At our destination, I found a jar of coconut oil in an incredibly overpriced market.Armed and ready for the apocalypse, I met my mother at the waiting area. She sized up Andrew, stone faced. She didn’t hug me. She led us to her car in short term parking. We put our things in the trunk, sat ourselves in the back seat, and she drove us to her house. Other than calling our names, she didn’t say a word. I was fine with silence. Andrew’s knee bounced. If only a semi-truck would crush us into bloody asphalt sealant, I wished.“Put your things in my room, Ingrid. Andrew you have the guest room.” She switched on lights, preceding us into her home. Mother sounded very well indeed. The moment Andrew and I separated, she locked me in her room and grabbed my hair. “What kind of fool do you think I am?”“Ow! Mother!”Angry but quiet, she accused. “I know you, bitch daughter. You had that look on your face.”“What look?”“Obedience.” She had taught me its fullness, after all. That quickly, my lie was. Kind of cool, I guess. Jake couldn't find it. Gary took over trying to describe where to look, while Saralinda fussed beside them."It just hopped right a bit. Do you see it, Jake?" Oh, there it is," Jake whispered, finally getting a bead on it. "Wow, it is cool. What's it called again?" Giant Honeyeater," said Gary, patiently. "They're usually well up in the canopy, so it's great to see one so low down. Usually, I just hear them overhead, and maybe get a glimpse of their belly." Whoops, he flew... ," said Jake, watching through his binoculars as the bird flew upward from branch to branch, until it was high above us."Hear it? That's its song," said Gary, and we all listened to the calls."Oooh,": said Gary, interrupting himself, "I think I just heard a Bush-warbler," and he and Saralinda started to move further up the trail. Jake and I followed not too far behind.As we walked, I tuned my ears to the bird calls and other jungle noises around us, but I was also very aware of Jake beside.
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