Chapter 29

Zach

Sweat runs in rivulets down my face, trickling down my neck and chest. It’s fucking hot as Hades here, and I know I’d probably be cooler if I just shed my clothes. But like the pansy-ass that I’ve become during my time in the States, I’m much more enjoying the protection the long cargo pants, boots, and cotton bush shirt provide me against the sun, insects, and sharp palm fronds.

Lifting up, I place the woven palm panel against the slanted bamboo supports, securing in another piece of the roof over Paraila’s new longhouse I’ve been building. Glancing down, I watch as Paraila lies in his hammock, watching me as I work. He has a tiny gauze pad over the arrow wound in his shoulder, one skinny leg stretched out before him and the other planted on the ground so he can sway back and forth.

“Your work is good… you didn’t lose any of your skills while you were away,” he comments.

I speak back in fluent Portuguese and shoot him a tight smile. “I wasn’t gone that long.”

“Not as long as I had hoped,” Paraila mutters, and I turn a deaf ear to him. He was shocked when I came walking into the burned-out clearing of Caraica, dropping my backpack, machete, and three rifles in the dust at my feet. I purchased the weapons with some of the money Moira had given me, intent on using the guns when we went after the Matica. I walked straight over to Paraila as he lay on the ground. He wasn’t happy I had come back either, and that struck a tender nerve.

“C’ordero, what are you doing here?” Paraila had asked as he grasped my outstretched hand when I dropped to my knees beside him.

“I’ve returned,” was all I told him, gently peeling back the bandage on his shoulder to look at the wound. It was clean and I couldn’t smell any infection, so I covered it back up and stared into his eyes. “How are you?”

“I’ve been better,” he muttered, “and S’amair’a hasn’t been very gentle when she tends to me. But I’m alive.”

“I should have never left,” I told him sadly. “This would have never happened. I’m so sorry.”

Paraila shocked the hell out of me then when he poked a spindly finger in the center of my chest and said, “Foolish, prideful boy… this would have happened had you been here or not. The only thing that gave me peace was knowing you were far away from this.”

“So, you wanted me to hide like a woman?” I snarled at him, completely taken aback by his anger toward me for returning. I expected to be met with open arms by my adoptive father, and here he was, chastising me for coming back home.

Paraila’s eyes warmed a bit, and he patted me on my arm. “No one would ever mistake you as a woman, Zacharias. You have proven yourself time and again that you are a strong member of this tribe. But I had wanted more for you… more than this type of life. I was a happy man knowing you were taking it.”

Some of my anger melted from his words, because as any father should be, he wanted what he thought was best for me. Not what I thought was best though, and I thought it was best that I return.

Sort of.

I’ve had a million different changes of heart since Moira dropped me off at the airport. At least five times before I boarded the plane, I almost called her and told her to come back for me but, ultimately, my conscience demanded my return to Caraica, even as my heart demanded I return to Moira.

It was a sore battle, and my heart lost out.

The village had been decimated. Every longhouse burned to the ground. A few of the men had been injured protecting the village and four were dead, two of which were Elders. Five of the children… three boys and two of the older girls… had been dragged off into the jungle, and their mothers were distraught.

I apparently arrived just in time, as the village had been packing up what salvageable items they had remaining and were preparing to move several miles down the Jutai River.

I was shocked by this, of course, because I felt they would be preparing for a revenge raid and I had come prepared to fight. But Paraila advised me that the remaining Elders and some of the younger men wanted to discuss a peaceful resolution with the Matica. They were bigger and stronger than we were, and they were afraid continued war would ultimately mean our extinction. Father Gaul, who I noticed was busy helping to harvest some of the crops and seeds for transportation, was apparently at the epicenter of this idea to open some type of accord with the Matica, since he had established good relations with them.

The idea appalled me, and I burned with an insatiable need to do violence on those that dared to hurt my people.

In the end, however, I had no choice but to go along with the tribe as we made our journey down river. After porting, we walked as a tribe through the jungle, hacking our way to our new home. For three days, we cut away at a swatch of dense vegetation and made a new clearing. We burned down the roots of the plants and trees we had destroyed to make a new home, stockpiling bamboo and palm for our new longhouses.

Food would be scarce for a while, at least until we could get a new crop of vegetables growing, but we had moved our tribe’s location many times over my life and this was just something we had to persevere.

My first order of business was to build Paraila’s new home, so he would have shelter. Two of my tribe mates helped me with the structure, but I then chased them away to work on their own longhuts while I put the palm roof in place.

“Are you still angry we have decided not to raid the Matica?” Paraila asks with humor in his voice.

“That decision hasn’t been made for sure,” I point out. “Father Gaul may return and tell us the Matica aren’t interested. Then there will be war.”

Paraila snickers at me. “Headstrong, you are. But this old man wants peace. He wants our children returned, and then he wants to live a life free of those worries.”

My blood freezes in shame over his words. Because Paraila wants something that he should have. It’s only my fervent need for revenge that’s fueling me on, making me argue against him at every step of the way. Peace is a strange idea. Sure, I’d seen it in the modern world, but I’d seen enough to know that it wasn’t truly attainable in any society. People still fought and killed each other, squabbling over lands, rights, and monies. Our society was no different, so I didn’t want to give up on my need to set things right.

“I see Tukaba looking at you,” Paraila says in mischievous voice.

My glance cuts over to the women sitting around a communal fire, baking up some cassava flour for a midday meal. Her eyes are indeed focused on me, but the minute I look at her, they drop in total subservience.

“Not interested,” I tell Paraila as I lift another palm panel to the roof and start to tie it to the supports. “I’ve got work to do.”

Paraila snickers, and then he starts laughing loudly.

“What’s so funny?” I snap.

“You’re funny,” he says while still chuckling. “The Zacharias I know wouldn’t have cared if there was work to be done. He would have had Tukaba on her knees in the dirt and unleashed his mighty—”

“Enough, old man,” I roar. “When did you get to be so rotten?”

Paraila continues to chuckle as he swings lazily in his hammock. “Oh, Zacharias,” he says with amusement. “You don’t belong here.”

My head snaps down to his and my eyes narrow. “Why would you say that?”

“Because your heart lies elsewhere,” he says simply.

I scoff at him and wrench another panel into place. Wiping my sweaty forehead on the sleeve of my shirt, I step away from the longhouse and walk over to a gourd filled with water, taking a deep drink. Looking back at Paraila, whose eyes shine at me, I say, “My heart is here where it belongs, Father. Stop trying to see something that isn’t there.”

Turning away from Paraila, I grab my machete and stomp off into the jungle to cut some more palm. I need escape from his knowing eyes and his wiser words. I may want to deny what he sees in me, but the truth is, my heart is nowhere but back where Moira is. I’d only been back in Caraica a day before I’d realized I had made the biggest mistake in my life.

Not in returning to Caraica… because that was something I had to do. I had to return and make sure Paraila was okay, and I had to help my tribe avenge our fallen and stolen. No, my mistake was in not telling Moira how I felt. My mistake was in telling her I wasn’t coming back. My mistake was in cutting off all ties with the one person in this world that I cared for more than anything. I fucked up big time, and I was now stuck in a situation that I didn’t know how to fix. I’m not even sure it is fixable because I think of how easily Moira accepted me telling her it was over. She had turned her back on me and, although tears of sadness were coursing down her face, I also saw that her spine was stiffened with resolve when she walked away. She never looked back at me once.

It was over. For sure. I needed to let it go and figure out a way to harden my heart. This was my life now, and I needed to live it as best I could without having her by my side.

Father Gaul had returned to our village three days later and, surprising to us all, he had the five children with him. They ran to their mothers, tears of joy breaking out in everyone’s eyes, including mine. In addition to the kids, he had peace offerings from the Matica that included seeds, flour, and items such as blankets and plastic tarps. The Matica had established trade relations with other tribes as well as river merchants. They were more advanced than we were when it came to using those items to make their lives easier.

Everyone was stunned by the ease with which the Matica had opened up to the possibility of peace. It didn’t come without a price though. In exchange, we had to agree to no further raids against them, as well as open up to the idea of marriage contracts with their tribe. This was to help cement a permanent relationship and to help build their numbers. While they were seeking peace with us, they still warred with other tribes and, in addition, we were expected to ally with them.

I was bitter over the terms, still thirsting for the need for vengeance, but the Elders and most of the other tribesman agreed this was the best course of action.

A feast is underway, and the moon is hanging low over our new village. Most of the longhouses are complete, and we are settling in fine. I’m still wearing the clothes I brought with me, and I can’t figure out why I haven’t forsaken them yet. Many of my tribe mates have teased me over it, but all in good nature.

I think maybe because they make me feel closer to Moira, knowing she bought them for me, and knowing that clothing is part of the culture that I had at one time thought I would become a permanent member of. Much like I tried to cling to my old ways when I first got to the States, here I am clinging to some of the new ways I recently learned.

Movement from the corner of my eyes catches my attention, and Tukaba walks up to me, her eyes lowered to the ground. She holds out a banana leaf filled with meats and fruit.

I take it from her and say, “Thank you.”

She starts to turn away, but then turns back. With eyes still lowered, she asks, “Is there anything else you need?”

“No thank you,” I tell her with a soft smile. “This is plenty. You should get something to eat.”

Dropping to her knees in front of me, she looks me directly in the eye, which is something new, and says, “You haven’t touched me since you returned. I am available for your needs.”

To my surprise, Tukaba turns her body so her ass is facing me and starts to lower her cheek to the ground.

Her body is still beautiful to me, dark caramel colored with shiny, black hair that now falls forward around her face. Her pussy is bared to me, and I even see it glistening in the moonlight through the patch of pubic hair covering it. My cock doesn’t even stir an inch.

Because fucking Moira owns it.

“I’m sorry, Tukaba,” I tell her. “Please stand up.”

She immediately scrambles to her feet and turns to face me. “I don’t understand. You always wanted me before.”

“I know,” I tell her softly. “But I’ve changed since I’ve been gone. There is another I want.”

I think in most circumstances, some may consider those words to be cruel, but our society isn’t like that. Tukaba had no notions of anything more than being a vessel for my release, as our norms didn’t provide for dating and seducing. Women were there for the taking. That was their job. If a man wanted to bring a woman into the marriage fold, he took her there. If not, she was happy with satisfying the other tribe members.

It was really very simple.

So much more simple than what I left behind with Moira. That was utterly complex, confusing, and overwhelming. And I missed those feelings terribly.

Tukaba gives me an understanding, if not accepting, smile, and then walks away from me. I watch her for a moment, and then look down at the food in my hands. Picking up a piece of roasted wild pig, I plop it in my mouth and chew on it thoughtfully. I look around the village and see that everyone is happy. Happy to have their sons and daughters back, and happy they won’t be losing any more lives to the Matica. They are fulfilled, and I realize with sudden clarity, that fulfills me as well.

Fulfills me as much as possible because there’s still a gaping hole in my heart that unfortunately, can only be filled by one woman.

“I see you spurned Tukaba’s advances again,” Paraila says as he sits in the dirt beside me.

I ignore his comment and nod toward his shoulder. “How is it feeling?”

“It aches, but nothing I can’t handle. This old man has a lot of years left in him.”

We’re silent as we sit and listen to the women singing. I shove the banana leaf filled with food toward him, and Paraila takes some of the fruit and chews on it.

“When are you going back?” he asks me, sage wisdom and surety in his words.

I turn to him in surprise, and he just stares at me knowingly. He gives me a smile filled with happiness and understanding.

“As soon as possible,” I say, not even knowing myself that I had made the decision to go back to Moira until he just asked. It seems that Paraila is always one step ahead of me.

“So, tell me about her,” he prods.

“What makes you think it’s a woman?” I ask mischievously.

Paraila snorts and says, “Because I know you, my son. I know you.”

We share my food by the fire, and I tell Paraila all about Moira. I tell him all the reasons why I have to follow my heart, and I tell him how much I am going to miss him and my family here. We talk long into the night because it’s our last one together.

I’m leaving in the morning… back to civilization. Back to Moira.