The Lost Hearts

by Maya Wood

  When Alexis returned to the camp, she gathered the contents of her briefcase, humming cheerfully as she fastened it to her bundle on the horse’s side. She did not notice that Trevor did not look at her, or that he barely said a word as they mounted the horses and disappeared once more into the verdant weft of the forest.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The path under the horses’ hooves began to stitch deep along the creek, a distinct route carved by knife and wandering feet. Ahead, Alexis could see a huddle of small mountaintops rise over the emerald veil of the forest. The trees seemed to welcome them, parting at a fork in the path. All at once she saw the breathtaking cluster of circular, thatch-roofed huts tucked in the long ribbons of grass along the valley’s floor. The sun was vertical in the sky, and the shade from the soaring palms with their flamboyant fronds did little to spare the villagers from the sweltering beams of light. Snaking behind the village’s perimeter, a long, winding creek pooled, flooding the lush, chaliced earth.

  Her heart thumped as she imagined the inhabitants of the village and what they would think of these two alien creatures wandering into their lives. She felt a sudden rush of shame sweep over her, as though she were intruding on the quiet of their lives. In all the time Alexis had rubbed her eyes wearily poring over anthropological publications, she had never once considered the impact that her research might have on this community. She swallowed hard, fighting to bury this disturbing idea. I’m just here to ask questions, she assured herself.

  “Here we are,” Trevor informed her tersely. The horses gathered shoulder to shoulder and they peered down the slope where no more than two hundred people rested patiently through the blistering midsection of the day. Alexis was too nervous now to notice Trevor’s coldness, and she easily missed the shortness of his tone.

  Alexis nodded her head, her heart blasting. Trevor clucked his tongue, softly pressed the heels of his boots into Binda’s flanks, and he led them to the mouth of the village. Alexis saw a woman streak from sight, her naked body disappearing into the gaping doorway of a large, intricately woven hut. Seconds later, a man appeared, his face pulled back in alarm.

  “We should get off the horses,” Trevor said calmly. He slid from the saddle. Alexis followed suit, and they stood cautiously a few feet from the horses. A woman shrieked, the rapid succession of foreign sounds chipping at Alexis’ composure. She watched Trevor’s face, relying on his eyes and movements to decide on her own reaction. Her eyes popped open wide when she saw his jaw flex.

  “What is it? What do we do?”

  “Just stay put. They don’t know who the hell we are, so it’s best we wait for them to approach us.” He said this while keeping his eye on the group of women and men now filing out into the village center. Some held spears, the hammered stone arrows painted with colorful specks, while others gesticulated wildly as they spoke. Two slender men and a stocky woman broke from the group, their faces leaden, eyes locked dead on Alexis and Trevor. “It’s alright,” he said, his voice steady. “I’ve been in this situation before.”

  Alexis, on the other hand, had not, and she struggled to stifle the overwhelming impulse to flee. She winced as she saw the trio approach them, their pace just shy of a charge. The woman threw up her hands, let out a cry, and shook a thick staff in the air. She wore only a grass skirt and a long beaded necklace of bones which swung heavily over her shapely breasts. Her hair was braided tightly against her scalp. The lobes of her ears were stretched like gum and filled with large clay rings, and above her bare feet, an ankle was adorned with a woven band of sun-bleached straw. The skin around her large almond eyes was coarse and weathered by the sun, but Alexis could see that she had been beautiful.

  One of the men stopped just ten feet from them, his eyes unblinking. He stood as tall as Trevor, his body poised, ready. He was the color of caramel, and his enormous black eyes were wide, as though he could see everything at once. His hair was long and thick, his septum pierced with a thin, carved bone. His nose sloped gracefully over his full lips, which shadowed the smallness of his chin. He began to rattle off in a language Alexis could never have imagined in her most vivid dreams. It was a multi-tonal sound that dipped and pitched.

  She shook her head, bewildered, and her eyes searched Trevor’s face for a comforting signal of recognition. He scowled, looked sideways, and then he held out his palms to them. From his mouth he issued a seamless melody, distinct from that which she’d heard come from the man with long, knotted hair. He blinked his eyes when Trevor spoke, and looked at his comrades. The other man came forward, his toffee-colored eyes flashing. He looked neither incensed nor welcoming, and he spoke to Trevor, the sounds stunting in his mouth, and it seemed to Alexis that he did not speak his native tongue.

  The minutes were a grueling eternity, and Alexis could feel her body swim in the moistness of her clothes, now sodden with sweat. Her eyes stung with the salty perspiration that had collected at her brow. Trevor turned to her, saw the pinkness in her cheeks, the worry burning deep in those indigo eyes. “What’s going on, Trevor?” she asked in a whisper.

  “I dunno,” he said, shrugging his shoulders with genuine uncertainty. “I don’t speak their language, so I tried the one most common in Moresby. Seems like this guy understands a bit of it.”

  “What are they doing now?” she squeaked, watching the intimidating trio turn their backs and retreat to the group. After moments of waiting dumbly by the horses, Alexis glimpsed the stocky woman with the staff barreling toward them. She looked at Alexis, her dark eyes measuring her from head to toe. She nodded at them, her mouth relaxed in an inscrutable line. Trevor glanced sideways as the woman motioned, her voice uttering an order. “She’s asking us to come with her,” Trevor said. “I think.”

  Cautiously they followed her, and the group which had been only twenty swarmed with what seemed to be the entire village. Children peered curiously from the doorways of the huts, their fingers fidgeting nervously at their gaping mouths. Alexis croaked with fear. She had remembered discussing stories of initial contact between tribes and foreigners with her father. She’d memorized the seemingly universal protocol for such occasions, but nothing seemed to resonate as she followed blindly, her vision blotted with black spots of mounting panic.

  When Trevor reached the mass still huddled protectively together, he rose his palms once more in submission, repeating like a mantra something that managed even to soothe Alexis in her distress. An old stooped man shuffled through the tall members of his community, his hand also clutching a knotted staff. Alexis guessed it was more for exercise than its menacing stature otherwise implied. A single streak of ebony seemed to bolt upward from his scalp to the flurried ends of his white puffy hair.

  He flapped his gnarled hand, as though to shush the chorus of murmurs which swelled through the group. His lips pulled into a toothless smile, his voice was placid. His eyes locked on Alexis, and he addressed her when he spoke. Alexis gulped dryly as she listened, unsure of whether to keep his gaze, or look away. She knew that with the sheer number of tribes in New Guinea that the rules of etiquette could swing either way. She wanted to show deference to this elder, but she realized she no longer had the footing she needed to be sure.

  Her eyes darted sideways, and it wasn’t until the man stopped speaking that she turned to Trevor. Before she could ask him what the man had said, Trevor had already begun to reply in the pretty hum of words. The old man nodded, running his hand along the smoothed surface of the staff. When he turned, Trevor took Alexis by the hand and they entered the parting crowd which faced them, hundreds of eyes latched on with intense curiosity.

  They reached a large hut and the man called out into the doorway. Two bare-bodied adolescents dressed plainly in loincloths appeared, their faces splitting wide into grins, wild with excitement. Alexis returned their contagious smiles, and they gestured for the two bizarre visitors to enter the dwelling. Alexis was surprised at its coolness, the heavy, pleasant aroma of moist earth ballooning in her
nose. An aging woman sat at the back of dome-shaped structure, cross-legged on a straw mat. She wore only a loincloth, her breasts sagging low over her belly, but her body was draped in bright discs and beads, a single fang strung as the centerpiece.

  She looked at the strangers as though she had long been expecting their visit. She did not stand to greet them, but waited patiently and silently for the two young siblings to seat them. Alexis smiled, bowing her head, her eyes darting. She hoped the woman’s face might soften, but it seemed permanently fixed in stoicism. The old man joined her, followed by the young man who had initially spoken with Trevor. She saw them eye her leather boots, shedding crusty bits of dried mud over the clean mats.

  “Trevor,” Alexis prodded, anxious for an update.

  “They’ve only invited us here to explain to them what it is we’re looking for,” he said, his voice strained with annoyance. Alexis managed to swallow the huff of indignation and reminded herself to be patient.

  The group began to speak and Trevor nodded his head in apparent agreement, or gestured calmly with his hands. Her eyes clung to their every movement, the mouths shaping the sounds which befuddled her ears. She felt a small hand rest on her shoulder, and she turned to see that a young girl passed her a clay bowl of liquid. She let its cool heaviness sink into the softness of her palms. Alexis started when she felt Trevor nudge her.

  “It’s a communal drink. You start,” he barked hoarsely.

  “I know that,” she hissed back, resenting his imperial tone. She looked at her hosts, raised the bowl in thanks, and sipped at the warm, bitter liquid. Instinctively, her eyes shot open at the choleric invasion on her taste buds, but she swallowed heartily, stifling the gag in her throat. “Thank you,” she murmured. She looked pleadingly at the young girl who’d given her the bowl, her eyes begging for instruction. Understanding her request, the group sighed with laughter, the first break in their stony expressions. The old woman raised her arms, motioning animatedly at Trevor.

  Finally, the aged couple stood from their places on the matted floor, and Trevor leaned toward her. “They said we are welcome here. I don’t think they quite understand what you want from them, but they don’t seem to see us as a threat.” He pulled back, his eyes searching the muted glow of the hut.

  “Now what?” Alexis asked.

  “I don’t know. This is your show,” he said flatly. “But I suggest you get used to not knowing a lot of things for a while.”

  ***

  “She wants to know why you cover your breasts,” Trevor said, motioning to the old woman in the loincloth and colorful beads. Alexis followed her gaze which was fixed to the slope of her breasts bound snugly beneath a brassiere and a white linen shirt. Alexis’ cheeks burned pink and she giggled nervously. She herself had rarely turned these questions on her own behaviors or norms.

  “Well,” Alexis began thoughtfully, realizing she could easily lose herself in a convoluted explanation. “The short answer is that all women from my culture dress themselves this way.” She raised her eyebrows pensively. “The long answer is that it has to do with many things. Weather, for one. Religion is another. Breasts are sexualized in my society, so it would be considered…I guess you could say, uncouth to display them freely.”

  They sat in the large hut again after an afternoon of bathing and napping at the insistence of their hosts. Alexis had been presented with so many drinks and unidentifiable snacks that she couldn’t imagine the imminent feast underway. They were seated in a circle on the wide straw mats among a multiplying huddle of marveling faces. Trevor translated to the man with toffee-colored eyes, who then leaned to the woman, producing an interpretation that seemed only to perplex his captive audience.

  The woman patted her graying, close-cut scalp, clucking her tongue. Another series of whispers ensued and Trevor finally said, “She says that breasts are for nursing the young, like hands are for weaving, and eyes for looking.”

  Alexis nodded at the woman and murmured her acknowledgement of the point. “These are the differences I’m hoping to understand,” she said.

  By now, with the help of Trevor’s input, she understood that the old couple were important and respected in the community. Those they spoke with seemed to stoop low in deference as they listened. Of all the huts in the village, theirs was the largest, though it did not boast material wealth or brandish obvious symbols of status. The home was devoid of the clutter in her own home in Boston, but she reveled in the beauty of its austerity. Save for the colored beads and carved bone jewelry, this was not a community preoccupied with conspicuous forms of beauty.

  Alexis noticed that a line of tribesmen and women began to file through the door, walking tall, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the newcomers. They clustered in small circles of six, and before long, the hut was alive with sharp guttural sounds of conversation. She saw women nursing babies openly, the tiny mouths sucking ferociously at their mothers’ nipples. She imagined such a sight back home, the careful sequester of women performing the most natural acts with a sense of shame.

  Alexis leaned to Trevor who had been ignoring her but for the short inquisitions made by others around their circle. “This is going to take forever to get information if we don’t have a common language,” she remarked.

  Trevor sighed impatiently. “Well, you’ll just have to wait. They have a son who is due back from Moresby any day now, and he will be able to speak with me and my partner. I don’t think this is the tribe you’re looking for anyway.”

  Alexis raised her brow. “Why’s that?”

  Trevor motioned around the room. “You said you were looking for a matriarchal tribe. This doesn’t exactly qualify does it?”

  She nodded wearily. She knew he was right, but just then she was unable to imagine that they still had mountains to climb, and more uncertainties to overcome before they found what she was looking for. “Yes, I know,” she admitted reluctantly. When a large platter of rice was placed in the middle of their circle, Alexis frowned thoughtfully. “They seem to have a lot of contact beyond their village, too. You can only get rice from the capital.”

  Trevor nodded curtly, mumbling in agreement.

  Thick plumes of steam wafted thickly from the dish, and in the muted light, Alexis could see a pile of indecipherable cuisine at its center. An excited whisper coursed through the hut and the villagers gathered close to the platters, sitting knee-to-knee. The old woman spoke loudly now, and the hut’s low roar of chatter petered out. She looked at Alexis, her lips spreading into an amused smile. She bobbed her head, waved her hand, and dug three calloused fingers into the molten rice. Alexis grinned moronically and jerked in surprise when the woman tore a piece of dark flesh from the center and tossed it to the rim of the platter close to Alexis.

  “Eat it,” Trevor ordered.

  Alexis’ fingers sank clumsily into the rice, her fingertips searing with heat. Dropping most of the handful en route to her mouth, she chewed at the leathery texture. Every eye seemed to watch her. She smiled, nodded her head, and the hut erupted with delight.

  “You should feel honored,” Trevor said gruffly at the end of the meal. Alexis writhed uncomfortably, her stomach packed with rice and meat. It seemed that between each bite, someone else in their circle would volunteer the task of flinging a glistening chunk of flesh at her. “They don’t eat like this every day, you know.”

  Alexis attempted to steady her voice, rising high with anger. “You don’t have to tell me how to feel, Trevor,” she seethed. “And stop talking down to me like this is the first I’m learning that there’s more than a single culture on this planet.”

  Alexis fought to maintain a serene exterior. She didn’t want to offend her hosts, or distract herself from this humbling display of hospitality. But Trevor’s brusqueness clawed at her mind, and she wondered what could have inspired such a dramatic shift from the adoring, groping man she’d woken to that very morning.

  Much later, when the crowd had dwindled, and the men and
women rested on their sides from the gorging of dinner, a beautiful young woman whispered at the old man with white, gossamer hair. Trevor nodded. “We’re to stay with her.”

  “Together?”

  “They assume we’re married. Will that be a problem for you?” Trevor’s face had darkened.

  “Why would it be a problem?” Alexis asked. Trevor watched her brow knit in confusion.

  “What about Philip?” he shot at her.

  “What are you talking about?” Alexis was finding it more and more difficult to temper the flare of impatience in her tone. “What’s gotten into - ”

  “Never mind,” Trevor swatted his hand at her as if she were a bothersome fly. He turned to the woman watching with perplexed eyes. He thanked her and stood to leave, completely ignoring Alexis.

  Alexis stumbled blindly in the dark as though her eyes had been sprayed with jets of black ink. She felt the woman take her hand, and Alexis immediately liked the firmness of it, as though someone stronger were taking care of her. She wished it were Trevor’s hand clasped in hers, but she was keenly aware that he was keeping his distance. Alexis narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. What could possibly be the matter with this man, she wondered.

  In the hut’s center a small fire burned and Alexis could make out a handful of half-naked figures lounging across the woven mats. The woman smiled, her ample lips parting over straight, white teeth. The light caught on her face and Alexis smiled at the lovely shape of her black eyes, the cheekbones that seemed to soar infinitely upward. Her head was closely shaved but for a single lock which fell to her collarbone, woven with beads and straw.

  Alexis called to Trevor hoping he might facilitate an introduction, but he had quickly found a spot by the fire and pretended not to hear her. Alexis huffed inwardly before she faced her new companion. She patted her chest and said, “Alexis.” The woman cocked her head. Alexis smiled, tittering through her teeth. “Alexis,” she repeated. She pointed at her hostess, raising her shoulders to emphasize the question.