-I-

He's not here.

At this time of the day, Jona would normally be under the shack, helping the tribeswomen cooking (I eavesdropped on his conversation several times before. He apparently knew how to cook). He wasn't there today.

I scanned the plaza, and he wasn't anywhere. I knew for a fact that he didn't follow Chaves, because Jona was still here in the afternoon when Chaves had gone to the next village with Essien in the morning.

"I suppose you should look for him."

I looked at the Chinese-British psychiatrist in front of me. Every man in the delegation was on the slippery slope toward becoming a caveman. Except for Jona. He always looked neat. Hairless. Mushy.

"For whom?" I asked.

Chen then said, "You wouldn't be scouring for anyone bar da Graça."

I almost choked on my own saliva. I was shell-shocked by his answer.

The gentleman must have seen it on my face for he continued, "You've been stalking that poor fella ever since you stopped talking to him. So I think it's fair to assume that it is Chaves's RA you're looking for? You couldn't even focus on this survey." Chen placed his survey questionnaire on the table (I was sure he knew my mental state now without needing the mental health survey anymore).

Of course he knew that. With inherent punctuality, Chen would take his daily promenade at six a.m. every day and sit in the middle of the village with a notebook in hand. He would then observe the tribespeople for an hour or two before he started his community survey. He must have seen me stealing glances at Jona.

My attention had been like a compass needle pointing north ever since I stopped talking to the kid. I was always looking around for him. I had caught him looking at me a few times, but he had caught me looking at him way more often.

I straightened my legs under the table, accidentally kicking Chen's feet. "Stalking is a strong verb, Chen. And I didn't stop talking to him. I was preoccupied. I have a lexicon of a language to complete."

"Yet you had all the time in the world to observe him." Chen removed his frameless glasses and rubbed them with the hem of his navy blue shirt. "I honestly wanted to ask you about it, if it's fine with you."

I scrutinized him but nodded.

"Did you two have any personal disputes? You know one of the reasons Stanford sent me here is to become a support system to the delegation. Staying deep in the forest when you're unfamiliar with the surrounding could take a toll on anyone. You can always confide in me."

But I was familiar with the forest. When I was a teenager, Alex would take me hunting for mule deer every week. We would then trek through every jungle in Ohio and California for no reason.

I stared at Chen's tanned face and the glasses mark around his eyes. Chen was a psychiatrist. Community psychiatrist per se, but psychiatrist nonetheless. For the past twenty-four years, no one in his field had managed to help me with my regression, so I never put my trust in one. Confiding in one had always been an unworkable boondoggle. But I liked Chen. The number of idiots had skyrocketed throughout the years, but he was one of the academics that earned my attention. His slit eyes were as black as ever, but the look he gave was always profound; the kind of look that tells you he had a ton of wisdom behind his eyeballs.

I had been struggling with my feelings for the whole month. Maybe, just maybe, he could help.

"Dr. Chen." I held the table between us and leaned forward. "This will be long. But that's obviously your job. To listen. I'm losing my mind here, and you're the only one who can and should prevent me from being demented."

He looked stunned. But then he nodded and his friendly disposition turned to professional as he rested his elbows on the table.

So I told him everything, starting from my childhood history. I told him that I found out I had an uncanny ability to get attracted to someone, and I had never been so contradictory to my feelings. So I worked so hard to remove myself from the inclination. I avoided Jona six ways from Sunday to resist the nasty temptation to run my fingers through his hair. There was more to the temptation than meets the eye. And it was a lot of baloney. I was never into a woman, but now I was into a man?

I was religious, not pious, but this attraction seemed wrong for so many reasons. It was less about religion and more about my past as a child. When I was ten years old, gay men took advantage of me, those pedophilic bastards. They ruined my life. So my best bet was to stay away from Jona. I didn't need to indulge in this sin. Lust was a sin. Lust was the sin that had ruined my childhood.

But staying away didn't work. Instead of getting rid of this infatuation, I was... lonely. I found myself looking around for Jona every day. That was when I realized that what I felt for him wasn't lust. It was more inherent. He filled a space in my life. At first, I thought it was the same emotion I had for my brother-that he made me feel safe. But it wasn't the same. I liked Jona da Graça, and it wasn't the platonic emotion I had for Alex.

After half an hour of me narrating my history and the conundrum I was dealing with, Chen gave me a thorough look. His eyes were like the black hole; I had to look away because I got the jitters. "You said there's more to it than meets the eye. What do you make of this... nasty temptation? Is it sexual? Pure curiosity?"

"I... don't know." 'I don't know' was a word that I hadn't uttered out loud for so many years. I used to have answers for everything. Clearly, I didn't anymore. "I am not even attracted to women. And now I have this... abnormal attraction toward him." I shivered saying that out loud. "Just... how in the hell is that possible? That's a tad surreal. This is against my grain as far as my views. I know this has nothing to do with my sexuality. I'm positive I have zero attraction toward any kind of gender because I hate humans holistically."

He checked his wristwatch, prompting me to check mine. 6.00 p.m. "You're an intelligent fella, Smit. Perhaps, you're not ready to accept the fact that your perspective and feelings towards people are... not as rigid as you think or want them to be. From what happened to you as a child, and the fact that you've never socialized with people growing up... to suddenly undergo a change, a benign upheaval I must add, I understand how this alarmed you. There's another side of the coin you have to ponder. Human is a social animal. This can be, as natural as it should be, au fond, your nature as a human being."

"So you're saying that I'm in denial?"

"Not sure how you infer that from what I just said, but the first step to acceptance is virtually always denial."

Tsk. "That sounds like a gussied-up version of 'of course you are'."

He chuckled. "But I don't think you're denying anything. You're actually accepting it by verbalizing your thoughts on it. You're just confused. Maybe flustered? But it's natural even if you're in denial. You don't have to study psychology to know that denial is one of the most primitive of the defense mechanisms because it's a characteristic you inherently developed as a child." He raised his arms and stretched his body like a pendulum. "But of course, you should know you have to accept the things you can't change, have the courage to change the things you can change, and have the wisdom to know the difference between those two. It depends entirely on you. If you feel you can change what's happening in your life at the moment, change it. If you're not happy with what's happening with you, change it. It isn't a catch-22. It's normal to deny, but it takes courage to accept and act on it."

I wasn't in denial. I was a virgin, but I knew how a body would react to someone you like. I liked Jona. So much that it appalled me. I got unexplainable feelings gnawing in my stomach every time I saw him and Chaves getting creepy chummy. That was jealousy. Even a dingbat knows that.

Chen was right about something. It took courage to accept it. I wasn't courageous enough to act on it. That was why I gave Jona a wide berth. But life hadn't been the same ever since I avoided him.

Something that once wasn't my nature had become my normalcy. I had to accept it-him.

I looked at my right and saw Jona's glasses on the hammock. My legs seemed like they had their own brain. I catapulted like a springboard.

Chen laughed and walked out of the hut. "Anyhow, I will be in the witch doctor's house for the rest of the night in case you need me later."

I snatched Jona's glasses, a flashlight, and my walkie-talkie before I strode out too. A few men walked across the plaza toward a house opposite to the hut. They entered the house, and the village was left deserted. Not even a chicken roamed the ground. The sun was inches away from touching the treetops. I couldn't help but feel conscious of Jona's absence. He had an insufferable habit of not wearing his glasses or bringing a flashlight with him.

Where the hell is he?

A group of five naked brats ran in front of the logistics tent while screaming and shouting. I peeked inside the suffocating hot tent. Alicia and Michael were discussing something in the corner. Instead of lighting the hanging lamps, they illuminated the papers between them with a flashlight. I had a sudden recollection of Alex reading me a French bedtime story under a blanket when I was ten.

"Hey, Michael," I called out. "Did you see Jona anywhere? You were the last one I saw talking to him."

Michael sat up straight. "Yes. We were talking about registering for his Jiu-Jitsu class." Then he stared at me.

I lost several precious seconds waiting for the dingbat to continue, but he obviously thought he was answering my question. Jesus. Intelligence is an ever declining attribute. Tsk. "And? Where did he go after that?"

He raked his blond hair. "To the river to take a bath, as he usually does."

It should take Jona twenty minutes to walk back from the river. It wouldn't be dark by then if he came back now. Big IF and big NOW. Standing in front of the tent, I stared at the transceiver in my hand. The only thing that accompanied me was my thumping heart and the occasional buzzing of mosquitoes. I was ridiculously flustered from the thought of talking to him. Preposterous.

I cleared my throat, pushed the button on the side, ignoring the dumb radio lingo, and talked into the device. "Jona?"

And I waited. Nothing. I called his name again. Still nothing. And again. And again.

"Professor Smit?"

My heart leaped into my throat. "Jona?" My finger trembled. "Where in the deepest hell are you?"

It took him five seconds to answer me. "I couldn't reach Aarón. Where is he?"

I had no idea my blood's boiling point was so low before. "I am the one who's looking for you, and you're seriously looking for him?"

He stayed silent.

Tsk. "Just tell me where you are. I'll get you."

Again, it took him five seconds to answer me.

"The... I'm at the cascade."

"You are practically blind and you went that far this late? What were you thinking?" I peeked into the tent. "Michael, you're coming with me." Then I said into the device again, "Just wait there. Give me thirty minutes. I'm coming."

"Go where?" Michael walked out of the hut with his flashlight.

"You're familiar with the cascade, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Great. Let's go."

-II-

This was the first time I trekked this part of the forest. It wasn't thick. We stayed close to the river course.

I pushed a dangling reddish root out of my path, and a huge yellow-red butterfly flew away from a nearby branch. I ducked under another big branch and saw a foot-long yellow centipede crawled on a trunk. My brother used to keep one as a pet. Peruvian centipede. He killed it together with all of his exotic pets when I almost died from his tarantula's bite.

"You seem to know the way fairly well, Professor," Michael said twenty minutes into the trek. "I wonder why you asked me to accompany you." His voice sounded too old for a twenty-one-year-old kid like him. It was stentorian.

"As collateral."

"Collateral as in safety or collateral as in hostage?" he said after a while.

"Collateral as in indemnity. I see monkeys in my path, and I will offer you to them and run for my life."

He burst into laughter so loud, sets of wings flapped above us. "Dutch people really have a way with words, haven't they? They want to sound heartless, but it always ends up sounding funny. You people are like stand-up comedians."

"I'm not sure if I'm more impressed by you knowing that I'm Dutch or the fact that you found my seriousness funny."

"My girlfriend is Dutch. I've gone to Overijssel twice. And I'm quite sure Luuk Smit is a Dutch name. There's a Dutch soccer player named Luuk de Jong." He was saying something else, but I tuned him out as soon as we reached the cascade.

We walked down a tangled slope. Focusing the flashlight toward my feet, bristly leaves from the underbrush cut my skin every other second. Something hard came in contact with my right cheek, and a stinging pain spread over my face like small fire ants. "Fuck."

"Jona?" Michael called out as soon as he stepped onto the lakeshore.

"Michael?" Jona answered. The gushing cascade almost drowned his weak voice.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"You stayed here alone in the cold? Why you didn't buzz any of us?" Michael said. He offered his hand to Jona and pulled him up.

It had become so dark, I could only see where our flashlights illuminated-Jona. He was hugging himself.

"I tried for Professor Chaves, but he didn't answer. You came alone?" Jona sniffled.

"No." He pointed his flashlight to me. "I'm here to accompany Professor Smit."

Jona gasped when the light hit my face. "Your cheek is bleeding," Jona said.

"Are you hurt? You good?" I asked, scanning his body.

"No. I'm... fine."

I looked at him, feeling uncharacteristically relieved. "Well, everything is fine then."

He shook his head. "But you're hurt. It's not fine."

He touched my cheek, and I shivered from the sudden touch. His hand was freezing, as cold as the breeze. My heart double-timed. I wiped the flowing blood with my shoulder and passed him his glasses and flashlight. "Forget it. Let's go back."

He wore his glasses and stared at my face again. "But... it looks terrible."

"If it's that bad, wouldn't it make sense to go back to the village before I bleed to death here? It's your fault I got hurt, so let's just go."

Jesus. Calm down.

"Wait. It's my fault? I didn't ask you to come here and get me." His voice was sharper than it was supposed to be.

"If only you're not stupid enough to wander without your flashlight and glasses, I wouldn't have to come here." More blood trickled down my chin as I clenched my jaw.

My worry sounded extremely wrong. Fuck.

"That's bullshit. I would've waited for Aarón, regardless. I don't need you to save me."

"Do not curse at me. I told you that so many times."

"You and your fucking commandments can go to hell," he shouted.

Michael harrumphed a few feet behind us. "Um. I'll... I'll wait at the river."

"Wait, I'm coming with you," Jona said.

I grabbed his forearm. It was frigid. Good God. "You're not going anywhere."

He tried to pry my fingers away. "You don't tell me what to do."

"Oh, sue me." I glanced at Michael's feet. "Just go back to the village and tell Dr. Chen I've found Jona. But he's not going back to the village any moment soon."

"Um. How about the monkeys?" Michael asked.

"Jona is here," I said.

Michael nodded and walked away.

Jona tugged his hand away. "You can't keep me here." Then he pulled my arm, and I knew he was trying to armlock me.

I threw my flashlight and sidestepped him. I fastened my arm around his neck and put him in a chokehold. Not strong enough to strangle him, but enough to prevent him from attacking me. "I will let you go if you don't try to attack me again, sensei. I just want to talk to you. We have a lot to talk about," I said into his ear and rested my chin on his shoulder. The blood on my cheek smeared his jaw. The wound stung.

He wrapped his arm around my neck and threw me in a wide cycle. He was so fast, all I could do was break my fall onto my side. He straddled my chest, forearm on my neck, pushing me down with his weight.

I coughed. "Damn, you're fast." Dull pain traveled on my back.

He gripped my wrist and gave me a dressing-down. "We have nothing to talk about. You hadn't talked to me for a month, remember? Why bother now? Is it fun, Smit?" he hissed. "Giving me hopes that you wanted to become my friend and annoy me every day just to make me feel... what... alive? I didn't need your sympathy that day and I don't need it today either. And, well, guess what? I am obviously not your friend but you have made me feel so fucking annoyed with you. Congratulations. You've succeeded in that."

Jesus. That's like a kick in the teeth.

I could push him if I wanted. He was small and fast, but I was clearly stronger. Still, being below him like this wasn't too bad. Somewhere in me, I was turned on when he called me Smit. I had gone batshit crazy.

"Eu gosto de ti." [I like you.]

He stopped pushing me down. I couldn't see his face, but his gasp was as clear as the cascade. That was sudden, but I needed to tell him that. For the whole month, he became the axis about which my thoughts revolved. The imbroglio was harder to solve than rocket science, but after doing a soul-searching, my extrapolation was: I liked Jona da Graça.

Almost ten seconds passed, and the only sound I could make out from him was his fast breathing. It was hot against my cheek. The wind was suddenly uncharacteristically cold.

"You're practically blind, not mute. Say something," I said. "Anything."

He pushed up from me, standing. "Que é... impossível." [That's... impossible.]

"Haa. When you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."

"But... you can't like me."

I sat down on the ground, brushing the sand on my arms. "Why? Because you're with Chaves?" A small bitter ball rose into my throat. "You said he's your best friend. You actually like him, don't you?"

He shook his head and said in a weak voice, "I am not with him."

"Then why it is impossible?"

"You... are always rude to me. You ignored me for a month. You didn't even look at me. No smile, no hi, no nothing. And you said you're homophobic."

"One, I'm not rude. I learned thousands of foreign words as a child, but I never assimilated social aptitudes. Well, saying that out loud, yes, maybe I'm rude. Two, you think this is easy for me?" I stood and pulled him to face me.

He didn't even try to pull away now.

"Jona, I have a ten-year-old wimpy kid stuck in my brain 'cause I have a terrible past. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't tell the child to grow up. I have to constantly remind him that I am not a kid anymore and nobody can harm me." Cold shivers ran up my body. My heart whacked against my chest from the recollections of the men's touch. "You know how hard it is to accept the fact that I'm falling in love with you? A guy? It's not in my morality. This feels so wrong. So... antithetical to my fears. But the crux of the matter is, I like you, and I can't deny that."

Again, he took several seconds to answer. "Then you don't have to pursue the feelings. Don't hurt yourself because of me. We're just confused, Professor Smit. Just keep on ignoring me. We'll grow out of it."

We. I knew he liked me too.

"We?"

"What?" he asked.

"You said we."

"I did not." His voice cracked.

"I'm confused, not deaf."

I didn't have to touch his chest to know how fast his heart was beating. His breathing gave him away. Though I was tempted to touch his damp hair. So I did.

He glanced up. "Professor Smit. You're... You're too close."

"Say something less obvious," I whispered into his hair.

His hair was so soft. I raked my fingers through the strands. So cold.

He shivered. Then he stepped backward. So I fisted his hair, stopping him from getting farther. "Talk to me, Jona."

"Please, Professor Smit." His fingers were weak when he tried to pry my hand on his arm. "You're right. This is wrong. We're not supposed to feel this way."

"Why?"

"You're religious."

I sighed. "Is that supposed to stop me from being a human?"

His eyes watered. "It's not okay for me to have feelings for you. It's not fair to you."

"I've never done this before, but isn't it supposed to be something you reciprocate when you feel the same way? I'm sure that's more even-handed?" I hummed.

"Please stop asking things, Professor Smit."

"Asians are really notorious for not saying what they think."

Blood dripped on my wrist.

"Please. The blood isn't stopping. Let's go back and treat your cheek." He tugged his hand away and grabbed his bag.

Jona led the way back through a clearer slope on our left. The hike went as silent as it could get. I decided to bother him again once we reached the village. The thirty-minute trek I took with Michael became twenty minutes with Jona. He knew the way like the back of his hand. It was either his forestry aspect or because he and Chaves came here a lot. I wondered what they did at the cascade. Then I decided not to when my chest clenched in anger from jealousy. That was another mountain I would have to climb. Getting rid of Chaves.

"Wait. I'll go find Dr. John," Jona said when we arrived at the village plaza.

I hadn't had the chance to tell him John wasn't here, because when I turned, he vanished into the tent. So I went into the hut, lit all the hanging lamps, and sat on Jona's hammock.

My wound itched so much, I had the compulsion to tear off my skin. I glanced down at my sweatshirt. The smear of the blood was an exaggeration for such a small wound. It looked like I just massacred a cult. I removed my outer shirt and threw it on my rucksack. Gotta burn it tonight.

"You scared me for a while there with all the blood on your neck. Jeez," Adrian told Jona as they walked into the hut. "Dear, Lord! What hit you?" the black guy asked me before he looked at Jona. "You?"

"What? Why would I hit him?" Jona rubbed his eyebrow.

"Everyone here, yes, including the tribespeople, knows you two are fighting." Adrian got busy with the white medical box on the table.

"We didn't fight." Jona sighed, sitting at the very end of the hut, the farthest chair from me. "And I didn't hurt him." Then he added in a small voice, "Though he got hurt because of me."

Adrian's Superman t-shirt obstructed my view from Jona. "You came in contact with some kind of plant or animal?" He wore a small headlamp. The hut wasn't dark, but he would need extra lighting.

"Whacked me, technically. A serrated branch." I hissed when he dabbed a soaked cotton ball on my cheek.

"It's swollen. Looks like an allergic reaction. You feel good? Shortness of breath? Headache? Blurry vision?"

"If I ignore the fact that it's itchy like a bitch, everything is just peachy."

He hummed to a surprisingly calming song (sounded like jazz) as he cleaned my wound. "The wound is deep."

"Is... Is it going to scar?" Jona asked. He peeked over Adrian's shoulder.

"I'm afraid it will. I grazed a door when I was a teenager, a mere graze, and look at this Harry Potter scar." He pointed at his wide forehead, with the lightning-like scar.

I shrugged. Scars couldn't faze me anymore. "I'm not a girl. A scar on my face won't make any difference. And I assume you don't have to suture it?"

"No. It's third degree, but it's just an abrasion."

"Great. You can go." I took the bandage in his hand.

He pulled it back. "You'll need help with it. You can't see the wound."

"Jona will do it."

"You can?" Adrian asked Jona.

I said, "He's a karate sensei. He should be familiar with treating minor wounds."

"I... Yes." Jona bowed a bit as he took the dressing from me.

Adrian looked at me and shrugged a shoulder. "OK then. Just watch out for any... infection, fever, numbing, stinging. Take this for your itching." He gave me a capsule I suspected as diphenhydramine. "Do you need ibuprofen too?"

I dry-swallowed it. "No. I'm good."

"OK. Any changes out of the norm, please let me know. I'll be in the tent playing Pandemic with the students."

What the hell is Pandemic?

"Sure. Thanks a lot." I flailed my hand at him, and he walked out of the hut.

Jona stood next to me. "Un... can you hold the flashlight for me and point it to your cheek? It's not exactly bright in here. Sorry."

I took it from his hand. "Sure."

"Obrigado." [Thank you.]

He bent over like Adrian did, so I pulled him onto the hammock. His butt glided toward me.

"Isto... isto está muito perto. Como é suposto eu fazer isto?" [This... This is too close. How am I supposed to do this?] He pushed my shoulder.

"Be creative."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. I knew I annoyed him. His eyebrows would always make a weird S-shape when he frowned. He shifted on his butt and rested a leg on the hammock between us, facing me. He continued where Adrian left.

I held the flashlight between our chests. His eyes caught the light. The brown in them was so rich, they looked gold. "Your eyes are too overbearing for someone humble like you."

He gave me a small smile. So small it was barely there. Fugitive. "I actually hate them for the same reason if not for others. Perhaps something as overbearing as my eyes suits you more."

"Hate them? You told me that things never went right for you. Why would you hate something that looks right? They're beautiful."

"Nothing is right about me. The most messed up thing about me is actually my looks."

This kid really has real issues. What's with him?

I wanted to change the topic but ended up talking about his physical again when he put pressure on my cheek. "You have small hands." I leaned toward his palm.

Thank God he smiled. His left canine peeked out.

Fuck, he's cute.

"I'm half-East Asian. It's you who have abnormally big hands, Professor Smit."

"I'm half-Dutch. It's normal to have body parts that appear out of proportion even for a midget like me."

He smoothed out the bandage on my cheek. The wound was long. Right under my eye down to my lip. Milada would nag me when I went back to America.

"It's done," Jona said.

I grabbed his arm when he stood. "Where are you going?"

"I need to proofread the student's report and save them online."

"No. You need to keep your eyes peeled for me. Didn't you listen to the MA? What if I get a seizure from a vicious infection and nobody is here to save me?"

Then a drop of rain fell onto the roof. Then another. Then others fell in quick succession.

The weather is with me.

I smirked, feeling shamelessly triumphant from something I clearly had no control over.

Jona took the book resting on his rucksack and sat on my hammock. "Keeping an eye on you means I can at least read a book, right? I mean, I would still see it if you become a zombie from the vicious infection or something."

I hummed. "Sure. Literature is the most agreeable way to ignore me after I got scarred saving you."

"Professor Smit." He slammed the book down and shifted a bit in my direction. "I am so, so sorry for what happened. I will pay for your cosmetic surgery if you want. But please understand me. You ignored me for a month. How can you act so casual? And... And... suddenly tell me you like me..."

"I don't need your money or surgery." I stood. "And I'm being honest. I like you. I have no reason to lie or keep it to myself. I lied to myself for a month. Nothing good came out of it. Well, if realizing that I really like you is a positive thing, then something good did come out of it."

He scrutinized me as I approached him. His eyes were asking a million questions.

"Why? You don't like men. And I'm inferior to you in every aspect. You're a smart man, highly educated. You're obviously richer than me. You're beautiful. You have a nice family. You--"

I flopped next to him. "You can spend the whole night gilding the lily and listing my superiority, but what does it have to do with my feelings toward you?"

"Because it's ridiculous. It doesn't make sense in any way. I'm not lovable. It would make sense if I--"

I pinched his mouth. "You really love to ramble when you're emotional, don't you? Let me ask you this. I assume you like me too? Because not once did you reject me. It's all about me this, me that."

He touched my hand, so I unpinched his mouth. It was a wrong move to do that in the first place. An intense, immediate feeling rose in my chest. Now I had a new desire. And I couldn't stop staring at his chapped lips.

His breath trembled. "I... don't know. I've never fallen in love. And it's you. It's surreal."

"Why? You just listed my positive attributes. Those are great enough reasons to fall in love with me." I leaned forward.

He leaned backward. His heart pounded against my forearm. "This is wrong," he said. The rain drummed on the roof as wildly as his heart. "It's not okay for me to like you."

"Why wouldn't it be okay? You'll know the answer if you ask me." I squeezed his hand between us.

His eyes widened. "I can't ask you that. It's wrong to simply ask someone for their love. I was taught that I should work hard to pay for it."

"Who drizzled such applesauce to you?"

I was brought up with unconditional love. I always saw love as a virtue. But tonight, I knew that somewhere in this world, love could have a hideous meaning to someone.

"Of course you can ask me that. It's easy. Let me show you an example of how to ask for something." I leaned forward, and he had no room to run anymore. I grabbed the hammock's string next to his head. "Jona, posso beijar-te?" [Can I kiss you?]

His lips parted as wide as his eyes; his pale cheeks were suffused with red.

"Ask. If you want something, just ask like that. I'll give it to you, Jona."

His lips were drawn back from his teeth. He clenched my shirt. Then he said, very slowly, "Wouldn't... Wouldn't it be selfish of me?"

"You'll never know if you don't ask."

His golden eyes gleamed with tears. "Posso gostar de ti?" [Is it okay for me to like you?]

"Good boy. Of course it's okay." I rubbed my dried blood on his cheek with a finger. "You've yet to answer me. Can I kiss you?" I whispered into his ear.

He touched my unwounded cheek, keeping an inch or two between us. Then he nodded. My heart almost burst from it. I ran my fingers through his hair, down to his nape. His hair stood up when I licked the tears on the corner of his mouth and kissed him. He seemed reluctant at first, but then he opened his mouth, inviting me deeper with a moan.

People say that first kiss is smooth and sweet.

But his lips weren't smooth or sweet that night. They were salty with tears. He was crying silently as he slipped his tongue into my mouth and wrapped his arms around my neck. The saltiness of the kiss gave more flavor to my feelings for him. I had no experience to compare it with, but it was perfect for me. That night, I knew that the like had become love.

I had fallen in love with Jona da Graça.

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End of The Amazon Arc

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