Page 78 of Beautifully Wild

“I don’t see couples holding hands and being in love.”

Samuel glances at me as we reach our doorway. The light flickers across his tanned, muscular chest. “Like us.”

“Yes. Like us”

Without an audience, he whisks me up in his arms and carries me through the doorway in a declaration of making our own rules.

“Our time will come,” he promises.

Arms linked around his neck, I slide down his body and close my eyes with the sensation of warmth being close to him and stand a moment longer, making out his expression in the shadows. He leans down and kisses me hard. I didn’t expect it. The need overtakes every thought, and I link my leg around his hips to bring our bodies closer.

Large hands grab my cheeks, bringing his forehead to mine, and he breaks the kiss. Sensing his torment, I slide my leg down his body putting space between us, my desire screaming in defeat.

At this angle, his face is hidden, but there’s anguish in his labored breaths. “Every day you’re here, I’m struggling to keep my hands off you.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

He shakes his head, his forehead sliding on mine.

“Can you talk to the shaman?” I rasp.

“It requiresmorethan a green light to sleep together. It’s a commitment, an expectation we’ll stay together. Be married here. I know that might not mean a lot to you at the moment, but for me…” he hesitates, “… I’m one of them now.” He backs away from me until he’s standing in his treatment room. “Could you live with me here?”

“Indefinitely?” I gasp. “I thought you had a contract?” My throat turns dry, so I walk to the bench and scoop out a few cups of water from the clay bowl on a narrow side table.

This is a conversation we need to have, so I ease my rear up on the hard wooden table, my legs dangling. “Have you changed your mind about eventually leaving? I mean, I assumed my being here meant there would be anusin the future when your contract ends?” An unspoken understanding when we were in Canaima.

He stands opposite me with both hands on his hips, only his gaze is lowered as though he’s deciding on how to respond. “I thought you might understand that I don’t fit in with society. I hate all the materialistic bullshit and drama. It’s not a world where I want to live.”

A ball of panic grows in my chest. “And you’re mentioning it now?”

“You saw how I struggled in Brazil.”

“There are many awkward people in the world. You were a different guy in Ilhéus.”

“Ilhéus was different because I was with you.” He smiles at me. “You have a way of settling me. Now you’re here, it has made me think about the days leading up to the end of my contract and what I’ll do. I want to think about a future with you, only I’m afraid to go back to a world where I was unhappy.” He glances at me. “I was depressed for some time.”

Samuel places one foot slowly in front of the other as he moves quietly around the room. “Years ago, when I was still living in LA, I watched a documentary on a young dentist who became an explorer and lived with the indigenous people in Venezuela. He helped them, as a dentist, and over time, they taught him how to live by means of using his surroundings. The idea appealed to me. So, I lodged an application and found a position in a Pemón village not far from here and worked as a volunteer physician. It felt like nothing else I’ve experienced. I learned more about myself during that time, so when I returned to LA, I searched for more volunteer work. My wealthy parents were appalled at the direction my medical career had veered toward, so they pulled strings, and I was offered several paid positions. I found a physician and botanist contract located around here. Of course, I jumped at the opportunity and stayed with different communities. The more remote, the more joy I found.”

Questions sit on my tongue, but I don’t want to interrupt him.

“When I found something unusual like a plant the shaman used, or one considered to be rare, I documented it and sent a sample to Caracas for analysis. Sometimes it was a new species.” He stops and places both hands on the bed beside me. “Do you know how exhilarating it is to discover a plant never found anywhere else in the world and with medicinal value?”

“Wow,” I whisper.

I sense his need to release all this information pent up inside of him for years. “For short breaks, I’d stay at Canaima. I bought my own room, so I could go there whenever I wanted. Back then, it was hard to get accommodation. Now with the political unrest, only a handful of tourists visit.” He shakes his head. “It took me a while to adjust and live by these ways, so I don’t have an expectation for you to cope in a matter of days.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“It is. You’re doing better than I imagined.” He brushes hair from my face and offers a warm smile. “I’m proud of you. Even so, we still need to be careful. One thing I want you to promise is to keep an open mind. There’s a mystery to their stories, but it’s also powerful. Do you understand? Don’t shrug off their tales as fairy tales.”

“Okay,” I say, nodding repetitively.

He walks to the doorway and peers out. “Living here has become a natural way to exist by using the environment and not money for food. There’s no dependency on the internet, water, food, money, or where I’m ranked in society, and especially, not what university I attended. None of it matters. What does matter is my ability to survive. To make a fire. To make my own bed and shelter to protect me from the weather. To make lines and nets to fish and arrows and spears to hunt. To make a tool to cut your kill. Know where to find water in the plants and where not to drink because as much as the jungle provides, she can kill you in seconds if you’re ignorant.” He looks over his shoulder to me, I assume to see if I’m catching up, but my god, I’m having trouble comprehending it all. “I’m rambling now,” he mutters. “I apologize. The tea is getting the better of me.”

I didn’t want him to stop, except there is a change in the air, and I’m not sure if it flows from him or me. I don’t want to think about the jungle or what lurks out there, or the days he’d be gone, and I’d be alone.

Unlike him, I miss my family, my friends, the comfort of home, sunsets on the beach, and admittedly, I like the internet.

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