The Black Orchid

by Sawyer Caine

  And so we stood together on less than steady legs, giving and receiving pleasure from the other in what would be our last dance of passion before we parted ways. I swallowed against the lump in my throat as I held him with my free arm, and he did the same for me. Each time I kissed that full, soft mouth, I could feel the vibration of his moans of ecstasy against my tongue, and it rolled the passion through my body. When he cried out against my neck, I gave it over to him, and we rode those rolling waves together.

  We clung to one another in the water for an eternity when it was done and the afterglow had faded to dusk. It was the beginning of the end, and we both knew it. His head was against my shoulder, and I could feel his body shaking. I didn’t need to look down to know that he was crying. I didn’t need to cup his chin in my hand and force his face upward to see the tears coursing down his cheeks. I stood holding this boy of a man in my arms, knowing it would be the last time I could hold him thus, naked and warm in the water against me.

  When we left the falls hand in hand and dressed, I fought harder than I had ever had to fight to keep my grief in check. I had to be strong for him too. He was struggling with his own misery, and I would not make it more difficult for him. We made our way back to camp and joined Nekana at the fire. I called for Frederick, and he came out to us, his eyes heavy with sleep. We ate the stewed bird and drank the last of the wine Frederick and I had brought. We would have no more evenings like this together.

  Frederick went down to the falls with Nekana and stood with his back to her while she bathed, then she did the same for him. It seemed strange to me that he didn’t mind doing this for her or she for him. I suppose in her mind, Frederick and I were little more than women in men’s bodies.

  While they were gone, Nekai fished around in Nekana’s bag and got his carving out. He sat with his back to me again, working the small piece of wood with his knife. Though curiosity tormented me, I knew he wished to keep it a secret. I watched him, the muscles moving beneath his skin as he worked, his lower lip tight in his teeth with the concentration evident on his handsome face. I tried to imagine what he would look like as a fully grown man. It was beyond my comprehension.

  The noise of our companions returning pulled me away from my contemplation. Frederick and I did the chores with the mules and made ready to retire to our tent for the night. I was hesitant to go to bed, wanting to spend more time with Nekai and Nekana but she seemed tired and he was listless and wouldn’t meet my eyes.

  *

  The moon rode high in the night sky as I lay with Frederick. His hands roamed over my body, and his lips touched my skin. The fever was hot in him, and he was taking, possessing, and claiming what was his. He had to know that something had transpired between Nekai and me at the falls, but he asked no questions. When he nudged my thigh with his knee, I rolled over for him and lay on my stomach, giving myself to him and surrendering to his demands.

  He took me harder and more roughly than he had ever done. It was all I could do to keep still my cries of pleasure, and he finally had to put his hand over my mouth to keep me silent. It was what I had always wanted from him. He was taking what was his, and he made no apologies for it. Yet it was not the way it had been in the dark alleys of my youth. This loving with Frederick was not the rape of my younger days. It was something entirely different. It was passion at its basest form, and it was exactly what I needed. He knew that, and he wanted to be everything for me. He had discovered the key to the puzzle for the two of us.

  When he fell against me as it was done, I knew that I would be happy again. I would have to swim through an ocean of pain, but sunshine would be on the other shore, and Frederick would be waiting for me when I stepped onto the sand and was ready to live and love again. I would grieve for Nekai, and it would be misery, but I had my American. He would hold me through the dark nights of my soul. We’d made it through the jungle, we’d survived near death. We were young and strong, and we had each other. I would be happy again.

  Chapter Seventeen

  We reached the Warao village at dusk the next evening. The tribe’s children came running out to join us, but we were sober. Nekana took forth from her pack the wrapped skull of Paulo and handed it over to her uncle, Paulo’s father. The villagers stood silently with faces aghast as Nekana and his sister told the tale of Paulo’s fall from grace. Frederick and I remained silent as well, unable to speak and unable to add or take away anything they said in their language.

  The evening should have been tempered with celebration, but Paulo’s death had put a black mark on the festivities. Nekai’s father took us all into his hut and talked at length with us through Nekana’s translation. Over and over we had to tell and re-tell the events that had taken place at the pyramid. Then he asked to hear once more of Nekai’s fall into the river at the mudslide. When we had gone over these events until I was sick of hearing the words, he finally seemed satisfied and reached out, grabbing the back of Nekai’s head and crushing the boy against his chest.

  Nekana turned to us and sighed with relief. “He is proud of Nekai for the work he did in leading us and he is proud of you, Frederick, for saving his son’s life. Alfred, he thanks you for returning the idol and to all of us for learning the secret and then freeing the spirits. The past of our tribe is a shame that we must learn to move on from. He welcomes you both to remain here with us for as long as you desire.”

  “Nekana, please tell him that we appreciate his hospitality, and we thank him for his kind words,” I answered.

  She nodded and conveyed the message to her father. We spent that night sleeping in the shaman’s hut with Nekana, Nekai and their father. It seemed fitting to him that we should do so, and we were tired and weary of travel and tent sleeping. We snuggled up in thick furs on the wooden platform floor and slept with the scent of sandalwood incense that burned to keep away the mosquitoes and bugs.

  *

  The next few days flew by in a breeze of thought and emotion. A ceremony was held for Paulo as his skull was laid to rest with his family members, and the village women sang laments for his soul. Slowly, the tribe returned to normal. I saw little of Nekai during this time as he ran about with his friends and told them stories of our journey. I longed to have just one more quiet moment with him, but it seemed as though that would never be.

  Frederick and I continued to sleep in the shaman’s hut at night and though we slept side by side, we did not touch for fear of offending the shaman who did not know about us. Nekai slept near his father and his sister on the other side of the hut. Sometimes at night, I would wake and turn to look at him and find him staring back at me. In those quiet moments, I wondered how I would ever find the strength to leave him.

  A week had passed when Nekana caught me coming back from bathing at the river and told me that she wished to speak to Frederick and me about a matter of import, and that she would be coming to our tent. We had set it up to have a place to go during the day where we could have some quiet moments alone.

  A few days earlier, Nekai had come to us and through Nekana, asked us to bear witness to his coming of age ceremony. Though we had no idea what that might entail, we’d agreed to bear witness for him. She wanted to speak to us both about this ceremony now, and I was anxious to hear what she had to tell us.

  Nekana opened the tent flap and ducked her dark head to enter. She looked solemnly at Frederick and me as she took a seat on the steamer trunk at the foot of my cot. She drew in a deep breath as she blinked her large, expressive eyes and then sighed.

  “This thing that he has asked of you both it is a great honor. No outsider has ever borne witness to this ceremony. You must attend, or he will see it as an insult. My father is willing for you to be present. He will perform the ritual, and I will assist. It should have been our mother, but she is no more and so the duty falls to me. I will serve in her role,” she told us.

  “What can we expect to see?” Frederick asked, his handsome face wearing a serious expression.

  “I c
an only tell you that there will be cutting and blood. My brother cannot scream or make any sound during the ritual. To do so would be considered unmanly. He must remain perfectly still and silent while it is done,” she answered.

  “What are you going to do to him?” I asked, unable to keep my fears to myself.

  She turned toward me, her face passive and beautiful as always. “I think you know what we are going to do to him,” she replied as she stood to go. “The ceremony will take place tonight. I will come for you when we are ready.”

  I watched her move with simple grace as she closed the tent flap and left us. I fell back against the cot as an overwhelming sense of despair took me. How could I be expected to sit silently by and watch as they hurt him? It was barbaric to wait until a boy was in his late teens to do such a thing. I cringed to imagine what it would be like for him with no antiseptic and nothing to dull his pain. I understood that this was perfectly usual for them, but it seemed barbaric and loathsome to me.

  Frederick came to me and took my hand as he sat beside me on the cot. “My love, this is their way. Nekai is prepared to endure it. For him it is a rite of passage to manhood, and he has certainly earned it. We must go and bear witness because it is his will. You don’t want to insult him, do you my love?” he asked, soothing me with his warm hand as he ran it through my unruly hair.

  “No, I would die before I insulted him. I will go and I will watch but I don’t believe this is right,” I answered.

  Frederick laughed quietly and leaned down to press his lips to mine. “Love, their ways are not our ways. We consider ourselves advanced and modern, but are we not just as primitive as they in many ways? We perform this rite on newborn babies, taking the decision away from them and negating it to a necessary evil that must be done for hygienic purposes. I am coming to believe that this way, their way, is better.”

  “How can you say that?” I cried as I sat up. “He will be in absolute agony.”

  “Alfred, it will pass. These people know their business, and they will do what they can to ease his suffering. In a week or so, it will be as if it never happened,” Frederick soothed.

  I lay back on the cot and stared at the canvas above me, watching it flap in the breeze that served only to stir the sweltering air but gave no real respite. In my mind, I went over all the scenarios of things that might go wrong. I feared the possibility of infection setting in, of him being permanently scarred or mangled in some way, rendered infertile. I feared for him and for the pain he must endure and I wished, with all my heart, that I might have had the foresight to bring with me some opium so I could use it to ease his misery.

  *

  Evening came, and the people lit the torches around the village. I could hear the women gathering outside the shaman’s hut, and I knew it was time. Nekana appeared in the doorway and beckoned to Frederick and me to come. I arose, my limbs trembling with trepidation and followed her. Frederick placed a steadying hand on my shoulder.

  We followed her toward the hut. The hanging mats had been lowered all around it to give privacy. I watched as a parade of people neared. Nekai’s father was leading the procession. Nekai followed directly behind him. The village women were in tow, singing and playing their wooden instruments. I turned to Nekana to ask her for the meaning of this.

  “The women are singing and praying to our Gods to grant him fertility and strength. They ask that the Gods bless him and his future marriage bed. They pray that there will be no complications. They ask the Gods to be with him through the pain and help him to remain silent and be true to himself,” she answered solemnly.

  I watched as they came closer, the drums playing upon my beating heart like a death knell. I wanted to take him and run, but it was useless. I raised my eyes to his and saw resignation in them. He wanted this to happen, and I understood that, but it pained me nonetheless.

  The shaman ducked and entered the hut. Nekai followed him and Nekana motioned for Frederick and me to go in as well. She came behind us, shutting the flaps and securing them. The singing women closed around the hut and continued their incantation to the Gods. I tried to drown it out. Nekana knelt on the mats and reached for Nekai. He lay down, resting his back and shoulders on her thighs. I watched him swallow hard and realized that for all his seeming bravado, he was inwardly terrified.

  I sucked in a breath of air and felt Frederick’s hand as he placed it in mine and gave me a squeeze. I vainly attempted to steady my nerves. The shaman took a sharp knife and put the blade of it in the flames of the cooking fire in the center of the hut. He turned back to Nekai and spoke in their native language. Nekana began to translate for Frederick and me.

  “Nekai, you are now on the threshold. On one side a man, on the other, a child. You have earned the right, by your bravery and leadership, to endure this sacred ritual. Show now that you are deserving of it by maintaining your silence as it is done upon you, as it has been done upon all of your brothers before you and as it was done by your grandfather upon your father. Bring honor to yourself and your family. Live a long and happy life. May you have many children to grace your aging days and may they be a blessing to you and your people.”

  Nekana reached beneath the mat and picked up a small, flat piece of soft wood. She placed this between Nekai’s teeth and leaned down to whisper to him. He crossed his arms over his chest, and she took his wrists in her hands to hold them. I knew that such a gesture was merely symbolic and done more for his comfort. She could not possibly hold him still in such a manner if he struggled. I drew another ragged breath and fought to keep the look of horror from my face.

  Nekai’s skin was shimmering with sweat. His breathing was rapid and shallow. He was fighting to lay still and not shame himself with his fear. I watched him close his beautiful eyes and bite down hard on the wood between his teeth. Nekana whispered words of encouragement to him in their language. I had never felt more truly an outsider than I did at that moment when I could give him no comfort and must wait silently as the object of my heart’s desire endured a pain I would never know.

  The shaman knelt down beside him and untied Nekai’s loincloth, pulling it off and laying it aside. I couldn’t draw my eyes away as he reached across his son and retrieved the knife from the flames where it had been heating up. I watched Nekai take another hard, ragged breath and squeeze his eyes tightly shut against the pain he knew was coming. I waited for it, aghast that I was allowing it to happen and helpless to stop it.

  His father took him in hand and Nekana leaned down, obscuring Nekai’s face from me with her hair as she spoke more words of encouragement. With one quick motion, the shaman severed his foreskin and tossed it into the fire. I saw blood then, so much blood, but the flow was quickly staunched by Nekai’s father as he pressed the red, hot blade of the knife against the wound, all around, sealing it and stopping the bleeding. Nekai’s head was thrown back against Nekana’s thighs, his face a mask of sheer agony, but he did not scream. He did not unman himself.

  I felt faint, like a man drugged, and leaned back against the lodge pole behind me. Frederick patted the back of my hand. I could feel the tremor in his hand as well. I knew he had been just as affected as me but in a different way. I was in love with that boy. He was not. Though it had been bestial to me, I found the ceremony was strangely beautiful.

  Nekai’s father moved aside to clean the knife blade in a bowl of water, then he wrapped the wound in soft, white leather. Nekana moved from beneath Nekai, helping him to sit up. His father lifted him and carried him over to his cot, laying him down upon it and covering him with a woven blanket.

  I watched as the shaman left the hut. Nekana told us that it was to inform the villagers that the rite had been successful. I felt nauseous as I crept over on my knees to Nekai and reached out to take his hand in mine.

  “Nekana, please tell him that I found his bravery to be most honorable, and I am proud of him,” I stammered.

  She leaned toward him and conveyed to him my message in whispers. He s
miled up at me and squeezed my hand. Nekana dabbed at the sweat on his forehead and gave him a drink of one of their fermented concoctions. I resolved to remain with him through the long painful night ahead.

  Frederick understood my devotion. He smiled down at Nekai, gave my shoulder an affectionate squeeze, then left us alone in the hut as Nekana extinguished all the light save that which came from the central fire that burned in low coals.

  Chapter Eighteen

  It had been nearly two weeks since the coming of age ceremony. Nekai had been slowly recovering and was now completely healed. I could not shake from my memory the look of agony I’d seen on his face while it was being done to him. I could not suppress the overwhelming sense of helplessness I’d endured, being unable to take away his pain. I had stayed with him through the night after, held his hand, swabbed the sweat from his forehead and comforted him as he trembled silently on his cot.

  I knew I was putting off the inevitable. Both Frederick and I had become restless here. Though the villagers were pleased to continue to host us, I realized we were coming close to wearing out our welcome. I could not put an exact count to the number of days we had remained here with them, but I had been unable to fathom leaving him until I’d known Nekai was well. Now that I had that reassurance, nothing stood in the way of our going home. Frederick, ever the perceptive one, had been giving me the eye all day, and I knew he was going to broach the subject.

  “Alfred, how much longer do you propose to remain here?” he asked, looking up at me over the smoky haze of his cigarette.

  I sighed and ran my hand through my hair, standing it up on end as I leaned against the lodge pole of the shaman’s hut. I looked out across the expanse of the small, village center with all the little huts circling it. Nekai was kneeling in the dirt with four other young men, playing at some kind of game where they tossed small wooden blocks into a ring scratched into the dirt.