Harpo

“SHH SHH SHH!”

The dogs began a collective effort to tear down the partition. The hinge was loosening. I leaped back into the middle of the empty unlit road which excited them even more. “HOLA, ALGUIEN ESTA?! POR FAVOR VENGAN!”

Before my echoes reached the orphanage, one shepherd was loose and running toward me at full speed. I stayed stone still.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!!”

I was never one for battle instinct. I just got used to the fact that I’d be dead quite soon, and that my last words would be cowardly imprecations.

But before the dog reached me, he fell. And before he fell, there was a gunshot. The dogs that stayed behind to cheer on their friend were silenced. The night was quiet again and the orphanage lights turned off. The sun was starting to come out.

I let my heart beat again. I was vaguely disappointed that I was still alive since I had so thoroughly prepared myself for the end of perception. The dog was still breathing on the ground and I wondered if anyone would take the time to save it.

“Chica!” said a voice from close behind me, “Are you a friend of the gringo?”
I turned around and noticed that I was standing in front of another open gate, and a particularly tall European-looking man was standing just behind it. If he was carrying a gun he was hiding it well.

Very embarrassed about my movie-like entrance I apologized like hell at first, “I am sorry! I apologize! I have such shame! Thank you! Thank you! Me salvaste!”

He silenced me politely with his hand, “It’s not important. I hate those fucking dogs.” He summoned me. “Come, that’s the girls’ side over there. The boys stay over here. Tyler is waking up now to meet you.”

I wondered what jokes Ty would make about the distinct gender divisions. I wondered what jokes I would make about my sudden appreciation of Ecuador’s lack of gun control. Within two hours the German shepherd was gone and I never asked what happened to it.

It’s a narcissistic habit to look through my adolescent journals, but I can’t help myself. Who was that creature who hated herself so much?

She was a girl with time on her hands. It wasn’t the wealth itself that made her harm her body on purpose. It wasn’t the reliable college funds that wrote her hypothetical suicide note drafts, obsessed about weight, and loved nothing but the family canine. It was all those drawling hours spent with nothing else to do but think. Think about her own too chubby too pale too dark haired reflection. Think about the intricate details of every social encounter so she’d have fodder for gossip. Think about more and more reasons to feel bad including the neighbors’ godawful vinyl siding. Vinyl??

My point: at the end of the day Ecuador simply has no time or energy left to tolerate gays, starve their bodies, or groom their pets. She has far bigger fish to fry.