How to Make Friends with the Sea Read online

  Me the germaphobe.

  Me the obsessive-compulsive weirdo.

  Me the awkward kid.

  “Um, sure. Why not?” I replied.

  Things seemed to be looking up.

  I might actually be making a friend.

  How did that happen?

  SIXTEEN

  Mamá was thrilled. Beyond thrilled, actually. I’d never seen her so surprised. Maybe flabbergasted was a better word for it. Her freckles practically leaped off her face when I mentioned Happy and her suggestion.

  “Pablo. This is wonderful!” she exclaimed.

  “So you think it’s okay? I mean, having her around Chiqui and the house and stuff?”

  Mamá sipped her tea and sank deeper into the sofa. I hadn’t noticed until then how exhausted she looked. “Of course. I’ll take all the help I can get. To be honest, I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed.”

  Of course you’re overwhelmed.

  What were you thinking?

  Those thoughts somehow made me feel dirty. I fidgeted and glanced at my socks, counting the navy blue and red stripes. The stripes had warped at my ankles. As much as I wanted to reach down and straighten them out, I didn’t. I deserved to suffer.

  “I’m sorry, Mamá … I’m sorry if you’re overwhelmed. I’ll try not to make things harder on you,” I finally said without looking at her.

  “Gracias, Pablo. But really, it has nothing to do with you. Being a single mother isn’t easy, mi amor. It isn’t easy on anyone. Now that Chiqui’s here, I’m going to need all of you to pitch in. I’ve asked Grace to help out through the summer, and Zeus and Miguel will come by when they can.”

  I nodded. “All right.”

  There was this lump in my throat. It was big and solid and throbbed as if I’d puked up my heart. Mamá placed her teacup on the table. “I’d better go see what she’s up to…” She cupped my chin with her hand and then took off in search of Chiqui.

  The scents of chai tea, coconuts, and soap lingered. Despite the pleasant smells, something about the living room was making me feel sick. Maybe it was the old furniture, or the smudgy walls, or the dusty curtains. I wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but whatever it was made me choke.

  “It has nothing to do with you.” Mamá tried so hard to reassure me.

  But she was wrong. It had everything to do with me.

  She just couldn’t see it because she loved me too much.

  My father, though, he’d figured it out a long time ago. Once, when I was five, he brought me to work for Parent-Child Day. At first everything seemed fine. He gave me a quick tour of the aquarium. We saw all the exhibits—the colorful tropical fish, the alien-like jellies, the scary-looking sharks. Every so often he’d stop to greet a coworker. He would ruffle my hair and say something like, “This is my son, Pablo. He might just work here one day. What do you think, kiddo?” I always nodded because more than anything I wanted so badly to please him.

  By the time we got to the touch pools, I was tired and hungry. But I didn’t complain. My father wasn’t fond of whining. We stood at the edge of the bat ray pool. The water was clear and shallow. But there was something about it I didn’t like. There wasn’t a sheet of glass separating me from them. The bat rays glided past us. They were like flat-headed monsters with wings and dangerous-looking tails. My father stuck his hand in the water and gazed at me. “You can touch them, Pablo. They won’t hurt you,” he said.

  As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t do it. The water. What was underneath it scared me. My father frowned. He reached for my hand and tried to pull me over. “C’mon, Pablo. You can do it.”

  I resisted, yanking my hand away. He let go. I fell backward. Tears dribbled down my face. Everything was blurry. But there was one thing in the room that was crisp, clear, and painfully sharp. My father’s eyes, filled with disappointment.

  He sighed. “I’ll bring you home now,” he said.

  And that was the first and last time he ever brought me to Parent-Child Day.

  That day, I also began to suspect something. Maybe my fears and worries and anxieties weren’t at all normal. Maybe there was something wrong with me.

  SEVENTEEN

  If there was one thing I hated … Well, okay, I hated lots of things. But shopping had to be in the top three.

  The smells.

  The sounds.

  The crowds.

  The stuff.

  Too. Much. Stuff.

  Ugh.

  In an effort to be helpful, I’d agreed to accompany Mamá to shop for Chiqui.

  What was I thinking?

  I was already sweating. Miguel’s SUV was freezing, like Antarctic-level freezing, but still the sweat kept on coming. I scooched closer to the window, hoping nobody would notice. Mamá was staring off into the air. Thinking. Maybe she was thinking about how annoying it was having Chiqui burrowed in her armpit.

  “Mahal … Mahal kita…,” sang Zeus from the driver’s seat.

  Ugh.

  I was seriously starting to regret it.

  The SUV cruised past the exit of our subdivision. Almost immediately, the narra trees disappeared. Without the shade, the streets and sidewalks seemed too bright, too dirty, too loud. There were the unhygienic food carts on wheels, selling snacks I wouldn’t eat in a billion years. There were the stores for everything—convenience stores jam-packed with you-name-it-they-had-it, tiny bakeries with colorful breads and pastries, used-tire shops, which looked more like sidewalk junkyards, fruit and vegetable vendors selling their wilted produce from plastic tarps on the ground. There were the cars, the tricycles, the jeepneys double, triple, quadruple parked on the sidewalks. Traffic. Beep. Beep. Honk. Honk. There were the throngs of people jaywalking right and left. The assault on my eyes went on and on and on.

  I looked away.

  I had to look away.

  Chiqui burrowed deeper into Mamá’s armpit.

  “We are here, Ma’am Carmen.” Zeus maneuvered the truck into the entrance of the SM Mall. It wasn’t my first time visiting that atrocious place. Ms. Grace had brought me there to buy school supplies, and on that day, she gave me all the nitty-gritty details about the place, how it was the largest chain of malls in the Philippines. And that back in the day, it was called Shoe-Mart, but when they expanded to selling everything under the sun, their name changed to SM.

  Mamá glanced at the building, which resembled a ginormous tombstone with lights and billboards. Her shoulders drooped; she inhaled and exhaled as if preparing herself for the inevitable.

  “Okay. Let’s get this over with,” she said.

  At least I wasn’t the only one who hated the mall.

  Mamá had told me on numerous occasions that malls were the epitome of consumerism. But from time to time they were a necessary evil.

  We hopped out of the truck. It was pretty challenging, considering Chiqui wouldn’t unglue herself from Mamá’s leg. And every time she tried to make a move toward the entrance, Chiqui would pull in the opposite direction and shake her head. It was quite the scene. Passersby were eyeing Mamá suspiciously as if she were some child abuser or something. I could tell Mamá was trying to keep her cool, but her cheeks were turning pinker and pinker, and her sweat was sticking to her flyaway hair in a way that made it look like someone had poured a bucket of water on her.

  “Chiqui, please,” she kept on repeating.

  But still, she wouldn’t budge.

  That is, until Zeus stepped in. He kneeled in front of her. “Huwag kang mag-alala, Chiqui. Punong-puno ng magagandang damit at sapatos ang mga tindahan dito … Lalabas kang isang prinsesa!” he said with a chuckle.

  Whatever he’d said was totally alien to me. There was one word, though, one word I recognized.

  Prinsesa. It sounded just like the Spanish word for “princess.”

  Slowly, really slowly, Chiqui’s grip on Mamá loosened. Then, she let go. I could see her eyes starting to glimmer. I could see the faintest hint of a smile appearing on her face.

 
Mamá touched Zeus’s shoulder. “Thank you, Zeus.”

  He stood and shrugged like it was nothing. “Just call me when you need me, ma’am. Sir,” he said with a wave.

  I watched him get into the white truck as if it were a white stallion. As if he were a knight riding off into the sunset after saving the day.

  Sir.

  Maybe I should have been the one calling him “sir” all along.

  Sir Zeus.

  * * *

  “We’ve … got … it … all … for … you!”

  That was the catchphrase of the SM Department Store jingle. It was playing on a loop, driving me up the wall, while Mamá and Chiqui browsed the never-ending racks of clothing. It might as well have been a maze of cotton and polyester and rayon. I got dizzy after a while, the vomit-fest of colors making my eyes hurt.

  “Chiqui. DR-ESSS … BLUE DR-ESSS…” I heard Mamá’s exaggerated talking from somewhere behind me.

  I turned around. Chiqui was shaking her head from side to side. I guess she wasn’t a fan of pastel-blue frills. She yanked a party dress with silvery sequined stars from the rack closest to her and held it up.

  Mamá’s hairy eyebrow caterpillars danced on her forehead. “Really?”

  Chiqui held it up even higher.

  “Okay. Okay. I guess every girl needs a party dress.” She tossed the sequined monstrosity into the shopping cart and started browsing again.

  I groaned. “Mamá. I’m tired.”

  “We’re almost done, mi amor…”

  She said that an hour ago.

  Maybe I could find a quiet spot to escape to. I looked around, but the only remotely quiet spot was a small bench in the nearby shoe section.

  Good enough.

  I made my way there, collapsing with a sigh and a groan and whatever other self-pitying sound I could muster. From where I was seated, I could still see Mamá and Chiqui holding items of clothing up to each other. Once in a while, a smiling saleslady would make her approach. Each and every one would flinch at the sight of Chiqui’s face. Each and every one would try not to show it. And then inevitably, each and every one of their smiles would fade as they made some pathetic excuse to run off. At first Chiqui didn’t seem to notice. But after the fourth and fifth and sixth time, she caught on. As soon as she spotted a navy blue saleslady uniform she would hide among the clothes.

  I felt sick all of a sudden. Like someone had simultaneously stomped on my guts and slapped the back of my head. It only got worse when a couple of little girls, not much older than Chiqui, started giggling and pointing at her. Mamá was a few aisles away inspecting a pile of jeans.

  I stood on jiggly legs.

  What was I supposed to do?

  Should I go get Mamá?

  Should I run over and tell those girls to stop?

  Should I jump in the way and shield her with my body?

  Should I get the manager and file a complaint?

  All those questions. All those scenarios were running in my head, in circles. Running. Running. Running. Meanwhile, Chiqui kept on burrowing deeper into the clothing racks. She peeped out and made eye contact with me. There were tears streaming down her face.

  Pablo. Please, help!

  I could hear her screaming loud and clear, even though her lips hadn’t moved.

  Still, my jiggly legs wouldn’t budge.

  Sir Pablo.

  What a joke.

  There was most definitely nothing knight-like about me.

  Suddenly, Mamá appeared out of nowhere. Her feathers were ruffled; I mean, she didn’t actually have any feathers. Duh. But if she’d had them, they would have been standing up and puffy. I held my breath waiting for her to lash out. But she didn’t. What she did was breathe deep, bend down, and speak calmly to those girls. They nodded, as if they’d understood exactly what she’d said. And then they walked away. Just like that.

  It had been so easy. So effortless. Yet I’d done nothing.

  Absolutely nothing.

  Mamá crept into the rack of clothing and reached out to hug Chiqui. But Chiqui was inconsolable. Her arms swung all over; it almost seemed like she was fighting with every item of clothing in her way. As the seconds went by, she got more and more tangled; hangers were dropping to the floor right and left.

  It was quite the scene.

  Yet again.

  Except Sir Zeus was nowhere in sight.

  It was just me and them.

  And the only thing I did was stand there and watch them like a useless mannequin.

  EIGHTEEN

  The sun glared from a cloudless sky. There was this moody kind of gust that swirled around, so dirt, dust, and debris blew everywhere. It was the kind of day I hated. All I wanted to do was hide in my bedroom. Take refuge. Especially after what had happened at the mall the day before.

  I was dejected.

  Sad. Depressed. Dispirited.

  But the more I sulked, the more I got to thinking. I didn’t want to be that boy anymore—that useless mannequin. I wanted to help out.

  Do my part.

  Be the very best Pablo I could be.

  I climbed out of my nest of pillows and sheets, and then dashed out of my room. But then, I stalled by the door as soon as I heard Mamá and Ms. Grace speaking in hushed voices. They were in the entryway. Instinctively, I crept back and flattened my body against the wall. At first I felt like a bumbling secret agent. As the hushed voices became louder, though, I felt braver, cooler, much more James Bond–like.

  “Grace, you should have seen her … It took me nearly half an hour just to get her out of the clothing rack,” said Mamá.

  “Did she say anything?” asked Ms. Grace.

  “No. That’s the thing. She wouldn’t speak at all. Not even in Tagalog. Not even in the car when Zeus was trying to calm her down … I’m worried, Grace.”

  “Hmm…” I could picture Ms. Grace thinking the way she did when her head was tilted to the side. “What did the doctors at the hospital tell you?” she finally asked.

  “Not much. They gave me referrals for a child psychologist and speech therapist … I’m going to have to take some time off from work just to bring her to see them.” Mamá sighed.

  “I can help. If you need me here at the house…”

  “Thank you. You’re a lifesaver, Grace … Maybe, when you’re alone with Chiqui, you can try and get her to open up to you? Perhaps she’ll talk to someone more … familiar,” said Mamá.

  “Of course,” said Ms. Grace.

  I leaned forward just a bit and saw Mamá hug Ms. Grace.

  “I have to go. I’m already running late. Thanks for everything, Grace.”

  The door opened and closed. A minute later, I heard the cring-cring-cringing of Mamá’s bicycle bell. Ms. Grace breathed deep, and then she walked toward the living room. That’s when I counted Mississippi ten times, to make sure Ms. Grace wouldn’t suspect I was eavesdropping.

  Okay, just act normal, Pablo.

  I strode into the living room like I was shooting the breeze or something.

  Ms. Grace and Chiqui were on the floor playing Legos.

  “Good job, Chiqui! Ang ganda ng bahay mo!” said Ms. Grace.

  I glanced at Chiqui. She was fiddling with her hair, avoiding Ms. Grace’s gaze. Yet still, Ms. Grace persisted. “Ano ang paborito mong kulay, Chiqui?” she said, pointing to the different colored Legos.

  Silence.

  Chiqui didn’t utter a single peep.

  That’s when I kneeled down and gawked at her Lego house as if it were the most amazing thing in the world. “Wow. This is like the coolest house I’ve ever seen!”

  Suddenly, Chiqui beamed. It was obvious that she was proud of the lopsided, multicolored house she’d built.

  But still, she didn’t utter a single peep.

  Never mind. It was progress, nonetheless.

  Ms. Grace placed her hand on my back, looking just like one of the smiley faces she drew on my test papers.

  One hundred percent. />
  I was kicking butt.

  I cleared my throat.

  Ahem.

  “So … anyone up for some fresh air? How about we go for a walk? Chiqui might enjoy a visit to the sanctuary,” I suggested.

  Chiqui fiddled with the Lego in her grasp, her eyes bouncing from Ms. Grace to me to Ms. Grace to me.

  “I think that’s a fantastic idea, Pablo!” said Ms. Grace.

  “Awesome. I’ll go get ready.” I hurried to my room. So fast, I didn’t even stop to count the window-blind shadows on the wall.

  I was pleased with myself.

  From then on, I was going to do everything within my power to make it up to Chiqui.

  She was going to love the sanctuary. There were hardly any people around, and the animals, well, the animals didn’t care one bit about how you looked. Maybe that’s why she adored those chickens so much.

  I put on a pair of cargo pants and a T-shirt, and then slathered my skin with citronella oil until I reeked. As bad as I smelled, it was still better than being eaten alive by mutant mosquitoes. I’d seen a lot of mosquitoes in my lifetime. But nothing compared to the ones in the Philippines. They were huge, thirsty, and practically indestructible.

  Before leaving the room, I stuffed wet wipes, tissues, and hand sanitizer spray into my pockets. I was ready. Or at least I thought I was.

  Ms. Grace and Chiqui were already outside. Chiqui had on this big, floppy hat, a bubble-gum-pink dress and rain boots with rainbow hearts on them. She was gnawing on her hair, so her face was half covered.

  She was nervous.

  She didn’t want anyone staring at her.

  She just wanted to hide.

  I couldn’t blame her. Most of the time that’s how I felt too.

  Ms. Grace took her hand and held it. “Let’s go, Pablo, Chiqui. I’ve got bottled water and snacks for all of us,” she said.

  Except when Ms. Grace took a step forward, Chiqui wouldn’t budge. It was as if her rain boots were glued to the concrete. Ms. Grace frowned. Then she bent down and said, “Takot ka ba?”

  But still, Chiqui didn’t utter a single peep.

  Ms. Grace bent down even more, so she was eye to eye with her. “Maniwala ka sa akin, Chiqui.” Her tone was so gentle, so patient.