The juice from the mango drips down my fingers. It follows the curves and angles of my hand. The smell is sweet. I squeeze the fruit harder, and the fibrous pulp covers my palm.
“Aren’t you going to eat that?”
Ato’s cheeks are filled with the treat.
“No,” I say. The river beckons me. I drop the messy remains. It is a small offering to the birds hovering above us.
I dive into the warm river. The strings from the mango float away. A tiny waterfall breaks from the rocks. I lie on my back and allow the sun to kiss me. How wondrous it is to be here.
Ato joins me. The bridge of his nose and cheeks are a little bit red. Glowing. He, too, lies on his back. We are both weightless, allowing the ripples from the waterfall to caress our bodies.
I dunk my head in the water. My long hair pulls on my back like a thick rope. Ato’s curls are untamed. I search for his hand.
We fall asleep on a large flat rock. The birds form a circle around us and stand guard. Or that is what they seem to be doing. When I close my eyes, I don’t dream.
Awake, my head rests on Ato’s chest. He smells of coconut.
My Ato.
“Wake up.” I tug at his curls. He nuzzles against my neck. The sound of the waterfall lulls us back to sleep.
This time it is Ato who taps my shoulder. The area is empty except for the birds. It is ours. No one can take it away from us.
“You must be hungry,” Ato says. He stands and offers his hand. I take it.
“It’s funny,” I say. “I’m not. Maybe I will be later.”
The birds are no longer in a circle. They are in a straight line. Our little winged army.
“The llorosas are visiting us again,” I say.
Ato doesn’t respond, and I’m left wondering if I’m mistaken.
“I know what will help.” He leaves and runs to the bush, which is lush and green. His back and arms are thin but muscular. Ato has the body of a boy who has always worked outside.
He disappears into the bush, and I count to ten backward.
“If he doesn’t return by the time I reach one, you will protect me, won’t you?” I ask the leader of the birds. The small gray llorosa cocks its head to the side.
Ato soon appears with a beautiful, gleaming smile. He eats a sugarcane and offers me a piece. I push it away.
“Don’t you like sugarcane?”
“Stop offering me things to eat,” I say. “I’m not hungry.”
“Let’s take a walk, then,” he says. “Maybe that will help with your appetite.”
I feel out of sorts. It’s not only the hunger that is missing. I can’t quite place it.
“Am I supposed to be doing something?” I ask him.
Ato smiles. He has the longest eyelashes. “No. We’re free to do whatever you want.”
He is like the river, beautiful and wondrous. We walk away from the replenishing waters, and Ato leads me toward our house in the mountains. He caresses my back.
The wooden door to the house is open. We use a bucket of water to wash away the dirt on our feet before entering. A towel was left on the porch to dry our toes. Inside, everything is right where we left it. Simple living room furniture. A kitchen with a table right by a window so I can stare out at the flamboyán blooming so vibrantly. The bedroom we share is to the left. A small bathroom just off to the side of it. Our home.
It takes a few minutes for the shower to warm up. I wait while Ato hums a tune.
“You take a shower first,” I say. “Don’t hog the hot water.”
“What if I do?” he teases.
I sit in the living room, the door still open. I can hear the llorosas by the tree. They rustle and fly about. A delicious breeze enters the house, and I relish it.
“Your turn,” Ato says. He shakes his head, sprinkling water over me. I gently push him away.
In the bathroom, Ato has left me a single hibiscus in a glass of water. I take a long shower and rinse off the day spent in the river from my hair and body. When I’m done, I tuck the hibiscus behind my ear. I wear a flowing yellow dress. Barefoot, I walk to Ato, who stands by the kitchen.
“I have to step out now. I’ll return,” he says. “You want to start dinner while I’m gone?”
“Okay,” I say. “Don’t stay too long. Come back quick.”
“I’ll be back before dark.” Ato pecks me lightly on the cheek before leaving. “I’ll bring you something sweet.”
The tiled kitchen floor feels good against my feet. The refrigerator has exactly what I need. Onions. Peppers. Cloves of garlic. Tomatoes. The knife glides effortlessly across the skin of the onion. I try my best to chop small enough pieces so when I place them in the pan, they will sizzle right away. The aroma fills the room. I pull back the curtain from the window and turn down the stove now that the water is boiling. Ato’ll be famished when he returns. Maybe by then, I’ll be hungry too.
Before I have any chance to worry, Ato enters holding bright yellow carambolas.
“Look what I found,” he says. “They are ripe, ready to eat.”
“Star fruits. They are so pretty.” I place them in a bowl and set the rest on the kitchen table. “Where did you go?”
“Not far. Just making sure everything is in order,” he says. “The food smells so good. I’m starving.”
He serves me a large plate of food. Then he serves himself. I watch him eat. It feels good to cook for him, to do something for the person I love.
“You need to eat, Eury,” he says. “Why aren’t you eating? It’s important.”
I look down at my untouched plate. I take a forkful and stare at the grains of rice and the chunks of chicken. “I don’t know.”
“If you don’t eat, you will get sick, and we will no longer be together. You have to eat. Don’t you want to stay with me?”
“More than anything,” I say. “I’m just not hungry.”
He’s disappointed in me.
“I’m sorry, Ato.”
I leave him to eat his food in peace. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Maybe I’m nervous. Stress can make a person lose their appetite. It will return. I hope.
I walk to our bedroom and lie down. Ato eventually joins me. If I close my eyes, time will stop, and we won’t worry about how I’m failing this test. He wraps his arms around my waist.
“Don’t worry, Eury,” he says. “We’ll try later. Rest for now.”
It’s hard to relax when this silence is so eerie. I don’t trust it.
“Ato, why can’t I hear the coquís? It’s dark out,” I say.
The tiny frogs have always greeted me when the day breaks and night turns. This is an ominous sign. I sense a trap forming around our hearts.
“They are out there. Listen. You can hear them.” Ato presses his lips and makes their singsongy sound.
I strain to hear the frogs. Instead, a llorosa cries out, and a shiver crawls up my arm.
Where did the coquís go?