Swimming Sideways (Cantos Chronicles Book 1)

by CL Walters

  I think about that now as I erase my math problem yet again. I set the pencil down realizing the futility of it for the moment. My poppa sang Hawaiian because it was his connection to the language, his life, the life of our culture. In that small action, singing Hawaiian, my poppa found the source of his identity. What have my actions said about mine? Lap dances and lies? Gabe hadn’t seen me like that though. What had he said? That I was strong. That I changed Cantos High by speaking up.

  I’m frowning when there’s a knock at the door drawing me from the entanglement of my existential crisis. “Come in,” I call.

  Nate opens the door and steps into my room, “Can I talk to you?”

  “Sure.” I swivel the chair around to face him. “What is it?”

  He’s silent while his eyes dart around my room and then sits on the edge of my bed. “It’s kind of personal.”

  “Okay. I won’t say anything to Matt.”

  Nate offers a timid grin. “There’s this girl.”

  This makes me smile. “Really?” I stand up and join Nate on my bed. “Dish. I want to hear everything.”

  “Well,” Nate begins, “she’s in my computer science class,” he says.

  “And what’s her name? Will I approve of her?”

  “Abby,” he says with a warning. “Her name is Nora.”

  “Hmmm. Okay.” I don’t tell him I think her name sounds kind of old.

  “I just don’t know if she’s interested. Sometimes I think so, and sometimes I’m not sure.”

  “Example?” I ask but then am interrupted by a noise downstairs. Both of us hold our breath to listen. “Is that mom?” I finally ask breaking the silence. The front door closes and a clump of something against the floor thuds up the stairs to us. “What’s that?”

  Nate stands up and opens the door to listen.

  A masculine voice drifts toward us. “Do they know?”

  “Is that Dad?” I ask.

  Mom says, “Not yet.”

  Nate nods. “Yeah. I think so.”

  We walk out to the top of the stairs.

  “Dad?” I call down. “Is that you?”

  He appears at the bottom of the steps and smiles. “Hi baby.” He looks the same, broad and brown, but different, the smile of his youth, the dad I remember from my youth, returned.

  I take the steps two at a time and launch at him. “Daddy.” I’m crying. “You’re back. I was afraid you weren’t coming back,” the words rush out.

  “I’ve missed you, my girl.” Nate and Matt rush down the stairs after me. “My boys!” Dad says. Suddenly we are all in his arms much like when we were little and he’d carry us through the house stomping like he was a giant crushing a city.

  “Where were you?” Matt asks.

  “I took a trip home to Hawaii. Visited Poppa’s and Grandma’s graves. Stayed with Uncle Fern and Aunty Tressa.” He pauses and then says. “Let’s go into the kitchen and sit at the table.” He unfolds all of us from his arms.

  We file into the dining room through the kitchen and find our normal places around the oval table. The atmosphere is unsettled. Dad smiles and then reaches out to take mom’s hand. I breathe a little easier, but I’m not sure what’s coming. They’ve always wanted the united front.

  “Mom and I have come to some decisions,” Dad says.

  “You’re getting a divorce,” Matt says as if saying it first will make it less painful to hear coming from them.

  “Matthew,” my mother snaps. “No.”

  My dad shakes his head. “No.”

  I can tell that he wants to elaborate, but like Poppa, he waits, gathering his thoughts. “First things first, I owe you all an apology.” Matt starts to say something, but Dad interrupts him. “Wait. Let me say what I need to, okay?” He pauses and then continues. “I haven’t been the best dad or the best husband for a while, and I need to tell you I’m sorry.”

  Each of us begin to emphatically disagree. I’m not sure why, but maybe it’s to absolve his guilt or maybe to make us more comfortable with our roles. This isn’t the dad any of us recognize, but it definitely is the one we need. He holds up a hand to stop us. “Don’t. We know they would just be lies. I’ve been really shitty since…” he pauses and looks at mom, “since well before my dad died, and then just lost after. I owe each of you an apology for letting you down.”

  I don’t know what to say, uncomfortable with this humbled dad, but I think about Poppa teaching me Hawaiian values, ha'aha'a being one. I see that embodied at this moment in my father.

  “I need to thank you Abby,” he says. Everyone looks at me, mom and the twins a bit startled. “When you came home that day, when I was here grabbing my bag, you said something that stuck with me: When the going gets tough, you just jump from the wa’a? I drove to Portland for my flight going between anger and shame because your words made me look at myself, who I had become and I didn’t want to see the truth of it.”

  “But you did?” Mom asks.

  His gaze leaves me for her and he nods. “Remember that first day I called you, the day I went surfing?” He asks her.

  She nods.

  He looks at us. “I hadn’t been surfing since before Poppa died. Actually, I’d avoided the ocean because it was just too hard. Every time I thought about it, or went to the beach, I couldn’t get into the water. It made me miss my dad so bad that I would just leave. So, I started avoiding the pain that I was feeling by running away to other things.” He looks at my mom and I see him squeeze her hand. “But this time, when I went home, I finally got into the water. I carried Poppa’s surfboard, walked into the waves at Yokes, and did it. The moment I did, it was like all of the bullshit, the fear, the hurt, the junk was washed off and I could see clearly because you know why?”

  “Why?” Nate asks.

  “Because I could hear Poppa’s voice again,” he says and chokes up, his voice catching in the back of his throat. He looks down at the table a moment composing himself and then steadies his gaze on us again. His brown eyes are liquid with unshed tears, but he continues. “I could hear him, all the things he would have said to me.” Dad smiles as a tear slips down his cheek. “And I got a pretty good scolding.” He wipes the tear from his face.

  Each of us is crying with him.

  “The first thing I did was call your mom. And then I surfed every day, and every day I felt better and better until Aunty Tressa snapped at me that it was time to get my ass home to my wife and kids.”

  We all laugh through our tears thinking about Aunty and her sharp tongue.

  “Was she carrying a spatula?” Mattie asks.

  “You know it. Hit me with it too.”

  We all laugh again missing the nostalgia of place and people.

  “So you just went surfing and all is better?” Matt asks skeptical.

  “Well, I know that when you put it like that, it sounds… unbelievable, but for me it was like healing, like medicine.”

  “Like a baptism,” I say because I understand the powerful call of the water. I haven’t been surfing since Poppa’s death either and think about the wetsuit in my closet. Would it be the same here in Oregon?

  “Yes. Like that, but not only being washed, but finding reconnection and peace.” He looks at mom. “I asked mom if I could come home.”

  “I thought Hawaii was home?” Nate asks.

  “Hawaii is our homeland,” Dad says, “but our family, your mom, you, your brother and sister, you all are my home,” He says. “We are going to be making some changes as an ohana, and they will start with me,”

  Dad found his pikos, I think. I think about myself and wonder how to achieve that balance for myself. I need to figure out how to untangle myself from my perceptions of what was and what is. I think I need some steps like at the hardware store so that I can change my perspective.

  27

  PLAY ACTING

  There’s something in the fall air that I can’t name, but it’s buzzing the social sphere at school that insinuates that there are th
ings happening that I can’t see. While my own social status is still low - Freak 2 isn’t the most glamorous moniker - to the masses at Cantos High, my circle of friends has insulated me from complete ostracism. Add to that the who of my circle of friends, namely Darnell, and both Gabe and I have found that people aren’t as quick to be as vocally aggressive or as willing to push the Freak Challenge. Who wants to face Gabe and Darnell and any other football players defending their boy?

  Having that circle has still provided the rumor fodder on which to chew because while Gabe and I might not hear the rumors direct, our circle of friends does. Right now, the central figure is Seth, though I have a feeling that it’s often been Seth. Being the “it” guy at school makes it difficult to escape the ever-watchful eyes of the envious even if their perceptions are misguided. Seth still hasn’t spoken with me, but according to the gossip, he did go and see Sara. If the rumors are true, he dumped her, though Sara purports that he came begging at her door and she slammed it in his face. No one believes Sara because not many like her. Fear her, yes, but like her no. Seth’s status is enough of an insulation to keep him safe from a fall, and I’m not sure there’s much he could do that would topple him from the pinnacle of Cantos High popularity outside of doing something terrible.

  I glance at Gabe, sitting next to me, and wonder where he was at lunch yesterday while listening to the conversation between he and Darnell about the upcoming football game. Over the last several weeks, I have learned that Gabe is very knowledgeable about football, much like he demonstrated at the hardware store knowing crazy statistics and scenarios that numb my brain into slush. But I love listening to him talk. I love the soothing sound of his voice, and feel an awesome sense of pride for him when he showcases his ability for someone else to notice. I learn from Darnell that Gabe played football all through middle school and his freshman year.

  I start to ask what happened and then realize it was The Freak Challenge. It changed everything. I keep the question muted and continue to listen.

  Darnell has spent much of the last several lunches nagging Gabe to work out with the football team so he can play senior season. Gabe, in his normal Gabe way, scoffs.

  “Come on, brah,” Darnell says. “We could really use you at safety, dude.”

  “You could use a lot at a lot of positions,” Gabe answers with a smile.

  “I think that’s a great idea,” I say and smile.

  “See,” Darnell says. “Even your girl thinks so.”

  Gabe stiffens next to me.

  “Oh,” I say suddenly flustered and look down at the table.

  “Oh damn. My bad,” Darnell says. “I didn’t mean to discombobulate shit.” He laughs.

  “I’ll think about it,” Gabe says to Darnell but then when I look back up, his eyes are on me and I’m not sure if he’s just talking about football anymore.

  Hannah is looking at me and wiggles her eyebrows with a question.

  I shake my head slightly.

  She shrugs.

  I wonder again about where Gabe was yesterday, having skipped the cafeteria for lunch. He hasn’t done that for weeks. Maybe he’ll tell me in art or on the way home but yesterday he’d been distant and moody, so I hadn’t pressed him.

  I peek at Seth’s table and his eyes slide away when my gaze glazes his and I have the feeling he was looking our way. What strikes me about Seth is how different he appears like he’s wilted. I check Gabe who in the last several weeks seems to have flourished. No black hoodie today and I realize that’s new. Instead, he’s wearing a button up shirt over a white T-shirt underneath, his sleeves rolled up. His countenance is so different, like the sun crawled inside him and is now shining brightly through him. I have a feeling that all it would take is one movement on the social chessboard to change things. Another glance at Seth, who used to look like that but now seems like a muted version of himself. How is it that while one of them blooms, the other one seems to die?

  Seth stands and I look away. I don’t want him to see me watching him, so I look down at my lunch on the table and fiddle with the bag of chips. While the feelings I once had for him have worn away like running water over rocks rounding out their edges, the love I feel for him as my friend is just as strong. I’m worried about him, but he’s demonstrated that he doesn’t seem to want my friendship anymore.

  “Hi,” I hear Gabe say but in a tone of voice that sets my nerves on edge. I look up to see who he’s talking to.

  Standing at the end of the table is Seth.

  A quick glance around and nearly every face in the room has swiveled our way.

  Seth extends a hand to Darnell. “What up?” he says.

  “Yo.” Darnell takes his hand. “Sup brah?”

  Hannah coughs and then says, “Hi, Seth. It’s good to see you back.”

  He smiles at her, one of those beautiful smiles with the dimple in his cheek, though I notice that the effect it once had on me is different. Maybe it’s because I’m so angry at him, so hurt.

  Seth turns to Gabe and holds out his hand. “Hey Daniels.”

  My muscles tense, though I’m not sure why. I can’t imagine that this is some sort of trick. I’ve never known Seth to do something like that, but what do I really know of him other than years of childhood and a few weeks of what he wanted me to see. Gabe insists he’s someone different. I hold my breath, and it seems that everyone in the cafeteria is collectively holding their breath to see what is about to happen.

  Seth’s looking at Gabe, his eyes seeming to try to communicate with him, but I can’t know what this silent communication imparts, but it does something.

  Gabe glances at me and then back at Seth. He takes the offered hand. “Hey.”

  It seems everyone releases the collective breath they’d been holding when the volume in the cafeteria climbs back up.

  I look at Seth whose eyes are on me. He isn’t smiling, but it doesn’t communicate dislike, rather insecurity, like he’s waiting for what comes next. I’m hurt and angry with him, but I also care about him so completely that I say, “I’m glad you’re here.” I offer him a peace-offering smile.

  Seth looks away and it almost feels like a punch, like he’s refused my olive branch.

  “I wish I didn’t have to go,” Hannah says interrupting the unfolding drama and collects her things, “but I promised Ms. Tressell that I would meet with her about my project.” Hannah stands but her eyes dance between us. “Talk later, Ab?” She asks.

  “Yes. I’ll see you in English.”

  “Here Seth. Take my spot,” she says. “Don’t forget Halloween. You said you’d help, right?”

  “Yes,” he answers her. “Still on.” He moves around the table to take her seat.

  “Hannah. Wait up,” Darnell stands. “I’ll follow you,” he says. “See you all later.”

  The rest of the table follows their lead: Nate, Matt, Rachael, among the others until it's just the three of us locking in an uncomfortable silence. I stare at the table, cognizant of the tension between Gabe and Seth but insecure in the cause. I struggle to meet Seth’s gaze with my own because I don’t trust myself not to cry, and that is the last thing I want to do in front of him. When I finally feel like I can, I offer him a question with my eyes.

  “Well isn’t this a nice reunion,” Gabe says in that bored tone I recall from before. His defense mechanism.

  I look at him because it is so uncharacteristic of the Gabe I’ve come to know since. “What’s wrong?” I can feel the energy of what’s happening even if I don’t understand it, and am not sure if it’s positive or negative.

  “Nothing,” Gabe says lifting his hands from the table and shaking his head. He smiles like everything is normal and I suppose that if I were at a different table watching this exchange, I wouldn’t think anything of it, except that Freak 1 and Freak 2 are sitting at a table with one of the most popular boys at Cantos. That alone would be strange, but then to see what appears to be a normal conversation?

  Seth chuckles
as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

  “Really?” I sound as confused as I feel.

  “Really,” Seth says. He clears his throat and adds, “I just came over to hang out.”

  I smell the bullshit and lean toward him. “You haven’t talked to me in four weeks, and to Gabe for three years, and now you want to hang out?” I study Seth’s face and note every new bruise, every mark that wasn’t there before. He’s been hurt, really hurt but it doesn’t assuage my anger. It does however remind me to tread softly. I want an explanation about why I was suddenly dropped.

  “Maybe you should tell her,” Gabe says to Seth.

  This cryptic banter is confusing, because whatever is happening is something they both understand but I don’t and I don’t like it. “Tell me what?”

  Seth leans forward. “For this to work, both of you need to fucking chill out.” He’s suddenly pissed, but trying to appear like he isn’t.

  I glance around and see that everyone is still watching though they are trying to act like they aren’t.

  “Do you really think this little show is going to work?” Gabe asks.

  Seth glances at the clock across the room.

  “Show?” I ask, but I think I might beginning to understand, I just don’t understand why.

  “Look,” Seth says. “I’m trying here,” he says to Gabe.

  Gabe laughs, “Trying,” but the sound isn’t filled with joy and instead is fortified with bitterness. “You think this is even going to come close to making us even?”

  “No,” Seth answers and offers another forced smile.

  “You could say that again,” Gabe says and then glances at me. He smiles, and while the edges of his eyes soften when he looks at me but the sharp edge of his voice doesn’t.

  “No. This won’t come close to making us even,” Seth says again.

  It’s becoming clearer that Seth has crossed the social boundary to demonstrate that he and Gabe are friends again, but it doesn’t sound like a peace offering. “Isn’t this something that you can work through?” I ask.

  “No,” Gabe says. He looks at me. In his gaze I see the Gabe I know. His eyes seem to ask me to try and understand, but I don’t.