How to Make Friends with the Sea

by Tanya Guerrero

  The beach. Camping. I glanced at my clock. 3:45 A.M.

  I bolted from my pillow. Chiqui rolled off my chest, nearly falling from the bed. She rubbed her eyes, looking confused.

  “I must have fallen asleep,” I mumbled.

  Mamá threw her arms into the air. “Come on! I’ll help you! Hurry!”

  We were like two bees buzzing around and around and around. Chiqui watched the spectacle, her expression going from puzzled to curious to suspicious. There was no time for thinking, for explaining, for anything other than packing. Mamá grabbed something. I grabbed something else. After a while I couldn’t tell her hands from mine.

  I glanced at the clock. 4:00 A.M.

  It was a miracle. My duffel bag was packed. I was dressed with clothes that actually matched. Nothing was broken, and nobody was hurt.

  I was ready, or at least as ready as I’d ever be. Just in time too, because Miguel’s truck pulled up to the curb. For some reason my heart thumped wildly.

  Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

  Mamá was too frazzled to notice. But Chiqui must have had supersonic hearing or something. She perched herself at the foot of my bed and glared at me with the same accusing glare as Mayari and Tala. I guess they didn’t call it an “eagle eye” for nothing.

  “You better go!” said Mamá as she hurried from my room.

  I picked up my bag and followed her.

  Don’t panic. Keep calm, Pablo.

  I repeated those words over and over as we marched down the hallway. The front door opened. Mamá went outside and waved at the truck. I was about to do the same, but I couldn’t. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I really couldn’t. I was being pulled from behind. I turned around. Chiqui was gripping the back of my shirt with both hands. Her face was scrunched up and red.

  “Chiqui,” I said in a hushed voice.

  She loosened her grip. I put my hands on hers, uncurling her itty-bitty fingers one by one. When I was freed, I bent down so we were level with each other. “I’m only going away for two days. I’m not leaving you, Chiqui.”

  “I’m not leaving you.” It may not have been a lie then, but it was a lie. Eventually I would be leaving her. She just didn’t know it yet.

  Her eyes filled with tears. “No go, Kuya Pabo. No go,” she croaked.

  My heart shattered, and it felt like I’d swallowed my own tongue.

  “Pablito!” Mamá called.

  I could hear car doors opening and closing. I could hear bags being dragged. I could hear footsteps. I could hear Mr. Cheery, aka Miguel. I could hear Mamá giggling. I could hear so many noises and voices. But I wasn’t listening to any of them.

  At that moment the only one that mattered was Chiqui.

  I held her face, keeping my gaze as calm and steady as I could.

  You’re not going to cry, Pablo. You’re not going to cry.

  “Two days, Chiqui. I’ll see you in two days. Okay?” I showed her two of my fingers. She sniffled and then nodded like she understood. I wanted to tell her to behave. I wanted to say goodbye. But I could feel myself choking up. So I smiled and hugged her instead.

  I picked up my bag and turned my back on her.

  I was a traitor.

  I was a liar.

  I was probably the worst person in the world—no, in the galaxy. Maybe even the entire universe.

  * * *

  We were piled into the truck. I thought everyone would be quiet and sleepy and moody, but it was the exact opposite. The chatter was nonstop.

  “Is it too hot?”

  “Too cold?”

  “Is anyone hungry?”

  “Does anyone need to stop at the gas station?”

  Zeus never seemed to run out of questions.

  “Oh, look! There’s Enchanted Kingdom. It’s our version of Disneyland, you know.”

  “Oh, look! It’s the People’s Power Monument. It was built to commemorate the People’s Power Revolution of 1986, you know.”

  “Oh, look! Ali Mall is just down that way. It was one of the first shopping malls ever built in the country, and it was named after the great boxer Muhammad Ali, you know.”

  Ms. Grace never seemed to run out of facts.

  “OMG! Look at that building. It’s so tall!”

  “OMG! Look at that billboard. It’s so big!”

  “OMG! Look at that bridge. It’s so long!”

  Happy never seemed to run out of ridiculous things to look at.

  After a while the energy fizzled. Everybody conked out. As tired as I was, though, I just couldn’t sleep. All I could do was watch the scenery zoom by. There was a lot of beauty. Like the sky, which changed from dark blue to gray to yellow to pink to purple and then to blue again. Like the distant mountains that touched the clouds. Like the trees with orange flowers so bright, it looked as if they’d caught on fire. Yet there was also a lot of ugliness. Much more than I cared to see. Like the piles of garbage that seemed to have sprouted by the road. Like the rivers and canals clogged with plastic debris. Like the children—too many of them—begging on the streets.

  Some of them reminded me of Chiqui.

  I sighed.

  Why was it so hard for me to accept that she was only a guest? She would come and go just like every other person, from every other country before this one. Surely I would move on, right? Out of sight, out of mind. When she was gone, I would forget. Of course I would.

  I tried to swallow past the lump in my throat. I coughed. Then choked.

  Who was I kidding?

  When she was gone, I would not move on. I would not forget.

  Not ever.

  FORTY-TWO

  All of a sudden the truck exited the highway. The turn, the change of speed, the screeching brakes, jolted everyone awake.

  “This is a good place to stop for breakfast,” said Zeus.

  He pulled into a gas station the size of an airport hangar. It was super-duper big. And there were a bunch of fast food places surrounding it, with names like Chow King, Jollibee, and Max’s Fried Chicken.

  I already knew it was going to be a dirt, germ, and sensory overload, so I put on my sunglasses before stepping out of the truck. Everyone was still kind of groggy and dazed and stiff except for Ms. Grace, who was somehow wide-awake and looked kind of like a tour operator instead of a chaperone. All that was missing was a bullhorn and clipboard.

  “Okay, everyone! Bathrooms first. Make sure you wash your hands and then let’s meet at Pancake House in five minutes,” she said.

  Pancakes. My stomach grumbled at the thought of them. I’d never been to Pancake House, but surely a house of pancakes would make perfect pancakes, right?

  “C’mon, little man.” I followed Miguel, who was already sporting a snazzy new pair of sunglasses, and Zeus, who was walking and stretching his legs at the same time. The men’s bathroom was situated down a dingy hallway next to the ATMs. I could tell just by looking at the once-white door covered in smudges, smears, and splatters that it was definitely not going to be a Pablo-approved bathroom.

  Far from it.

  I stood there itching from head to toe.

  Zeus went ahead inside, but Miguel stayed with me. He was trying not to react. It was obvious by the way his face slackened, like no biggie. But I could tell he knew something was wrong. Maybe he’d been observing all along, just as Chiqui had.

  “Try not to look around too much, Pablo. It’s a gas station bathroom … Best we just go in and out and get it over with,” he said.

  Easier said than done.

  But he was right. I had to pee. Though truth be told, I would have much rather done my business behind some bushes or something. “Okay,” I mumbled.

  Miguel pushed the door open.

  You can do it, Pablo.

  I took the deepest breath I could possibly take and held it. Maybe if I hurried I wouldn’t even have to breathe the air in there.

  Go! Go! Go!

  I dashed into the bathroom, almost crashing into some
random guy who was leaving.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled. The guy didn’t even look at me.

  I followed the dirty wet tiles straight to the urinals, which were chipped and stained and looked like they hadn’t been cleaned in a while. There wasn’t a urinal cake in sight either.

  JUST PEE ALREADY, PABLO!

  I undid my zipper and let it all out. The only problem was that I’d had way too much to drink, so my pee went on forever and ever and ever. I was running out of breath. Fast.

  Finally, the stream stopped. I closed my zipper and then fast-walked to the sinks to wash up. Zeus was nowhere in sight, but Miguel was standing there with a weird kind of grimace. “Um. The sinks aren’t working,” he said.

  What?

  I panicked.

  I couldn’t hold my breath in any longer.

  Wheeeeeew.

  I sucked air. The sharp smell of urine hit me. I was woozy. I was dizzy. Germs were in my nose, throat, and lungs. Everywhere. The bathroom tiles whirled around and around. Miguel grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me through the door. Fresh air.

  Inhale. Exhale. Inhale.

  Miguel went into the convenience store. He came out with a mini-bottle of 70 percent alcohol. He broke the seal and squirted it all over my hands and his. They were soaked. The germs were dying. Dead. I wasn’t woozy or dizzy anymore. The whirling stopped.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  He patted my back. “Let’s go eat. I’m starving,” he said as if nothing had happened.

  But I knew he knew. He’d figured it out. Surprisingly, I didn’t mind, though. It was almost a relief.

  Phew.

  As soon as we entered the Pancake House, I felt much better. Like a thousand, million times better. I was even hungry. The smell of pancakes and syrup invaded my nostrils, erasing all traces of urine.

  “What took you so long? We already ordered,” said Happy.

  I slid into my seat not knowing what to say.

  “Oh, it’s my fault. I had to buy a couple of things at the convenience store,” Miguel blurted out.

  The waitress popped out of nowhere. “Will there be an additional order, sir?” she asked Miguel.

  He glanced at the menu for a second. “I’ll have a black coffee and a mushroom omelet with whole wheat toast and he”—Miguel gestured at me—“will have an orange juice and the classic pancakes with the butter and syrup on the side. Please bring extra forks and knives and napkins as well. Thank you.”

  Wow. Miguel really does pay attention. Is he like a secret agent spy or something?

  I was impressed—so absolutely, positively impressed that my chin dropped and there was saliva leaking from the side of my mouth.

  “What’s wrong with him?” I heard Jem whisper to Happy.

  Happy jabbed her with her elbow. “Anyway … Can you believe this is our first time eating at Pancake House? I’ve been wanting to try their bangsilog since my classmate Maritess is always bragging about how good it is and how her dad brings them here every Sunday after church.”

  I had no idea what bangsilog was, but for whatever reason I had this picture of a girl in a school uniform banging her forehead against a big log. I laughed. Except of course nobody knew what I was laughing at.

  Jem rolled her eyes. “It’s bangsilog. I’m sure it’s not that special.”

  For a second I thought Happy was going to stick her tongue out. But she didn’t. Instead, she crossed her arms and sulked.

  “But Miss Jem. Not all bangsilogs are created equal,” said Zeus with a chuckle.

  Ms. Grace nodded. “I have to agree. There are good bangsilogs, mediocre bangsilogs, and just plain awful bangsilogs.”

  I couldn’t take it anymore. Both my hands slapped the table. “What are bangsilogs? Will someone please tell me already?”

  As if by divine intervention, the waitress approached us, placing a large oval plate in front of Happy. “Here is your bangsilog, miss,” she said with a smile.

  At first it was crickets. Then laughter burst out of everyone’s mouths. The waitress looked confused. They all kept on laughing, except for me.

  I was both mesmerized and disgusted.

  There was a whole fried fish with a runny fried egg and a mound of greasy-looking rice.

  Was that supposed to be the famous Pancake House bangsilog? How could any reputable house of pancakes serve such a thing?

  Don’t look, Pablo. Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.

  But then Ms. Grace said, “Personally, I think the eye and the belly are the best parts.”

  I looked.

  Happy had a big spoon and a big fork. For a split second she looked like a surgeon with a scalpel in her hand. With the fork, she held down the fish’s head. With the tip of the spoon, she poked into the fish’s eyeball.

  THE. FISH’S. EYEBALL.

  God, no …

  All I could do was turn away and hope no one noticed.

  FORTY-THREE

  The rest of the drive, all I could think about was how affected I was by that gas station bathroom, and how that bangsilog had permanently damaged my fondness for breakfast. How could anyone eat an entire fish—head, skin, tail, and all, first thing in the morning?

  Ugh.

  It was like a really bad nightmare that wouldn’t stop. I kept on picturing the urinals sticking out of the walls like filthy open mouths. I wondered how many gallons of pee they had swallowed. I kept on visualizing Happy scooping out that fish eyeball with a spoon and popping it into her mouth, yum-yum-yumming like it was the best thing ever.

  Finally, Zeus pulled the truck into a vacant lot. “We’re here!” he announced.

  “This is it?” asked Happy.

  There were loads of tricycles and vendors and only a slice of beach that looked more like a docking area for boats, so I suppose her concern was valid.

  Miguel peered between the two front seats. He must have seen the confusion plastered on our faces, because he pointed toward the beach and said, “We can’t drive directly to the cove. That’s what all those bangkas are for.”

  “Bangkas?” I blurted out. “What the heck are bangkas?”

  Ms. Grace touched my shoulder. “See all those boats, Pablo? Those are bangkas. They’re outrigger canoes made out of wood. The larger ones are motorized. The smaller ones only use paddles. It’s the most common mode of water transportation in the Philippines. They can also be used for fishing,” she explained.

  I gawked at the narrow canoes with their bamboo outriggers. They looked flimsy, like do-it-yourself balsawood boats a kid would make.

  “It’s the easiest way, Pablo. The alternative would be hiking through a mountain to get to the other side,” said Miguel.

  It felt like every gaze in the car was directed at me. White spots of panic flashed, making everything I looked at all polka-dotty. Happy reached over and squeezed my hand. “You can keep your eyes closed. We’ll help you,” she said softly.

  “I—I don’t know,” I mumbled. I felt like a big baby. It was just so humiliating. All I could do was stare at my lap—stare and stare and keep on staring until someone said something.

  “You need to trust me, Pablo.”

  I looked up at Miguel. His gaze was warm and steady and safe somehow. I had to trust him. What else could I do? Make everyone stay in the car for two days? Demand that Zeus turn around and bring us back home?

  I couldn’t do that. Not to Happy. I wasn’t going to ruin it for her.

  Suck it up, Pablo.

  “All right. I’ll give it a shot.”

  Happy squealed and hugged me. “Come on!”

  I tried not to look at anyone or anything as we got out of the truck. I was embarrassed. Ashamed. For a moment there was a bit of a commotion. Vendors began swarming around us, holding up sarongs, T-shirts, beaded necklaces, refrigerator magnets, and such. Ms. Grace held up her hand, trying her best to shoo them away. Then a couple of guys appeared, strutting like they were in charge. Zeus and Ms. Grace spoke to them in T
agalog. It kind of sounded like they were arguing. But they were also smiling, so I wasn’t sure if the conversation was a good or a bad one.

  Eventually, Ms. Grace sauntered back with a satisfied grin. “Okay. So the parking is 100 Pesos a day. They’ve also secured us a brand-new bangka to take us round-trip for 3,000 Pesos, and they’re going to help us carry our stuff too.”

  “Sounds good. It’s a deal,” said Miguel.

  By the time we were done unloading the truck, the vendors had miraculously disappeared. The path to the beach cleared. I could see the sea, the waves rippling, the multicolored bangkas bobbing up and down. I was starting to feel nauseated. Happy led me to where the street ended and the sand began. She wove her fingers through mine and held on tight, as if she were my mother and I, her insecure toddler.

  “Close your eyes, Pablo, and don’t let go of me,” she commanded.

  My face was burning. I knew it wasn’t from the sun. My cheeks were probably a lovely shade of beet red. To be honest, though, I didn’t even care. All I cared about was surviving the boat ride.

  I closed my eyes. Happy stepped forward. So I stepped forward. There was sand under my shoes. Happy stopped. So I stopped. Her breath. I couldn’t hear it. I knew she was excited. But she didn’t say anything. I was relieved. I didn’t want to hear about how blue the water was, or how the waves frothed when they hit the shoreline, or how the clouds puffed like cotton candy. None of that would make me feel any better. In fact, I felt worse just thinking about it.

  All of a sudden there was another hand holding me from the other side. I flinched.

  “They’re already waiting for us on the bangka.” It was Jem’s voice.

  I was surprised. Maybe she was my friend after all. Or maybe she was just losing her patience. I guessed it didn’t really matter much. As long as we got to where we were going. The three of us hobbled along. It felt weird. Not being able to see while my feet sank and tripped and tried to catch up.

  “You’re doing great, Sir Pablo!” Zeus shouted from up ahead.

  After several clumsy steps, Happy and Jem slowed down. And then suddenly, we halted.