A jungle love pursuit

Her: “Where should We go then ?

Him: I don't know, where would You go ?

Her: Could You at least try to think for yourself, for once?”

He needed time off. They had been living together for four years then, and He felt their relationship was going nowhere. They decided to take this vacation trip to Peru in order to change Their minds, reconnect, this kind of stuffs. Turned out He was sitting alone in this movie theatre – not exactly alone given the incredible noise of the large audience there in the dark, but very alone all the same. He wondered what She was doing, if She was still in this little town or did She take the next bus, still following the schedule and the itinerary They planned together. He wasn't very specific when He told her He had to get out. But He had been out for a week now. Out of the bedroom, out of the hostel, out of the relationship.

I feel alone.

He looked around him.

I have been dying for this coke all afternoon. The coldness feels so good. Even though there is no ice in it – my sister warn me about all those Southern-countries' water diseases -, the coolness of the fridge is better than nothing.

The movie was supposed to start ten minutes ago. After a month getting on and off buses and boats and planes and taxis and trains, He was not surprised anymore by the delays in this country. The lights were still on, but it was only a dim yellow haze. The roof and the two side-walls were completely covered with egg-boxes. Low tech sound-proofing. He tried to count them, but the lights were turned down when He reached the middle of one column. Blockbuster action movie. Guns, special effects, bad boys: everything according to the bad film poster on the front door He needed at this moment was in it. He wanted to sink into this movie, into some other character's life and troubles, and forget.

I am too far away from the hostel to get there on time: the bus is going to leave in half an hour. And my bag is not ready. I suppose I knew it, when I walked all the way on this side of the river. But I don't really want to give Him a chance, do I? I wonder if I missed the bus (or am going to miss it, same same) because I expect him to show up tonight at the hostel, or if I was afraid that He would be at the bus station. I wish I knew. Why would He be there tonight since He hadn't given the slightest hint of existence for the past days? For all I know He might be on another continent right now, why wouldn't He left earlier than our schedule considering the new..situation?

The barman is creeping me out. He has been watching me from the very first second I walked in.

The movie was as bad as He expected it to be: He was quite happy. He treated himself with an helado from this nice little place, hardly more than a hole in the wall, discovered during one of his lonely wanderings through the city. The girl who gave him the ice-cream wasn't the same as the last time, she may very well have been her sister, or her cousin. It is all about family here.

He saw Her in front of the hostel. Stepping into a taxi. He rushed after it, but it was nearly five quadras away, and His suitcase was slowing him. He left it behind and kept running, but there was not much to do. The blue taxi was already behind the corner, and by the time He could find a cab, He had no clue which direction to take. He turned around, dead body standing and walking at the slowest pace. When He finally raised his eyes from the lousy sidewalk, He realized his suitcase was gone.

Today I had sex with this Australian guy, his name's Andrew I think. I don't really care about his name. He was kind enough not to ask me too many questions, it was obvious I wasn't that into him. I don't regret doing it. Was I cheating ? I honestly don't know. I guess after ten days without any news from Your man, you're free to do whatever you want. It's the first time though, that I had an affair with someone as little known as he was to me. The sex was amazing. He was sweet and tender with me. He told me his story, but wasn't expecting the same from me if I didn't wanted to. He was fleeing from his big island because of some girl he wanted to forget, it had been seven months already but he was still recovering from their relationship. I wonder if I'll need that much time or even more than that to be myself again. I know that this casual sex thing doesn't mean much. Or it means a lot. I think I am starting to miss Him.

He entered a bar in a small street from which poured some bad techno music. Inside, a few people drinking aguardiente and smoking cheap cigarettes. At the bar, two silent men, their head deep in their hat. He sat next to them and ordered a cusquena, the only beer His budget allowed him. Not two minutes later a girl, not older than nineteen, sat next to Him. He hadn't seen her when He stepped in. He offered her a drink, she offered him a bed. He drank fast while she was talking about her American dream. He gave her a sad smile and followed the dark-haired girl outside and into the next building, up to the second floor. The room was small and so was the bed. She told him sweet words in Spanish that He didn't understand, He remained silent. She unbuttoned His shirt, He watch her get undressed. She had such a young body. Her breasts and thighs were small and unattractive. She lay onto the bed and asked Him to join her, to make love to her. He stood in the middle of the dark room, fully naked, very still. He asked about her age, she lied with a large smile. He asked again and got another lie. She finally said she really was sixteen, but she was in love with Him from the very first minute they met. He sat on the bed, His back turned to her bare amber skin. He cried calmly, without dramatic outburst. She tried to caress Him, to kiss Him, saying over and over again that it was ok, it wasn't her first time, and she wanted to come to America with Him because she loved Him, she was not a whore.

He dressed quickly, threw a few bills He had left, and left the room without even looking at her. For the first time in a few weeks, His mind was crystal clear. He needed to get away from here, and go after the Woman He loved.

I checked my emails today to see if He tried to contact me. I was surrounded by middle-school boys playing gore video-games, shouting at each other, complaining about the slowness of the Internet connection. I just had an email from my sister, asking for news. I wrote again what I had written for the past couple of weeks: “everything is fine, I'll send you pictures when I'll have a better connection”. I don't even take pictures anymore. I am not sure I want to engrave those memories in my camera.

He sat at a table against the outside wall of the restaurant. The wooden fish on the front was a nice promise of fresh-from-the-lake specialities.

I went to this nice place to eat for lunch. I felt good for the first time since He disapeared, sitting alone at this small table facing this big family dinner. A celebration of some kind for one of the older kids. They shared the biggest plate of rice I've ever seen, and each of them had their own small fish. My guide book recommended this place for fish dishes indeed, and it was easy to find thanks to the giant wooden fish on the top of the doorframe outside.

A ten-plus peruvian family stood up for a toast when he went inside to the baños, their fat bodies filling all the visual space.

I listened to the speech the father gave at the end of their meal, but my spanish is still very poor and I only managed to get that someone graduated or had a promotion, something like that. It cheered me up for whatever reason. I felt happy for them, and decided at the same moment that I should enjoy my holidays, being with Him or just on my own.

He took of His jacket a map with their itinerary. He remembered the long nights spent by Her side, planning everything. They were happy then, full of hope. They had tropical dreams and made love with Their heads full of heavenly pictures.

New email from my sister. She attached an article and is begging me (well, “us”) to go home. A bus accident, one more. But this one is damn close to where He abandoned Me. My brain just made a u-turn. What if ! What if I have been wrong all the way from the beginning ? I have been worried about myself all along and not one time about Him. What was I thinking ? I don't even know if He's alive because I've been so selfish.

He found a local newspaper from the day before. On the front page, a wonderful picture and a terrible headline: two female tourists disappeared in the Cañon that cross the area from the Andes to the Pacific, the main attraction of the villages around with its condors and wild llamas. Twice deeper than the Grand Canyon. His heartbeat got higher and higher, he had trouble reading. He was picturing Her dead body seen from above, crushed next to the rio down some dark cliff. The article didn't mention the names of the missing ones. He had to know. He couldn't find any address, any phone number in the newspaper. The last page had been ripped of. He threw both his arms in the nearest garbage, full of chicken and guinea-pigs bones. No paper. He ran up the street, did not see the press-store on his right, and dipped into the next garbage. He found a paper of the day, and on the last page, the office's address. He didn't need to ask anyone, it was the second main street, one that cross the Plaza de Armas.

He arrived ten minutes later, sweat dripping from his forehead, the nape of his neck soaked. He showed the receptionist-main-redactor-editor the front page He ripped of the first newspaper, and asked something about the victim's names in his poor spanish. The employee had a blank look on his face, interrupted in his readings by this sweating gringo. He finally took the piece of paper with the pretty picture of the cañon. He did not know any names, he just knew they were two young women. As requested by the Man, he called the police station and asked for details. Some people from an hostel alerted them. The names were a tremendous relief for Him: none was Hers.

It made Him think about the dangers that surround a woman, when traveling alone. What was he thinking ? He remembered Her father's speech, before They left. How he asked Him to watch after his daughter, those kind of things. And Her sister being paranoid about everything, not wanting to let Her leave the country, leave the town. Nice, rich town. All those terrible scenarios kept happening in His head, the image of Her crushed body coming on and on.

I wasn't prepared anymore. He is alive, or someone kidnapped him, hacked his account and made a very bad joke. He sent me an email four days ago, but I only found an Internet place today. I have no idea what to write back. I have no idea if I should write back or not. The least I can do is tell Him

She was safe and sound. He sighted very theatrically. He wanted everyone around in the guesthouse to know He was relieved. He pushed himself to smile, but it only was a faint evocation of a happy face. She hadn't written anything else. Nothing about Her location, Her plans, Her questions. And it has already been four days. Didn't She realize how worried He was ? He was being very honest about it in His mail, even though He tried not to list all the death plots running and ruining his mind.

I finally agreed to tell Him where I was. He's supposed to arrive with tomorrow's boat.

She was there, in front of Him. He wouldn’t let Her go again.

I am paralyzed. My body facing Him. My mind rushing in every corner of my skull. No escape for me now.