by Mae Respicio
“It’s a date.”
* * *
After breakfast, Tatang and I meander down streets of palm trees, houses, apartments, and condos, on our way to meet Trey and Abby at the pier. Time to find the perfect place to shoot.
“Look!” I say, spotting a For Sale sign with Uncle Roy’s picture on it. I run to it and jump with my arms raised. Tatang takes a photo and it looks like I’m taking off to soar. He texts it to my uncle and right away Uncle Roy replies with three thumbs up and a blowing kisses emoji.
We end at the shopping area along the Promenade, where Trey and Abby dash up to us. Tatang cups their faces and says things like, “Abby, when did you get braces?” and “Trey, you’re as tall as I am now!”
“Ready to help us with some location scouting?” Abby asks. She hooks her arm into Tatang’s and talks his ear off about B Is for Bakunawa.
We make our way to the pier, stopping at a bench with an ocean view. Tatang sits and people-watches as Abby peers around and takes pictures.
“It might be too noisy to film here,” she says.
A good location scout knows that the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. Sometimes the right location means having the right feeling, a mood. So far what we’ve found isn’t quite right. We keep looking for the perfect place to film our opening scene, where the bakunawa emerges from the sea and wanders around the beach before going off to his first day of baking school.
Trey points to an empty area without a lot of vendors. “How about over there?”
Abby points her camera lens and the shutter clicks. Tatang tags behind, stopping at the different stands to try on sunglasses and octopus hats where the tentacles dangle over his face. After a while he looks at his watch.
“Hey, kids, how about a preproduction break?” he says.
“Definitely,” Trey says. I’m actually surprised Trey didn’t ask to take five sooner—when he’s not acting he’s more of the loungey type. In his third grade All About Me presentation he told our class his favorite hobby was “couch potato-ing.”
“Let’s do it. Although I’m thinking of something more like an experience than a break.” Tatang points up. We follow his gaze all the way to Pier Pressure, a roller coaster.
Trey starts laughing. “Tatang, you’re sneaky.”
I can’t help but think that Mom would hate this. High rickety rides make her nervous—like me.
“You really want to go on that?” I try to sound like it’s no big deal.
Tatang nods. “It’s on my list!”
“But it’s so…high. Plus, I don’t think Mom would like this.”
“It’ll be okay, anak. I’ll go buy the tickets.” Tatang scurries off to a ticket window, where he chats with the guy behind the register, a long line of antsy people waiting.
“You have the coolest great-grandpa ever,” Trey says. I can’t argue with that.
Soon Tatang hands each of us a paper stub. “Ready?”
* * *
Some kids love roller coasters. They live for the speed, for the thrill of the drop. A lot of kids from school go to Disneyland during break and wait for hours in long lines, then do it all over again—and again and again. The closer we get to the front of the line, the more I know I’m not one of those people. This roller coaster looks too high and loopy, but I can’t not ride it now, not when my best friends and a man who’s ninety act like it’s nothing.
We inch our way up in line. Almost our turn.
I start to feel nauseous.
“Are you positive you want to do this?” I ask, but they don’t even hear me. They’re watching the ride overhead and listening to passengers shrieking.
“That looks soooo scary,” Abby says, but with a gigantic grin.
I shove my hands into my pockets and squeeze them tight.
We reach the front and the cars glide along the track toward us, slowing to a stop. People get off and the attendant opens a small gate to let us through.
“Here we go, kids!” Tatang says, and I take a huge breath.
Each car holds four people and Trey and Abby sit behind us. We’re in the very front car.
“Perfect seats, Tatang. We’ll feel every twist and turn!” Abby shouts.
Yeah. Perfect.
We pull a thick black bar down across our laps and I push it up a few times to make sure it’s locked tight and we won’t slip out.
Please please please don’t throw up.
Tatang looks behind us. “Feeling good, Abigail and Trey?”
They yell at the top of their lungs: “Wooooooo!”
Slowly the cars climb toward the sky, ratcheting up along the rickety tracks. I clamp my eyes shut.
“It’s okay, Kaia, you can look!” Tatang says. “Let’s take in the scenery!”
I open one eye—and eventually both.
Is this thing safe?
We soar higher and higher until I see the ocean to one side and mountains to the other. It’s the prettiest view. Everything looks miniature, and somehow that makes things all right.
Then, a drop and a scream—mine!
* * *
I’m out of breath from yelling.
My stomach dropped a billion times and my nerves are still rattling around, but the ride only lasted a few minutes, and once I gave in it was pure fun. Now I get it: sometimes it’s best to try.
“That. Was. Epic!” Trey shouts. He and Tatang high-five.
“Oh my, I have not done anything like that in years. Thank you, children, for indulging me.”
Tatang’s phone buzzes and Mom’s picture pops up. He touches the screen and laughs into it. In Ilocano he says, “I just took the kids on Pier Pressure!”—followed by him saying in English, “We are fine. Every limb and leg accounted for, I promise.”
Soon, Trey’s mom, Vanessa, picks Abby and Trey up at a curb and offers to drive me and Tatang too, but we say no thank you. Everyone waves as they drive off.
“How do you do it, Tatang?” I ask as we walk home.
“Do what?”
“Weren’t you scared to go on that crazy ride?”
“Why, certainly. You never know how safe those things are!”
The first thing we see when we get home is Mom’s scowl. She shakes her head. “Tatang, a man your age should not be doing thrill rides.”
“Please, my dear, tell me exactly what should a man my age be doing? I’ve had too much heartbreak in my life to not revel in the good stuff, am I right?”
When Tatang speaks of heartbreak, I think he means Nanang Cora. She had a type of cancer doctors couldn’t fix, and after she died, the family story is that Tatang got very sad in a way no one could fix either. I’ve never seen that side of him. Whenever he speaks of Nanang his face shows so many different emotions. “It’s because we feel with our hearts, not with our brains,” he’s told me.
“Come here, take a look,” Tatang says to Mom. He pulls out a photo strip we all took in a booth after the ride. We’re squished together in different poses: scared, surprised, goofy, giddy. “This was after the roller coaster. I happen to know how very nervous Kaia was at first—but see?”
“You knew I felt nervous?” I ask, and he nods.
“Our little girl isn’t so little anymore, is she?” he says to Mom. The corners of his mouth turn up. “You did it, anak! You conquered your fear.”
His look makes me feel as if I’m the most important person in the world to him.
Filming. Day one. Venice Beach.
Big day!
Balmy gray fills the sky. Locals call this June Gloom. It’s overcast, perfect to film in because the camera won’t pick up harsh shadows. Luckily this dull sky doesn’t match our mood. Abby, Trey, and I sport huge grins: we’re about to shoot our first scene.
Trey’s in full makeup and costume, thanks to Tata
ng’s help the other day. He looks equal parts beautiful and evil. Yes! I did pretty awesome for my first monster movie.
We hop into Abby’s mom’s electric car, which is covered in political bumper stickers, and Sam drives us to a beachside parking lot. Trey, Abby, and I get out and pull equipment from the trunk.
“I’ll be going for my run while you kids do your thing. You’ve got your phones in case you need to call, right?” Sam says to Abby.
“Yes! Thanks!” we say before shuffling down the sand to find our lucky spot. My pockets jingle full of coins—I grabbed some this morning. Normally we do this on New Year’s; it’s a Filipino tradition for wealth and good luck. But I don’t see why it wouldn’t work now.
We spread out a blanket and throw our stuff on top. Abby pulls out the camera.
At camp we blocked and rehearsed everything so today will be smooth and easy. Eliza likes to remind our class that anything can happen during production, but I think we’re safe. Abby created our shot list and has kept us super organized. At school she has the tidiest locker of anyone, with her mirror, carpet square, and pictures arranged and tacked up with heart magnets like it’s a mini-gallery. We’re in good hands.
Today’s scene: the bakunawa will emerge from the ocean before going to The Summer Baking Institute of Magical Sweets.
“Let’s do it!” I say.
Abby brings Trey to a spot a few feet out from the water, with peaceful waves in the background. She marks the sand with her foot.
“I want you to go from here all the way to that palm tree,” she points.
The clouds part and out of nowhere, sunshine slices through. It’s soft and dreamy, a kind of magic before Bakunawa tricks them all. Now we’re ready.
I show Trey the storyboards I roughed out:
“Okay, Bakunawa, you’ve just emerged from the depths of the sea and you’re walking down the beach. The audience has no clue who you are…yet. Right now your job is to keep our viewers guessing,” Abby says.
“I can do that,” Trey says.
He won’t actually emerge from the ocean, so I pull out a spray bottle of water and lightly mist his hair to make it look like he has. I put my hand to his forehead like a visor so his makeup won’t slide off.
I grab the slate board and stand in front of the camera. Trey waits for his signal.
“Scene one, take one!” I say into the lens before stepping out of the way.
Abby shouts, “Aaaaaaand…action!”
Trey centers himself and stares down the grainy landscape.
EXT. VENICE BEACH—MORNING
Clouds. Sunshine. Ocean waves lapping in.
White foam bubbles onto the shore peacefully before retreating. A typical Southern California day.
Until…
One shiny, silver bare foot steps onto the sand. Then another.
We pan up to see BAKUNAWA, fresh from the sea.
Bakunawa is part man and part aquatic creature. He has a muscular build, silvery, shiny scales, and a mischievous glint in his beady little eyes.
Bakunawa’s never been on land before. He peers around.
He seems innocent enough, cheerfully taking everything in as he walks down the shore.
Bakunawa takes one step forward, and another, getting farther and farther from the ocean.
Trey moves from his mark and turns his head every which way, exactly how Abby directed, when something white plops onto his face.
He touches it, stares at his hand, and yelps in horror.
“Cut!” Abby shouts. “What happened?”
“Ewwwwwwww!” he shouts. “Bird turd!”
I hold my stomach from laughing so hard. Abby’s not amused.
“Umm…take two?” I say.
Abby gives us a five-minute break for me to fix Trey’s makeup. I wipe the gross slime off his cheek as he tries to stop himself from dry heaving.
“Can we call it a day now?” he says, but our director shakes her head.
“Are you kidding? We can’t let a little thing like poop get in the way of making the best movie of all time, can we?” Trey and I nod—we don’t have any other choice. “Good,” Abby says. “Let’s move, move, move!”
We try to get more shots of Trey sauntering down the beach.
During one take, Abby stands along the edge of the bike path for a wide shot, but as soon as she yells “Action!” the camera lens gets blocked by a clump of bicyclers pedaling by.
“Cut!”
During another take, a gust of wind sweeps sand into the camera and into Trey’s mouth and eyes. He rubs at his face and spits it out.
“Cut!”
“I can’t do this anymore!” Trey yells.
“One more time, Bakunawa—I believe in you!” Abby yells back.
I touch up Trey’s scales. He tries the scene again while Abby points to where he needs to go. As we start to film, a guy in a uniform riding a Segway rolls up to us. He seems…kind of official?
“Beachside security. Do you have a permit to be filming here?” he asks.
“This is for camp, it’s nothing professional,” Abby says.
“Then move it along, move it along. Darn kids!” he barks out, before backing up and rolling away in the other direction.
“Is he serious?” Trey says.
“It’s okay. Maybe we can find a different beach to shoot at,” I say, trying to stay positive like Abby, but she shakes her head.
“I’m not feeling it anymore. Trey’s right. We should call it quits,” Abby says.
My brain thinks we need to keep plugging on, but truthfully, I’m done too.
We pack up and find a bench to wait for Abby’s mom. A few minutes later Sam spots us.
“How’d it go, Team B?”
“Horrible,” Trey explains. “It’s like we’re cursed.”
I touch my pocket, remembering the coins. If I told Mom we needed good luck today, she probably would have made me do a few extra superstitions.
“Oh, I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think,” Sam says.
I’m ready for an excellent Abby Pep Talk, but her face droops. Abby slings the camera bag onto her shoulder as she walks to the car and says, “Back to the drawing board, people.”
* * *
At home I find Uncle Roy and Tatang posing in matching headstands, their heads planted onto the cream-colored carpet, forearms firmly on the ground and feet up against the wall. Music plays—something with waterfalls and chirping birds. I Filipino-squat near them and Tatang grins. They gently lower themselves down and rest before sitting up. I reach for two bottles of water to hand them.
“I’ve still got it, huh, Roy-Roy?” Tatang says.
“Not bad for an old dude,” Uncle Roy says. “How’d filming go, Kaia Papaya?”
Tatang peers my way and his eyes brighten. If I want him to brag about me to everyone at Ocean Gardens, I can’t let on that we bombed.
“It went…okay.” I try to smile and seem natural but I don’t meet his eyes.
He looks pleased. “I’m about to run some errands. Care to join me?”
I nod. I could use a good distraction.
* * *
We drive to a nearby strip mall but when we pull in, every single spot’s taken. Usually we’d circle until something opens up—or until Dad gets mad and says with a hmph, “Fine, I’ll pay for overpriced valet!” and Mom gets annoyed he didn’t do that to begin with.
Tatang drives slowly down a lane while I scan for an empty space.
“Come on, parking karma!” I say, hoping for some good luck. Behind us a car beeps. A long loud blare.
We keep rolling at a snail’s pace when that same car pulls up close behind. It honks again, then swings around to our side.
My window’s wide open—so is the driver’s—and he�
��s shouting at us even though we didn’t do anything wrong. “You’re holding up the line, old man!”
Tatang sees an open spot a few spaces up. I think the guy sees it too and he drives forward, but Tatang races and beats him. We take the space.
“What an idiot driver,” Tatang says. He surprises me—Tatang never uses insults or strong words, and always gets mad at me when I do.
“Yeah, what an idiot,” I say.
Tatang turns the engine off. He takes a few steadying breaths, pauses, and looks me straight in the eye.
“Kaia, that’s not at all appropriate—and the same goes for what I just said. I’m very sorry, anak. My reaction was unacceptable. It was rude and uncalled for.”
“But he was the rude one.”
Tatang’s face isn’t scrunched up anymore. His anger has drained.
“We don’t know that individual and I don’t take what he said personally. What I do know is that how people treat others is a direct reflection of themselves.”
I apologize too and we take care of his errands. Once we’re done, Tatang points to a coffee shop. “Mind if we pop in? I could use some caffeine.”
Tatang orders his very fancy drink and I spot the rude driver standing behind us, reading the menu.
“Here ya go.” The girl behind the counter slides the cup to Tatang.
“May I ask your name?” Tatang says with a smile.
She returns it. “Roslyn.”
Quietly he responds, “Roslyn, I’d also like to pay for the gentleman’s order behind me, please.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’ll make my day, Roslyn, if you help us out.”
He hands her a bill and we don’t wait for the change. As we leave Tatang looks that man in the eyes and says, “Have a good day.”
We head to our car, but the guy pops up again. I grab Tatang’s hand. “Let’s go,” I say, but it’s too late. The man approaches us, though his grimace has disappeared.