Moths tap their legs on her window, thumps belonging to beings beyond her cabin’s walls telling her they’ve arrived. She sits bedside, elbows on her knees, back hunched over, her spine poking through the hotel’s bathrobe. Brown and black wings with yellowed eyes open and close as if hundreds of spectators were clinging to glass, blinking and observing her curved vertebrae. She was warned this would happen. There is a single lightbulb turned on in her bedroom tonight, and it really only takes one to invite an eclipse of moths. She looks up at the insect visitors. With each blink, she imagines the relief it’d be for them to swarm in and fill her cabin with their fluttering. May they flock toward her and land on every inch of her skin and with their tiny legs and eyed wings snatch her and carry her anywhere but here. As she rubs her tongue on her newly front chipped tooth, Soledad watches her watchers and doesn’t mind when she begins to taste metal.
It’s been a few hours since they arrived at the Amazonian town for a romantic couple’s retreat that she wasn’t particularly invited to, perhaps better to say dragged to, and Soledad couldn’t remember all the information they were given during the entry tour. Apparently, the hotel’s cabins sit inside a national park and there are rules to be followed, and being hungover doesn’t quite help visitors understand these directives. Standing in the lobby with her flip-flops, Soledad tried to pay attention. And she would’ve heard everything, sure, if it wasn’t for the river.
Behind the hotel lobby, via winds that carry secrets and push window shutters open, there was a constant roar. A warning that every visitor could hear. The Napo River made itself known the second the three of them parked near the lodge: its behemoth-sized burbling muted the hotel manager’s words and Sole didn’t bother to ask for a repeat of the instructions.
Something, something, biodiversity. Something, something, wandering alone at nights isn’t allowed, she remembers the man with the Ricardo nametag saying. He didn’t look like a Ricardo. Sole really didn’t have to try and pay attention, anyways. The man who claims to be named Ricardo’s directions and suggestions were all absorbed by an attentive Elena, her best friend.
She remembers an Elena who turned to her and asked, Oye, pendeja, are you listening? Elena’s brown hair up in a bun, some strands falling on her face, hiding her freckles. Her glossy lips revealing the smile Sole has known since elementary school. Even before the brackets came along and left the scars inside Elena’s cheeks, Sole believed Elena had the best set of teeth in their entire grade. There was something about those canines. Diamond sharp. Sole was perhaps a close second or maybe third back in her prime. The yellowness derived from too much Coca-Cola definitely took her down a notch. And after last week’s chipping, she’d be firmly sitting in last place.
Soledad nodded in response. Of course I’m listening, she said. No wandering alone at night, she went down the list. No lightbulbs on after six. Or was it five? she said, and her eyes wandered off Elena’s and down to her waist where a what can only be described as a giant’s hand sat on her best friend’s midriff. Its nails recently trimmed. Blond hairs poking through light skin. A thumb ring? The Giant Benjamin also paying attention to the hotel manager and making sure every visitor noticed that he has never cared about the effects of PDA. He then proceeded to ask the manager some questions regarding his girlfriend’s parked car.
Soledad leaned in and in between river screams, she asked Elena, Isn’t this romantic? Me here third wheeling? Why am I part of your anniversary trip?
Elena bumped her waist on Sole’s. Calla, ve, she said. Benjamin’s fingers touched Sole’s waist briefly. You know I couldn’t leave you alone this weekend, she added, her voice reaching the depths of a whisper.
So, please use the cabin phones if you have any needs. The kitchen closes at seven. And the emergency number is asterisk six six, the Ricardo dude stated.
I have so many questions, Sole uttered to Elena. Elena rolled her eyes and smiled. Like, where’s the other six? I mean, it makes sense, right? And are we supposed to forget the universal 911? Doesn’t an emergency situation call for numbers we actually know and don’t have time to memorize—
The hotel manager interrupted Soledad’s mumbling by wrapping up his instructions. Señoritas, he asked, any questions?
No, muchas gracias, Soledad replied, her s a little hiss from her chipped tooth whistling. Elena chortled.
Great. We don’t want the pink dolphin to get you alone at night, Ricardo laughed.
Wait, what? she asked.
Pink dolphins live in these waters, Benjamin turned to Soledad. This is the first time he had spoken to her since she chipped her tooth. And they are an endangered species, he said.
Yes, that is correct, Ricardo nodded. Please do not come near one if you see one, which I doubt you will. They’re extremely rare. He was still smiling. Good teeth.
What did he mean with get you, though? Soledad asked Elena.
Muchas gracias, Elena said to Ricardo. She snatched the room keys from his hands and began walking, making sure Soledad kept up. It’s a legend we learned in elementary school, Sole, she said. No te acuerdas?
What legend? I don’t remember.
Qué sorpresa, Elena said, walking towards the exit. It’s basically about a dolphin preying on vulnerable young women, she added.
Wait, what, Soledad said, her flip-flops clicking on the lobby floor.
Our cabins are this way, Elena responded.
Tonight, in her lonely cabin, Soledad’s tongue bleeds and she stares at the moths hoping she can, too, flutter last week away from her mind. The moths gaze back at her with their many eyes. These creatures who once searched for our moon lost their way and came to find these harsh hotel lights that cast shadows on all of the furniture, on the mini-bars with no alcohol whatsoever, on guest suitcases they have yet to unpack and put away, on a television no one needs out here, on the couple rooming in cabin four trying not to break up, and on Soledad’s wet black hair creating puddles on the back of her robe, some water spilling on the wooden floorboards. She then rises and approaches the window. With her ring finger, she taps the glass, too. I’m here, too. And through the slow dance of eyed wings flapping, Soledad spots the Napo River.
At night, its brownness transforms into the color of smoke. Its stream yells at her. Do the moths hear it. The moon’s reflection creates a moving pattern on the river’s surface. And in between the moonlight’s dance, bug wings, and bellows, a smooth and rosy dorsal fin glides across Soledad’s window.
Monkeys howl outside Sole’s door as she puts on her hiking boots. She’s twenty minutes late for today’s tour. The sun makes its way through holed leaves outside that are barely keeping it together and into her cabin. Red shoelaces go in and out of eyelets, the boot’s tongue poking out. Her hands shake as she ties the knot. Soledad clenches her fist, inhales and exhales, eyes closed. As she opens and releases her hands, she looks down at her palms: pink flesh, lines like old walking paths in a forest where grass refuses to grow, an array of blue veins. Today is cascada day. Benjamin, Elena, and poor old Soledad will be guided to the waterfall located four miles deep into the jungle named after an albino toucan someone once spotted. Or perhaps it was just a white bird. They named it Blanquito.
Sole trots outside to catch up with Elena and her boyfriend. They’re waiting next to their guide today. Nametag reads Tony. Elena taps her foot.
Hola con todos, Soledad says as she tries not to faint after running for a minute straight. How will she make it through today. Will they find her body later out by the cascade, red shoelaces untied. Please let it be face down. No one needs to see her bloated face. May death be generous and beautifying.
You’re late, Elena says good morning to Soledad. Benjamin’s tapping some information into his smartwatch. How do his mountainous fingertips work with such a bantam screen.
They begin the climb up the rainforest mountain. The guide leads the trekking excursion. He holds a tainted bamboo stick in one hand and uses the other to point at bright and decaying leaves, tangerine insects, birds that caw, monkeys with twisted tails, and the ground beneath them. Elena takes pictures with her fancy camera while Benjamin often tries to get ahead of Tony but can never catch up to him. Soledad can’t breathe well. She ties her rain jacket around her waist hoping nobody notices she fell a couple of miles back and her bottom is completely soused with mud. With her physique in such a state, they might question whether it is indeed dirt that’s attached to her ripped yoga pants.
The Napo River has followed them. Its thunder echoes through vines and bodies and reaches Soledad. She’s drinking from her aluminum bottle, the water she emptied from a Dasani plastic container and later dumped inside her reusable one now streaming down the sides of her face. Water pours and pours, like a broken levee. It spills on her neck and chest.
You’re not going to share that with the rest of us? Elena asks, pointing at whatever’s left.
Nope, she replies.
They continue walking on the set path, Elena looking up and down at her best friend. The wet t-shirt and glistening neck, a tooth that’s barely keeping it together. And such dark eyes. Elena asks, How are you feeling?
About what? Sole stops on her tracks.
Your tooth, she says, pointing with her tongue at her very own perfect choppers.
Oh, it’s fine, Sole lies. I’m supposed to get a veneer or something on Monday.
That’s great, Elena says. Why has it taken you a week to get one? When she asks she shakes her head. A few ants fall from the nearest branch on Elena’s white t-shirt. They begin to crawl on her shoulders and Soledad approaches her, placing her palm near the hormigas, assuring them of safe transport. Then they march on her old forest paths. Soledad can smell Elena’s white sunscreen and her cherry lip gloss. She wonders if the ants can, too.
It took me a while to recover from your birthday party, she laughs. The ants tickle her wrist.
I meant to call you after that. Sorry I was busy, Elena says, watching the insects follow a strict line across Sole’s wrist like those faux black leather bracelets she wore back in middle school. Benjamin turns and watches the women talk.
Elena continues, We left the next morning for my grandpa’s birthday and then I had this horrible week of midterms, and—
That’s fine, Sole interrupts. Really. Her eyes land on Benji’s. And I meant to tell you a fun pink dolphin fact I googled before going to bed last night, she says as she turns to Elena.
Oh, yeah?
They are born gray, Sole says, hormigas now departing her arm and beginning the invasion of her torso.
So, when do they become pink?
When they age, Soledad says, her tongue poking at her tooth.
Huh. A bit like a Benjamin Button situation, Elena responds.
They arrive at the top of the mountain. Something loud awaits them beyond. Soledad lost feelings on her toes a while ago. The ants head south.
The waterfall is close, just behind that big tree, Tony says as he removes his blue Pepsi cap and wipes away his forehead sweat. Please, continue. I’ll be right there.
Benjamin jogs ahead and smiles when he notices he’s finally ahead of Tony. Elena tries to keep up with her boyfriend and doesn’t look back to see Sole left behind, falling folioles from above sheathing her best friend and shrubs below embracing her legs. Tony approaches Soledad as she continues panting, beads of sweat fuse with bug spray and spill into her collarbone.
Señorita, he asks, are you okay? Do you need me to carry you?
No, no, no, muchas gracias, she responds. Like, carry me over the cascada? Throw me over like a sack of potatoes? she starts laughing but still can’t quite breathe well, so pig sounds begin to emanate from her mouth and nose. Please, no. I’m totally fine, she says. I just haven’t exercised in forever.
Sigamos entonces, he says and begins to hike. They put one foot in front of the other and fight the mud’s grip. Each step a plop that births a petrichor haze. A universal smell of dead verdant beings.
Can I ask you something? The ants have journeyed down to Soledad’s pants and now make their way back to the safe ground they yearn for.
What’s that? he responds.
What’s the deal with the pink dolphins? Can they attack us or something? The manager warned us about spotting one and getting close at night.
Tony laughs and shakes his head no. No, señorita. But they are brilliant beings, he says. Sole thinks about the dolphin who visited her cabin last night. The one who was called by the moon and who dared show a tiny little bit of itself to her.
Yes, I read about that. She recalls scrolling late in the madrugada on her phone. A small pool of collected saliva on her pillowcase and photographs of pink bodies taken from afar. They live in the depths of a nutrient-filled river and run away from men carrying cameras.
Where I come from, they say the pink dolphin is smarter than a man. Lonelier than a man, too, Tony says.
I mean, that’s one hundred percent what I think about most species, Soledad smiles. Tony looks at her chipped front tooth. It’s like the sharp entrance to a dark cave. About the smarter part, I mean, she says. Not the lonely bit.
He smiles and says, Because of its skin, some people believe the dolphin can become a man, a person like you and me.
Why would it want to do that? Soledad asks. She trips over a hidden branch and manages to keep her composure. She continues to walk, hands on her waist, her reusable water bottle bouncing off her dirt butt.
I’m not sure. The myth says at night, under the brightest of moons, it reaches a river beach and transforms into a man to seduce women.
Ah, well, Sole laughs and shakes her head. They’re the scapegoat, then, she says.
What did you say? Tony asks. They’re near the waterfall’s overhang. Benji’s poking his head out, face covered in river water. Elena begins placing her camera and valuables in her dry bag. What a little genius. She has the most incredible foresight.
Hey! Tony calls in the group. Give me your shoes! They begin taking them off, Soledad having trouble with the now wet red laces.
Why do you need them? Soledad yells.
Because if you jump with them, you’ll drown, Tony shouts in response.
Soledad nods. The guide places the shoes in a giant trash bag he kept hidden in his back pocket and hauls it over.
Whoa! Sole says. Then the black bag floats on the water and reaches a giant boulder where a man wearing hotel gear sits and waits. It’s as if this bag had rehearsed this before. Jump, land, be found. The lodge worker reaches for their belongings, grasps the wet plastic bag, and picks it up. He waves up Hola!
I didn’t know this was a thing, Sole says to Elena.
Qué? Elena shouts back.
I didn’t know this was A WHOLE THING, Sole repeats.
What? This is gonna be so good for you, Elena yells.
And so Tony pulls in the group and explains the entire jumping premise. It’s a ten-meter-tall cascada, something Soledad didn’t quite think through when Elena explained it to her on the phone two days ago. There’s going to be a waterfall you can jump from, and you like that sort of stuff, right? And then walks at night to see all the cool creatures, she had said. Don’t you want to be out in nature and do something for yourself, she had asked. Don’t you wanna be saved.
Make sure you bring your arms inward when you jump so you don’t hit a rock or something while falling, Tony shouts, smiling and demonstrating the movement.
Great, Soledad yells in response, chipped tooth shining.
Elena raises her hand and volunteers to go first. Her bun reaches new heights when she so gracefully jumps off the waterfall into the Napo River. Her splash is microscopic, silent. Kind of like the sound of the kiss we give cheeks when we say hello. Mwah.
Okay! Tony celebrates. Now one of you goes, please. Benji and Sole look at each other.
Benji nods and raises up his index finger to Tony. Wait one second, he instructs. He approaches Soledad, his giant hands edging closer.
You haven’t said anything to her, have you? he asks her. He doesn’t shout but doesn’t need to. It’s as if the only thing that can penetrate the Napo River’s screams is this particular question.
No, I haven’t, Soledad responds, shaking her head and looking down at Elena chatting with the hotel worker below. Bun undone; she’s combing her hands through her shiny wet hair.
Are you going to say anything? Benji searches for Sole’s eyes. He meets them. They’re so brown, her iris and pupil are one. The way they’re staring back at the giant makes him take a step closer. She’s a monster at the top of the waterfall. Something to be ogled. Tony looks at them both and walks away for a bit, bamboo stick still in hand. Benji towers over Soledad, his hands on his waist.
I— Soledad tries to speak, and her chipped tooth gets in the way. It pricks her tongue.
You shouldn’t have anything to say, anyway, Benji interrupts. Because nothing happened. Nothing you didn’t ask for, at least. He waves Tony over. The guide approaches, looking at Soledad. And then the giant jumps. His splash is silenced by a hungry river. Elena claps and praises her boyfriend’s pristine landing. He swims up to her and accepts a towel from the hotel worker, dabs his face dry.
Soledad drinks her blood and unties her jacket from her waist. Her water bottle almost falls over, and Tony catches it. He begins placing Soledad’s valuables in a giant trash bag. Fitting.
She stands looking outward at the canopy of trees. Birds flying from one tree to another. Never really looking back at what they’re leaving behind. The branches shake a little here and there. Monkeys travel, insects eat, jaguars roar, and Soledad looks at Tony. She can feel the call of el río. It sprinkles its water on her face and neck.
There’s no way back, the guide says to her, his bright brown eyes on Sole’s. Tienes que saltar. He says this as if he was lamenting this situation and her. He is so sorry.
She jumps. Her legs pierce the water. Bubbles upon bubbles climb on her skin and detonate. She lifts the river sand as she tries to recognize where she’s landed. Soledad opens her eyes and amid the sandstorm she has created, she can see her limbs moving to keep her alive. She comes close to crashing against an underwater rock but manages to move out of its way. Her instincts have saved her. The light makes its way through the brown river surface long enough for Soledad to recognize her body moving even though she’s not really thinking about moving. She’d rather stay down there, hearing the forever roar of the river, being pushed and thrusted into the depths by its weight. And while staring at her body, she finds another. A mass of pink heads towards her, its frame dispersing clouds of dirt. A long gangly beak, flippers, and rubbery skin swim and glide next to her. Soledad screams underwater as she witnesses the pink dolphin reach her, its keloidal and malformed melon so vicinal. The beast opens its beak and flashes its sharp set of teeth. Front tooth chipped.
Like ants, they follow a single line. Tony guides the crew with his trekking shoes still soaked in this morning’s dirt. Benjamin follows with one hand holding the tiniest of flashlights and the other tucked inside his hoodie’s front pocket. Elena mainly aims her light down to her feet so she doesn’t trip on branches. Dead last is a tired and drowsy Soledad with river water still stuck in her ear, her black uncombed hair reaching her lower back, skin tanned from this morning, Napo nutrients sitting on her eyebrows.
Their flashlights point at night creatures sitting, crawling, and flying around them: a green frog on a vine, a tarantula underneath one of the path’s rocks, insects that mimic sticks, gnawed leaves, and rosy florae. Sole likes to light up the canopy above her and watch the bugs descend on her night walk partners.
Are we ready? Tony asks. They’ve come to a full stop beneath a tree the guide claims is more than a thousand years old. Sole’s flashlight illuminates the tree’s bark: greens and a burnt umber that fights a bright sienna, a skin so deep it has seen it all. Today it witnesses a broken-tooth Soledad wearing her purple rain jacket and staring back at it. She holds up her hand to its bark and touches its membrane with her ring finger. Some of the tree’s dead cells now on hers.
Why are we stopping? Sole asks Elena, her eyes still drawn to the tree.
Turn off your flashlights, Tony orders. He clicks his off first. Like dominoes toppling into darkness, one by one they enter the shadows of the rainforest. Tiny bioluminescent beings in hues of blues, purples, and whites greet them. They thrive in obscurity and shy away from light. Tonight, under the harbor of the canopies, they let the three college students from Quito and their guide Tony witness their splendor.
Better than Avatar, Elena whispers to Soledad. Soledad rolls her eyes so hard they are about to fall out the back of her head.
Avatar is such trash, shut up, Soledad says, mesmerized.
Let’s head this way, the guide says.
Sure, the way that we can all see way, Soledad says to herself. She’s trying so hard to open her pupils and recognize any shapes and forms. She breathes in the wet tierra, the scent from Elena’s neck, flowers decaying around them, her own insect repelling she sprayed too close to her face, the mud that smells so green. Her heart races and palms sweat. The swaying silhouettes of dancing trees and branches agitates her. What else is out there tonight. Her heart doesn’t beat twice as fast for a hiding jaguar or a spider monkey that may or may not want to pull her hair. It falls out of her chest for pink beings.
The group reaches the river’s beach. Underneath tonight’s moon, little hills mirroring white clouds float along the river’s surface. Soledad points at them and then looks at Tony who informs her they are indeed mosquito eggs. Soledad nods her head.
That’s pretty gross, she says. She finds a somewhat flat rock and sits away from the crew, her flashlight falling from her jacket’s pocket. She inhales and exhales. To be a mosquito puff of eggs carried away by a stream birthed by a volcano, to be ephemeral foam on a current and towed away, to be fluff and disappear.
Elena joins her best friend by forcing her to scoot over.
Since when do you like being alone? she asks.
Are you alone? he had asked Soledad. She sat on the pool’s edge, far away and out of sight from Elena. Her jeans folded up to her knees. The water felt warm. A dragonfly had drowned earlier in the day and its corpse was slowly making its way to her. She allowed it. Transparent and holed wings resting near her ankle. The pool’s underwater lights illuminated Sole’s red toenails; they contrasted with the pool’s blue tiles.
I am, she responded, looking up at Benjamin. He sat beside her and placed his drink on the piscina’s edge. As he took off his socks and pulled up the legs of his jeans, he looked at Soledad.
That night her hair was up in a ponytail, her ends getting wet on puddled chlorine water. Her buttoned-up jean shirt matched her jeans and she looked like she was spawned from the seventies. She couldn’t really feel her cheeks after the sixth tequila shot. Her upper lip still carrying pink salt crystals from earlier in the evening; Soledad had pinched the Himalayan salt from the cupboard to accompany her pool-side drink since Elena had hidden the iodized salt from her.
Sole knew Elena was out by the front door waiting for the delivery bike dude to drop off a bottle of cheap rum and a 3-liter Coca-Cola as Benji scooched up next to her. The rest of the party waited for their host inside the kitchen, gobbling her appetizers.
That wasn’t an actual invitation for you to sit right next to me, Sole said to Benji. His green eyes on hers. A colossal hand made its way up Sole’s knee, some pool water droplets staining her blue jeans navy. It reached her thigh and Soledad could feel its warmth. It was ablaze. He then grabbed her chin with his thumb and index finger, turning her head his way. Soledad could taste his salt, too. Her tongue brushed his as she moaned and smiled. And when the dead ankle dragonfly tickled her, Soledad opened her eyes. She jolted from the pool, forgot her phone, shoes, and socks, and ran. After reaching the kitchen and dodging the crowd, she slipped and hit her head on the refrigerator door. The ice machine understood the request and dropped about fix or six cubes on her bleeding face. The missing bit of Sole’s tooth hid underneath the dishwasher.
Why are you like this, Elena said to Sole as she loomed over her, ron y colas cradled in her arms.
A big black ant sits on Tony’s palm. He claims a bite from this bullet ant will send him in a horrible journey of pain. He then strokes its head and smiles. Soledad watches from afar, sitting on her now warm rock and raising her eyebrows. Benjamin tries to pet the ant, too. Please bite. Use those pinchers and grab his stupidly huge hand and never let go.
No, I don’t like being alone, Soledad finally answers Elena’s question. You know I don’t. Elena looks out into the water and is visibly horrified by the mosquito egg clouds. She shivers.
Listen, can I tell you something? Sole asks.
What?
It’s about Benji, she says, her eyes focused on the water.
Señoritas, let’s head back, please, Tony announces. The ant never bites Benjamin. Tony places it on a leaf as he starts leading the crew back to the cabins.
Elena says Luego, si? to Soledad and walks away. Sole stands up, zips up her rain jacket, taps her pockets looking for her flashlight and finds nothing. She squats down to her rock, tapping her way through mud and bugs and tiny pebbles. Please, bullet ant, don’t bite. The group continues, their loud crunching of deciduous leaves veiling the sound of a missing member: they have abandoned Soledad. She’ll have to wander the rainforest alone. Because that’s what she likes to be, right? Alone.
As she extends her arm, a wet and pink hand grabs hers. It jerks her with great force into the river. Soledad’s face now immersed in river darkness, chin scratched and burning. She can’t breathe. Bubbles shoot from her nose and the stream cloaks her screams. Her legs kick in the air and then finally find ground. She jerks herself out of the water only to see what still is grasping her arm: the chipped-tooth dolphin’s flipper isn’t a flipper but a long and bony limb. Its beak points at her. The pink dolphin stands on its tail that carries toes, and its squeals are shrieks that hurt Soledad’s ears. She cries back, mouth wide open, and the rainforest drapes and enshrouds her wails. Soledad yanks and yanks herself away from el delfín rosado whose curved dorsal fin looks as sharp as its teeth. Its belly round and glossy. Its grasp is strong and unrelenting. Then Sole squats to seize the flashlight she once lost and throws it, aiming at the dolphin’s blowhole. It squeals and lets her go. She pulls herself free, tumbles, and lands her head on a rock.
Before moths become moths, they are larvae. Tiny caterpillars that consume leaves, leaving behind tiny holes that mark their presence, like when schoolboys write I am here in bathroom stalls. Instead of bites, they have Sharpies. Maybe caterpillars also bite holes in the shape of This girl is a slut messages, too. Then, at one point, the caterpillars know they have to mutate. And so they do. Larvae cannot stay as they are. It is impossible for them to resist this change. It must be nice to know that whatever state you are in, you will soon leave it behind. You’ll transform into something completely different. Become a pupa that later hatches into a moth that’s quite unrecognizable to what you once were. Do moths also think, Thank god that’s over. Or better yet, Thanks, evolution, for my witness protection program rewrite.
Tony rescues Soledad. He carries her back to her cabin where she sleeps most of the night, his right hand cradling her neck as he walked up the trail. The guide versed in first aid assesses her pupils—brown irises of heartbreak—and lets her rest.
Elena knocks on her cabin door early in the morning and invites her bird watching. Es nuestro último día, she mentions.
Unbelievably so, Soledad replies, Bueno.
With her pink and sweaty palm, she touches the back of her head. She aches. Her head didn’t bleed last night and didn’t need any stitches. Maybe there’s an inner bleed somewhere in there, Sole hopes. Warranted pain. A deep black toucan flies above them and then lands on a nearby branch. Tony’s response to the bird is a smile so wide, Soledad can spot the golden fillings in his back molar. Fancy.
While Benjamin borrows his girlfriend’s camera to zoom in and capture the creature, Soledad pulls Elena towards her. They stand at the top of the canopy-green observation tower built on a curve that allows the biggest tree in the rainforest to pierce right through the platform’s center. The young women walk towards the shallowest end alone.
As I was saying, Sole continues.
What? Elena says, lost.
I wanted to talk to you about Benjamin, Sole says, lowering her voice.
Her best friend tries to look past the giant bark, seeking her novio. She doesn’t find him. What about him? Elena asks.
He’s not a good guy, Soledad admits.
I mean, Benji doesn’t have the best of personalities; he can be rough around the edges, like someone else I know, Elena winks at Soledad.
Beetles click around them, peccaries woof nearby, centuries upon centuries worth of life buzz and hiss in Soledad’s ears.
Yes, I am aware I am a piece of shit, Sole says. But you should dump him.
I don’t understand, she says, shaking her tight bun back and forth. Why are you telling me this now? Elena looks into Sole’s eyes. Even in the light of day, it is so hard to understand just what shade of brown makes up her pupils. Where is this coming from? she asks. Pasó algo? That last question sits on her bottom lip for a while before it reaches Sole.
Benjamin rushes around the tree like a bird diving for its prey, a poor worm sticking its head out of the deep mud for the first time in its life. The sun has done quite some damage to Benji’s white skin: it is soaring watermelon pink. Soledad takes a step back, her eyes stuck on the giant’s sunburnt piel and his lanky arms.
We ready to go? he asks, lamenting he let them wander off unescorted.
Today’s the last day of their weekend getaway that Soledad was definitely not invited to, and his patience is wearing thin. Why did she have to come along, sitting in the back seat staring off into the mountains and their foliage that with time became more and more tropical, Sole patiently waiting for the vegetation growth to swallow her whole. She would refuse to meet his eyes in the rearview mirror while he constantly searched for hers. But Elena had insisted. She’s been her best friend since they were guambras, and this weekend marked an anniversary for Soledad, too: a year ago, Sole’s body was found by a crying Elena—Soledad’s spine spread in a bathroom somewhere, her limbs like roots cemented in tile, a verdant green vomit pouring down the sides of a cracked mouth, teary bark brown eyes. Later, Elena nursed Sole awake in the running shower, their hands clasped together, fingers interlocked with so much cariño.
I’m going to tell her what you did, Soledad spits out. More like the words gurgle out from her throat, a river breaking a dam with brute force. Her chipped tooth doesn’t stand in her way. The walked forest paths on her palms drown in sweat. The three of them stand looking at each other. Tony the wise guide knows not to intervene. Instead, he uses his binoculars to look away from the wreck.
She’s an alcoholic, you can’t trust her, Benji cuts in. Elena looks up at her giant.
What’d you do? she turns to Sole.
She kissed me, Benji answers for her. The river roars so loud, the mosquito eggs on its surface are displaced. They fall in and drown. Ants drop from branches floating above Benjamin’s head and panic. He tries scratching them away. A colony of bats is awakened and flies from beneath the platform and into the group of tourists; an American woman shouts as she fights off a bat with her giant purse. Tony runs over to save her.
You what?! Elena cries.
That’s not—Soledad tries to speak but the uproar of the monkeys next to them is unstoppable.
After everything I’ve done for you, Elena says, her freckles now surrounded by a sea of red. A tear makes its way down her cheek and lands on her upper lip. She picks it up with her tongue. Soledad thinks about the tear’s saltiness and about pushing Benjamin off the tower. Which would be more savory. Tony rescues the tourist as the colony soars away from the observation deck. Elena grabs Benjamin’s hand and tugs him away, too.
Soledad is now alone with the toucan that still sits quietly on the limb of a being that, too, watches. Winds push leaves together and the shrubs move in and out, exhaling. The bird turns its head and keeps its black eye and yellowed hollow bill pointed at the loneliest of tourists. Sole holds the railing so hard, the rusted painted parts peel off and sink into her palms.
Mud footprints mark the entry path to her cabin: first to the closet where her unpacked suitcase stands, then the tracks lead towards the bed where her bag lays open and she forages for something, and finally, Sole leaves a trace towards the mini bar, where she now sits, staring at its contents: Dasani, Dasani, Sprite, Sprite, Coca-Cola. There’s nothing here for her.
Soledad holds her head in her hands and begins to cry. Immediately snot comes out of her nose, and she’s disgusted by this avalanche of her insides. Will nothing just stay put. Why must it all come out.
Out there, the river still cautions her with its bellows. She thinks of Elena and how she broke her heart, about dumbass Benji and his terrifying hands, about how embarrassed she is that Tony has seen her at her worst, and then about the beast: the pink dolphin who haunts her. Sole stands up, wipes her mucus with the palm of her hands, and lets down her hair from her ponytail.
That’s it.
Out she goes underneath a clouded sky and into the rainforest path she’s not supposed to walk alone. Río Napo, a sign points south. Her steps are firm and determined as mud shifts below her. Black bugs and brown birds get out of her way. Green ivies open a path like curtains. The canopies close in behind her. She’s in.
She reaches the river’s pebbled and muddy beach and realizes it’s not nightfall. It won’t be there. Why has she come all this way. From beyond, hushed yells graze leaves and stems and dodge branches and trunks to reach her. Soledad stares into the rainforest. That’s Elena. This is when she tightens her red shoelaces.
As Soledad approaches the river, the water begins to shy away from her, the currents acknowledging her presence. Her brown boots now chocolate-colored, red laces marooned. The water beneath is cold and so distanced from its warm surface. Soledad thinks about all the animals that hide within the tawny water: the anacondas that will graze her thighs, the jaguar that’s out for a swim, the miniature candiru fish that will lodge itself inside her urethra if she dares to pee inside this mighty river, oh god, please, don’t pee right now, please. She imagines baby nutrias, anteaters, the insect eggs that have died and thrived with this water, and Soledad submerges her head. She will find it.
The loud current takes her. And she gives in. Into the deep she plunges, wanting to go where light does not reach. Her left hiking boot flies off her and is dodged by a school of fish Soledad cannot see. The nutrient blizzard blinds her but she can make out the rosy figure approaching her. Soledad is not scared. The dolphin whistles at her to stop her from swimming. Its mouth unhinged and Soledad unfurls hers. In goes the river. The dolphin’s arms clasp hers and tug her in for an embrace in the deep. Floating east into Brazil and below an equatorial sun, Soledad hugs the chipped-tooth pink dolphin that shares her scars. Her head rests on its light-colored belly. The Napo River absorbs her tears like it forever has for every being that’s ever wept out here, for every animal that’s faced its fears.
It lets her go. She propels herself to the surface and finally breathes.
Soledad reaches her cabin, arms folded on herself. She rubs her arms, trying to warm up. The cold river drips from her skin and hair onto the path. Her left bare foot drenched in mud. Sole’s so proud she’s made it up this far and hasn’t stabbed her sole with a sharp branch or a spiky caterpillar. She looks up and recognizes a lonely Elena sitting on the front porch of her cabin, her head pointed at her weekend bag next to her feet. No dumbass Benji in sight.
Elena? Sole says.
Her best friend looks up at her, her eyes puffed. Hi, she responds.
Hola, Sole responds.
Sole sits beside her and holds her hand. Elena doesn’t ask why she’s drenched head to toe in Napo. She accompanies her inside where Sole bathes and gets dressed. Together, they walk towards the lobby where Ricardo and Tony wave goodbye. Elena pops the trunk open and secures their bags. As they drive away from the rainforest and Elena hits Play on a song from their shared list, Sole looks out her side mirror and says adiós to the bats, birds, and her brown river.
Chao, rosadita, she says under her breath. The open window lets the warm air in. Sole rests her arm on the doorframe. Below the shrinking horizon, Sole eyes her black arm hairs bending with the wind. Her long brown hand, fingers merging, skin now a rubbery and glossy shade of pink, a fin in the making.
(Editors’ Note: “La mandíbula del río” is read by Matt Peters on the Uncanny Magazine Podcast, Episode 56B.)
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© 2024 Ana Hurtado
