How to Make Friends with the Sea

by Tanya Guerrero

  I looked up. Slowly. My gaze lingered at her neck. She was wearing the shell necklace I’d given her.

  Swoosh. Swoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.

  The basketball sounds disappeared. All I could hear was the sea.

  It made me tremble. It made me sick to my stomach.

  But it had also made me happy.

  The sea. Happy.

  Bingo!

  I had an idea.

  THIRTY-NINE

  It had been a long day—with the eagles, with the dirty ice cream, with the sari-sari store, with the basketball guys staring me down. Not to mention, my mini-breakdown and subsequent confession.

  I was exhausted. Thank god dinner was over.

  Chiqui was still at the kitchen table, absorbed with the Where’s Waldo? book in front of her. She hardly moved. The plates, glasses, and cutlery clattered. I glanced at Mamá doing the dishes. I thought about how she was always laughing at Miguel’s stupid jokes. She’d hardly laughed when my father was still around. Mostly they just argued. I got kind of dizzy thinking about the past and the present, one memory whirling into another and another and another. Then I glanced back at Chiqui and her book, and I thought about Waldo and his knit hat and his red–and-white-striped sweater, and how he was always lost in a crowd but not really since there were always people searching for him. I got even dizzier. So I glanced at the floor instead, counting the tiles I’d counted so many times before. The dizziness went away.

  “Mi amor, can you help me dry the dishes, please?”

  “Okay.” I finished counting the last three tiles.

  The wet dishes were laid out on several washcloths. It was a mess. Mamá really had no organizational skills whatsoever. Sometimes I wondered if she was even my mother—if I was mixed up with another baby at the hospital. But then I remembered that I wasn’t born in a hospital. I popped out exactly on the date I was due in a bathtub full of water at our old house in California.

  I grabbed a clean washcloth and began drying each and every item, making sure not to miss any spots or crevices or cracks.

  “So, have you thought about Miguel’s offer?” asked Mamá.

  I let a moment pass. Then I put down the glass I was holding and looked at her. “Actually, I have.”

  “You have?” She turned the faucet off.

  “Yeah. I was thinking about camping … You know, like camping on the beach.”

  For a second she gawked at me like I was a three-headed alien. But then she blinked and went back to normal. “Well, Pablito…”

  I held my breath.

  Please. Please. Please.

  “Es fantástico! What a wonderful idea!” she finally said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure,” said Mamá, with a reassuring smile. “Will it be much fun, though? With just you, Miguel, and Zeus?”

  “It doesn’t have to be just the three of us,” I said nonchalantly.

  Mamá tilted her head. “Oh, really? So what exactly did you have in mind?”

  Busted.

  My cheeks burned. I was sure they’d turned a horrendous shade of pink. But I didn’t care. Not really. Maybe just a bit.

  “Um … well … I was wondering if you could talk to Ate Lucinda and see if she’d let Happy go with us, because she’s never been to the beach and I think it would be fun and I’d like to do something nice for her, since she’s, like, the only friend I have here. Don’t you think?” I gasped for air.

  It was hard to tell what Mamá was thinking. She kind of just stood there with her arms hanging at her sides. There was this indistinguishable gleam in her eye. After a few torturous seconds, she pulled her shoulders back and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I think that can be arranged.” She squeezed me into a hug and kissed my cheek before letting go. “I’ll talk to Ate Lucinda. I’m sure it will be fine as long as Grace chaperones and Jem tags along.”

  I smiled the kind of smile that stretched your entire face and made your lips numb and your gums dry from being exposed to the air for too long. I was that happy. So happy I wasn’t even mad about the Mamá-Miguel situation anymore. In fact, it reminded me of how much I loved her and of how beautiful she was, and that maybe I shouldn’t have been mad at her in the first place.

  Of course Miguel liked her. What wasn’t there to like?

  “Thank you, Mamá.”

  “Anytime, mi amor.”

  I couldn’t wait for Happy to see the sea!

  * * *

  I was expecting the door to creak open. Chiqui would peek in with a mischievous smile and another one of her crumbly midnight snacks. But she was a no-show. All her Where’s Waldo?-ing must have tuckered her out.

  Speak Cartoon, Learn English for Kids, Episode Four would have to wait, which was fine, because if I hadn’t known any better I would have said I was drunk, or at the very least tipsy. Like that time Mamá let me drink half a glass of champagne on New Year’s Eve. My insides were kind of woozy and giddy and queasy and jumpy. I’d actually convinced myself that an extremely rude person had somehow stuffed cotton candy in my head and slipped firecrackers in my shoes. It was ridiculous but true.

  I most definitely couldn’t sleep. So I sat by my window, staring at Happy’s pitch-black house. She was going to flip out when I told her. I could just picture it. Her eyes would widen like shiny new marbles, and she’d gasp, and I’d be able to count all her teeth—her smile would be that big.

  And then one of the windows lit up. I wasn’t sure which part of the house it was, since I’d only been inside once. But it seemed to be one of the bedrooms at the back. I wondered if it was Happy. Maybe she couldn’t sleep either.

  I just had to tell her.

  I contemplated sneaking out through the front door, but I didn’t want to risk it. So I pushed open my window and shimmied out. Hopefully, nobody was passing by, otherwise they might think I was a cat burglar or something. As soon as my feet hit the grass below, I realized I was barefoot.

  Good job, Pablo.

  I had two choices—crawl back up, grab my slippers, and crawl back out again, or risk permanent injury by stepping on something contaminated, rusty, or sharp.

  Great.

  There really was no debating it. I was not going to walk across the street without any shoes on. It may have looked relatively harmless. But I knew what was out there. The road between my house and Happy’s was an obstacle course of grossness. There were squished cockroaches, oil slicks, globs of dried spit, bird poop, decomposing bits of food, and worst of all, pee—cat pee, dog pee, and people pee.

  I pulled myself back up rather clumsily, since my upper body strength was virtually nonexistent. My head, shoulders, and chest were in my bedroom, my stomach, butt, and legs still outside. There was a flash—no, more like a beam of light shining behind me.

  Uh-oh.

  “Freeze!” The voice was gruff—almost too gruff.

  I tried to peer over my shoulder without killing myself. I saw pavement. I saw scattered leaves. I saw grass. I saw pink flip-flops. I saw toenails with glittery nail polish.

  “Happy?”

  Her laugh was a dead giveaway. It was like listening to a hyena cackle after inhaling a helium-filled balloon. I dropped to the ground. “Hardy har har,” I said, turning around with the most sarcastic look I could muster.

  “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself. I saw your light and then I saw you climbing out the window and then climbing back in … It was just too good to pass up,” she said.

  I crossed my arms across my chest in an effort to look huffy. “Well, you caught me. I’m running away, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  “You are?” Happy gasped as if I’d said the most unbelievable thing ever.

  “I am.”

  “But it’s not safe out there! You could get lost, kidnapped … even killed! Whatever it is, I’m sure you can work it out. Please. I’ll help you. You can stay at my house for a few days. My mom won’t mind. Let’s go wake her up. We can ask her.” Hap
py latched onto my wrist and pulled. But I held my ground, keeping my limbs as stiff as possible. She let go. Her face was pale and blotchy. “I’m not going to let you do this, Pablo!”

  I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I coughed and sputtered and snorted and chortled. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself either!” I said in between fits of laughter.

  It was Happy’s turn to cross her arms across her chest. She was obviously annoyed that I’d gotten her back so good. But I could tell she wasn’t really, truly mad by the way her lips quivered at the corners. “Okay. Okay. Now we’re even,” she mumbled.

  “C’mon. I need to sit,” I said, gesturing toward the front steps. I plopped down. “So, I was actually coming to see you—”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” I peered from the side. Her skin was back to normal, and her lashes were fluttering like moths around a streetlamp. “Guess what? Miguel is going to take me to the beach again! Isn’t that awesome?”

  Happy’s lashes stopped fluttering. “Oh … that’s great. Totally awesome,” she said, trying to sound all excited, except I could tell she was faking it.

  “But there’s more…” I scooted toward her. “You can come with us, Happy! My mom said you and Jem can come! You can finally see the sea! Isn’t that cool?” I gaped at her, waiting for her eyes to transform into the shiny marbles I’d imagined.

  But all she did was cringe and bite her lip. “Don’t get me wrong, Pablo. I’m grateful. It’s just that I always dreamed of going to the beach for the first time with my family … with my brother and my sisters. With my mom and dad.” She looked down at her lap and fiddled with the ruffle of her Hello Kitty pajamas.

  “Oh,” I replied softly.

  Happy cleared her throat and continued. “We never do anything together … My dad’s always working, and in the daytime, when he’s home, he’s usually asleep or walking around in a daze. And my mom is always too busy cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, gardening, shopping. Even when we help out, it’s not enough. There are just too many bills—tuition, electricity, water, food, medicines. Bills, bills, and more bills. It never ends!”

  I gulped down the saliva that had accumulated in my mouth.

  What was I supposed to say?

  I mean, there I was unloading problem after problem after problem, and all along, she’d had her own to deal with. “I’m sorry,” I finally said. “I didn’t know.”

  “It’s all right.” She wiped her eyes and looked up at me. “I just don’t talk about it that much. It is what it is. You know?”

  I nodded. “I understand.” And I really did. There were so, so many things I wished I could change but couldn’t.

  There was this awkward silence.

  I wracked my brain.

  Thinking. Thinking. Thinking.

  What could I possibly say to convince her?

  I thought about what Happy had said to me, about experiencing new things. I thought about Mamá, and how hard she worked, and how she encouraged me to go to different places, talk to different people, eat different kinds of food, even though I refused most of the time. I thought about Happy’s parents and how they probably wished they could give her more. So much more.

  That was it!

  I cleared my throat. “Um … But, like … don’t you think that your parents would want you to go, even though they can’t? I mean, isn’t that the reason they work so hard? So you can have a better life than they did?”

  Happy frowned. I couldn’t quite tell if she was upset, or simply contemplating what I’d said. “Hmm…”

  Thinking. Thinking. Thinking.

  I sat up straight and pleaded with my eyes. “So, will you come? Please?”

  Happy covered her face with her hands. But then a second later, she looked at me all serious-like. “I just have one question, Pablo.”

  “What?”

  “When are we leaving?”

  I gawked at her. “What do you mean? You’re coming?”

  “Yes. I’m coming. You’re right … My parents wouldn’t want me to miss out. I wouldn’t want to miss out either,” she said, punching my arm with tears in her eyes.

  FORTY

  It was all set. We were going to Anawangin Cove in Zambales, wherever that was. I never thought I’d go camping in a zillion years. Much less camping for two days with actual friends. Though I wasn’t so sure if Jem considered herself my friend yet. I didn’t really care either way.

  I was that happy.

  And Happy was that happy too.

  The next couple of days were like a whirlwind, or perhaps more appropriately, a typhoon since we were in the tropics. There were all sorts of preparations that included camping equipment, first-aid kits, toiletries, and food, which seemed to be the most complicated matter. On one side there were the non-vegetarians—Ms. Grace, Zeus, Happy, and Jem, who insisted on all sorts of questionable food items such as bright red hot dogs, Vienna sausages, something called corned-tuna, and a variety of SPAM (who knew canned luncheon meat came in so many different flavors?). On the other side, Miguel and me, the vegetarians—thank god I wasn’t the only one. Our haul consisted of soy dogs, veggie burgers, vegetarian baked beans, instant noodles (mushroom flavored), and lots and lots of granola bars. Thankfully, we all agreed on one thing: s’mores. So we made sure to pack a jumbo-size supply of graham crackers, chocolate bars, and gelatin-free marshmallows. Because gelatin was actually made with animal skin and bones.

  Eww.

  The worst part of packing, though, was my own stuff. The stuff only I could pack. Unfortunately, I left it to the last minute.

  Good move, Pablo.

  It was almost midnight. I stood in the middle of my room debating with myself about how many different kinds of insect repellant, sunscreen, and hand sanitizer I would need. There were the waterproof kinds, the lotion and spray kinds, the scented and unscented kinds, the alcohol and alcohol-free kinds. They were all laid out on my bed. I was dizzy just looking at them.

  The doorknob jiggled. I didn’t even have to look. I knew it was Chiqui. She was holding a plate with a giant slice of banana bread, and a glass of milk that was so full that every time she moved, the milk sloshed dangerously close to the rim.

  “Chiqui!” I gasped, taking the glass away before anything disastrous happened.

  She just gazed at me with innocent eyes. “Kuya Pabo, me wuats,” she said, pointing at my computer.

  “Not tonight. I’m kind of busy.”

  But she didn’t seem to get it. She did her bouncy walk until she reached my desk. “Wuats! Wuats!”

  I sighed. “All right. Fine. But I’m going to pack while you’re at it. Okay?”

  She nodded and hopped on the chair. I searched for Speak Cartoon, Learn English for Kids, Episode Four and clicked “Play.” The obnoxious chipmunk voices began jibber-jabbering. I ignored them, or at least I tried to.

  Hmm … How many changes of clothes am I going to need?

  What if I puke? What if I puke more than once?

  I opened my dresser drawer and pulled out all my shorts and all my T-shirts and a couple of sweatpants and sweatshirts for good measure. Surely they would come in handy to protect me against the blood-sucking mosquitoes and sand fleas.

  Next came underwear. Theoretically, I should only need two or three pairs. But we were going to the beach. That meant sun, sand, and salt water. Any of those variables were a formula for disaster.

  Sweaty Butt + Sand = Disaster

  Salty Wet Butt + Sand = Disaster

  Sweaty Butt + Salty Wet Butt = Disaster?

  Okay, maybe that last one was a stretch. I grabbed all my underwear, and then all my socks, and then all my pajamas, and basically everything in my dresser, and jammed it all into my duffel bag.

  Except the zipper wouldn’t close.

  Chomp. Chomp. Chomp.

  I looked over. Chiqui was chewing the banana loaf with an open mouth. It was like sirens ringing in my ear, forks scraping on empty plates, a squeegee cleaning a we
t windshield. The robotic chipmunk voices seemed even louder.

  “Are you ready for school yet?” said chipmunk mom.

  “Yes, Mother,” said chipmunk kid.

  “Have you packed your lunch?” said chipmunk mom.

  “Yes, Mother. Thank you,” said chipmunk kid.

  “Have a good day, then!” said chipmunk mom.

  “You too, Mother!” said chipmunk kid.

  Ugh.

  How on earth was I supposed to finish packing with that racket? Maybe I just needed a break. I threw myself on the bed. Everything that was on it bounced and scattered, making an even bigger mess. I jammed a pillow over my head. I needed silence. It didn’t work, though. The chipmunk voices were still there, sounding like they were gurgling underwater. And then there were the crunching sounds. Not from Chiqui’s chewing, but the crunching of the pillow next to my ear. It was as if there were thousands of microscopic termites living inside it, munching on the threads and fibers.

  Relax, Pablo. Breathe and focus.

  The noises got a little softer. I could feel the mattress bounce. A second later, the pillow lifted on one side. Chiqui’s one eye stared at me. “Kuya. Yu kay?” she asked. Her face was pinched with worry.

  I exhaled and yanked the pillow aside. “I’m okay, Chiqui. Just a bit stressed out, that’s all.”

  She must have sensed that I wasn’t really okay. Instead of replying, she snuggled closer. Her face lay over my heart, and one of her tiny arms snaked across my chest. I could see crumbs on her cheek and a smudge of grease on her chin. But none of it mattered. The moment she squeezed me, I melted. I felt like one of those chocolate lava cakes—fudgy on the outside, warm and gooey on the inside.

  After that, everything got kind of heavy. Hazy too.

  Her breathing. My breathing. Our breathing became one.

  My shoulders sank into the mattress. So did my hips and legs and feet. Slowly, really, really slowly, my eyelids drooped.

  FORTY-ONE

  “Pablo, mi amor. Wake up!”

  My eyes slammed open. It was still dark, but Mamá was looming over me as if I’d overslept. “Why aren’t you packed yet? Miguel is going to be here any minute!” she said.