Where the Sea Takes Me

by Heidi R. Kling

  “Come on,” I said, just a little bit farther.

  Bubbles looked at me, pretending to come forward, and then touched my hair, leaning back with a cackle of giggles.

  “What is she saying?” I asked the other two. One was playing with her fingers, the other looking at me with a blank expression.

  “CHAR-aya,” she said.

  Then laughed again.

  “Charaya?”

  “CHAR-A-ya,” she repeated, correcting my pronunciation.

  I tried again.

  Again, she laughed.

  Now Daevy was laughing, too.

  Only Arunny looked uncomfortable.

  “What does Charaya mean?”

  They laughed.

  “Hunt!” I yelled across the pool where he was working with his city kids.

  “Yeah?” he called back.

  “The girls called me Charaya and are now laughing.”

  “Charaya? It’s a name. Maybe they are laughing with you, not at you.”

  No wonder he and Tom got along.

  “No chance. What does it mean?”

  “Hell, if I know. Do I look like a Cambodian name dictionary to you?”

  “Uh. No. You look like a class A…”

  I looked at the girls looking back at me and changed my mind. “Never mind. Carry on.”

  If you can’t beat them, join them. At least we could all unite on this one thing.

  “Okay, okay. Come into the water with Charaya, whatever that means, please.”

  The older girls took a reluctant step forward. Cautiously, cautiously. Calves, then knees, then Bubbles plopped all the way into the water. Splashed. Freaked herself out as I applauded, and she retreated. The others pulled back. Arunny dashed to the fence, got in a ball, and hugged her knees into her chest.

  “What did I do?” I asked as three girls sat outside the pool and I stood dumbly in the shallow end. “Arunny? Are you okay?”

  She didn’t answer. She rocked back and forth.

  “I think the screaming scared her,” Amelie said, coming from seemingly out of nowhere.

  “Sorry.”

  “Not your fault. Just the way it is with them.”

  She approached Arunny rocking with hollowed-out eyes. She crouched next to her and spoke softly to her in Khmer before looking up at me and letting me know the girls were done for the day.

  “Hey, does anyone know what Charaya means? I think I’m pronouncing that right. Charaya?” I asked later, when we were all hanging out in the clinic waiting for Tom. I filled them in on the less-than-successful lesson.

  “Chary,” Dr. Chhim corrected my pronunciation. “It’s a name. A feminine name. Why do you ask?”

  “The girls were calling me that in the pool.”

  “Oh, that is interesting. Do they know your name is Sienna?”

  “Yes.”

  “It means ‘the one who is pink and blue,’” Amelie said, coming around the corner in her nurse’s outfit.

  “Pink and blue?” I asked.

  Amelie’s hip jetted out, her half smile amused. “Your hair, maybe?”

  Everyone laughed.

  “And the blue?”

  “Maybe your eyes?” Dr. Chhim guessed. “Or your shirt? Clever girls,” she said with an appreciative nod. “Charaya.”

  “They must like you okay if they assigned a new name to you,” Tom said.

  “Well, I guess that’s a good thing!”

  “Sure.”

  “Want me to wash it out?” Amelie asked.

  “My hair?” I kept forgetting it was pink. “No, I’m good. I like it.”

  “Okay. If you want a change, I’m here. I’m big into change.”

  “I’m sort of into things staying the same,” I admitted. “My friend talked me into this rinse, and it took her forever. I’m finally getting used to it now.”

  Amelie stared at me for a beat. “I can see that about you.”

  She didn’t say it judgingly, it felt…honest.

  And settled in my stomach like the heavy-looking jade figurine Buddha on Dr. Chhim’s desk.

  “I’m trying to change that, though.”

  “Deni?” she asked.

  I looked from Tom to Dr. Chhim back to Amelie and shushed her.

  “What?” she said with a triumphant smirk.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe.”

  “Good. Honesty. That’s a start.”

  “Ha!” Tom said, patting my back. “I have a feeling it might do Charaya some good to hang around with this one!”

  “Everyone benefits from being around This One,” she said with a wink, but there was a sadness behind her eyes. Something guarded. Something hidden. “As long as they don’t get on my bad side,” she added, lest anything got too sentimental.

  Duly noted.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The next day, after my students were comfortable treading water, I taught them the standing up breaststroke. This was not really a thing, but I invented it and it seemed to work out okay.

  Pressing water away, pushing water away.

  Pressing and pushing. Stationary.

  Standing up.

  They weren’t emotionally or physically ready to actually hold their bodies up and move through the water.

  “Good,” I said. “Nice.”

  They responded well to the positive feedback.

  Dr. Chhim left once I explained the instructions and she translated, advising me to let her know if I needed anything. Hunt was also in the pool, in case something went awry. I was glad Dr. Chhim trusted me with the girls, and also glad they were all three here and listening and trying.

  I thought about what Amelie said yesterday and what I confessed to her.

  The girls weren’t the only ones who needed to be led gently into dangerous waters. Waters, they couldn’t quite trust yet.

  The unfamiliar.

  No matter how clear and appealing it looked, it was new and different and scary.

  Change was scary.

  But hey, if I wasn’t going to at least try to embrace it, how could I teach the girls it was okay to try?

  “Good. You guys are doing great. Now we’re going to try some kicks. Okay. It’s easy. Here we go. You ready?” Hunt left us with a pile of kickboards that I tossed into the water. The girls stared at the floating pieces of Styrofoam like they were man-eating bugs.

  “It’s okay. They are floatation devices. They will help you. Here. Look.” I grabbed one and shimmied my chest and stomach up onto it like a raft. I kicked my feet around and zipped back and forth in the shallow end, demonstrating the correct form. “See?” I said, back near the stairs. “Who wants to try?”

  The older girls literally backed up and sat down.

  Non-verbal protest?

  “What about you Bubbles? Care to give it a whirl?”

  I pick up the lightest board and spun it around like one of those dudes in front of cell phone stores or pickles sandwich shops back home, trying to get passersby into their stores.

  She blinked and shrugged.

  “Great! Here you go. You just shimmy on like this.”

  She grabbed the board with two hands, like I showed her, and shimmied on.

  I steadied it, so she wouldn’t tip over.

  “Good. Good. Now try kicking like this.” Kicking off the wall, I took the lead, demonstrating how to lightly kick in the shallow water.

  She followed me, kicking along.

  “Nice! Good! Keep going!” I cheered her on. The older girls caught on and clapped, too, cheering. When she reached the edge of the pool, she tipped over and plopped into the water.

  Panicking, she flailed about, but I grabbed her and showed her how to grab onto the side of the pool.

  She took it one step further and crawled all the way out like a koala bear.

  Then after looking at me like I was crazy, sprinted toward the other side of the pool to join her friends.

  They wrapped her in a towel and looked at me like I was Enemy #1.<
br />
  “What?” I called out. “She did great! Falling in is normal. You can’t stay on the board all the time. That’s part of the experience.”

  “They don’t understand you,” a voice called out from the other side of the fence. “Where is Dr. Chhim?”

  Shielding my eyes from the sun streaking through thick clouds, I spied Deni watching us. “Hey, stalker,” I said with a grin.

  “Stalker?”

  “Someone who follows someone around all day.”

  “Ah. Then yes. Okay. I admit. I am a stalker.”

  We shared a smile. Then I eyed his camera. “Did you catch that on film? Bubbles did great. Well, until that unfortunate ending there.” I winced playfully.

  “Yes. No one likes to fall in.”

  “No. They don’t.”

  I glanced over at the girls. Then back at Deni.

  I guessed I should make a call?

  “Lesson over!” I called over to the girls. “Good job!” I said with a confident smile. The girls slowly moved through the water like it was hot molasses before skittering up the steps and dashing off to the bathrooms. After they left, Deni approached the edge of the pool, setting his camera down on a chair. Kneeling on the side of the pool he waited for me to swim over and meet him. Smiling under water, I abandoned the kickboard and swam the rest of the way over to him, all in one breath, pulling myself up on the side of the pool with a dramatic thrust up.

  “Little mermaid,” he noted with a half grin I caught through watery eyes.

  My lips tasted like chlorine. “It’s nice to be back in the water again. I missed it.”

  “That’s your home in there. The water.”

  “Yep. I guess so. We’ve made our truce, water and I.”

  “Water and I have not.”

  “I understand,” I said. And I did. Deni’s family was washed away by the tsunami. His village, ruined. His life, over. At least temporarily. Water and Deni had a long way to go to make amends.

  “Is it hard?” he asked eyeing the water.

  “What? Going back in the water?”

  “No. The other…”

  “Swimming?”

  “Yes. The swimming.”

  I grinned and moved away from the wall. He was subtle.

  “Anyone can learn to swim, Deni.”

  He narrowed his eyes. The sun shot off of his skin, and I could barely make out his features through the brightness. Deni, my mirage. Don’t go away, Deni.

  “I can teach you,” I offered.

  “Maybe you have a tail, little mermaid,” his voice projected through the light. “Swimming is for you. Not me.”

  “Want me to teach you to swim? Come on.”

  “No.”

  “Just try? For once?”

  “No.”

  “For me?”

  “As you say, ‘Nope.’”

  He grinned. But held his ground. Deni never did something he didn’t want to do.

  “Don’t you even want to think about it?” I asked, swimming closer and holding his eyes. The chlorine was strong; my eyes stung but I didn’t care.

  There he was, Deni, in the sunlight. I gulped, thinking about what I said to the girls. Don’t be scared. Just try. Try harder. You can do that.

  What would you do if you weren’t afraid to fail?

  Easier said than done.

  “No,” he said, taking a step back. “Never.”

  I tried a different tactic. “Deni. We can’t expect the girls to try new things and face their fears if we don’t face ours.”

  “You are facing your fears, rambut strabero?”

  I nibbled my lip, and flushed, interpreting a double meaning here.

  Avoiding his questioning eyes, I frowned, splashing around. “Yes. I was afraid of the water for a long time, remember? After my mom’s accident? Now I’m good with it. Watch.”

  Water.

  Not a euphemism for anything else.

  Deni cocked an eyebrow.

  Diving under, I pressed my palms against the bottom of the pool and tickled my feet in the air. Distraction technique.

  “You are…how do they say it? Show off.”

  “Ha ha, yes I’m showing off. Come on though, tonight, let’s try. I’ll teach you.” I waded backward in the pool, enjoying the feel of his eyes on me. Watching.

  He hesitated.

  Or maybe he was just soaking it all in like I was.

  “Well?” I pressed.

  “Maybe,” he said.

  “A solid maybe?” I grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  I dove back into the water and swam beneath the surface before popping up beside my floating red kickboard.

  I swam back with solid, fierce strokes showing off for Deni, hoping he was watching. I could feel his eyes on me. I always knew when he was around and still couldn’t get used to it. Deni in the light. Deni in the darkness. When I turned around he could be gone.

  “Hi.” Popping back into the air out of the shallow end, I sucked in a breath of fresh air. “So, like that,” I said. “Were you watching me kick on the board?”

  “We were watching you abandon your students,” Amelie said, approaching with the three girls. They followed her, wrapped in their towels.

  “What?” I asked. She looked pissed. The girls looked uncomfortable.

  “Your lesson goes for an hour. Why did you stop it short at forty-five minutes?”

  Oh shoot.

  I glanced up at Deni. The two of us chatting poolside while I was supposed to be working did not look good. I scrambled to fix it.

  “I thought the girls were done. Bubbles did great with the kickboard and then, well, she sort of tipped over at the very end and got scared and ran off with the older girls to the shower. I figured they were finished and changing…”

  I let the sentence drag off, understanding that it sounded like an excuse.

  “You are responsible for them until the end of the lesson when Dr. Chhim or Hunt or myself walks them back. Siena, the girls are victims. Survivors. They have major mood swings and need supervision. If one of them is upset about something that happens during practice, it’s your responsibility to jump out of the pool with them, and escort them back to the clinic, or, in the very least, let one of us know.”

  Her face was red, and her eyes angry.

  “Sorry,” I said, meaning it.

  “Sorry?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  I jumped out of the pool and grabbed my towel, wrapping it around myself.

  She looked from me to Deni back to me and rolled her eyes. “I won’t tell my dad. But don’t let it happen again.”

  Hunt was on the other side of the pool with his students and didn’t seem to notice or care, but I didn’t point that out. I didn’t want to make Amelie madder than she already was. And she had a point. I should’ve followed the girls and made sure they were okay instead of…chatting with Deni.

  After an uncomfortable moment, someone had to do something, and Deni took the reins.

  “I’ll see you later,” Deni said, with an apologetic wave in my direction, grabbing his camera and heading off toward the clinic.

  “Sorry,” I repeated to Amelie once we were standing alone, eye to eye.

  “Okay,” she said. “Thanks for apologizing. You get what I meant, though?”

  “Yes. It won’t happen again.”

  She nodded.

  Then her eyes followed where Deni was walking off.

  “I get it, though.”

  “What?”

  “The Deni thing. He’s hot. And there’s something else about him…like you feel like you’re the only person alive when he’s talking to you.”

  I watched his back, too. His familiar saunter, walking away. It pained me to see him go even if only for the moment. Even when I knew I’d see him again in a few minutes.

  “Yes.”

  “What’s your deal anyway?” she asked.

  “It’s…a long story.”

  “I’d love to hea
r it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because…” She glanced at her phone before putting it back in her pocket. “I’m curious.”

  “Okay.”

  Was it purely curiosity? Or something else?

  I didn’t love the way she looked at him and tried to quiet the jealously nipping in my gut.

  “Later, okay? Let’s get them back in the pool now to finish up their lesson, eh?” I offered. It would serve double duty: getting her off my back about Deni and make up for my mess up with cutting the lesson short.

  Fortunately, she was agreeable.

  “Okay. Sure.”

  But my earlier enthusiasm was gone after being chastised, so while Amelie worked with them on the shallow end of the pool, I positioned myself more as an assistant.

  Obviously, because she spoke their language, she was better with them on the communication, but not so much with the swimming.

  Even though her dad was a swim coach and teacher, Amelie, like other Cambodian girls, didn’t learn to swim as a kid, so she was sort of jerky in that I’m-new-to-this-but-I’m-trying-hard way.

  Kind of like me before with Spider.

  Whoa. Where did that come from?

  “They asked who that man is with the camera,” Amelia said without expression.

  “Was it bothering them that he was here before filming? Dr. Chhim said they gave permission for him to make a documentary about this trip, but if they are uncomfortable, I’ll ask him to edit out the footage, or block out their faces to protect their identity.”

  She asked them.

  The oldest girls answered back. Bubbles, practicing on the kickboard again, met my eyes and almost—almost but not quite—offered me a hint of a smile. Nice.

  “They said they don’t want to be filmed falling off the kickboard and drowning.”

  Oh gosh.

  “They aren’t going to drown. We’re going to take care of them. Tell them that, please. And we can show them all the footage after Deni collects and edits it. If there’s any part they don’t like, he will be happy to not include it.”

  She told them. They nodded.

  The girls talked, and Amelie translated with a laugh. “They said they don’t trust you or your board.”

  Really? I was beginning to distrust Amelie.

  Amelie shrugged.

  “You know what else they said?” She looked at me with a smirk.

  “What?”

  “That you’re a lovesick silly girl who should focus on her work instead of the strange boy with the camera.”