and feet only to pull himself to the lowest bough. Then he wriggled up, until he was just a shape amongst the grey-green leaves. "Come on Jake! It's fun! Come on up!"
"Why would I want to go up there?" Jake hedged, pacing the footpath.
"Are you scared?" Tom taunted, poking his head through the leaves.
"Not scared."
"Are so."
"Not!" Jake said, and launched himself forward, forgetting his backpack and throwing himself at the trunk as his brother had done. The wood was unexpectedly slick, and for a moment he was sliding back down, but his wiry arms held him as he kicked his sneakers forward. Panting with exertion and coughing from smog, he lay on the lowest bough. Feeling the familiar sting in his lungs, he sat up, pulling his exo-mask from his backpack.
Tom was laughing. Jake looked up, sucking in clean air and glared. "You forgot your exo-mask," he said.
"Come up here, so I can use yours," Tom said from behind the leaves. "Can you see me?"
Jake saw the leaves shift. "Yeah, I see you."
Reluctantly Jake pulled himself up through the tree. Tom taunted, "Use your 'muscles' Jake!"
Jake grinned and growled, crawling out to meet his brother, shoving his shoulder. Together they sat silently on the branch, taking turns with the exo-mask.
The next morning, Jake picked up his granddaughter. She giggled, crawling onto his shoulders, getting her toes in his mouth. Jake laughed. "Hello, kid. Where's your mom?"
A tiny face popped into his vision as she looked at him. "Gramdad?"
"Granddad," he corrected. "Yes, I remember. English!"
She laughed, clapped her hands. Together, they chatted as they went off looking for the rest of their family.
Author's Note: After a 6 month hiatus, I thought instead of a long A/N explaining to readers why I haven't written 20 chapters of Hybrid, I'd write a story to explain that... when we don't practise using language it becomes weak and difficult to use. But it is never lost. I will write my chapters. I just need... a bit of time to get my skills back. Hybrid ch 14 and 15 are in the mill right now, so to speak. Thanks for support!