Without Borders (8 page)

“You brought it?” Annie’s eyes shifted from the journal to Felipe.

“
Si
.”

“I will deal.” Marisol smirked and skipped outside, leaving him alone with Annie.

She uncrossed her legs and stood, tucking the journal into the front pocket of her pack. “Remember how you always tried to cheat?”

“I did not.” He had. Every game.

“Doesn’t matter. You never won.” Her lips broke into a small smile. “Except once. But your mom told me and Marisol to let you win.”

“That did not happen.” Felipe stood and brushed a wet curl from her face, letting his finger trace the outline of her cheekbone. The distance between their lips was so tiny, and his desperation to kiss her grew stronger every time her warm breath hit his skin.

“It did,” she insisted. “She said it was…” Her face fell.

“Said it was what?”

She shook her head. “I don’t remember. It doesn’t matter.” Her lips lifted, but the smile was stiff and forced.

At once it hit him. He remembered that game—literally the only time he ever won. It happened on the tenth anniversary of his biological mother’s death. He knew Melinda had arranged that win. She always took extra care with him on those days. The birthdays and anniversaries. Marisol’s grief passed quietly, noticeable only to a select few. But those days always ripped him wide open, putting his pain on full display.

“That was not as difficult as I thought it would be.” Marisol’s voice drew them apart, but Felipe didn’t look at his sister. His gaze stayed steady on Annie’s face, flickering between her strawberry red lips and the freckles on her nose.

“Go away, Mari,” he said.

“So I guess this means you aren’t going to play UNO?”

“Oh we are. Felipe actually thinks he can win.” She followed Marisol into the night, and he stared, wondering how this American had gotten so deep under his skin.

Outside, the sun was setting into a wash of pinks, blues, and yellows. At the edge of a small bonfire, Juan turned a stick full of impaled fish, and Marisol plopped down next to Phillip, who shuffled and reshuffled the tattered deck of cards. Behind them, the night moved in, bringing in its thousands of white flickering stars.

Annie picked a spot across from Marisol, and Felipe slid in next to her, ignoring the looks Juan gave him as he passed out their dinner.

“I’ve gotten better with age, you know.” Annie picked up her cards.

Felipe grinned but kept back the words he wanted to say. He feared his agreement would lead to her laughter, which would lead to his inability to do anything but kiss her. In front of everyone.

Juan threw down a blue three. “We are going to play or flirt?” He dropped a lump of fish in his mouth and stared at the rest of them, eyes gleaming.

“UNO is Juan’s other obsession,” Felipe said.

“
Otra
obsession? I do not have obsessions.” His protests were undermined by the way he picked up the front half of his fish and moved its mouth to the words.

“
Sí
,” Marisol chimed in. “You are obsessed with washing the truck. You are obsessed with winning at UNO. You are obsessed with your mustache. You are obsessed with playing with your food.” She ticked each one off on her fingers.

“If you had a mustache as beautiful as mine, you would have an obsession too.”

After the last boat ride, Annie convinced herself that Dramamine was more of an option than a necessity. Not to mention that after a night of tossing and turning in Felipe’s hammock, the effort of digging through her backpack for the tiny bottle of pills had seemed too great. But this time the river was swollen with rain, and it pushed and pulled the boat against its waves. Twenty minutes into the ride, her eyelids begged for sleep, but nausea kept her wide awake.

The boat slowed as its bottom hit earth, and she pried her head from her knees. Ahead, a slender stretch of sand narrowed to a rocky path. It gave way to a cliff face, charcoal gray jutting against the deep greens and browns.

They came to a stop, and Annie stood on wobbly legs. The movement sent her insides twisting, and she slid into something like a sitting position on the shore. The others unloaded the boat around her, bag after bag of supplies whizzing by her head. Behind the opaque curtain of nausea, Annie knew it was rude and selfish to sit watching while everyone else worked. But sickness and frustration tethered her to the sand.

The commotion around her came to a halt, and she lifted her head. Felipe squatted next to her. “Are you ready,
Americana
?” he asked.

She nodded and used his elbow for leverage as she stood.

“You can carry this up the hill, yes?” He held out her backpack and dropped a duffle of medical supplies at her feet. Damp sand kicked up around the bag, pelting her bare legs.

“That hill?” She nodded at the cliff in front of her. She started to ask more questions, like how, exactly, he planned to scale this steep bluff. But her breakfast came out.

Felipe jumped back, but he couldn’t escape the vomit geyser. Half-digested rice and beans clung to his shoes and his scrub pants, and she couldn’t bring herself to look him in the face. “I’m so sorry,” she mumbled. Acid burned her throat, but the blazing heat of her humiliation was far more painful.

“Are you okay?” He didn’t even look at the vomit covering his pants, but Annie couldn’t stop staring at it. She stepped away, terrified she would retch all over him again. Between the puking and the way she’d shoved her foot in her mouth the night before—
great job bringing up his dead mom, Annie
—she couldn’t win. Like a kid taking the same math test again and again but failing for a new reason each time.

Felipe stripped off his shirt and walked into the river. Almost everyone else turned away, giving her the privacy to gag and heave without being examined in the process. She wondered if they would also give her the privacy to quietly drown herself in the river.

“
¿Todo bien?
” Marisol pulled Annie’s hair from her face and rubbed a tiny hand across her back.

Annie nodded and took a water bottle from her friend’s outstretched hand. With the taste of vomit sufficiently deadened, she dug in her pack for her toothbrush. Around her, the others shuffled their feet as Felipe returned to the group in fresh clothes, but she still couldn’t look at him. It was too horrifying, and her stomach still churned. After a quick brushing, she reached for the duffle of medical supplies, but both Felipe and Phillip grabbed it at the same time.

“I’ll get it.”

“
No es necesario
.”

She reached between the men and took the bag, hiking it over her shoulder alongside her own pack. It weighed nothing, and she realized Felipe must have given her the bag full of gauze and Band-Aids. “I’ve got it. Let’s go.”

Juan took them up a winding, narrow path hidden in the cliff’s face by spindly branches and lush leaves growing between the cracks. Annie’s shoulders ached with the weight of her backpack, the straps rubbing and chafing her sweat-laden skin. As they ascended, she fought the urge to look down, certain the sight of the water rushing below would fling her straight into another puking catastrophe. She focused on Juan’s steady steps ahead of her. His right arm moved rhythmically as he chopped brush with a machete, leaving a trail of severed branches behind him.

They reached the top, and Annie took two solid strides onto the flat field and peered over the edge. From there, the river was a trickling creek. Their boat, left tied to an adolescent tree, was a child’s bath toy. For all the tall, jagged rocks and thick leaves on the river, the field in front of them was open and barren. Waist-high grasses slapped against their legs. Only a single twisted and gnarled tree grew out of the earth. Its branches were gray and bare, long dead and full of decay. Blackened tree stumps dotted the landscape, partially hidden lumps in the swaying grass. As they walked, the stumps grew closer and closer together, and Annie weaved in and out of the remains.

“What is this?” she asked.

“Logging,” Felipe said.

Her stomach still sloshed as though she were in the boat, and the effort to speak exhausted her energy stores. But she swallowed back her nausea and pressed on. “I’m sorry about earlier. The puking thing.”

“It is fine. I am a doctor. Getting vomited on is only another Tuesday.” He plucked a stray bit of grass from her shirt. “You will see.”

The field gave way to hard-beaten earth and to a trio of small, giggly girls who blocked their path. Their dresses were made of thin fabrics; faded patterns of apples, cherries, and unicorns left the impression of a fruit here or a mythical creature there. The girls fell silent and looked right past Juan and his giant knife to Annie. Their wide, caramel eyes blinked again and again.

“
Hola
.” Felipe waved to them.

“
Hola
,” the tallest girl replied, never letting her stare fall from Annie’s face.

Annie cleared her throat and squatted. “
Hola. Me llamo Annie
.”

The two smaller girls ducked behind their leader as Annie held out her hand. A sluggish moment of silence passed, and the child sized her up, pursing her pint-sized lips and backing away.

“
¡Su pelo!
” the girl screeched, turning to her minions. “
¡Es rojo como una bruja! ¡Una bruja!
”

The other two shrieked, and all three darted off. Their bare feet pounded the ground, dust flying behind them. The tall one limped to the right as she ran, falling behind her friends.

“What did she say about my hair?” Annie asked. Juan shrugged, and no one spoke up. “
¿Bruja?
” She mimicked the little girl’s scream.

“She is surprised you have red hair. She has probably never seen it before.” Marisol took her elbow, pushing them forward.

Ahead, a cluster of houses sprung up out of the dirt. Thatched roofs topped walls made of thin, warped logs, giving each of the homes an unsteady appearance. Between them, a handful of people stared in their direction. Cows meandered through the open space.

Annie patted her messy topknot and followed the rest of her group into a single-room hut. Strips of sunshine poked through the gaps in the walls, making it difficult for her eyes to adjust. There were no windows, and the stagnant air trapped the sweat against her skin. In one corner, two flat wooden benches formed an L. In another, a lumpy pile of blankets created a nest. No indoor plumbing. No electricity.

“Welcome to your new home,” Marisol said.

Annie pushed back a groan. “How long are we staying here?”

“Two nights.”

A stout woman followed them inside. Her black sapphire hair ended abruptly at her ears, which perked up with a wide smile. Annie tried to smile back. Her arms dangled at her sides while the woman kissed her cheek. The sour smell of body odor filled her nostrils, and she swallowed hard, trying not to gag.

Marisol launched into a string of Spanish and kissed the woman’s cheek, rescuing Annie.

“This way.” She grabbed Annie’s hand and pulled her outside.

Dusk crept up around them, and the air outside cooled. Annie gulped it in.

“I told her you needed to use the
baño
. Everyone knows Americans have weak stomachs.”

Annie let out a note of shaky laughter. In most circumstances, she’d be horrified to have someone discuss her bathroom habits with a complete stranger.
Desperate times.
“Thank you. I mean,
gracias
. I’m sorry, it’s so hot in there, and my stomach’s still upset from the river.”

Marisol laughed. “And
Doña
Lynda smells bad.”

“I probably smell bad too.”

“By the time we are done, we will smell like ten
Doña
Lyndas.”

A rustle came from behind them, and they both turned. Near the door, Felipe was bent over at the waist, in deep conversation with the screecher. Annie caught the girl sneaking glances at her over his head.

“Her name is Chowmey,” Marisol said, following Annie’s gaze. “Last time we were here, she had dengue. Her fever was so high, Felipe thought she might die. She could not walk. He made us stay at this village for two extra days until she was better.”

Annie nodded, still watching Felipe and the girl. He smiled, his dimple on full display while the child waved her hands in every direction. She reminded Annie of a miniature Marisol.

Marisol tugged her arm. “Come. Breathe through your mouth.”

Inside, the hut bristled with energy.
Doña
Lynda shot between the house and the yard, bringing in plate after plate of food. Felipe came in and sat next to Juan, eating and playing a game of peek-a-boo with a pants-less toddler. Phillip sat next to Annie and Marisol and droned on about a reality show full of obese virgins.

“It’s called
Losing It
. Anyway, I had some other offers,” he said, “but I would’ve had to drop out of dental school.”

“Now you are done with dental school, you could go back to television, no?” Marisol fluttered her dark lashes, and Annie had to hold back her laughter.

This guy is never going to know what hit him.

Phillip shook his head. “I’m not done. Just on a break. Besides, I think my fifteen minutes are up.”

“Fifteen minutes?” Marisol’s expression went cloudy.

“He means no one’s interested in him anymore.” The words were out before Annie could stop them. “Sorry, that’s not what I meant. I’m tired.” She stared at her hands, willing her body to disappear into the thin reeds covering the walls.

Chowmey’s silhouette appeared in the doorway, and Annie’s spine stiffened. The girl shuffled forward until she stood within arm’s reach. Up close, Annie saw the tuft of baby hairs escaping her pony tail. The girl wound her arms tightly behind her back and shifted her weight from one bare foot to the other.

Annie made no move. The shrieking would be worse at this distance.

Silently, the girl held out a single green orb.

She reached for it, careful not to touch the child’s fingers. “
Gracias
.”

Chowmey backed away, stumbling over the feet of the adults and her little brother, until she huddled next to Felipe. He put down his plate and whispered in her ear. The girl ran the few steps to Annie, stopping a foot away. “
De nada
.” She tore out of the house.