No hesitation today. I’m by the edge of a curving river, a canoe laid out in front of me. Next to it, a woven blanket of grasses or skinny palm fronds. I wrap myself in it for its texture on my skin. 

I watch the flow of the current to see if anyone is coming to join me.

Men in headdresses, bare-chested, wearing grass skirts. Actually, one man in a headdress, rowing at the front of his canoe. Behind him is the man with his teeth still in disarray. I run my tongue along mine; straight as they normally are.

His hair is grown out, dark, black, like a partial coconut shell cupping his head with deep splits along its upside-down lip.

Now he’s ashore.

I go to adjust my smile, but he holds up a hand.

NOT NECESSARY.

You came to get me. Do you have a message?

FOLLOW ME.

We attach my canoe to the back of theirs, as I have no oars. The man in the headdress rows.

Soon, the current picks up. Ahead, the river disappears.

We’re racing towards a waterfall.

Weirdly, I’m not afraid. I watch Teeth Man as we get closer and closer to the edge.

He snaps his fingers.

We freeze in place. They are on the other side of the smoothed-out right angle of the falls. My canoe is balanced on the precipice.

Everything else remains in motion. I feel the rush of the water beneath my boat. I hear the roar and crashing a hundred feet below us.

To the left of us, whooping. These are Teeth Man’s friends, fishing from in a dip on the lefthand side of the river at the edge of the falls. They cheer so heartily, so loudly, I can hear them despite the explosions of the water.

Teeth Man and Headdress Man are out of my sightline, but I know they are stoic and calm. Waiting for me.

No rush.

I am deliberate. I let the vibrations shake me so I can summon the feeling of entropy and suspension later.

The fishermen continue their cheering, somehow even more loudly.

Ready.

I snap my fingers.

Over the side, water in my eyes. Not because of fear. Not because of the thrill of the ride.

Because I was brave enough to go.