Page 91 of Beautifully Wild

I hope you get this message soon.

I’m so scared. I don’t know what to do and need you here to help me. I’m in Iquitos alone because Yasmine is with Michael. I don’t care that I’m alone, but I’m worried about her, and you’re the only one who seems to get through to her when she refuses to listen.

She’s about to take a tea with a shaman, only this shaman isn’t reputable because I have asked around. Some people have died in his ceremonies!

She won’t listen to me, and what’s weird is Michael asked for you and Samuel to come. That made me panic because he sounds worried.

I don’t know what to do, and when I tried to talk her out of it, she got angry with me. She’s due to take the ceremony in two days.

Please hurry!

I glance up to Kaikare, the well of tears in my eyes blur my vision. “My friends need me. I have to go.” I blink the tears away and swipe my eyes. “Asoo, please give me a moment to grab my things, and please explain to Kaikare the need for me to leave. Tell her I’m going to miss her.”

I don’t think, I just act and leave my friends on the bank to sprint to Samuel’s hut. My throat burns as I gasp for air. This is possibly the last time I’ll see Kaikare, the shaman, and the smiling faces in this hidden village. After last night, my perspective has switched. Even though I couldn’t live here forever, the notion of staying for a few months is appealing. Now, I understand Samuel’s desire to live here and be connected to every living thing.

Denied of that choice, my decision is made for me without a chance to say goodbye to Samuel.

I hope the universe knows what it’s doing.

46

Eden

Beneaththescatteringofclouds, the broccoli jungle fades, and with it the very place I left my heart. Looking away from the window to my hands, I trace the outline of red Vs no amount of soap could remove in a day.

Yesterday when I entered the resort in Canaima with a painted face and limbs the looks from the staff were priceless. Did they think I was innocent? A grin spreads across my face. The sense of belonging and the memories will stay with me always.

When the plane touches down and I regain Wi-Fi, I’m searching for the next flight to Iquitos.

The airfares are double the usual fare, and thankfully, I have enough savings since I’ve barely spent a cent these past few weeks.

In the hub of the airport, people bustle around me. I have a few hours between flights, and it gives me a chance to grab some food. I’m craving meat, yet I decide on fruit—a banana and an apple since my stomach has been in knots since I first saw Asoo by the river. Security and the police are everywhere I look. The news flashes on the television, the presenter speaks in Spanish, and I have no idea what’s being communicated. Living in a village sheltered from the rest of the world, I’m clueless to world events, although the political world is volatile, and I could be headed straight into a shitstorm. Keeping a low profile, I stick to myself and remain in the terminal for my flight. As much as I want to put it off, I have to call my father. Thankfully, I’m seated away from other travelers as they’ll hear him roar. Inhaling a deep breath, I mentally prepare myself for a dressing-down.

“You have reached Winston Monteford, CEO of Monte Hotels. I’m not able to take your call, so please leave a message regarding the nature of your inquiry.”

I let all the air go out of my lungs. Shit, it must be around midnight in Adelaide.

“Dad, I didn’t want to send a text. Only a quick call to let you know I’m fine. I know you heard I separated from the girls, and you’re disappointed with my decision, but I’m safe. I’m meeting up with my friends tonight, and we’ll be heading home in a few days. I’ll call you from the airport and let you know our arrival time and if there are any delays. Looking forward to seeing Mum and you, and of course, Will, Faith, and little Seb. Love you all.”

Pressing my hand to my chest, I feel the measure of my heart being torn between missing my family, leaving Samuel and a jungle village I have grown to love.

People around me have joined a queue to board the plane to Iquitos. Following the line, I walk the aisle, take my seat, and sink into my chair. I relax into the headrest, close my eyes, and refuse to open them as the plane soars along the runway. Finally, I’m a step closer to seeing my friends.

I arrive in Iquitos around nine at night and am required to pass through customs with my luggage. My suitcase is full of stuff I now consider unnecessary.

Amy is waiting in the airport terminal somewhere. When the crowd disperses, she waves her hands at me, then she sprints and leaps into my arms, almost knocking us both to the floor. I regain my balance, and she lets out a sob, her face nestled into my chest. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Me, too,” I tell her, squeezing my arms around her shoulders.

Arm in arm, we head outside, humidity smacking my face, a reminder I’m back in the jungle.

“We get around on tuk-tuks,” she says. “I’ll get us one to get to the city. It’s like Canaima here, you can’t access it by car, only plane or boat.”

I nod. “So, you researched Canaima?”

“Yep. I almost came to you.” She turns and waves down the three-wheeled motorized vehicle. Amy tells the driver of our destination, and he helps me with my luggage, putting it at our feet in the squishy cabin. He veers into the traffic without looking, and I grab Amy’s arm.

She ignores my anxiety and instead nods at my face. “Is this a new form of makeup?”

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