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She’s barely made a sound since birth, and I know it concerns him. She has suckled which is a positive sign, although I’m aware my milk won’t come in for a few more days.
For the rest of the journey, I settle back with Rose in my arms and enjoy the view of the jungle caging us on the river as we slowly leave the towering tepuis behind us.
* * *
Sitting aboard the small aircraft, I’m more afraid of being up here in the clouds than in the green wilderness below us. Every turbulent bump has me clinging to Rose.
For the short time we were in Canaima, I wasn’t allowed to hug Victor or Asoo. Samuel’s concern is now on Rose’s immunity, and we both need to keep our distance from people. I thanked them for all they did for me and hoped to see them soon.
My rear then leaves the seat, and I let out a little scream.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say quickly. It’s a short flight, and I’m counting the minutes until we’re back on the ground.
The small Cessna aircraft touches down, and no sooner are we inside the terminal than Samuel is on his cell, pacing the floor. I remain on a chair nursing Rose with our luggage by my feet. I told him I didn’t need my entire case considering we’d only be gone a week, but he told me to bring it for extra packages like diapers and clothing for Rose because his case is small and barely the size of an overnight bag.
Rose pulls a face as though she’s unsettled. I don’t have a maternity dress and can’t breastfeed in public when I’m unsure of the rules or what society accepts here.
“Samuel,” I say loud enough to get his attention. He stops pacing and stares at me. “I need to feed Rose. Where should I go?”
He speaks quickly in Spanish and ends the call. “We’ll go to a feeding room.” He slings his case over his shoulder, then wheels my bag, leading us along a corridor until a baby on a sign indicates we’re heading in the right direction. Inside, there’s a cubicle, and he locks the door.
“Wait.” He pulls antibacterial wipes from his bag and wipes down the vinyl chair and armrests before we sit. The antibacterial wipes are one of many items he ordered and had Asoo store in Canaima. He assists me in pulling my arm out of my dress so I can feed Rose. He waits until I’m feeding before he speaks. “We have a change of plans. We’re heading back to Georgetown in Guyana. You’ll need your passport. Dr. Vásquez has verified our passports with the authorities and that Rose is ours. We have a private flight booked in an hour.”
“A private flight?”
“There are risks flying with a newborn, and many airlines forbid it. I’m transferring money to a company I have worked with over the years so we can get there hassle-free.”
“Hassle-free.” I roll my eyes.
He ignores me and continues listing the items we need to purchase. “If Rose requires formula milk, we’ll need a bottle sterilizer as well.”
“She’s feeding from me,” I state.
“Your milk hasn’t come in. You’re thinner, and your diet has been lacking. I’m thinking of Rose and whether she’ll need to be topped up with formula milk.”
“My God, stop. You’re worrying unnecessarily.”
His brow pulls tighter. “We have a few days to organize everything. I can do most of it while you’re in the hospital.”
“Wait. I only need tests. I shouldn’t have to stay. I could come back to the hotel with you.”
“I’ll be staying at the hospital with you since I’m paying extra insurance.”
My shoulders slump. Here I am telling him to stop worrying, yet I’m a burden with hospitalization in a foreign country. “I’m sorry. I’m sure my medical insurance will cover it.”
“We’re not claiming your insurance. It’s easier for me to pay and get the best service, and besides, I have contacts.”
I release a sigh.
Life in Ulara was simple.
Everyone did what they had to and got on with business working the fields and cooking the meals. Everyone ate what they needed, and the hunt was merely for meat once a month—maybe even less. Money didn’t guarantee a better service or divide social classes.
Everyone had a role.
Everyone contributed.
