-Part 2-
"You're dexterous," Chaves said with a pure look of reverence as we stood with arms akimbo eight hours later, proud of our handiwork. “You're familiar with manual labor, aren't you?”
We (me, Chaves, Michael, and Essien, as well as five of the tribesmen) had built a state-of-the-art, ten-people capacity penny-plain hut at the edge of the village next to the chief's house—strong enough to stay erected for the next three months. Da Graça, William, Zack, and Alicia were helping the tribeswomen cleaning the cooking utensils under the cooking shack. Ethan was taking pictures of them. We had had a plain supper, the same leaf-wrapped tapioca bread I gave to da Graça at the transition village.
"We cannot measure the sea with a bushel," I said, wiping the sweat on my forehead. The Chinese idiom made me feel like leaping into the lake. I was completely bushwhacked. It had been years since I did manual labor.
I tilted my head up only to see the setting sun above the treetops. The orange smear on the sky blinded me for a second. Today was the fourth of July. Instead of burning with patriotism, I was burning under the sun. A mosquito gorged on my forearm. It became a bloody mess a second later. Wiping it off, I realized a clear tan line had formed on my arm. It was supposed to be winter here, but winter in the Amazon jungle means rain. Though I did expect it to be relatively stagnant, limited to rain and drought.
"¿Hay alguna fuente de agua por aquí?" [Are there any water sources around here?] I asked Chaves. "Please don't tell me we have to wash up in the lake. I need a shower, and I need it bad."
"Yo... no estoy seguro. Pensé que vi Chen y John tomó agua de algún lugar detrás de esa casa." [I'm... not sure. I thought I saw Chen and John took water from somewhere behind that house.] He rubbernecked toward the chief's house on our left.
"There's a tap behind Chief Koto's house," Essien said while tying up the final hammock.
So there I was ten minutes later, washing up all the grime and sweat on my body. The night was humid, but the water was numbing. My every sinew and muscle creaked every time I crouched down to fill the ladle with water. Several tribeswomen came to take some water while I was changing into dry clothes. Essien said that the villagers would bathe either at the lake or the creek five minutes away from here. The tap water was mostly for cooking. But it had a constant supply of water, so no harm was done.
Despite the tumultuous ribbiting and stridulating and droning of the insects, I could hear the rushing of water somewhere behind me as I disinterred the muds under my toenails. The river was closer than I expected.
Adrenaline surged in me when I heard leaves ruffling on my right. I had enough experience with the jungle to know that the sound belonged to something big, or many. A deer, a jaguar, worst—a troop of monkeys.
Ladle and towel in one hand, I turned slowly. My heart collided with my chest. Something bitter welled up in my throat.
A troop of monkeys.
Ten monkeys ran out of the shrubbery. My breath stopped. I was about to run for my precious life when I saw da Graça trailing behind them. Flailing my hand to him, praying that he would reach me before the rogues did, I half-shouted to him, asking for help.
He fucking laughed before he approached me. The troop followed him.
"No, no. Don't bring those little shits with you." I frankly thought I would drop dead today, either from my heart bursting or from anthropophagy.
"They're harmless, Professor. They accompanied me bathing in the river just now." He ruffled his wet hair, sending it every which way.
"They're as untrustworthy as humans." My heart kept hitting my ribcage.
He flapped his red towel on his shoulder. "Do you trust me then?" He offered me his hand and smiled.
One monkey stood on the ground between us. It's small, demonic eyes were scanning my body. I backtracked ten steps, as fast as my heartbeat. I would kick it away if I had enough strength. But I couldn't. My legs were giving up on me. I had to lean on the chief's house for support.
"I would trust you if you kick them out of my path."
"Hey, that's cruel! Don't become a Joseph Stalin." He giggled and shooed the monkey away. "And the monkeys will not harm you, I promise. Let's go. I have nyctalopia and it's getting dark. I don't wear my glasses."
I don't even gamble money. My life is too salient to depend on luck. But at that moment, I gambled my life. I took da Graça's hand and sidestepped the monkey.
The sensei sighed and stared at the sky. "You didn't bring a flashlight. I forgot mine at the riverbank." His voice quivered.
I could sense his steps were getting smaller. I could also sense the monkeys were still following us. I looked back. They were following us. "You're extremely careless for a martial artist, you know." My grip on his arm became firmer, my eyes were stuck on the monkeys.
"You're being extremely stereotypical, you know. You think I should fit the stereotypical masculine image of toughness just because I do martial arts?" He shook his head. "And it's obviously irrelevant. You didn't bring one either."
"In my defense, I didn't know the tap was five minutes away." The next moment I looked back, the monkeys weren't within my sight anymore, but I could hear the sand shuffling.
Sun is an eerie creation of God. For such a huge, bright fireball, it knows how to slip over the horizon and suck away all of its light with it in a matter of seconds.
The intermittent hovering light from our hut was our only guide.
I couldn't see the monkeys now, which was a good thing. The bad thing was, I became more paranoid as the sky darkened. It was pitch black, but not without a Milky Way of stars. I would appreciate the delicacy of it if the dark wasn't taking my breath away. Literally. My chest felt constricted. Monkeys loomed around me but I couldn't see them. It became twice as scary when they were invisible. Invisible monkeys. Violent shivers ran all over my body.
"Aren't you afraid of spiders?" I asked to distract myself. "What would you do if Aragog and his hordes of children found you?"
He shivered. "That's why I don't wear my glasses. I don't fear what I can't see."
"That's the stupidest thing I've legitimately ever heard. One, you still have to fear God even if you can't see Him. Two, you could put yourself in substantial danger. Three, you don't have to see them to feel them on you."
"Can't show you cuz it's dark, but I wear knee-high socks so I won't feel them."
"So you expect being a schoolgirl will help you?" I laughed.
He clicked his tongue. "I think you're right about something."
"Empirically, I'm always right about everything. But which one is it?"
"Knowing you for a week has made me feel annoyed more than I've ever felt my whole life." He pushed my hand, sounding morose.
I grabbed his arm. "Look, you can spend the rest of the expedition being bitter about me, but don't you dare let go." The vein in my temples pulsed. "Are you trying to kill me?" My gaze hovered around the pitch-black path.
"Tenho a certeza que os macacos o farão se eu não o fizer." [I'm sure the monkeys will if I don't.]
"Porra, isto não tem graça." [Fuck, that's not funny.]
"Jona, ¿eres tú?" [Is that you?] Chaves's voice echoed through the dark. He illuminated da Graça's face from a few feet away.
"Sim, ignora isso," [Yeah, put that away,] da Graça shouted, shielding his face with his arm.
"Estoy a punto de buscarte. Dejaste tus gafas. Parece que Luuk te ha salvado." [I'm just about to search for you. You left your glasses. It looks like Luuk has saved you.]
"O quê? Fui eu quem—" [What? It was me who—]
I tugged his hand. "You'd better keep your bazoo shut about the monkeys," I whispered to him.
"Or else?" he said.
I couldn't see it, but I could hear his smirk.
"Or I'll pester you into becoming my best friend."
He snorted with laugher.
"Where's my spot again?" I asked when I ducked into the hut and grabbed the nearest flashlight. I swept the light behind me, and the damn monkeys were still there, sitting on the ground in a group of five. My mouth dried.
"There. The cozy little spot you requested for." Dr. John pointed toward a hammock right in front of the entrance.
"But I demanded the one beside the wall," I said in dread.
"That's Jona's hammock," Chaves said.
"And I'm sure Jona would appreciate it if he could sleep with you instead?" I said.
"Oh, believe me. I won't," the sensei said and sat in my hammock.
"Give me that spot," I insisted and pointed the flashlight to his face.
"Sí, dáselo. Puedes dormir en mi hamaca si no te gusta la tuya, querida," [Yeah, give it to him. You can sleep in my hammock if you don't like yours, honey,] Chaves said and patted the strings of his hammock.
"Naõ," the sensei said.
"Why wouldn't you want to spend your first night here with your boyfriend?" I murmured, swaying the light onto his face.
His golden eyes gleamed like a feline.
"Quem te deu a ideia de que somos namorados?" [Who gave you the idea that we're boyfriends?] he hissed. He bent over and massaged his right thigh, just above his white stocking.
"Uh... you?"
"Mantenha a luz longe do meu rosto." [Keep the light away from my face.] He pushed my hand aside. "Just... go to your hammock. Why are you sitting here?" He grabbed my flashlight and pointed it to my face as I sat next to him.
Our arms bumped together when my ass slid down the hammock. He had been tactile for the whole week, so I didn't care about the contact anymore. And amazingly, the close proximity calmed my jitters.
"I've reserved this spot," I said.
"What are you? Sheldon Cooper?"
"I don't adhere to Mathology. But we do share the same IQ. Oh, dear God. Please. Let me have this hammock." My eyes watered from the light, but it served its purpose as an appeal. "You should know by now that I'm afraid of monkeys. I'm in imminent danger if I sleep closer to the entrance. What if there's an attack? Aren't you gonna help me a bit here, sensei?"
He scrutinized me for seconds. He then folded his towel and threw it on the neighboring hammock. "You should've told me the reason sooner. I'm bad at reading people. Remember how I thought you were a nice guy?"
"That's... actually a valid example."
We spent the next hour eating packed food and discussing tomorrow's task. Da Graça and Chaves would start surveying the jungle with the locals tomorrow. They talked about the topographic variations of tree species diversity; I wouldn't act like I was an expert. My expertise was ethnolinguistic. My group was here to study the shift in the tribe's language and to re-transcribe the previous lexicon written in the early 2000s in case of any language shift.
As the hour went by, the buzz of conversation in the hut morphed into snores. I hugged the warm flashlight. I bought a lot of batteries before coming here so I could sleep with the flashlight on. Petrichor filled the humid air. Drops of rain pitter-pattered on the roof. We had lined it with canvas before we stacked the dried leaves so that water couldn't dribble into the hut.
Da Graça said goodnight to me. Our conversation died, just like that. For the first time in forever, I wanted to keep the conversation going. There was something preternaturally enjoyable about him.
He hit my soft spot.
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