Free The Sick Horror at The Lost and Found by Heidi King Page A

he
was, in the words of the CEO of the hydroelectric company, “a
squatter that we tolerate.” Andrew had a cup of coffee -- world
class. Then he had some more wine -- wild blackberry, cashew fruit,
pineapple… a little sour, with bite reminiscent of Don Cune’s wit,
wry but merry.
    The two of them became fast friends.
And it occurred to Andrew that perhaps the best way to help our
business was by finding a way to help Don Cune.
    Later, over a couple of
beers back at the Lost and Found, Andrew and I decided, screw it!
Screw the dam, screw the government. Dale
pues , we defied the law and opened.
Immediately we started to run tours to Cune’s farm, adding a farm
to table lunch, fresh sugar cane juice, coffee and wine with a
bite. Neighbors partnered with us to run horseback tours, jungle
treks, birding and hot springs tours. Defying all expectations, the
Ministry of Environment left as alone. The mayor of the district
noticed what we were doing and supported us, even if it was mainly
because he wanted to tax us. The Ministry of Tourism got on board.
Despite countless hours of headaches, the legal fees and even more
impact studies, we opened and take pride when we extend our middle
finger toward the dam, knowing we employ three times as many locals
as they do. Great rewards come from great challenges.
    There is still unfinished work. The
community needs more English to participate more fully with
opportunities our tourists bring. But now I have a To Do list and I
have a place to be. I am part of the community.
    A part of me wasn’t sure, after all
this work, that I was really ready to lease it out to Steve.
Meeting him didn’t help. Steve was crass and sexist who made jokes
at the expense of others. I had two days to make up my mind before
my flight back to Canada. Andrew was coming a week later, so I had
a two day window to veto the whole operation.
    In a way it was María who helped me
make up my mind. Later in the evening, I was paired with her for
our nightly foosball tournament, and she warmed up to me despite my
dumb elevator joke. I thought we were getting on well, but I think
she just has that way with guys -- she makes you feel like she is
interested in your stories. When she hangs off the loft in the bar,
showing you her tattoos, you think that this is for you and you
alone.
    But it wasn’t. I had a feeling she was
with Matt, and I saw him from the corner of my eye almost every
time I gave María a high-five after a goal and every time I gave
her a hug after a win. It wasn’t that he shot me dirty jealous
looks or that he was insecure. It was that I saw him in me,
following this girl.
    Later that same night, Greg from the
Bambu hostel brought out his guitar and we sat around the campfire
as he played. I sat next to Matt. It turned out we had a lot in
common. He was an ESL teacher like I had been. He admitted that
Steve wanted him to quit his job in Panama City, but it was really
because of María that he was considering quitting and helping to
manage The Lost and Found.
    I saw him at the same
crossroads where I found myself many years before at the airport in
Istanbul, wondering if following the girl was the right thing to
do. Wondering which path might lead to regret. I saw him wanting
community and wanting family. Matt and I walked back to the main
area to grab some beers for our friends by the fire. I took the
moment to tell him the truth. “Steve is a funny guy,” I said. “But
I don’t know if I want to leave my hostel with him. I need to know
if you are in too.” Matt paused and looked back toward the fire.
“Fuck it,” he said. “I’m in.” Dale
pues .
    When we went down to the beer fridge,
I opened the dresser next to the window. “María looks cold,” I
said. I tossed it to him – the red jacket.
    I shook everyone’s hands goodbye the
next day. I saw the reflection in Matt’s eyes, and I saw me. I saw
María, mesmerizingly beautiful; wearing the jacket that I knew
would never make it to