Boneca [Doll]

Chapter 20: Brotherly Love

Dusk descended upon the rainforest, bringing with it a reign of mosquitoes. Da Graça, Chaves, and the merry band of students convened in the village's center. They circled a campfire, like a bizarre ritual, armed with spirits that were their best friends for the night. Inebriated, they engaged in a symphony of laughter and stories, proudly earning the title of "drunkards."

But amidst this inebriated carnival, the solitary harbinger of sobriety, Luuk, made his escape toward the humble quarters assigned to the group. He longed for a shower, but the siren call of sibling conversation tugged at his heartstrings.

He tossed his rucksack onto the single bed, which appeared to have seen better days. As he reached for his phone, a quick reality check hit him: there were no bars of phone reception in this neck of the woods. It was the Amazon, after all, not a 5-star resort. In the spirit of "just in case," he attempted a call to his brother, resulting in a swift dose of disappointment that tasted like a bitter cocktail. The phone plopped onto the bed, and his clothes soon joined it, as if in a rebellion against his futile attempts.

With a turn of the creaking knob, he welcomed the shower's cascade and let it work its magic. The rivulets danced across his skin, and the water seemed to rejuvenate him. It was as if his skin cells, previously in a state of hibernation, now embraced the liquid like they were at a spa day. The bathroom, which could only be generously described as "painfully small," allowed him to lean forward enough to rest his hands on the once-white sink. The water crashed onto his nape, and he gazed at his reflection in the decidedly less-than-pristine mirror.

Apart from brief glimpses in reflective surfaces and a few ill-fated lakes, he hadn't really seen his face since he set foot in the rainforest. So, when he met his own reflection in the mirror, it was akin to a surprise selfie from an alternate universe. He blinked, and for a moment, he thought he was looking at his brother. It was like a cosmic joke.

His jaw was draped in a "two days too long" stubble, his face and arms were apparently working on their tan game, making a clear case for two distinct skin tones against his chest. Meanwhile, his hair chose this moment to cascade like a majestic waterfall down his shoulder, unveiling the tattoo of dragon's head on his right shoulder.

He stood under the invigorating waterfall for what felt like a good hour, mainly because he was trying to decide if his facial hair looked better as a beard or not. But the beard had to go. So, with an audience of shower tiles, he embarked on the treacherous mission of shaving in a space where his elbows could comfortably touch all four walls. Armed with a dull razor and the unquenchable desire to have smooth cheeks, he managed to transform into a clean-shaven adventurer. He emerged, wrapped in a towel stiffer than a board of directors, and proceeded to go through the ritual of donning clothes—a t-shirt and shorts were the weapons of choice.

Now, with his phone radiating hope, he decided to check his network provider to get the scoop on the signal. Buoyed by a glimmer of optimism, he FaceTimed Alex, only to have it go straight to voicemail. His heart performed an impromptu plummet, like a melodramatic actor in a soap opera. He took in a shaky breath and dialed his sister's number with a newfound resolve, only to be met with the soul-crushing silence of unrequited calls.

He tried again and again.

"Luuk?" His brother's voice, sounding like a mix between a malfunctioning radio and a vintage record player, arrived on the scene before his face did.

"Alex!" Tears blurred the video, turning his brother's face into an abstract art piece.

"Oh, baby brother. I've been waiting for your call." The gravelly voice crackled, as if it had decided to incorporate static as a new language. The video wasn't any better, resembling a pixelated Picasso.