Dadwas the one that answered Mom's cell phone.
"Olá?"
Hewas not the one I wanted to talk to. He was the most likely to murderme and then kick me out. "Where's Mom? I need to talk to her." Iran my fingers through my hair and turned to face the window. Curtisstood an almost respectful distance behind me in an empty waitingroom we'd found on the third floor.
"Yourmother is sleeping."
"Canyou wake her up?" My voice was small and whiny. It was like I wassix again.
"She'shad a hard day. You can leave a message with me though." He wasn'treally listening. I could hear a voice in the background that soundedlike a sports commentator. Soccer, probably.
Ithought about hanging up and calling later, but I turned just enoughto see Curtis still there behind me with his arms folded. I lookedout at the cars on the street below, all the people caught up intheir own little emergencies. They were oblivious to the tsunamiheaded my way.
"It'sokay. I can talk to you." I lied.He didn't respond. I could hearcheering from his side of the call. I tried to start a conversation."Have you found the girl yet?"
"What?"
"Haveyou found her? The one you were looking for?" For seven years, I'dwondered how I would tell my parents if I ever had to and I still hadnothing. I leaned my forehead against the cool glass.
"Thegirl from the Tree People? No."
"Ithink I know where she is."
"Youdo?" He was listening now. "Where is she?"
Myheart was hammering and my stomach was churning. This was it. "She'shere in San Francisco."
Pause.Then Dad broke into a laugh, one of those belly laughs you do aftersomeone tells a good joke. "You are a joker now, huh? Do you needus to come home for something? We were going to visit my parentstomorrow."
Iscowled. "I'm serious, Dad. She's here. Do you even know her name?I do. It's Katavia and she's here in the ICU with pneumonia." Evenas I said them, the idea was unreal. She was vibrant and energetic.She was never sick, never fragile, but the image of her laying inthat hospital bed connected to machines wouldn't leave.
"Howcould she be there? How would she get out of Brazil?" He asked, butthe questions weren't accusations, but surprise.
"Maybeshe flew."
"Howdo you know it's her? What does she look like? We have some policesketches and Joao was able to pick her out of some old footage I had,but it's not much."
Shelooked like a dying bird. Like she'd been torn from the sky to lay inthat bed. "All she said was the name 'Peter Jeffries' and ouraddress," I said instead, but I could feel my blood pressurebuilding.
"PeterJeffries? How would she know my name?"
"Noteverything is about you, Dad!" It burst out of me like vomit andsplashed across the nearly empty room. "It's myname too. She was saying myname. She was looking for me."And she was. I had no idea why, but I knew it was true and I wantedto puke. "Where do you think I learned how to throw a spear or howto climb the thorn trees? It wasn't from you."
"Don'ttalk to me like that!"
"Whyshouldn't I? Where do you think I was going when I snuck out ofcamp?"
"Thatwaswhat you were doing when you snuck out. Meeting up with one of thetribe? Do you know what you've done? With all the space your mom andI gave you to explore and be your own person, you did the onething we asked you not to do."
"Space!It's called neglect, Dad. You ignored me for most of my life. I don'towe you anything."
"Iworked hard to put a roof over your head and food on the table--"
"Nastyrabbit food."
"--Igave you life--"
"Andthen wished you hadn't."
"MaybeI didn't then, but I do now. You ungrateful, American brat!"
"Thenstay in Brazil!" I hurled my phone at the wall, the piecesscattering all over the floor. Curtis didn't try to stop me as Ileft, heat billowing out around me like a bonfire.
Iwandered the halls again, but I was still trapped inside and ready toclaw at the doors until I found one that led to freedom. And then Iwas there at the ICU again. The double doors were locked and neededan I.D. Badge to get through, but I could see through the narrowwindow to the room on the corner with the curtains drawn. I wanted tokeep moving, but I stood there staring at the doors.
Lifeor death decisions about Katavia. Cami had said that. That was alwaysthe way with Katavia. Everything in her world was life or death.She'd saved my life when she found me that day. I was easy prey andnaive. Then her boyfriend had almost killed me. She taught me how tohunt and what to do if I were hunted. There was no soft, middleground with her.
Exceptwhen there was. Like that time when she had told me the story of theAnaconda snatching a child from the river bank and then pushed meinto the murky river, laughing the whole time. Or all the times wespent sitting under the Kapok tree talking. She even made me my firstspear and did a weird ceremony for me after my first kill. Watchingher shiny black hair bounce and her dark eyes flash as she dancedaround the bonfire was the first time I realized how beautiful shewas.
Thenit was just over. In one day it had all washed away in the rain andit had been a big lie. Whywas dad complaining about leaving early when the expedition was aboutto leave anyway?
Iheard a beep and then the doors whirred, swinging wide.
"CanI help you?" he asked. He was older, with a white coat and a handfull of folders.
"Oh,hey Peter!" called Yolanda as she came out from behind the deskdown the hall. "This is Doctor Wellington. I was just going to tryto call you."
Dr.Wellington stuck out a hand. "So you know our Jane Doe. Katavia."
Ikept my hands in my pockets.
"Right."He withdrew his hand. "I understand this might be hard for you."
"I'mfine," I growled.
"Let'sfind somewhere to talk."
Heled me into an empty patient room and left the curtains open so thenurses could pretend not to watch us from the desk. He sat in one ofthe chairs at the side of the empty bed and motioned me to the other.I leaned against the glass wall again.
Dr.Wellington cleared his throat. "I'm very sorry about your friend."
Istared at him.
Ifhe was waiting for a response, he didn't show it. Opening a folder,he pulled a pen out of his pocket and stared down at the sheet. "Cami said she was from the Amazon and I was hoping you could giveme Katavia's history. Does she have a history of asthma or breathingproblems?"
Ishook my head. She could beat the pants off me in a race up untilthat last summer and she was never winded. Well, almost never.
"Illnessesor injuries?" He didn't even look up at me as he wrote.
"Shefell out of a tree once." I blinked as I said them. She'd only toldme about it later when I'd bumped into her and she'd winced. Itprobably wasn't the first time she'd fallen from one. Her people werecalled the tree people for a reason. Anyone who spent that much timein a tree had to fall sometimes.
Henodded. "We did some x-rays and it looked like she'd had somecracked ribs a few years ago."
Thatwould explain it. I turned to watch the nurses at the desk. Yolandawas busy at the computer and the other one, Liz, was organizing achart. They could have been relaxing in any office, not just anI.C.U.
"Drugor alcohol abuse?"
Notdrugs or alcohol that we would recognize. Her tribe has some weirddrops they put in their eyes before hunting that were crazy and thisweird alcoholic drink for parties and councils and welcomingvisitors. I think Katavia had tried them a few times, though shewasn't really supposed to until she was considered an adult. "No."
"Whatabout a history of domestic violence?"
Ialmost choked on that one. "Why?"
"Shehas the remains of many bruises in the late stages of healing. By ourbest guess, they are about two and a half weeks old and a badlysprained ankle from about two weeks ago. Does her tribe have ahistory of violence?"
Hertribe was brutal, but it usually involved sharp weapons. It couldhave been Tocoi because he seemed like that kind of a guy to me.
Twomemories surfaced. One of Carmen cussing into her cell phone aboutthe guy, the son of a powerful politician, who hád been beaten up bysomeone she thought was an intended victim. The other from somethingmy mom had said about their search.
"Theythink she attacked a politician's son....The police are looking forher."
Iwasn't sure, so I shook my head. "Her tribe is always fighting withthe other tribes."
Dr.Wellington nodded as he scribbled a note. He looked up at me, closingthe folder. After a pause where he looked at me and I looked anywhereelse, he said, "I think you should know that her condition is veryserious, especially for someone young and in good health. If hertribe has been as isolated as you say, this is probably because shehas no natural immunity to our diseases. I'm going to consult with animmunologist, but until then you will need to wear a protective suitand mask when you visit. I'll tell the nurses to get one for you."
Thatwas assuming I wanted to visit her, which I didn't.
Dr.Wellington left me there, leaning against the glass wall. A fewminutes later, Yolanda appeared with a paper suit and mask.
"Youcan change in the bathroom right there," she said, nodding towardthe bathroom in the corner of the room. Then she left me alone too.
Ididn't want to see Katavia. I didn't. Memories bombarded me. Each onemade my stomach churn and I wondered if it was possible for blood toactually boil. It was like remembering a past life before video gamesand phones had been invented. My dad called me a weenie on my firsttrek into the forest. I had stretched my legs out, placing my feetexactly where his had fallen to match his long strides. Kataviashowing me how to hold a spear, her hand over mine. Catching fishwith a hand-woven net. Watching iguanas climb the trees. Kataviatalking about Macaws.
"Theymate for life," she'd said, her face pointed upward at the group ofvivid blue birds calling from the treetops. "Once they find theright mate, they stay together, finding food and flying in pairs."As if to emphasize her point, one pair took off just then anddisappeared into the sky beyond the canopy of leaves. My eyes hadrested on her then and I'd thought I knew why they would mate forlife.
She'dcalled out then in another one of her bird sounds. She could mimicthe sounds of lots of the animals, but she was the best at the birds.
"I'mstill working on that one," she'd said, with a crooked grin.
Ilooked down. I had dressed in the jumpsuit without realizing it and Iwas shaking, the mask dangling from my fingers. I walked out of theroom and down the hall to Katavia's door.
Therewere so many things I'd wanted to go back and tell her in those daysafter Tocoi stabbed me. Sitting in a hospital bed had given ampleopportunity for those things to fester. With the combined powers ofanger and painkillers, I had come up with some good ones. I didn'tremember any of them now.
Mytongue felt like tree bark and my skin itched under the suit as thedoor swung open under my touch.
"Don'tforget the mask," said Yolanda from the desk behind me.
Yes.A mask. I slipped it over my face and walked in.
Shewas still there under the tubes. A big, ribbed tube emerged from hermouth and snaked into the wall. It was taped in place, as were thei.v.s coming from her arm and other wires I didn't follow. A dullbeeping announced her heart rate.
Therich brown of her skin was an ashen gray in the dim lights and shewas so still.
"Dr.Wellington has left orders to reduce her sedatives," said Yolandabehind me.
Ijumped. I hadn't heard her come in.
"Hethinks that if you can translate for us and help her calm down, wecan let her be awake, but she probably won't wake up for a fewhours."
MaybeI nodded or something because she checked Katavia's vitals and leftwithout saying anythng else. The beeping heart monitor clashed withthe rapid percussion of my own heartbeat. It was pulsing in myfingertips and throbbing in my ears. As much as I didn't want to bethere, I couldn't leave.
SoI sat in a chair and lowered my head to my hands.