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My father left his home behind and essentially rebirthed himself in New York City. I admire the strength and courage it took for him to manage that, but I still don’t knowwhyhe did it. Did his decision come from a desire to preserve memories of his life in Brazil, or turn his back on it? That question bothers me more than anything else. I want to know why he left...and why he never returned.
And then there were Rio’s unsolicited observations about me and my life. Much to my annoyance and chagrin, the truth of his words rang true the moment he said them. Since losing my father, I’ve become brittle. I frown too much. I cry too much. I work too much and drink too much. I never relax and I eat too little. I am cautious in my dealings with people and closed-off with everyone but my mom and a handful of close friends.
I’m scared of trying new things and tasting new dishes and dancing with strangers and singing at the top of my lungs. Heck, I wouldn’t even be here in Brazil if it hadn’t been my father’s dying wish.
I long for the sort of loving closeness that my parents shared, that the Schlemmers appear to share, but I think, maybe, I’m scared of inviting someone new into my life just to lose them.
I think I might be scared of being happy.
And I can’t shake the feeling that it’s all connected: like, in order for me to be as brave and strong as my dad was—asIwas when he was alive—I need to figure out who he was and why he left his homeland behind. I can’t see a way forward in my life until I understand the mysteries of his. And right now, I don’t know how to find those answers.
“Oh my gosh!”
“Wow!”
“Did you see it? It’s right over there!”
I’m jolted out of my brooding thoughts by the commotion around me. People twist and turn in their seats, raising cameras to their faces and pointing phones at the water. And then I see it: a cluster of bubbles on the surface of the dark water followed by the long, narrow pink and gray snout of an Amazon River dolphin!
My lips drop open in awe as Lucas stops rowing and reaches for a white plastic bucket under his seat. Pulling two small fish from its depths, he skims their bodies along the surface of the water beside the canoe and a moment later, a trio of noses peek up, mouths open for a treat. I can’t help giggling at their puppy-like antics. They edge each other out for snacks, sliding over each other’s backs and edging out each other for prime positioning.
Playful and friendly, they are utterly and completely charming.
“You try, Miss Yara?” asks Lucas, holding out a fish to me.
I take the tail between my fingers without thinking, leaning over the side of the canoe to place it between twin rows of brown teeth. I swear to God, the dolphin winks at me in thanks before sliding below the surface of the water.
I gasp and giggle, in love at first sight.
And that’s right about when I glance up at the other canoes to find Rio staring at me, his eyes wide, his smile wider. He nods at me in appreciation, and I can’t help winking back at him, just like my dolphin.
***
“Hi, Mom.”
“Yara!” she exclaims. “Wait a second, baby! Wait a second! Let me go inside so I can hear you. I’ve been gardening. Oh, it’s so good to be in the country again! When are you coming to visit?”
I chuckle softly, sitting on my freshly made bed and enjoying the warm breeze that blows a stray curl away from my sweaty forehead. After feeding the pink dolphins, we trekked through the jungle for almost two hours before returning to our canoes. I had the good fortune of seeing a king vulture and a three-toed sloth, but the white throated toucan proved elusive.
“I have no idea, Mom,” I say. “Maybe in the fall?”
“How’s Brazil?” she asks, out of breath. I hear footsteps across a hardwood floor. “Just let me pour a glass of iced tea and then I’m all yours!”
How’s Brazil?Well, that’s a loaded question if there ever was one.
“I fed a pink dolphin this morning.”
“Well, that’s amazing!”
“It was,” I say. “But Brazil is...different.”
“Hmm.” She swallows a big sip of tea. “Sounds like your jury’s out on whether or not you like it.”
I sigh, toeing off my boat shoes and lying back on my bed. “It’s not what I expected.”
“Whatdidyou expect, honey?”
“I don’t know. For lack of knowing anything different, I guess I thought I’d be on a small, American-style cruise ship. Eat delicious food, have some fruity drinks, get a tan, do some work, let go of dad’s ashes near Miraflores, and come home.”
