How to Make Friends with the Sea

by Tanya Guerrero

  “Anong nangyari? Bulag ba siya?” said a guy’s voice.

  Jem’s arm tensed. “Huwag ka na makialam!”

  The guy snickered. “Sus. Ang taray mo naman.”

  I didn’t really know what they were arguing about. But I figured it had something to do with how absurd I looked.

  Whatever.

  They dragged me several more feet before stopping again.

  “We made it!” said Happy.

  I exhaled.

  “Umm … so … how are we going to get him up on that?” said Jem.

  I turned to where I thought she was standing. “Up on what?”

  “Up on the gangplank,” said Miguel from somewhere above my head.

  “The gangplank? As in a pirate ship?”

  Happy giggled. “Well, the bangka is called ‘Johnny Deep’!”

  I was going to roll my eyes but then I remembered they were closed. “You’re kidding, right?”

  Miguel guffawed. “No. Really. There’s even a likeness of Captain Jack Sparrow on both sides.”

  I was tempted to look. I mean, it was just too silly not to be true. But as tempting as it was, I knew I couldn’t risk it. My stomach groaned and gurgled.

  “So what are my choices, then?” I asked.

  “Well, you could give the gangplank a go, but I’m warning you … it’s about six inches wide, with a bunch of notches to trip on,” said Miguel.

  “Hmm. Maybe you can stay behind me and hold on to my waist,” said Happy.

  “That’s not going to work,” said Jem.

  I could practically hear them eye-daggering each other.

  All of a sudden, someone grabbed me by the shoulders. “Wait!” I shouted.

  But before I knew what was happening, I landed with a thud.

  “Or … the bangka guys could carry you on board,” said Ms. Grace.

  Ugh.

  I was beginning to regret this entire trip.

  Miguel plunked me down on the safest seat and handed me a life vest. I wasn’t sure what made it the safest, since the entire thing wobbled when it pushed off. As soon as they turned on the engine, every square inch of wood vibrated like it was about to fall apart.

  No! No! No!

  I had to keep my mind clear of such catastrophic thoughts.

  The bangka was not going to sink.

  I was not going to drown.

  And I most certainly was not going to get eaten by a shark.

  “You okay, Pablo?” whispered Happy.

  No. I wasn’t okay. But I felt like I needed to pretend.

  “I’m fine. As long as I don’t open my eyes, I’m fine.”

  “Good. They said it should take us fifteen minutes to get there.”

  That was fifteen minutes too long.

  “You know, those guys on the beach thought you were blind.” I could tell Happy was grinning by the tone of her voice.

  “Well, technically, I am blinded, even though it’s voluntary.”

  “Jem told them to mind their own business.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Huh.”

  “Hold on!” Miguel shouted.

  The bangka dipped and then soared. I was suddenly weightless. Happy grabbed my arm. But her grip wasn’t strong enough. My butt flew off the seat. I could hear arms and legs thudding against the hull, against one another. Voices.

  “Hay naku!” said Zeus.

  “Big waves! Sit tight, everyone!” said Ms. Grace.

  “Pablo! I’m coming!” Miguel’s voice was heading toward me.

  My eyes opened just as the sunglasses flew off my face. It was a slow-motion blur of white clouds, blue water, and startled faces.

  Crash.

  I landed with my upper body leaning over the edge. My sunglasses were floating away. I caught a glimpse of the Captain Jack Sparrow likeness. And then all I could see was the depths of the sea, which seemed bottomless.

  I was terrified.

  Someone latched on to my chest. “I’ve got you, Pablo!” said Miguel.

  It didn’t matter, though. I didn’t feel safe. In fact, I still felt like I was spinning, flying, falling. A wave swelled and slapped the side of the boat like it was coming for me.

  My stomach clenched, twisting tighter and tighter.

  It ripped and let loose.

  I vomited. I puked. I hurled.

  Miguel pulled me back into the bangka. He held me tight. I closed my eyes. “Maybe we should go back,” he said in between huffs and puffs of air.

  “No,” I croaked. “Please.”

  Yes! Yes! Yes!

  That’s really what I’d wanted to say.

  But I wasn’t going to ruin it for Happy.

  I’d made up my mind.

  Everyone went quiet.

  Even the sea—as if it knew it needed to cut me some slack.

  FORTY-FOUR

  We arrived in one piece.

  Alive.

  Thank god.

  As soon as I got off the bangka, I turned my back on the sea. There was a long stretch of beach that curled in front of a forest with mountains behind it. There wasn’t much else. It was a weekday, the best time to come, according to Miguel; the crowds preferred Saturdays and Sundays.

  I stared at the rows and rows of nearly identical pine trees.

  One, two, three, four, five.

  I shook my head—the numbers had to stop. I wasn’t about to stand there and count every single tree. Not after everything that had just happened.

  Just act normal, Pablo.

  Okay. I blinked and tried to look at everything through “normal” eyes. The white sand reminded me of snow, that’s how white it was. There were also wooden picnic tables, and huts with thatched roofs, and colorful flags on bamboo poles. Besides us, there was a guy in a hut that I think was meant to be some sort of information booth, and an old lady and her shack-of-a-store right next to it.

  Miguel came up from behind, holding a bunch of camping equipment. He handed me his brand-new sunglasses. “Here, take these.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. I’m sure. I don’t really need them other than for looking cool and all,” he said with a wink.

  “Thanks.”

  “Why don’t you go and rest while we set up camp?”

  Once again I felt like a big baby.

  Wah! Wah! Wah!

  But he was right. I had no energy whatsoever.

  I hung my head low. “Okay.”

  I felt so useless, so defeated. I hobbled toward one of the huts. In the distance I could hear shouting and giggling. I didn’t look. I didn’t have to. I knew Happy and Jem were running around the beach. It was probably the best day of their lives. Thank goodness Bing and Lito were too young to come. Their chanting and screeching would have only made it worse.

  I collapsed on a bamboo bench. Maybe I would feel better after a nap.

  Thankfully there was a breeze. It blew back and forth, ruffling the hut’s thatched edges. It was like listening to crinkling paper. For a while I gazed up at the pattern on the ceiling. The dried palm fronds were woven so meticulously. They were perfect. My eyes stung from staring so hard. Maybe if I stared and stared and stared, I wouldn’t think about what had happened.

  But it didn’t work.

  My mind drifted.

  Whoosh. Crash. Whoosh.

  I kept on picturing the waves breaking against the side of the bangka.

  Whoosh. Crash. Whoosh.

  Captain Jack Sparrow’s eyes mocked me.

  Whoosh. Crash. Whoosh.

  It all made me think of the time when I was a little kid on a dock, walking toward a white yacht. The sky was like a melted orange Popsicle. Mamá held my hand tight. My father was up ahead, laughing with his friends.

  “Wa-ha! Ha! Ha!”

  I could feel my stomach clenching, my knees were wobbly, sweat was trickling down my face and neck.

  “Pablito, are you all right?” Mamá had asked.

  I nodded even t
hough I wasn’t. My father would surely get annoyed. And I didn’t want Mamá and him to start fighting again. We were going on a leisurely sunset cruise just like any other family.

  I wasn’t going to ruin it.

  By the time we reached the yacht, my father was already drinking beer with his buddies.

  “Wa-ha! Ha! Ha!”

  Laughter. Chatter. Footsteps.

  The yacht was swaying. A motor rumbled. We were moving away from the dock, farther and farther. My stomach clenched even tighter. I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to move. Everything was spinning.

  “Pablito?” I heard Mamá say. But I didn’t see her because I was too busy glaring at my blue canvas shoes, the ones my father had insisted on my wearing. He called them boating shoes. I hated them.

  Mamá was at my side, and then she wasn’t. “Cal. Something is wrong with Pablito. I don’t think he feels well,” she said from somewhere up ahead.

  “Wa-ha! Ha! Ha!”

  My father’s buddies kept on laughing.

  Whoosh. Crash. Whoosh.

  The yacht swayed so much, it was as if the floor was rolling under my feet.

  “Hey, what’s the matter with your kid?” someone asked.

  “Cal?” Mamá repeated.

  My father sighed. And then he chuckled. I wasn’t looking at him, but I knew exactly what he was doing. His shoulders were shrugging. His hands were swatting the air. His face was scrunched up as if he’d just heard a joke. “Nah. It’s nothing. Pablo’s just going through a seasickness phase. He’ll get over it.”

  Whoosh. Crash. Whoosh.

  My insides gurgled.

  Whoosh. Crash. Whoosh.

  Mamá felt my forehead with her hand.

  “Do you need to throw up, mi amor?”

  Whoosh. Crash. Whoosh.

  “Wa-ha! Ha! Ha!”

  Whoosh …

  I ran to the railing.

  But it was too late.

  “Pablo! Pablo! Wake up!”

  Someone was shaking me.

  My eyes fluttered. I was back in the hut. Happy stared at me. Her face was scrunched with worry. “Are you okay?”

  I opened my mouth to reply. But no words came out. Instead, I gagged and choked, and suddenly my insides exploded.

  I vomited. I puked. I hurled.

  Again.

  All over Happy’s pink flip-flopped feet.

  * * *

  I didn’t think it was possible to be more humiliated. But it was indeed possible. After the vomit-fest, I escaped to one of the tents. The only problem was there was hardly any air. It was so hot, the sweat was pouring out of me like water from an open faucet. My clothes were drenched, even my underwear. But I didn’t care.

  I was alone by choice.

  “Knock-knock,” said Happy from outside.

  “I’m not home.”

  “I can hear you.”

  “Obviously,” I mumbled.

  “Come on. Let me in,” she pleaded.

  “It’s safer out there. You never know when I might puke again.”

  Happy sighed. “So what? My dog pukes all the time. Like every day. And when the twins were babies, they used to puke whenever I burped them. Lito even puked in my ear once.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  I unzipped the door flap and let her in. “OMG, it’s so hot in here,” she said, fanning herself with her hands.

  “It’s not that bad.”

  “Not that bad?” She giggled and pointed at me. “You’re so sweaty, you look like you’ve been swimming.”

  “Okay. Okay. You win.” I left the door flap open and turned around so I was facing the opposite end.

  Happy sat with her legs crossed. Rivulets of water dripped from her skin. Parts of her were coated with sand.

  Ignore it, Pablo.

  But I squirmed knowing that sand would eventually fall into my tent. The one I would sleep in.

  “So. Are you planning on coming out sometime?” she asked.

  “Eventually … Maybe later.”

  “Okay. Okay. You win.” She exhaled.

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Anyway. I didn’t come here to bug you,” she said, scooting closer.

  “Oh really?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “So what did you not come here to bug me about, then?” I asked.

  Happy didn’t reply immediately. Instead, her gaze dropped. For a second I thought maybe she was blushing. It was hard to tell.

  Nah …

  What would she be blushing about anyway?

  “I just … Well … I just wanted to check on you. To see if you were okay … Because that’s what friends do. Right?” she said, meeting my gaze again.

  “Oh.” As soon as I said it, I realized how unenthused I sounded. “Um. Yeah! Of course! Right! That is what friends do…”

  She grinned. “So? Are you okay, Pablo?”

  Was I okay?

  “Yeah. I’m fine. Don’t worry. I’m just a bit tired,” I said, swatting the air with my hand, like no biggie. “Go on and have fun out there. I’ll come find you in a little while.”

  “All right. Good. See you in a bit!” Happy waved, and then she crawled out of my tent.

  I could hear her bare feet slapping the ground as she pranced off.

  Phew.

  I exhaled.

  The last thing I wanted was for Happy to worry about me the entire time we were there. I wouldn’t let her. She was going to enjoy herself even if it made me completely and utterly miserable.

  One … Two … Three … Four …

  I counted and kept on counting, wondering how long it would take for me to be okay.

  Ten minutes?

  Twenty?

  Thirty?

  Maybe never?

  FORTY-FIVE

  Eventually, though, I had to pee. Really, really had to pee.

  So I stopped counting.

  At least it was dark outside. Through the door flap, I spotted the girls’ maroon-colored tent, and Miguel and Zeus’s navy-blue one. Thank goodness Mamá had suggested I sleep by myself. She knew I needed my own space.

  Phew.

  In the distance, there was laughter and the scent of a bonfire. I grabbed some wet wipes and a change of clothes and then crept outside. There was a sign nailed to a tree with an arrow pointing to where the bathrooms and shower facilities were located.

  Yes! Bathrooms! Showers!

  I stumbled through the maze of pine trees. Up ahead, a building materialized. I ran faster. I stopped. There it was. The supposed facilities were a bunch of rectangular stalls made of concrete hollow blocks, thatching, and bamboo. For some reason, there were faucets outside with plastic buckets filled with water. It looked like a tropical-themed prison.

  Yikes.

  My skin itched like crazy, like it already knew how bad it would be inside. One of the shower stall doors was open. I tiptoed toward it and peeped in. There was a wet concrete floor, an old rusty shower head drip-drip-dripping, another bucket, and what looked to be moss or mold or some kind of growth sprouting everywhere.

  Ugh.

  There was no way. It smelled like rotten leaves, damp earth, and stinky armpits. I stepped back. Slowly. I wasn’t even going to bother with the toilets. What was I going to do?

  Pablo. Think.

  I didn’t have much time. My bladder was about to burst. I scurried behind the row of stalls. There was a bunch of tanks and stuff, and some scraggly bushes that were meant to hide the mess. It would have to do. Better outdoors than some petri dish full of germs.

  I tucked myself in between the bushes and let it all out. It must have been gallons of pee, at least that’s what it felt like—gushing on and on and on as if it would never end. But finally it did.

  Ahh … I exhaled.

  It was time to improvise. I looked around once more. When I was sure nobody was watching, I peeled my damp, smelly clothes off until I was butt-naked.

  It couldn’t get more humiliating.<
br />
  Just get it over with.

  I pulled out several wet wipes and did a wipe-tuck-wipe-tuck method, so every time I cleaned a different part of my body I had an unsoiled section of wet wipe. It kind of worked. After using up half the pack, I had this somewhat fresh feeling. Good enough. I plucked my underwear from the pile of clean clothes. One leg. Two legs. Okay. Done. I grabbed the shorts. One leg. Two …

  “Sir Pablo! Sir Pablo!” Zeus’s voice echoed toward me.

  A beam of light cut through the darkness. I lost my balance. I stumbled. I fell right into the bushes.

  “Oww!”

  * * *

  How was I supposed to know they were bougainvillea bushes? I was desperate. It was dark. Of course I didn’t see the thorns.

  I was sitting by the campfire. Ms. Grace kneeled in front of me, pulling thorns out with tweezers while everyone else pretended not to look. Every time she dug one out, she would dab my skin with antiseptic solution. It simultaneously throbbed and stung. But I didn’t say a peep, because, well, I didn’t want them thinking I was a wuss. After a while I had these orange spots all over my legs, arms, and torso. I looked diseased.

  It was officially the worst vacation ever.

  Sizzle. Sizzle. Sizzle.

  Jem, Happy, Zeus, and Miguel were holding hot dogs on sticks over the bonfire. Miguel tucked a soy dog into a bun and handed it to me. “Plain, right?”

  I took it and nodded. How did he always know what I wanted? What I liked? What I needed? My stomach groaned. I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. It didn’t even matter that I was covered in orange polka dots in front of everyone.

  I chomped down. Mmm. The soy dog was gone in three bites.

  Ms. Grace pulled out the last thorn.

  Ouch.

  I must have looked super-duper relieved, because Happy smiled one of her smiles. It was hard to describe. It was kind of like staring into a rainbow while eating a big bowl of vanilla ice cream with whipped cream and a cherry on top. I wondered if she was born with that smile and that’s why her parents named her Happy.

  She got up and plopped down next to me. “I really think orange is your color,” she said with a straight face.

  I glared at her. “Ha. Ha. Ha.”

  “What? I’m serious.”

  Sizzle. Sizzle.

  Miguel handed me another soy dog. “Here you go, little man. Eat up.” And then he popped open a beer and sat by himself, staring at the fire like he was thinking about life and whatnot.