These few lines swirled around in her head for several days. She could not stop thinking about the sparkling green eyes, the black hair, and the muscular body of the man she had thought she wanted. Soon, she convinced herself that this could mean something, that her insolence in the casino had made him realize that they could share a future together.
This lasted for two weeks, but she could not manage a third. She needed to see him and hear his voice. She thought of different ways to meet him, but each felt wrong: another dinner in her house would awaken her mother’s suspicions; she was not sure if Jacobo would accept an invitation to go to the cinema or for a meal or drink, and she did not want to risk a refusal; and resorting to another group outing at the casino did not seem a good idea after her father’s outburst, which was probably still being gossiped about. That was the worst thing about Santa Isabel: in a city so small, it took weeks for a little bit of news to fade.
Julia had a sudden harebrained idea: She would go and see him on the plantation one night after dinner. She had been there twice with her father and remembered the main house perfectly. She would make up some excuse and sneak into Jacobo’s room, where they could talk alone and maybe . . . She bit her bottom lip, caught up in the excitement of her scheme. If anyone were to catch her entering the bedroom passage, she could always say she had a message for Antón from her father. Nobody would blink!
She chose Thursday as the perfect day to carry out her plan. On Thursdays, her parents played cards with the neighbors, so it was the day Julia used the car to go to the cinema; there was no reason why Jacobo shouldn’t be in Sampaka then.
That night after dinner, Julia dressed as usual so as not to raise suspicion, although she did take some time to make sure her makeup was perfect. When she got in front of the wheel of her father’s red-and-cream Vauxhall Velox, she undid the two top buttons of her pink flowery dress with elbow-length sleeves, and she also changed her pale lipstick to something more vibrant. Her heart was beating so fast that she could feel it despite the throb of the engine.
She quickly left the city lights behind and entered a dark stretch of road. The headlights barely lit up a few meters ahead. A shiver of fear went through her body. She could sense the life that flowed through the jungle’s veins at night. When passing through the village of Zaragoza, the weak flames from the fires in the flimsy houses cast shadows through the unglazed windows. Julia wished she had picked a night with a full moon. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the palm trees at the entrance to Sampaka appear and disappear like ghosts. When a white-haired man carrying a small lantern raised his hand to get her to stop, her heart skipped a beat. The man approached the window, surprised when he saw a lone white female at the wheel.
“Good evening, mis,” greeted Yeremías. “Can I help you?”
“I have a message for Massa Antón.” She had practiced the phrase so often it came out naturally. “Is it always this dark?”
“We have had a problem with the electricity. I don’t know how long it will take to fix it.” Yeremías pointed to a place. “You should park a little before the house. The Nigerians have filled the main yard—”
“Okay, fine.” She nodded, wanting to hurry. “Thank you.”
Julia drove the car on until she was suddenly surrounded by a mass of men dancing with machetes in their hands. Some of them held up kerosene lamps, making the whites of their eyes pop in the darkness when they bent down to peer at the strange driver. Julia calculated that if she left the car there, she would have to walk fifty meters through the crowd to the steps of the colonial house. Another option was to stay in the car or beep the horn like a lunatic, turn around, and leave. She took a deep breath, panicked, though the men did not appear violent. They looked at her for a second and then continued on their way. She decided to get out of the car. With trembling legs, she walked quickly, hearing comments with words she did not understand, but their tone was clear. Dozens of naked chests and muscular arms surrounded her as a cold sweat covered her body, and her vision grew cloudy. When she got to the bottom of the steps and bumped into someone she knew, she was ready to faint.
“Julia! In God’s name! What are you doing here at this hour?”
She never knew that a voice could sound so comforting. She looked up. “It’s not that late, Manuel. I’m here to give a message to Antón from my father.”
“And couldn’t you have sent one of the boys?”
“They weren’t at home,” she lied, and realized she was blushing, “so I came on the way to the cinema.”
“That’s some detour!”
Now with Manuel, Julia dared to look back at the men in the yard.
“Can you tell me what’s going on?”
“The laborers have organized a massive hunt for jungle rats.”
“Hunting gronbífs? In the dark?”
“That way they will catch more. If they don’t exterminate them now, the rats will reproduce too much and damage the new crop. Afterward, they hold parties and eat them.”
“And the whites participate?”
“I don’t, although I admit I’m curious. The other employees and foremen will do the rounds to make sure there are no problems.”
Julia did not know whether to laugh or cry. Of all the possible setbacks, it had never crossed her mind that rodents would spoil her plans.
“Would you like to have a look?” asked Manuel. “The jungle is full of mysteries at night.”
Before Julia could answer, she was interrupted by Jacobo’s voice as he came down the stairs with Kilian, Mateo, Marcial, and Gregorio.
“What are you doing here?”
Julia bit her lip hard as she came up with another lie to get her out of this mess. She held on to Manuel’s arm, and as the heat rose in her cheeks, she replied, “Manuel invited me to come and see the hunt. I was delighted to accept.”
Manuel gave her a confused look, but something in her eyes led him not to say anything. They let them pass, then waited until the groups divided into areas and set off. Manuel asked her to come with him to one of the storerooms to get an oil lamp and suggested that they stay at the back of the brigade, in the cocoa trees nearest the plantation. Only whispers and the occasional sharp strike of a machete could be heard. Apart from the suffocating vegetation and the disturbing sensation that millions of insects were running under her feet, the hunt itself was not at all exciting.
“I feel like somebody is watching us,” whispered Julia, rubbing her arms.
“That always happens in the jungle. If you’d like, we can go and have a coffee in the dining room and wait until they come back with their trophies.”
Julia gratefully nodded. On the way, they talked happily, as if they had known each other for years.
The sound of drums brought them back to the plantation.