Page 11

VLAD

I t's taken me three decades to learn what heartache is.

And it fucking hurts!

Considering my pain receptors are ninety percent muted, that pain had resounded in my entire body. How I'd not succumbed under its weight I do not know.

"What could have changed for the mighty Supay to ask for help?" he jokes.

"Stop calling me that. I'm no demon," I fire back, a smile on my face.

"Debatable." He shrugs. "You still have not answered my question."

"I finally found something to live for," I say, avoiding more questions on the subject.

The night upon us, I try to not mind the mosquitos as they keep on attacking me. Vanya's been quiet all day, almost as if she's both excited and apprehensive at the same time.

"What if I disappear?" she asks, head on her hands as she stares me in the eyes from her small makeshift bed in front of me.

"You weren't complaining with Sisi," I whisper, since she'd never said anything about how Sisi's presence seemed to undermine her own.

"But at least then I knew you had her. Now…" She trails off, looking tired and weary.

"Go to sleep, man!" Joaquin's voice rings out, and I sigh, watching as Vanya's form settles down into the ground, like fine dust, her eyes closed, her body gone in seconds.

And I'm finally able to sleep.

The next couple of days are spent wading through the jungle and avoiding close encounters with some dangerous animals.

"We should arrive there at sundown," Joaquin mentions when we stop for a snack.

Unaccustomed with too much sun, I'm getting more tired than usual, so that news is music to my ears.

"Perfect," I reply, popping a piece of fruit into my mouth.

Out of nowhere, a small monkey jumps on my shoulder, her tiny hands reaching for the food. Its brown-reddish fur glints in the light, its huge tail hanging over my back as it steals my food.

"Titi monkey," Joaquin points out, smiling at the monkey's antics. "The mate shouldn't be far off," he says and right on time, another monkey appears, carrying its young on its back.

"So cute," Vanya gushes, trying to wave her hand at the monkey currently residing on my back.

Joaquin nods. "They're one of the few monkey species that are monogamous," he explains, going into detail about the monkey population of Peru.

"Vlad, look!" Vanya yells when the monkey jumps off my back, following its mate as they take their place on a tree. Their tails are hanging down, slowly moving toward each other until they become entwined.

"It's called tail twining," Joaquin notes, and Vanya can't stop running around, marveling at how cute the monkeys are. "It's an affectionate gesture for them," he explains, Vanya's eyes going wide.

"It's a sign, Vlad! It's a sign." She comes rushing back to me, her arms holding tightly onto me. "It's a sign," she continues, almost out of breath.

"What sign?" I ask, ignoring Joaquin's odd stare.

She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. In the blink of an eye she's gone, an unusual screech sounding in the forest.

"Shit!" Joaquin curse. "We need to move," he starts packing his stuff, urging me to do the same.

"Why?" I frown, confused at the hurry.

"We need to reach El viejo before sundown," he says cryptically.

Seeing to my own stuff, I place the backpack on my shoulders and I follow him.

We do in fact reach the designed spot just as the sun leaves the sky. A couple of connected cabins in the middle of nowhere, El viejo' s dwellings are nothing much — not that I expected much, anyway.

One step into the enclosure, and a man in a long robe exits one of the cabins, his eyes narrowed as he takes us in.

" Abuelo ," Joaquin addresses him, lowering his head in a sign of respect.

The man barely pays him attention as he walks forward, his movements brisk for someone his age.

Stopping in front of me, he raises his head to look me in the eye.

" Te estaba esperando," he states, looking me up and down before closing his eyes and breathing in the air around.

Moving around in a circle, he starts chanting something, his voice low.

" Muévense, siempre muevanse ," he intones, the wind howling strongly as if reacting to his voice.

"Come," he eventually tells us, inviting us into his home.

"What are you seeking here, stranger?" El viejo turns to me, and for a moment I feel like his eyes can see right through me.

"What everyone else does.” I smile. “To have my curiosity assuaged."

"Ah, a non-believer. I see." He nods to himself.

"I told him he wouldn't be well received because he doesn't believe," Joaquin interjects.

"He does not believe yet he is here. There is always a reason," he says, moving around the small space and offering us some freshly brewed tea.

"Tell me, stranger. What plagues you?"

He sits us on the floor, settling next to us and completing a circle of three.

"I have some episodes," I tentatively start, slowly recounting my issue. I may not believe in this, but the mere possibility that it might work, should it just be a fluke, pushes me forward.

I need her.

Sisi is my only impetus for moving forward, even when the entire process is so antithetic to my core beliefs.

"I see," El viejo responds, studying me, his shrewd eyes taking in everything.

"You're desperate," he continues, and Joaquin chuckles.

"The mere fact he's here means he's more than desperate. You've heard of him, abuelo, el Supay ."

El viejo doesn't answer, still looking at me.

"You rule over death, when life is right in front of you," he says quietly. "I will help you, stranger. But not because you deserve it." He pins me down with his stare. "For you know you do not."

I nod at his words, the mere fact that I'd put my hand on Sisi making me the least worthy son of a bitch to ever exist.

"But because someone else deserves it. And through you, they will get what they deserve," he continues cryptically, and I frown.

"Don't." He puts a hand up when I'm about to speak.

"We may have just met, stranger, but I know you.

" He pauses, the air swirling around, tension mounting.

"You who profess no God and no religion but take science as your creed.

But now there is no science and here you are.

" His words stilted, his phrases are mysterious at best as he continues to bare my entire identity.

"I know your problem." His hand comes up to touch my forehead. "It's here and." The hand moves lower until it hovers over my heart. "Your head rules everything, your heart six feet under. You cannot understand when you've never tried to listen."

"My episodes must be rooted in my absent memories," I speak, looking him square in the eye. "And that is a matter of only this," I say as I point to my brain. "It's faulty, and I've heard that your potions may help with that."

El viejo stares at me for a second before he starts chuckling.

"Stranger," he smiles, "your problem is not a faulty mind. You cannot tell a dog to run while holding the leash," he responds, again his words haphazardly indirect. "Let go, and everything will go with it," he says, rising up.

"Go to sleep. All of you. Tomorrow we will start." He doesn't even spare us a glance as he leaves the cabin.

"He winked at me." Vanya comes closer to giddily whisper in my ear. I just roll my eyes at her.

But as I'm falling asleep, I can't help but continue contemplating his words, excitement simmering inside of me in spite of the way my logical brain is trying to pull the brakes on this.

The following day, cup in my hand, I see El viejo looking at me expectantly so I just chug it.

We'd spent the entire day in preparation for this one moment — the consumption of the ayahuasca.

El viejo had talked most of the day, trying to push me past my own biases and prejudices and to embrace the unknown.

Unfortunately, his words had gone on blind ears. And as I wait for the brew to take effect, I realize it's not working. Not one hour later, not even five. Not even the following day.

"You're not ready for the ayahuasca, stranger, and she does not deem to help you if you cannot help yourself."

"What do you mean?" I frown.

"Here." He pushes his finger toward my chest. "You're holding so tightly to your control, over your mind, over everything. You need to let it go," he says blankly.

"I can't," I reply honestly. I give up control when I lose my mind in my episodes, I'm not about to let that happen while I'm in control… while I can help it.

"But see, that's just your problem. You hold it all in so, so tightly.

Things want to come out, and they do the only way they can.

They seek cracks, and when they find them, they ambush them in order to get out.

Your episodes are merely representation of that which you don't want out," he tells me, his words stunning me.

Because I don't want things to get out.

"How?" The words are out of my mouth before I can stop myself. How could I do this when I know that once I open the gates, Hell will come crashing down.

"Slowly," he grunts, telling me to follow him.

Almost two months later, days filled with hard labor and meditation, and El viejo finally deems me ready to try ayahuasca again.

For the first time I'd put my own prejudices aside and I'd allowed him to guide me, from telling me what I should gather from the jungle, to building things with my own hands, and finally to blanking my mind and letting myself go—even if just for a minute.

We'd started slow, and he's tried to target the rage I have within me. Breathing exercises on top of daily sessions of meditations seem to have done wonders to my mood, and for the first time I'm optimistic about the future.

Joaquin too, had been quite shocked by the effort I'd put in. He left me here after a couple of days and has only recently returned, curious of my progress.

"You've done a lot in this short time, stranger," El viejo tells me, handing me my cup of freshly brewed ayahuasca .