by Sunniva Dee
I feel my forehead crease over this. “What do you mean?”
“I needed to understand that the day was for grieving and the night for relief.”
“Couldn’t that relief have been to sleep with your child in your arms?”
“Not in the beginning. The relief had to coat me inside and out, and only a man can do that. No one can breach a woman and own her body and mind as completely as a man.”
I shake my head slowly as I jot down my notes. This is amazing. Their belief system is intricate and evolved and utterly different. It’s fascinating, and because of the Fratters, a huge portion of it makes sense to me.
“Did you feel guilty in the mornings when you woke up and they left? Did you feel like you shouldn’t have allowed yourself that cocoon of relief?” My voice breaks as I ask, and Levari glances up to make sure I’m okay.
“She’s sad,” Yarunami tells Levari. “Did she lose her man too?”
I tell them, then. I confess much more than I should as a scientist interviewing her informant. This isn’t about me, but their eyes are kind and understanding, and the silence lingers question-free around us once I am done. Yarunami lifts another manioc ball. She extends it like an offering of compassion.
“There isn’t supposed to be guilt,” she answers. “I still felt it when my hammock was empty and the warrior had left a cold spot at my side. The guilt said he was the wrong man, that I should have waited for my husband to return for me. But it is frowned upon to think like this, and so, after the first eye-blinks of each morning, I moved on and immersed myself in my loss again. Then, I would suffer until the night came back.
“Each day was a cycle. Around and around and around it went. It is painful, very painful. But when you know you can breathe at night, you fight it at first. Then you let the sorrow go and accept the relief they give you.”
“I think you found your second husband during the months in the hammock. Right?” I hold my drink basket out, and she refills for me, eyes on her task.
“We all do. For some, it takes a while; for me, it took almost three moons to see that Kuriki completed more than my body. We started speaking at night. He started coming more often than the others, until finally it was only he who came. No warriors had to accompany him to take his place in my hammock, because I didn’t want to fight him.
“When the days began to feel long and I looked forward to the night, that’s when the chief ordered our wedding ceremony. We were married three days later. A new hut was raised next to the chief’s, because my Kuriki was a good warrior. We were happy together. Soon after, Raka’s mother was born.”
Yarunami doesn’t come with us when we bring leftovers to Raka. Her presence will only disturb her grief, she says. It’s better for her granddaughter to have the days to herself. Raka sits the way she did yesterday when we passed by before dark, knees bent to her chest and rocking on the ground beneath her hammock. I wish she’d at least use the mat someone has left there for her.
“Come,” Levari whispers once our offerings have been lowered. Raka is unseeing, and another basket is already there with food that looks fresh. I nod and follow Levari toward the village.
Branches break, and leaves snap as the feet of a young boy carries him toward us as fast as they can. He puffs to a halt and talks to Levari between breaths.
“Oh. It’s about Chief Pap’s son. The youngest one. He’s very sick, and Luka wants you to hurry to his house. He wants to take him to the hospital.”
“Oh my god. I thought he just had a cold,” I breathe.
Luka meets me at the entrance. “Hey. We’ve got to leave now if he’s to have a chance. I wish they’d told me about him earlier. I might have been able to help him, but it’s way past that now.”
I look over Luka’s shoulder and see Chief Pap swathe his son’s shaking body in one of our blankets. “Do you know what’s wrong with him?”
“Double-sided pneumonia, for sure. His chest rattles so hard I didn’t even need my stethoscope for that one, and his body’s burning up. I’m controlling the fever, but this stage is too late to be treated with my simple supplies in the jungle.”
“One second,” I say. “I’ll get ready.”
Luka bobs his head. “Chief Pap’s sending two of his most trusted men as his carriers. I wish I knew Portuguese right now so I could explain the situation at the hospital. Levari, can you accompany us as well?”
“Yes, I will come.”
I run back to our hut and pack up a few things of Luka’s and a few of my own. I bring our laptops too. My cool side reminds me that since we’re going to Tacua, we can replenish batteries, food items, and hygiene articles from the hotel/post office.
I take only minutes to pack. By the time I’m outside again, little Muku waits on a makeshift stretcher between two stone-faced warriors. They’re wearing t-shirts and shorts, suddenly out of place among their own.
As we leave, I steal a last glimpse of the villagers clustered together between the palm trees. They stare solemnly after us as we start on the long walk toward the river.
Freshly showered and smelling like soap and shampoo, Luka lies naked on one of the two twin beds we’ve pushed together at the hotel in Akuntsa’s village. My cheek is against his chest, feeling it rise and sink slowly. I close my eyes, marveling at the steady thump of his heart. It’s strange how understated the sound is, considering the all-consuming impact of the organ. Mortality; we got another taste of it on the trip to Tacua. Twice, Luka had to clear the child’s airways of phlegm in order for him to breathe.
“You didn’t feel good about leaving him behind there,” I mumble.
“Eh. They’ve got the equipment, and I didn’t. They wheeled him off. That’s all there was to it.”
We both know he’s right, but it didn’t hamper his crestfallen focus on the doors as they swung shut behind Levari and the doctors. “Only family, please.”
Akuntsa has opened her home to us until the child is well enough to go back to the jungle, but it’s one room and a kitchen. The warriors took her up on the offer, while Luka and I needed to visit our shipment anyway, and honestly, I looked forward to a nice shower and an actual bed. It’s been almost a month since the last time.
Luka kisses the top of my head. “He’ll be okay.”
“Yeah. I think you just saved your first little human life,” I say.
“Immune systems, man. It’s crazy, isn’t it, how fast little Muku went downhill? He was playing in his front yard just a week ago. Remember how he slipped into my flip-flops and tried to run off in them?”
I laugh. “Yeah, little rascal.”
“Immunology.” Absentmindedly, he rakes his fingers through my hair, leaving a pleasant chill in his wake. “It’s fascinating. Generally, our immune systems are able to prevent or eliminate microbial infections, but if it’s deficient, a cold can quickly turn into pneumonia, and the pneumonia can become fatal. You and I would probably have fought both on our own, but Muku couldn’t.”
He breathes against my hair, kissing the top of my head. “I’d like to specialize in immunology. Hell, I could make a difference. A good immune system is needed for everything.”
“You’d make a good immunologist.” I press my lips against his chest and lick a nipple. He chuckles in response, tightening his hold around my body.
“God, beds are amazing,” I moan out.
“Yeah, there’s nothing quite like them.”
Luka is the first to open his laptop and log onto the wifi. He has fifty-seven new emails. I bite the bullet too when his forehead scrunches in concentration. Mama is doing well, spending most of her time with her sister’s family. She’s with Julian at the cemetery every day, Luka reports, and we both swallow our silence over that.
I read emails from the department. Changes in class times for the upcoming semester and news about grants. An award for Dr. Bergstein.
He never even mentioned that he was being considered for it. I email him. Congratulate him on the award. Then I continue,
Based on what I’ve seen, I’ll need to redefine my thesis statement. The truth isn’t as simple as former visitors of the Lara’ have stated, and I’m starting to believe it’s because of the anthropologists’ skewed focus. With that, I mean they didn’t spend enough time on the reasons to the banishment of new widows and what seemed like sexual exploitation. From my interviews and observations, it’s more complex than formerly deemed; the tribe as a whole, women included, believe that the grief of a wife over a husband is sacred. It can only be uprooted by a combination of solitude and introspection at daytime, and sexual comfort at night.
“What are you doing?” Luka asks, eyes training on me over our little table.
I smile. “Shooting off an update to my professor. It feels freaking amazing. It’s like I’m getting to the bottom of something we should have known for decades.”
He bites his lip, yellow gaze traveling over my face and landing on my mouth. “You’re pretty amazing yourself. You know that? It sounds easy the way you say it, but not everyone can get that kind of information out of people.”
“I’m a trickster, huh?”
His grin fades, stare turning darker. “No. You’re a natural at what you do.”
I’m replying to Joy’s email when Luka snorts from the other side of the table.
“What’s up? Funny update?”
“Hilarious. Belen, one of my colleagues, has found herself a few Fratters.”
“Are you kidding me? The bitch from your film set?”
Luka snorts again, and it lasts longer this time. “Guess you remember her.”
“How can I forget Ms. Obsessed-with-Luka-Verenich, and ‘that’s cute that you visit him at Lucid, but I keep him busy here?’”
“That her voice?” he asks about my whiny mouse-mocking.
“No, it was worse. She was a screamer too. Jesus Christ, I have no idea how you even felt like coming when she...” I feel queasy. “I think we should eat now. It’s been a while since we ate.”
Luka gets up immediately and pulls on a pair of shorts. “Yeah. There’s a small restaurant around the corner.”
“What’s she doing with the Fratters?” I get dressed without looking at him.
“Sleeping with them. Visiting, you know, keeping them busy.” He imitates my mouse-whining on the keeping-them-busy part.
“Are you fucking kidding me? More than one too?”
“What, did you think they’d remain celibate until you came back to the Queen?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m just... How the hell does she know where you live?”
He watches me from the bottom of the hotel stairs as I stomp the last steps down. “She’s been there a few times.”
“You’ve slept with her after hours too?”
His shrug is enough of an answer.
“But she knew you weren’t there, though, right?”
“Yeah, I don’t know. Something about wanting to pick up her dildo. Pink thing, supposedly. I can’t keep track of people’s shit. I just throw it in my toy drawer.”
Toy drawer. Grr!
“You’re an asshole, Luka Verenich!”
“Oh lord. Okay, here we go again.” He extends his hand for me to take it. I slap it away but follow him out the door. I am hungry. My stomach churns hard now. Once I’ve eaten, I’ll know if it’s from hunger, remembered scenes from Lucid Entertainment, or just that bitch in general. What the hell is she doing visiting the guys?
We don’t speak until the waiter has us seated in a romantic corner of the six-table restaurant. Luka looks calm, sipping off his water glass, while I’m seething. He pushes the breadbasket in front of me. I pull out a hot bun, smear butter on it, and—it’s the single most delicious thing I’ve tasted in my entire freaking life.
My mouth waters. I hurry to bring the napkin to my lips, because I’m producing spit at an alarming rate, here. Jesus, bread is good.
Luka can barely contain his humor. “Tasty?”
I nod. It’s hard to scowl when you’re in Heaven, it seems.
He orders regular wine—I’m talking red wine of the cabernet type—and this too is incredibly delicious. It’s slightly cool and melts on my tongue. I want to drink a lot of it, apparently, because I down my glass so quickly that Luka orders a whole bottle for the table. I don’t object.
He covers my hand with his. “The guys can handle themselves. Okay? Belen can’t do them any harm. She’s fastidiously clean and would never risk getting pregnant.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Are you jealous?” His voice is silky.
I think about it while I meld my lips around the brim of the glass, sucking the bloody liquid in through my teeth. Then I put the glass down. “No. I’m not jealous. I don’t have a problem with the Fratters being with other women at all. I think it’s time they start finding themselves girlfriends—it’s been a while since any of them have had a serious relationship. But Belen sucks, and I wish she’d stay fa-a-ar away from any men I know.”
He lets the obvious hang between us in the air for a few seconds before asking, “Does that include me?”
I look down at our joined hands. Lift them high enough for me to breathe a small kiss against his knuckles. Then I finally admit what I could have admitted weeks ago. “Especially you.”
A night on clean sheets in Luka’s arms calms me. The man can fill a girl’s mind, body, heart, and soul. I didn’t know he had so many sweet words in him.
He says he loves me, again he says it, and it’s not after a moment of passion. It leaves a warm spot in my belly, between my lower ribs where my abdomen is soft and yielding. I chew on my own three words. They’re there and wanting to be released. They’re dangerous though. Once they’re out, what do I do? There’s so much wrong with the two of us together.
Here, in this strange place, we complete each other. But would we work in the Valley where Julian’s memory is heavy, where the pain is thick and more visceral dangers loom?
He kisses my worries away with lips that are present and full and soft. This is not the kiss of a man willing to share his body with anyone but his girl, and I think that I am that here. I’m his girl, and Luka, he’s my man.
I gasp.
“What, baby?”
“I’m afraid.”
He squeezes me tighter. “Of what?”
“Of this. I think that maybe...”
“Maybe...?” He turns my face with a gentle grasp on my chin.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” I whisper, “but it feels like I... love you... back.”
My chest is full of relief and misgivings. I just gave away a game I hadn’t planned. I’ve left myself fragile to him. Now he can treat my heart the way his brother did, crush it, make me suffer and fear for the night and for tomorrow.
“Don’t be scared, baby. Nothing changes, okay? I’ve known for a while now. It’s why you’ve been so angry with me. Woman are odd creatures.”
He huffs a laugh and kisses me again, sliding his mouth over mine. I have comebacks. He’s dead wrong; women are not odd creatures, and I’m not angry with people because I love them. But beyond those arrogant words, what Luka says is you’re special and I love you.
How did it come to this? I let my question curl off like smoke. Let happiness and comfort coalesce, the way I hope Raka does in the jungle.
Muku was out of the danger zone the morning after our arrival to Tacua, but the hospital kept him for a few extra days. Now that he’s released, we quickly learn that the little guy is a chatterbox.
He hasn’t been out of the jungle before, and there’s much to point at and comment on as far as the two television sets in a store window, the restaurant with red-and-white-ch
eckered tablecloths, and the ferry taking us back into the jungle. Levari’s interpreter job has turned fast-paced since a lot of Muku’s questions revolve around us.
“Papa says you want to learn about everyone in Lara’ Nation. You want to learn about me? I have a scar on my ankle.” He lifts his leg backward like a horse and points. “It’s from the short-eared zorro when I tried to hold her puppy. She was ma-a-ad and bit me. I could have died!
“That there is a black caiman. It took all of Tujy’s leg and the blood oozed out of him until he died right away.”
“I want to swim, like Attu. You know Attu? He’s my papa’s warrior. He has a scar too. It’s from the great king jaguar, and he tricked him into not taking him. Attu is the bravest warrior of them all. He has many, many sons.”
We get off the ferry, and the little guy is still pointing and talking from his position on Luka’s shoulder. His body is weak and has a few days to go on antibiotics, but his mouth can’t be stopped by a mere near-death experience. By the time we reach the village, I mutter to Luka, “He’s adorable, but you know what? I’ve got a headache.”
Muku squirms down from Luka’s shoulder and runs ahead of us into the village, shouting off the top of his poor little lungs. I can only imagine what he sounds like at full capacity.
“What’s he saying?” Luka asks Levari.
She shakes her head. “He says, ‘Don’t be afraid. I have come back to you.’”
“He’s the center of the universe.” Luka grins.
“Oh yeah, Muku always was.” Levari smiles. “If he continues this way, despite being the youngest son, he’ll be a serious contender to the throne of Lara’ Nation.”
I visit Raka in the jungle every day. Some nights, I go there with Luka. We remain out of sight, leaning against a palm tree, and watch the warriors come. The change in Raka occurs faster than expected. The young warrior from the first night, the one who slept with Raka in his arms, returns more and more frequently, and at the four-week mark of Tujy’s death, the miracle happens.
Luka and I are usually here first, ahead of the arrival of the warriors. This way, I can document any changes in their pattern. Tonight, when the young warrior appears out of the forest, he’s alone.