Page 60 of When Lies Unfold

I’ve brought my small bag with the three different colors of nail polish I own under the guise of painting her nails tonight.

If I wasn’t already certain I was going to hell, I would be after this.

Using one of Alma’s pillows to make it look like I’m still burrowed beneath the covers, I ease off the bed. This far side of her room is what I believe is the main blind spot of the camera.

Now, I swing my bag’s strap across my chest, securing it over my body. Drawing in a deep breath, I prepare myself for my next moves.

It also helps that I’ve nudged the cameras’ positions a few centimeters while I’ve been in her room. When she went to the bathroom, I used her stick unicorn “riding” toy that’s approximately three feet long to make the “adjustments.”

She prefers to sleep with her windows open, her gauzy curtains tousled with the breeze. Multiple ceiling fans work in lieu of air-conditioning since Alma informed me it was because “I never had fancy air-conditionin’ before, so I’m savin’ my daddy money on ’lectricity.”

Bless her sweet soul. She’s concerned about the high cost of electricity when her father makes millions upon millions.

I pull myself up and over the sill and wait a moment to see if my movement has been detected. When nothing happens, I gingerly plant my bare feet in the grassy section alongside the compound.

Bordering the steep jungle ravine, beams from the security spotlights leave this fraction of space mostly untouched, likely because it’s unnecessary. If someone attempted to breach the premises from here, they’d have to climb up the steep ravine. There aren’t many that determined or willing to risk falling to do so. You’d have to have a death wish or be supremely stupid.

I suppose I’m a little of both, because I’m used to traversing the jungle with the barest of supplies and attire.

The cicadas accompany the usual evening sounds spilling out from the dark, dense jungle while I carefully replace the window screen before venturing toward the outer railing of the steep ravine.

At this higher elevation, the breeze dances around my legs bared by my cotton shorts, delivering a cooler reprieve from the usual heat and humidity. Allowing a brief moment for my eyes to fully adjust to the darkness, I brace my hands on the railing and stare into the pitch-black night.

This is it. This will be the actual test.

I swing one leg over the railing, then the other, planting my bare feet on the cool metal surface. Then I find my footing, one careful step down onto each large rock held in place by concrete.

One incorrect move means I fall roughly seventeen feet. If I don’t die on impact, I’ll become prey and die in other ways. The jungle will accept me as a sacrifice.

Focus. I clear my mind of nothing but the nighttime sounds and each descending movement I make.

It feels like it takes a century before I arrive at the bottom, but I know it’s nowhere near that long in reality.

Sinking my feet into the lush ground, I exhale a heavy breath and withdraw my small flashlight from the zippered pouch on my bag.

With a simple click, I now have a red beam of light illuminating my path ahead. Red light is better for seeing at night and enabling peripheral vision, and I need as many advantages as possible.

One more deep, fortifying breath later, I enter the thick of the jungle.

“You literally look like you just came outta the jungle, young lady.” Surveying me as I step inside his house, Esteban’s eyes crinkle at the edges.

“Sorry.” Glancing down at my bare legs and feet, which are now smudged with dirt and mud, I grimace. “I had to take the long route to get here.”

He grabs a large, clean rag from the stack near his pantry and holds it beneath the faucet, wetting it. His easy saunter over to me tells me his gout has subsided and the wound on his leg no longer bothers him.

When he hands me the damp cloth, I accept it with a thank-you and clean myself as best I can.

“You’re the only person I know who chooses to venture through the nighttime jungle.” He tsks fatherly-like, eyes sparkling with affectionate humor. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were a little crazy, but I know you have a kinship with nature.”

A weak laugh falls from my lips. A little crazy? I surpassed that benchmark long ago. As far as having a kinship with nature, I don’t know if that’s entirely true.

The jungle’s darkness calls to me. It’s where all my lies and truths collide, leaving me in a unique solitude with creatures who mostly view me as a foe.

Once I drape the rag over the edge of his laundry basket, I return to find him waiting for me in his usual wooden chair. It’s one he handmade years ago.

He rolls up his pant leg for me to inspect his foot and the healing gash on his leg.

I bend my knees to get a closer look at his lower leg and foot. His big toe is no longer swollen, and when I gently prod and manipulate it, he doesn’t hiss in pain.

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