“I’m used to shaking out a duvet and walking away.” I smile with limited effort.
“You’ll get used to it.” He ushers me to the door, stops and fastens the remaining buttons on my shirt, closing it around my throat. The gentle touch makes me shrink. “It’s better if you keep covered.”
“Better for who?”
“For you.” The corners of his eyes crease when his lips press to a firm line. “Tell me about Scotland.” He seamlessly switches the topic. “I’ve only ever lived in Manaus and here in the oasis.”
I sigh, missing the seaside whip of icy air and fishermen off-loading fresh sea trout from their trawlers. “It has an oceanic climate which makes it cold ninety percent of the time, with plenty of rainfall.”
Flickering lanterns guide us along the pathways, their yellow hue fading as darkness dissolves. I love how eco-friendly they are. However, I doubt they were an intentional touch by the egotistical creator of such a glorious trap.
Everything smells fresher in the earlier hours, while the sun prepares to burnish the opposite side of the world to my homeland.
“Why do you work here?”
“Why would I not? I get paid triple what most men my age earn.”
“What’s the point if you never hang out with your friends or look after your family?”
“I do see them.”
“How?”
“It’s all about trust. I work hard, follow through on my word, and my employer grants home leave.”
“He lets you out of the oasis?”
“He does.”
The first light of day spills tangerine columns on solar panels fixed to a rustic thatched roof shaped like a pyramid, nestled on top of a cabana sitting majestically on stilts. An amber wraparound deck boasts a panoramic view with twinkling lanterns.
Drifting indoors behind Sal, I gaze up at industrial steel beams and cultivated bamboo. Timber framed windows welcome shades of foliage from light to forest green. A natural reminder of the acres holding me hostage.
Workers occupy dining tables and relax in an informal lounge. A sugary coffee aroma carries through airy space. The buffet station flanking the far side offers an abundance of serving plates decorated with tropical fruits, nuts, and leaf-wrapped parcels.
Sal hands me a plate and winks. “Stretch or starve.”
Jovial conversations take place around us. These men aren’t here against their will. They happily sip hot drinks, filling up for a day of paid labor.
Paid.Whereas I owe a debt of gratitude. Pompous asshole. Isn’t it human nature to save a soul in distress without an expectation of reward or repayment? Sal is so blinded by money that he can’t see the devil in disguise.
I tug down the peak of my cap, thankful for the baggy uniform that helps me blend into the crowd. With so much food to choose from, I pick mashed avocado on sourdough, sprinkled in pepper. Sal pours two mugs of coffee and picks a table by the window.
It should be intimidating sitting amidst a throng of strapping men who work for the man holding me hostage. Yet, they don’t stare at me or point fingers or acknowledge my presence at all. It’s like I’ve become insignificant. Unseen.
“The guys seem content to be here.” It’s been weeks since I’ve savored a warm drink. The soothing liquid travels into my empty stomach.
“Yeah. They’re a hardworking bunch.” Sal wrinkles his nose. “The maintenance crew works the hardest.”
“And they enjoy working for a man like him?” The corner of my mouth drifts up.
“Of course they do.” He sighs, sinking his teeth into a plantain surprise. “If it helps, I understand why you’re angry,” he replies, covering his mouth as he chews. “I’d hate to be in your shoes. Away from my family. I get that. But you’re the one who came here. He didn’t snatch you from a crowd or lure you here under false pretenses. You crossed over the boundary. You stepped on his land and saw things you weren’t supposed to see.” He shrugs his shoulders as if that statement was perfectly rational and justifies my entrapment. “He could’ve left you for dead out there.”
“I was ill. Delirious,” I protest. “I didn’t notice any boundary lines along the river. What man owns the damn rainforest.” My fist slams down, rattling cutlery.
“He doesn’t trust interlopers who appear out of nowhere. You have to admit it yourself. It's very suspicious.” Sal dusts his palms together. “Anyway, I’m forbidden to talk about him, and I’d prefer to keep my job.”
To his employees, he's the respected authoritarian, the powerful king of his whimsical oasis. From where I’m sitting, he bribes men with money in exchange for silence. It doesn’t take a well-educated scientist to understand how he works. A blind woman could pick up flaws in this idyllic setup.
