Just as I settle myself, I hear someone call me, and I look up.
“Yabai, bring home a big fat fish for me and I’ll cook it up for you.” Mazu is poised on a rock, waving.
I force a smile through gritted teeth and throw him a tight little wave. Then I put my hand behind my ear and pretend I can’t hear him over the sound of the surf.
As we float out of the bay, I nudge Luca, who is half-asleep, leaning on me. “Hey, do you know anything about this omi stuff?”
“Sure, it’s kind of like a Batman and Robin, Tarzan and Boy thing.” Luca yawns.
I clasp my head in my hands. “Ahh, I’m going to be the worst omi on the whole island,” I whine.
“Stop worrying. All you have to do is spend a little time with Tiki. That’s all.”
I force a smile. “Well, I guess it is a pretty big compliment. Yeah, I could teach him some things, like swimming and, and, well I don’t know, just stuff.”
Luca reaches up and holds my face in his hands. He looks intensely into my eyes. “Guy, you’re my hero. Would you be my omi?” He can barely finish the sentence before he bursts into gales of laughter and falls backward into the boat.
Pico sings out, “Omi, omi,” as he bounces in the prow, splashing us with water. Kizo, who’s sitting high in the stern, breaks into a deep roar. He digs his paddle into the water but misses the stroke and almost falls overboard. His manly roar becomes a high-pitched girlie squeal, making us laugh all the harder.
I finally catch my breath. “Thanks. You know, with friends like you, I should just go live on the Far Island.” I point.
Kizo and Pico stop laughing instantly and look at me with shock. Luca sputters some more laughs but then stops. “Oops! I think you said something wrong, Kiddo.”
“Sorry, sorry. I was just making a joke. I didn’t mean it.”
Pico turns and stares out to sea, and Kizo resumes paddling. I hunch over and hang my head.
“Don’t worry too much.” Luca puts his arm over my shoulder.
“But I didn’t mean it.”
“They know.” He pats me. “They’ll get over it.”
We paddle the rest of the way in silence. As I sit there sulking, I realize that although I love and admire Luca and want to be just like him, we have never been lovers, nor will we ever be. The truth is, Luca is my omi.
That afternoon back in the village, it’s particularly hot and sticky. Nando, Pico, and I are doing nothing, just hanging out in our hammocks.
“Let’s go to the beach for a swim.” Of course my motives are not entirely innocent since the beach is my favorite seduction spot. Nando, as usual, declines but suggests Pico and I go.
“C’mon, don’t be such a sissy.” From the furrow on his brow I realize that Nando has no idea what a sissy is. “It’ll be fun,” I add. “Come to think of it, we’ve never been swimming together. You’re not afraid of a little water, are you?”
Suddenly, Nando stops swinging his hammock and becomes serious.
“Yes.”
“Yes? You’re afraid of water?”
“Not the water, the sea.”
“The sea? You live on an island. How can you be afraid of the sea?”
“Not the sea, what’s in the sea!”
“Sharks? Well I don’t think sharks are a problem inside the reef.” With the mention of sharks, Nando looks more anxious, almost panicked.
“No, no, no! I cannot, I cannot—”
“Relax.” I reach out and touch his arm.
“But I cannot swim!” he bursts out.
“What do you mean you can’t swim? Everybody here swims like a fish!”
“Not me. I cannot. I am not a fish. I will never be a fish. I will always be a—” And Nando cuts off his sentence and presses his lips tight.
“Shh, shh, relax. It’s no big deal.” I reach over and touch his arm. “We’ll go to the bathing pool, and if you want, I’ll teach you to swim.”
“You cannot. I am beyond hope.” Nando shakes his head vigorously. “I will never be a fish.”
“Don’t get so upset. I can teach you. Trust me?”
“I will disappoint you.”
“Sunshine, you could never disappoint me.” I lightly hold his chin and look into his eyes. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“Well, now’s the time to show me. C’mon, Pico. We’re gonna teach Nando to swim.”
Pico jumps to his feet and dances around the hammocks chanting, “Nando, Nando, Nando.”
I know I’ve touched something delicate with Nando, and all I can do is smile.
And so, our swimming lessons commence. It takes four days to get Nando past his knees into the water. After that, we move on to theory and principles of holding your nose and ducking your head. Even though his progress is incredibly slow, I admire his commitment and persistence. At the time, I don’t really understand why someone who is so terrified of the water should be so determined to learn to swim. I learn the answer soon enough.
One afternoon after we have finished our swimming lessons and are just about to leave, Mazu appears from out of nowhere and saunters across the sand toward us.
“Hello, Yabai,” he says in his low, seductive voice as he bats his eyes at me.
Pico makes a low growling sound in the back of his throat.
“I was afraid you got the wrong idea the other night at the seeding ritual.”
“I don’t think I did,” I say while Pico continues to growl.
Mazu makes a wide circle around Pico and walks up to me with his palms held up, as is common for a formal greeting. I reluctantly hold up my palms, but instead of pressing his in mine, he presses his flat hands firmly against my chest and holds them there.
“You have such a lovely chest,” he purrs.
I step back.
“Oh, do I make you nervous, Yabai?”
I say nothing. My skin tingles unpleasantly where he’s touched me.
Then he saunters over to Nando. “Little Nando, even though you are Green and I am Red, we are still brothers, really.”
“I hold nothing against you, Mazu.” Nando moistens his lips. “But why do you call me a copa fish?” he says nervously.
“Oh that, dear little Nando.” Mazu makes a false chuckle. “We were just having a bit of fun with you. That’s all. Think nothing of it. And to show you I have no bad feelings towards you, I want to share this offering of friendship with you.” Mazu holds out a grog gourd toward Nando.
My first instinct is to tell Nando not to drink. Then I feel guilty for being so suspicious. It’s true, Mazu is nasty. And while he may be playing one of his little games to try and intimidate Nando, I’m sure he wouldn’t actually harm him. People don’t normally go around poisoning people, do they? Besides, Nando knows him much better than I do, and if Nando were suspicious he would surely not accept.
Nando’s hand shakes as he reaches out for the gourd. Pico growls louder and leaps forward, but I swing around, catch him, and hold him in my arms. By the time I look over at Nando again, he’s handing the gourd back to Mazu.
“There, now we are friends once again. I’m sure we all feel better.” Mazu looks at me. “Tonight, the Reds are having a hammock party at the beach, and I hope I have the opportunity to share some grog with you then.” We watch him slink down the trail and out of sight.
“What was that all about?” I say when I’m sure he’s out of earshot. “I thought Pico was going to attack him.” I release Pico.
Nando looks to the ground. “He is a shark, and he wants you.”
“Over my dead body!” I snort. “Enough about Mazu,” I say and scratch my chest, which is now beginning to itch. “I’m starving. Let’s go home and eat.” I start down the trail. Pico bounds over to Nando and grabs his arm, and they follow. “Well, Sunshine, I think we made some real progress today,” I say, looking back over my shoulder as we walk along.
He smiles and puffs out his chest. “You and Pico are the two best teachers on the whole isla
nd.” Pico squeals at the mention of his name and hugs Nando from behind.
“And the two best friends.” Nando pats Pico’s head.
The word I long to hear is “lover,” not “friend.” I can no longer hide my feelings. I resolve that as soon as we are alone back at the cottage, I will confess my love to him and ask him if I can stay on the island with him forever. I have to take the risk, even if he rejects me.
“Soon you’ll be ready to swim across the strait to the Near Island,” I joke.
“The Near Island!” Nando stops.
“Well, not for a while,” I say, talking over my shoulder. “Besides, there’s no hurry. We have all the time in the world.”
“Nando, Nando!” I hear a strange panic in Pico’s voice. I swing around. Nando is standing in the middle of the path, gasping for breath, pale and running with sweat. Pico is gently shaking his arm.
“What’s wrong?” I dart back. Nando stands frozen, barely breathing.
“Pico, go get help. Something is wrong with Nando.” Pico dashes off like a deer through the forest toward the village.
GUY LEANED sideways, propped his elbow on the arm of the sofa, and rested his head on the back of his hand.
“So there is a boy on the island, Tiki, right, who wants you to be his male role model. In the meantime, you have come to the realization that your feelings towards Luca are more like hero worship than love, and you have finally decided to confront Nando and resolve the issue of intimacy between the two of you, right?”
“You got it, Doc.”
“You told me earlier about your desire to be a grandfather, or a mentor to some boy, but you also talked about your fear of getting close.”
“Mmm.” Guy nodded cautiously.
“You’ve expressed a great need to love and be wanted by someone, but at the same time you seem unwilling to allow anyone to love you. Why is that?”
Guy’s left eye began to twitch.
“If you won’t let anyone in, how can you expect them to let you in?”
He trembled and clasped his fists.
Richard wrinkled his brow. “Are you all right?”
Guy jumped up from the sofa and darted for the door. Richard stood.
Guy waved his hand vigorously for Richard not to follow. “Damn prostate.”
Chapter 18: Tukuman
THE SUMMER heat wave, which had been pushed north by tempests in the Caribbean, ended during the weekend with a large thunderstorm, and the cool continental air, so typical of central Canada, settled back in. Guy wore an old handmade sweater, unraveling at the sleeves, and a pair of ripped jeans and high-tops.
It was still a few seconds before nine. Guy pressed his nose against the frosted glass panel of the door. Inside he could see Richard’s silhouette. He was seated in front of his computer, typing. Guy opened the door quietly and stepped in.
Richard took no notice as he continued to type.
Guy skulked up, leaned over Richard’s left shoulder, and read his computer screen. “Bion: Theory and Clinical Studies Conference in Boston.”
Richard jumped, turned his head toward Guy, and stared as if to say “Do you mind?”
Guy shot Richard a toothy grin, placed his coffee on the desk, and went over and sat down on the sofa.
Richard clicked his screen closed, picked up his coffee, and moved over to the swivel chair.
“Hey, Doc, did you hear the one about the postmodern anthropologist?”
“We don’t hear a lot of anthropology jokes around here.” Richard clicked on the tape recorder.
“Here goes. There was a postmodern anthropologist studying a group of people in PNG.”
“PNG?”
“Papua New Guinea. And he was doing a very intensive interview with the village Big Man.”
“Yes.”
“The interview started early in the morning and went on and on for hours and hours. The anthropologist took copious quantities of notes and recordings.”
“Okay.”
“The interview continued with no sign of conclusion, when suddenly the Big Man spoke up and said to the anthropologist, ‘Hey, it’s almost nightfall. Can we stop talking about you for a moment and talk about me?’”
Richard laughed. “That’s a good one. I think you’ve described some of my colleagues.”
“I thought it might appeal to you. You could probably tell it at the Bion conference in Boston, when you talk about me.”
Richard squinted and shook his head.
Guy smiled innocently, then continued on with his story as if no time had passed between sessions.
BY THE time I carry Nando back to our cottage and settle him in his hammock, the news has spread throughout the village. His sister, Kyle, is the first to come. She checks him all over to see if he was bitten by a scorpion or a spider. Nothing.
“Did he drink or eat anything unusual?” she asks me.
“Yes. Mazu gave him a drink from a gourd.”
“Haaa!” she gasps and holds her hands to her chest.
“You don’t think Mazu….”
She quickly puts a hand over my mouth. “Say no more unless you know for sure.”
“I didn’t actually see him drink,” I groan.
“And you do not know for sure if there was anything in the drink. Words are spears, and false accusations can kill both the accused and the accuser.”
“But what if Mazu did…?”
Kyle shakes her head. “You must trust our ways. The truth will be revealed in time.” She looks directly into my eyes. “But for now, say nothing more to anyone.”
Others soon arrive, filling our small quarters and spilling out the doorway. Kyle sits holding Nando’s head, and I hold his rigid arm. His eyes are fixed on the ceiling. He lies straight and stiff, barely breathing.
Tukuman enters our cottage with a roar, and everyone moves aside except for Kyle and me. I briefly glance up as Tukuman bows his head and says something to Kyle that I don’t understand. He stands at the edge of the hammock and glares at me. Then he points toward the open door with his outstretched arm. Pico grabs my arm and pulls me away from Nando. I follow him reluctantly out the cottage door and sit down on the step. Pico sits down beside me, hugs my waist, and buries his face in my stomach. I feel his tears on my belly, and I hug him back. “Shh, shh, I’m sure he will be all right. They have some very powerful plants and medicines. They’ll know what to do. After all, they brought me back from the dead, didn’t they?” I say, trying to reassure myself as much as Pico.
From inside our cottage, I can hear Tukuman making strange guttural chanting sounds. Others who have remained inside wail and cry loudly, and I smell the stench of burning hair. I shiver and wish there was a real doctor we could take him to, not just a crazy voodoo man with bush medicines. Paradise does not seem so much like paradise right now.
Pico and I wait outside on the terrace step until the sun dips behind the pyramid mound. Suddenly Tukuman makes a loud, startling cry and bursts out of the doorway. He points directly at me and growls, then lumbers off down the terrace steps and across the plaza.
Everyone stares at me with cold, hard expressions. I have no idea what I’ve done to make everyone so angry at me. I rise to my feet to return to Nando’s side, but Kizo blocks the doorway.
“Kizo, tell me what’s wrong. Did I do something wrong? Kizo, tell me.”
Kizo just stares at me and does not answer. Luca appears from behind me and gently jostles my shoulder. Pico grabs my arm and tugs at me to follow him. All things considered, I can’t make the situation any better by staying, so I follow Pico down the terrace steps. Luca moves to go with us, but Kizo makes a clicking sound with his tongue, shakes his head, reaches out, and holds him. Luca stays.
Pico leads me across the plaza in the same direction that Tukuman has gone. Once on the other side, Pico hurries down an old path unfamiliar to me and into the jungle. I’m sure I’m being banished from the village, and all my illusions about being one of the natives vanish. As w
e walk along in silence, I try to think of what I’ve done to cause Nando’s illness. How could I have made such a mess of everything? I don’t deserve his love. Once we’re well along the forest path away from the village, I speak.
“Pico, where are you taking me? Where are we going?”
“Tukuman.” Pico points ahead, increasing his pace slightly, making me more nervous.
After about twenty minutes winding along the very rugged path in semidarkness, we arrive at a cluster of small dilapidated huts. Pico leads me to the doorway of the largest one, then slips behind me, firmly pushes me inside, and disappears.
The room is very dark and smoky. I can barely make out anything except for the large silhouette of Tukuman wearing a hooded robe.
“What’s wrong? What did—?”
Tukuman grabs the back of my head and places his flat hand firmly over my mouth. I shut up. He holds a drinking gourd up. Fueled by a childhood of Tarzan movies, I imagine I’m about to be drugged, then sacrificed to the volcano. He firmly presses the gourd against my lips, and I take a cautious sip. This only makes him angry, and he grips my hair, shakes my head, and tilts the gourd higher. I submit and swallow large gulps of the sour grog until I choke and sputter. He takes the gourd away from my mouth and releases his hold on me. I stand there trembling. Then I feel the grog start to take effect, and I begin to spin, losing my sense of orientation and footing.
Tukuman grabs me before I hit the floor. He picks me up and lays me on my back on a large wooden table. Sounds come and go like swallowed echoes. I’m unable to focus my eyes on anything long enough to see what’s happening. I’m aware of Tukuman rubbing his hands all over my body, but I’m so out of it that it seems like it’s not me he’s touching. I smell foul odors like burning hair and rotting vegetation. He rubs warm stinking oils on my chest and stomach. Then he rolls me over onto my belly and folds my knees up under me. I do not resist. He ties my wrists over my head and binds my knees to the table with my ass high in the air like a pig ready for market.
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