Page 43 of Beautifully Wild

“I need food,” Yasmine says.

“And a swim in the pool,” Amy adds.

“What do you have there?” Bree nods at my hand holding the brochures.

“I might go exploring rather than stay in and wallow.” I can hear the sarcasm in my voice.

“Cool. Let’s get settled, and we can check them out,” Bree says, sounding upbeat as we walk into our room next door to Yasmine and Amy’s.

I’m checking out the minibar when Bree says, “This is fascinating. Let’s head there now.”

I spin around to ascertain what it is she’s talking about. “Look. Two rivers combine here. The confluence has distinct colors of dark and light. There are heaps of information about the importance of the rivers and a tributary leading to the Amazon.”

I smile at Bree’s excitement. Science is her thing, and although she took the medical field, she has David Attenborough’s passion in her voice when discovering something unusual.

“Now?” I ask.

“Why not? We’re not here long, and we can check out Llovizna Falls while we’re out.”

A waterfall. I smile at her. “Okay. You message the others.”

Waterfalls remind me of him, and I’m still hanging onto hope.

The minibar can wait.

We arrive back at the hotel and order a cheeseburger for dinner at the restaurant downstairs. After downing it with a glass of sangria, we head up to our room for the girls to shower. I close my eyes in a false sense of calm while they thicken their lashes and style their hair. They don’t question my decision to stay in.

God, what must they think of me?

When the door closes, I rise and head to the minibar. I pour straight scotch into a glass and down it then shiver when it burns my throat. I don’t want to think about the next couple of days. The island no longer has the same appeal knowing all three girls will pair up with Samuel’s friends.

Yasmine had messaged Michael. He told her Samuel was back working and in an isolated location. He couldn’t tell her more other than it involved medical help with an indigenous group.

I pour another shot of scotch and throw it down my throat. I groan, wishing it had the same effect as it seems to in the movies.

I’m drawn to Bree’s bed, where she has fanned the brochures over the covers. They showcase beautiful beaches toward the coast, zoos, and a range of botanical gardens. The brochure on Canaima catches my attention—it’s a national park south of Ciudad Guayana with tours to Angel Falls.

I stare at the brochure and recognize the name. I read it front to back then repeatedly flick the piece of paper in my hand. What am I thinking? I can’t do this tour. It requires at least two days. I can’t be traveling south when my group is heading north. And it’s Bree’s last days before flying home. I shake my head, only I can’t stop thinking I need to take this trip.

The letter from Samuel sits on my bedside table. I stare at it, wishing it would burst into flames.

With a quick swipe, I grab it and walk to the corner of the room, slide down the wall, and curl over as though it will help in some way to shield my heart by hating the words he wrote. Tentatively, I unfold the piece of paper.

Near-perfect handwriting brings me to tears. He didn’t rush the letter.

Eden,

Last night when you drifted off to sleep, I thought about our goodbye kiss. It was difficult to imagine kissing you one last time because I don’t want to leave you.

Over the past week, I’ve thought over and over about how we could make it work, how we could be together. We could if we could visit each other because that’s what couples in a long-distance relationship do, right? They survive on phone calls, so they can hear the other’s voice until they can see each other again. They plan when they can next visit, depending on their work and finance restrictions.

My work involves a greater depth of limitation when it comes to visits and phone calls. There is no internet service. And visitors are forbidden. I can leave to meet others in a nearby camp, but it’s risky, and I’m committed to work for at least another year with no breaks.

I was hopeful until I considered how everything will change when we return to our normal lives. You’ll be in Australia and so far away. In another year, so much can change, and I’ll be just another memory of your holiday.

I have been awake for hours watching you sleep, and I know I have fallen for you. I want to wake you and hold you, listen to your voice one more time, kiss you one more time, only I can already feel the pain of goodbye. I’d be the source of your pain, and seeing you hurting because of me would crush me even more.

So, I’m choosing to leave quietly. It’s the only way even if it means you hating me because I can deal with your anger more than heartache.

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