-I-

"Sensei."

A nudge on my rib.

"Sensei, wake… wake up."

"Professor Smit?" Feeling the right side of the bed, my arm came into contact with his cold, trembling hands. Then I registered his croaky tone.

He was crying...

I opened my eyes. "Professor?" I sat on the bed, dumbfounded. I rubbed my eyes and grabbed my glasses. The bedside lamp weakly illuminated his pale, drenched face. "O que se passa?" [What's wrong?]

"Sensei. Help me." He leaned closer to me, resting his forehead on my shoulder. It was sweaty.

"Help you with what? Sir, did something attack you?" With a pounding heart and an alert mind, I took the flashlight on the floor and flashed it around the bed, in case there were poisonous bugs or a snake.

"Under... Under the bed." He gasped when he flinched as if he was shocked. "There's a... a monster under the bed."

Instinct made me want to laugh before my spine tingled from the look in his eyes. Horror.

"It's here to hide me again." He groaned and gasped loudly. "Feel that?" He squirmed closer to me, whimpering. "Please, don't let it take me away." He held my wrist with a viselike clutch.

Was he having a nightmare?

The base of my feet soaked the coldness of the cement as I stepped on it. He dragged himself to my side of the bed.

"Professor, let go a bit? I'm sure you just had a nightmare. There's nothing under the bed. There's only us in this room."

Instead of answering, he shook his head and whimpered.

I couldn't lie and say I wasn't afraid in the slightest. My heart pounded in my ears. I fear the dark. And to search for something in the dark, a monster under the bed, I almost cried myself. The only thing that drove me to help him was that he needed my help, and I didn't want to disappoint him. So I ignored the squirming in my stomach, got onto my knees, and peeked under the bed.

Nothing.

There was nothing under it, not even cobwebs (and that relieved me tremendously).

Professor Smit sniffled and reached out to me. So I set the flashlight on the bedside table and heaved my legs up onto the bed.

"Sir. There's nothing under the bed." I leaned on the wooden headboard. "It was just a bad dream, OK? Please don't cry. You scared me." My stomach churned from the ominous aura enveloping the cold room. The temperature had dropped a few degrees since the evening. Cold sweat moistened my forehead still.

He murmured something into his palms, something that sounded like: I want my brother. He was everything but a pompous adult at the moment. He seemed like a... child. His tone, his demeanor. If I knew him any better, I would say he was regressing. Because he reminded me of one of my students, Siew. The kid would regress to a three-year-old and hide under the dojo's reception desk every time Noel roared his made-up karate oath of allegiance.

"Professor Smit?" I rubbed his back, and he jolted. "Did you listen to me? There's nothing under the bed. You're safe. OK?"

He grasped my arm with his cold hands. His eyes were pleading. "Sensei. Can... Can you... hold me for the night?" he said in his childish demeanor. "Please."

I remembered asking him the same thing when my legs gave up on me at the airport. He let me hold him for nine hours throughout the flight even when he barely knew me. I could do that much for him. The truth was, his reaction toward his nightmare triggered my heartbeat to pound painfully against my chest. It would comfort me if he held me too.

"Claro que podes." [Of course.]

But to my awe, he hugged me around the arm with both hands, whispering prayers under his breath.

The only man I had ever shared my bed with was Aarón. And it was always him who cuddled me in his arms, not the other way around. Now that the act was reversed, I was not sure what to do. My hands hovered in the air. I squirmed, trying to create some distance, but he just kept on clinging on me.

"Professor?"

He hummed, still snuffling. Then he untied his hair and covered his exposed neck.

"Posso ajudar em algo? O que posso fazer para te ajudar a dormir?" [Is there anything I can do to help? What can I do to help you sleep?]

"I... don't think I can sleep." His voice was barely a whisper. It quivered. I had to lean closer to hear it against the fan's whirl. After several seconds, he added, "Can you tell me about the liberation of the Netherlands? My grandfather was in the Dutch resistance movement in World War II. My father would always tell me the story when I couldn't sleep."

The Netherlands' independence? What kind of kid listens to a war-themed bedtime story?

I forced a laugh, feeling stupid. "I don't even know the differences between Netherlands and Holland. I know nothing about the war."

To my surprise, he giggled. The tee-hee kind of giggle. "You're not so smart for a Stanford graduate! The Netherlands. Every country with a plural name starts with the article 'the'."

Yeah. Even as a child, he is pompous all right.

"Why don't you tell me a story then? It's a good way to distract your mind, don't you think? Tell me anything about... language?"

He stayed silent. Except for the whirring of the fan and his exhalation, the room was hair-raising silence. Just when I thought he had fallen asleep, he said: "Do you know the origin of languages?"

"Un. Evolution and migration?" I decided to rest my right arm on his shoulder when it weighed ten times its initial weight from tiredness.

He hummed and snuggled closer to me.

For the first time in forever, I thanked God there was nothing sexual about his act. No matter how awkward the situation was, I knew it was merely platonic. I was sure he acted this way because I somehow made him feel safe. It was just some kind of a defense mechanism.

"Ever listen to the Tower of Babel fable?" He rested his chin on my shoulder.

I peeked at him. His face was a mere few inches away from mine. I could feel his warm breath on my chin. His hair smelled sweet, like some kind of berries. His eyes gleamed in excitement, but somewhere in them, I could see fear; from the way his smile didn't reach his eyes, and that he still shivered now and then.

I looked away and started scraping a callus on my index finger. I hoped he didn't hear or feel my heart pounding. "No. I... I don't believe I do. Is it a biblical story? Sounds like one."

"É!" [It is!]

"Então é uma história verdadeira?" [So it's a true story?]

"Não é. [It's not.] Not everything in the Bible is a true story. The fable is ludicrous. God is not that petty to do something so underhanded." He giggled. "The Tower of Babel is just an allegory written by a human to explain why humans talk in different tongues."

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"What is it about?" I was curious to listen to this ludicrous fable that made him look excited despite his fear.

"You know of the flood?"

"Noah."

He nodded. "Some time after the big flood, several people settled in the land of Shinar in Babylon. Bible scholars say that the people there build a tower on the bank of the Euphrates River.

"Until that point in the Bible, there was one common speech for all humans. After the flood, the people gained the skill in construction again. So they decided to build a city with a tower that would reach to heaven." He rested his back on the board, still clutching my arm.

"According to Genesis, they said, 'Come, let us build ourselves a city and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves, lest we be dispersed over the face of the whole earth.' So God came to see their city and the tower they were building. He knew their intentions, and because God is wise, He knew that the stairway to heaven would only lead humans away from Him. Because the goal of the people was not to glorify Him. They just wanted to build a name for themselves."

"Ah, so they're being disobedient."

"Yes. In Genesis 9:1, God told humankind: 'Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth.' God wanted people to spread out and fill the whole planet. By building the tower, the people were ignoring God's instructions. As a result, He confused their tongues, causing them to speak many languages. By doing this, God stopped their plans because they would not understand each other. He also forced the people to scatter all across the face of the earth."

"Oh. So... that's the origin of languages?" I asked. I realized that he had started to sound… normal again. Talking really helps him feel better.

"Your first answer is right. Language diversity comes from evolution and migration. The story is just a myth. And it tells you how ambitious humans can be, that they would go as far as being disobedient to reach their goal."

I was tempted to ask: Am I being disobedient for holding a grudge against God?

I asked something else instead. "Professor. How many languages do you speak? I've never met a polyglot in my life."

Professor Smit whined, sending shivers up my spine. His hair tickled my neck, so I straightened my back. Stop getting nervous, Jona. It's a wrong time for that.

“What's wrong?” I asked.

"When I was in my teens, people always looked at me like I was an alien, or told me I was lying when I told them I can speak many languages. I don't like it."

"You can tell me about it. I never thought you are an alien," I said in a tone that I used on my students to cajole them to finish their training. The truth was, I was curious myself. I had never met a polyglot in my life. I can talk a few languages myself, but I'm not a polyglot.

He took a shaky breath and nuzzled my neck. "I am fluent in eleven. I can understand others as long as they're intelligible to the languages I'm fluent in. Don't count the others."

"Wow. Eleven? May I ask what are they?" We were not even good friends, but a flick of pride coursed through my chest.

He inhaled. "The five Romance languages... German, Belarusian, Russian, my mother tongue Dutch, Afrikaans... and English."

"Why Afrikaans?"

"Because it's intelligible to Dutch. Easy to learn. When I was a child, one of my housekeepers spoke Afrikaans. I learned from him."

I peeked at the watch he lent me. The illuminated analog numbers showed 3:28 a.m. "You do love linguistics."

His body stiffed up. "Don't speak for me. I don't love them."

"Então por que aprendeu tantos?" [Then why did you learn so many?] I asked before I could stop myself. "Sorry, Professor. I don't mean to be rude."

He pulled me a bit and leaned over. "Já te disse. Não confio nas pessoas." [I told you. I don't trust people.]

"Mas confie em min..." [But you trust me.]

He peeked at me. He stared and stared and stared to the point where I blushed for no apparent reason. Well, I knew why. Because he was too attractive for his own good.

"I do, because you're like me," he said. His voice went down an octave, and I didn't care if he saw me blushing anymore. I couldn't help it.

"What?" I asked. My heart started to pound harder.

He whispered, "I saw it when you had a breakdown at the airport. I saw it in your eyes, sensei. You have a monster inside of you too. You're in pain. So you won't hurt me." Then he shivered.

My stomach churned from what he said.

Now I was sure something dreadful happened to him as a child too.

-II-

It rained so hard today. Professor Smit and I arrived at the village four hours ago, just a few minutes before the rain started. And it didn't look like it would subside anytime soon.

Six of us were stranded in this tent. Me, Professor Smit, Dr. Chen, Dr. John, Aarón, and Alicia. Not sure where the rest were. I took the chance to help Alicia key in the analysis and taught her how to organize the statistical data.

The four academics were sitting around the table discussing something I couldn't hear from my spot on the ground, with Aarón's habit of touching his earlobe now and then, and Professor Smit's habit of loosening and retying his hair. The rain was raging. But I wasn't interested enough to know what they were discussing about. I was more interested in Professor Smit's act.

Since two days ago, he became... clingy. He refused to distance himself from me. He basically hugged me earlier when a monkey walked pass us. I tried to imagine that he was one of my students who always clung to my legs. But it was hard because he was an overly attractive grown man, and he attached to me like a baby koala. But as soon as we reached the tent, and he met the other academics, he became... the way he had always been. No trace of his childish demeanor.

"He really is super attractive, isn't he? Look at that veiny forearm," Alicia whispered.

"He is..." I said, half-conscious. "Wait. Who?" I put the laptop on the ground.

"You've been staring at Professor Chaves for an hour." She giggled. "Have you two been together long?"

Staring at Aarón? I woke up to his face every morning for the past six years. I even know how many tiny moles he has on his face. Thirteen. I didn't need to stare at him for whatever reason.

"We've been friends for six years. He's like a..." He's like my boyfriend. But it didn't feel right to tell her about our relationship in a formal research trip like this. I didn't care about me, but Aarón had a reputation to uphold. “He's like a brother to me.”

"Really?"

"Really."

Her hand flew to her mouth, but she smiled. Wide. "All this while, I really thought you two are a couple."

Ah, I get it. She likes Aarón.

"I thought you thought I have a girlfriend? You mentioned about the damsel or something once."

"Yep. That was a lame joke." She laughed, peeking at Aarón, with a big HEART in her eyes. "So who were you staring at?"

Professor Smit. "Nobody. I was just... thinking." I exhaled.

Her eyes were skeptical, but she nodded and continued updating data on her laptop. Then she sighed. "We are here for the low-water season study, but here we are. Raining almost every day. Can't trust the weather forecast."

"It's fine. The canopy won't suddenly change because of the rain. It will take months before the structure responds to the weather. Our primary objectives are still on the deforestation study. You're coming with us to the site tomorrow, right?"

"Yep. Got tired of calibrating the dish. I already got the internet up, though it's almost useless to have it. It takes five minutes to upload a one MB folder online. Ugh. Ridiculous!" She shook her head and peeked at me. "I'm sorry you can't call home, Jona." She paused. "I miss my mama. It's been a month since I last talked to her." She hung her chin in her palm.

"Hey, Jona." Aarón beckoned me over.

I approached him. "What?"

"Sit for a bit." He pushed a chair toward me. "So, I was talking to the chief yesterday. In a month, they're gonna perform the Huka Huka combat for the Kuarup festival."

That caught my full attention. I rested my elbows on the table. "Wait. Huka Huka? That ritual to choose their partners?"

He grinned and nodded.

Then I remembered something. "Fuck. So this is the village Anderson Silva came to and trained with the Indians... and... and wrestled with the Indians using his Jiu-Jitsu moves?" I almost bounced on the chair.

"So... this Anderson Silva fella is the Gandhi of martial arts?" Dr. Chen asked.

I was about to answer him before Professor Smit responded. "He is the best mixed martial arts fighter on the planet. He holds the longest title streak in UFC history at 2,457 days. Sixteen consecutive wins and ten title defenses."

"You know him?" I asked. If it wasn't a creepy thing to do as a man, I would already squeal like Alicia. Professor Smit suddenly became a thousand times more interesting.

"Who doesn't know him?" he said.

Dr. Chen and Dr. John raised their hands.

"We invited him for a demonstration once," Professor Smit continued.

"Onde?" [Where?] I shifted on my seat.

"At our combat center."

"You have a gym too?" I almost shouted.

"We don't really own a gym. My brother owns a security company. We train bodyguards."

I wanted to ask him a thousand more things, but Aarón patted my leg.

"Anyhow, I want you to take part and show them Jiu-Jitsu moves," Aarón said.

"Sure! I can do that." I squeezed his arm.

"I don't recommend for him to wrestle yet." Dr. John put a damper on my mood.

"He will not wrestle with the indigenous. He'll only demonstrate the moves with me. Like an exchange. We learn their moves, they learn ours. It won't put a toll on his body," Aarón said.

Dr. John rubbed his ear. "Show me later. I'm not familiar with Jiu-Jitsu. Only then I'll let you know."

"I can help you if you want a partner." Professor Smit said to Aarón. "Da Graça doesn't have to demo it to John to prove that he's fine. It's kinda antithetical to the purpose, don't you think?"

Aarón slapped his shoulder as he laughed. "Absolutely. Though I have to ask. You do Jiu-Jitsu?"

"I just told you my brother owns a security company. We're a family of martial artists. Though I won't lump myself with them. I stopped at brown belt."

"You're a brown belt holder?" This time, I shouted.

Professor Smit was many things, but I never took him as a brown belt holder even when he indirectly told me in the airport that he learned Jiu-Jitsu.

He was psychologically a child two days ago. Crying, afraid of an imaginary monster under the bed. Now, he told me he owned a brown belt in Jiu-Jitsu, something that I had been working on so hard for ten years to get! If the accident didn't happen six months ago, I would have already taken the promotion exam.

I didn't know if this was jealousy or admiration, but my chest suddenly felt constricted from how unfair everything in my life was.