But none of this is what made it stupid. It was stupid because it wouldn’t eat. Now, when I was a kid, I refused my fair share of meals. My mum, bless her heart, was always trying to get us to eat some random healthy shit. As a youngster, there were three things on the menu for me, or none: beans on toast, chips or fish fingers. Healthy enough, I felt. Yet somehow I never actually starved to death. The sloth seemed in very real danger of doing this, and its menu options were even narrower than mine. Sloth are never likely to take over the planet, for two reasons – because they only eat one kind of leaf which only grows in very specific places – and because they are so mind bogglingly stupid.
So Johnny put him in the first enclosure I’d helped build, where a mouse deer had lived until its release. It had a couple of trees growing in the middle of it and he had high hopes that the fresh greenery might encourage the creature’s appetite. Unsurprisingly it didn’t.
“Will he be okay in here?” I asked, concerned about the temperature at night.
“Yes,” said Johnny, “we can bring him in if it gets too cold.”
Fair enough. As we wandered back to the house Mark mentioned that there was no roof on that cage. A good point, I thought, but surely Johnny knew what he was doing.
A slightly more alarming discovery was made a little later. The sloth had abandoned its tree and decided to climb the equally inedible fence instead. It was sitting upside-down at the very top of the wire and had that ‘Where’d all the leaves go?’ sort of expression.
“Won’t it be able to escape from there?” Mark asked Johnny, who had also come to check out the situation.
“No,” he said. “Because they can only climb up! Not over and down. See? He can’t escape.” He was presumably basing his argument on the evidence that it hadn’t escaped already. Which, in fairness, it hadn’t. It still sounded a little dubious to me. But then, what did I know about sloth? I’m more of a lust and gluttony fan myself.
And speaking of gluttony, it was dinner time! Since Mel had joined us, meals had become something worthy of looking forward to. Several weeks back Toby had given up on trying to cook rice, and in a fit of frustration he’d bought an electric rice cooker. Seriously. And he had not been shy of using it. So Mel’s practised skill in the kitchen was more beautiful to behold than the swimsuit section of the Miss World competition. When she started dicing chicken it actually brought tears to my eyes. She was now officially in control of the grocery shopping.
So I was relaxing in a hammock, savouring the anticipation of a meal well earned, when Johnny strode up fast, his wrinkled brow reading ‘worried’.
“I need your help,” he said in a tense voice. “The sloth – he has escaped.”
Well shave my llama.
I almost didn’t expect that.
“But you said he couldn’t climb down the fence!” I pointed out. It sounded less like an emergency and more like the punch line of an old joke. ‘Runaway Sloth’! With its stumps for back legs and no neck, it looked like it had been put together backwards by accident and must have a truly abysmal top speed along the ground. I was having visions of running along in slow motion after the casually loping sloth with someone shouting “He’s very slowly getting away!”
“He can’t climb down the fence,” Johnny said indignantly.
“Then how has he escaped?”
“He climbed up my house.”
Ah. That was unexpected.
We gathered Mark from the kitchen and headed out for a look. I couldn’t believe it. Slow on the flat it maybe, but this critter had climbed three stories in the time it took us to decide what to have for dinner. He’d scooted around the fence to reach the phone line, slack-wired that to a drain pipe, then one tier after another had scaled the profusion of balconies and window ledges right to the pinnacle of Johnny’s house. From the edge of the roof above the top floor balcony he calmly surveyed the scene. I couldn’t help but think, if he didn’t keep a really strong grip, squashed sloth would be on the menu. Stupid creature.
“We have to stop him” Johnny said.
“Why?” I asked. I sure as hell wasn’t climbing up after him.
“Because he’s heading for the TV aerial!”
He didn’t seem to be headed anywhere to me – just kind of hanging out really. But then I spotted the TV aerial and understood the problem. It was thin, probably not too strong and about twenty feet tall. I guess it has to be when there’s a mountain between it and the transmitter.
“If he gets up that we’ll never get him down!” Johnny said. And it was true. Though after a few more days without leaves there was a better than average chance he’d fall down of his own accord.
We ran inside and upstairs, and upstairs again, up more stairs than was strictly necessary, to the very top floor. I’d never been here before – it was the boss’ private inner sanctum. More accurately it was his bedroom. Brenda, sprawled on the bed reading a magazine, was a bit disturbed as three of us ran past her with gloves and a net.
Out on the balcony we discovered the sloth was making a crawl for it. He was clinging to the roof and inching his way towards the TV mast. I jumped up on the balcony wall, trying hard not to think about the three and a half storey drop beneath my toes, and prepared to grab him.
“Careful!” called Johnny.
This froze me in my tracks. I knew very little of sloth. Muscles rippled beneath the stiff grey fur on its unnaturally long arms. What would it do? Bite? Claw? Wee on me? It looked so harmless, hanging there on the guttering. Carefully I pried its huge hooked claws off the roof. The sloth did nothing.
“It’s strong!” Johnny shouted again, followed by “Watch the back legs!”
I desperately swung the beast away from me in case the claws on those powerful back legs decided to rip into my stomach.
But the sloth couldn’t be arsed. It clearly wasn’t in the mood to eviscerate anything. With all the formidable strength at its disposal it held on to me.
Brenda was even more disturbed as I carried a large grey sloth, viciously holding on, back through her bedroom.
Back in its old cage the sloth eyed the piles of leaves with disinterest. Perhaps TV aerials is the only other thing sloth eat, and it was secretly thinking ‘Damn it! I was this close.’. We shall never know. At least he didn’t seem to hold it against me. Didn’t seem to do much at all, except hang there and not eat leaves.
The sloth left as quickly as it had arrived – not under its own power, in other words. It was taken to another centre, one deeper into the mountains that dealt mostly with baby animals. I hoped they would have more luck. As Johnny closed the door of the carrying basket on it, I wagged a finger. “Eat your greens!” I warned, in a passable imitation of my mother. The sloth said nothing, merely gazed calmly back at me. Friggin’ hippy.
Cause and Effect
The empty crate provided the perfect excuse. It was full of heavy glass beer bottles that badly needed returning. Actually they’d needed returning over a month ago – by now they had probably been declared MIA. No-one wanted to haul it all the way down to Tambillo, especially since Toby had drunk most of the beers before he left. Even I, who regularly hiked up and down the mountain just to get an empanada, shied away from the immense effort involved.
Until now. Gloudina had mentioned she would like a night out in Quito – and she’d only mentioned it to me. Keeping a party secret from Emer and Marie was like trying smoke a crafty spliff whilst walking through Heathrow Airport. They could just smell it. So I didn’t believe I’d pulled it off until we were already halfway down the hill, swinging the crate of beer bottles between us. The perfect crime! Alas, it also meant I’d had to cancel my date with Lady, telling her I was staying home to look after some sick animals. Deceitful, I know. In my defence I’d like to say… Absolutely nothing! What could I say? It was blatantly deceitful. I never claimed to be perfect.
The thing is, my trips to Quito with Lady were still fraught with difficulty. We could chat, but we could never
fully open our hearts to one another without at least one of us consulting a dictionary. Every so often I longed for an easy night out, a joke filled party that required no explanation and no pantomime. This was my only chance. And also, there was the very slight possibility that Gloudina was about to make a declaration of undying love, rip off all her clothes and throw herself on top of me. Which would also be nice.
As we reached Tambillo, the potential for disaster waxed strong; we had to cross the square right outside Lady’s house to get to the grocery store. Luckily, it was dark by this time, and town would be deserted.
Or not.
People stood in a group on the steps of the church. Lots of them. All chatting merrily away to each other. We rounded the corner and I looked upon my ruin. The square was packed! The whole town had to be here. Everyone was talking loudly and laughing. Kids chased each other around the park in the centre of the square. The chip stand and empanada stand were set up and doing a roaring trade. What the hell was going on?
I noticed the huge wedge of light spilling from the open doors of the church. Of course! It was Saturday evening, and mass must have just finished. No wonder everyone was so happy – they had a whole week before they had to sit through another church service!
Once again God had taken a cosmic crap in my swimming pool. It was just like him to punish my attempted infidelity. After all, I was seriously coveting my neighbour’s ass. Still, there was nothing to do but stick to the plan. If Lady was in this crowd she would surely make her presence known to me. Then I’d have some fast talking to do – since whilst laying the groundwork for the grand night out with Gloudina, I might have accidentally given her the impression that I’d broken up with Lady…
The odds were on that I was going to get caught with my trousers down – and not in a good way. But there was nothing else for it. We plunged into the crowd, down into the park, back up the steps opposite Lady’s house and then swung smoothly round the corner into the grocers. Deposited the crate – and legged it. Success! Even if anyone had recognised us, there was no reason to suspect this was anything other than a perfectly innocent chore. Because it was perfectly innocent, damn it. I’d have to do something about that.
On the way out of Tambillo, I celebrated my victory by introducing Gloudina to the delights of an empanada (or two of them!). My addiction to the things was legendary. Over the past two months I must have single-handedly supported this woman’s way of life.
“You go for party?” The Empanada Woman asked, with a sly gleam in her eye.
“Me? Never!” I said, and winked.
The party was a fairly standard affair. It involved heavy drinking in my favourite backpackers hostel, The Centro Del Mundo. They had regular nights (of which this was one) where they thanked their guests by placing a twelve-litre stock pot full of Cuba Libre on the table in the lounge – free drinks all night! When it ran out, assuming there were still people capable of drinking more, everyone chipped in a couple of bucks and for $20 we bought another one!
Suffice to say that whilst there was much merriment and a lot of deep, meaningful conversation, there was never any chance of intimacy. I took Gloudina on a whirlwind tour of the local bars, dancing here and there, even dancing on the bar in one tiny club. We had a great time, and eventually staggered back to the hostel and passed out in separate beds, in separate rooms. Damn it.
We struggled back to the refuge late the next day, taking the time to hike back up the mountain as Gloudina had only ever caught a taxi to the top. We chatted as we went, about life and the future. Gloudina, a South African living in Barcelona, was coming to the realisation that she wanted to devote her life to working with these animals. She was seriously considering not going home. I was having ideas of my own – largely inspired by Toby. He wanted me to help him establish a release centre of our own in the Amazon, to take all the animals from Santa Martha and rehabilitate them. We’d talked about it a lot before he left for England. Part of me was keen on that, but part of me wanted to emulate his life to date; one of the reasons Toby was so confident and self assured was that he had travelled the world for years, diving, climbing and exploring. If possible, it sounded even more fun than living full-time in the jungle. And throughout it all – the sharing, the soul-searching – I still couldn’t figure out whether Gloudina was interested in me. She was harder to read than a Russian–Chinese dictionary.
By the time we arrived back at the refuge our keenness for hiking had borne mixed fruit. As expected we’d accidentally-on-purpose missed a half-day of hard cage cleaning. Unfortunately we’d also missed a quick visit by Leonardo, during which he’d euthanized the Ocelot with HIV.
I felt lousy as I made my way to Lady’s house that night. Whichever way I looked at it, I’d made some bad decisions recently and they’d had consequences. Messing around in Quito had cost me the chance to save a life; it was my fault, plain and simple. I’d also treated Lady shabbily, putting her off for a night and then sneaking around behind her back. Trotting up the short flight of steps outside her house, I resolved to make it up to her at least, however I could.
Lady answered the door. She gave me a weak kind of a smile and stepped back to let me in. I hugged her tightly for a few seconds before I noticed that it was a very one-sided hug. She didn’t seem to be into it. Strange. “Are you okay?” I asked as I released her.
“Yes,” she said, and then, “are you going to break up with me?”
WHAT??? This completely blind-sided me. Why would she think that? Was it something I’d said? Something I hadn’t said? Something I should have said? With women sometimes it’s hard to know.
“Um, no…” I managed. “Why… why do you think that?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “You didn’t want to go out with me…”
“I know, I’m so sorry,” I interrupted. “We’ve all been working really hard. I was so tired…” Even to my own ears it sounded like a lame-assed excuse. Probably because it was.
“And then, you were with that other girl…”
Oh, shit.
“…when you came into town last night.”
Triple shit.
“I think you like this girl more than me.”
Bollocks!
“What girl?” It was the best I could do. My head was spinning.
“You came into town last night, with another girl from Santa Martha. With blond hair.”
Bugger, bugger, bugger, shit, tits, bollocks. Arse. This was going to take some explaining. I hoped lying in Spanish was easier than telling the truth. “Oh!” I began, “that girl! Yes, she’s a volunteer. We all came to town. We needed some medicines for the animals.” Good story!
“No,” Lady insisted, “there was just you two. I think you went to Quito.”
How the hell did she know that? I ran over the memories in my head. Sure, there had been plenty of people around, but I was sure she wasn’t there. I’d been so paranoid I’d developed eyes on all sides of my head.
I abandoned my story because it was crap. “Listen,” I tried instead, “that girl is just a friend.” True. “She’s another volunteer.” True. “I don’t like her that way!” Which was slightly less true. In fact it was a big fat wriggling lie.
But it worked!
“You don’t like her?”
“She’s just a friend. I like you.”
“Really? You still want me?”
Man, did I feel like an arsehole. “Yes, Lady, of course! I still want you.”
All of a sudden she looked so happy my heart skipped a beat. Damn she was beautiful! I’d almost forgotten. I had the sudden urge to beat myself about the face with a bat, on which the words ‘Don’t be such a tosser’ were inscribed.
My fears began to dissolve as she wrapped her arms around me. I licked my dry lips and the creases on my forehead smoothed. My buttocks unclenched. I began to breathe normally again. It had been a very, very close call.
She gave me a long kiss, and I returned the favour.
&nb
sp; And all the while the same thought ran through my mind over and over – I can’t believe she saw me!
After a while we just stood and looked at each other. Eventually Lady broke the silence. “So. What do you want to do?”
I had no ideas. I was still recovering from shock.
Lady, though, was deep in thought. Suddenly she looked up at me with a new sparkle in her eye. “Why don’t we go to a spa?” She suggested.
“A what?” I asked, not having progressed quite that far on my vocabulary. Tools and building materials were now second nature, but leisure activities lay a little beyond my current experience.
Well, I’d figured out ‘bed’, which had been sufficient so far… She explained in words of one syllable, which didn’t necessarily help as they still weren’t the names of tools or building materials. Eventually she made me understand. Kind of. “Ah! A spa!” I said it to make her feel better. I still didn’t know where we were going, but I didn’t really care. I was just relieved we were going.
“Is it near here?” I asked.
“Um… I’m not sure. There might be one in the next town.”
Hell, I didn’t even know there was a next town!
“I know!” she exclaimed, clearly pleased with herself. “I’ll ask my mother. She’ll know.”
It sounded like a plan. Lady led the way out of the house and onto the road. We crossed the square in the direction of the primary school. Maybe her mother worked there? It occurred to me I’d never actually bothered to ask. She led me towards the road leading back to the highway, past the corner where the Empanada Woman stood.
Actually not past the corner. In fact she stopped right there next to the empanada stand. The Empanada Woman gave me her usual friendly “Hola!” over her cart, then turned her gaze on Lady. “Si?” She enquired.
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