Strong Like the Sea, стр. 71
What if, what if . . .
I shake my head and think of Saisei’s steady gaze, that thin ring of gray in her eyes forming a light against the dark.
Some bigger waves roll in, three and four feet tall, but there’s less than four feet between me and the reef. The crest rushes closer, rising, rolling—and I duck dive right before it touches me, the peak passing over my back. Three more and I dive under them all, but a fifth streaks from a different angle and I don’t time it right. My arm crunches against the reef, but seaweed takes most of the blow so I’m only bruised, not sliced this time.
The kayak nears and I get a clear look at Uncle, still slumped in the kayak.
Thank you, thank you!
Waves break over the hull and splash my face, and I close the last few feet. Why hadn’t it tipped? He’s leaning so far, what miracle kept him upright?
But something is different about the kayak—didn’t he say he had a surprise for me? Something to make me less afraid? True to his word, he’s changed his kayak for me.
He gave it wings.
Attached with metal rods out to each side, long floats bob in the waves, changing his ocean kayak into an outrigger with floats on either side.
Careful not to let my feet drop within reach of the reef, I clasp the side of the kayak, hook my toes on the float, and time the next wave. As it washes over us, I push off the float and sprawl onto the center of the kayak.
I climb into my seat and reach for Uncle, scared to touch him, but even more scared that I won’t know how to help him.
A wave lifts us, tipping right then left, and I squeeze Uncle’s ankle, tugging and shaking soft at first, then harder. His skin is clammy and chilled. “Uncle, wake up. Please, come on!”
Patting his cold leg with wet little slaps, I watch his face—is he even breathing?—and scream, “Uncle!”
He draws in a shuddering breath, pulls his hand out of the water, and tucks it beside him.
He’s alive! I squeeze hard, and tug again. “Uncle? Are you okay? What happened?”
A moan bursts from his lips, and he murmurs something, but I can’t understand. He’s trembling, the shakes wracking his whole body instead of just his hands. Beads of sweat glisten on his forehead, and he groans softly.
Seeing him like this, my own hands quiver. For years, I avoided him. His harsh glare, his snapping words full of stings. I couldn’t see the man my mother loved, because he was camouflaged better than any cuttlefish. He hid his heart from me, from all of us, but I’ve seen through his disguise. Where I expected sharp teeth, I found gentle hands. Where I feared spite, I found love.
Seeing him crumpled like this, I’m frightened more by his frailty than I ever feared the creatures of tide, reef, or sea. But instead of leaving me helpless, this new fear ignites a greater fire inside me—one strengthened by love. He is my ohana, and I will save him.
Uncle’s oar is lost to the waves, but mine is still tied in its place on the side. I pull it off and paddle toward shore. After the first couple strokes, I find my rhythm and pull the blade toward me and behind. Uncle’s kayak coasts over the top of the waves, and we drop, rising and falling. We cut across each white cap, my teeth gritted against the jolts. As we cruise closer to shore, my arms strain at the new motion, but I keep reaching with the paddle, dipping down to pull again and again.
Auntie stands waiting in the water, her beautiful skirts sodden and swirling about her knees.
I don’t slow, but ride the last of the waves right up onto the sand. Auntie grabs the bowline and hauls us the rest of the way onto the shore like a fisherman pulling her net from the deep.
Restless, Sarge prances back and forth, sniffs Uncle’s face, and licks his cheek.
“Matthew? Matthew! You hear me?” Auntie pushes Sarge aside, lifts Uncle from his forward slouch, and leans him back before slapping his cheeks with quick, soft smacks. “Matthew Tanaka, where’s your medicine? You will live. Hear me? You’re not done yet. You gonna let Alex grow up with no one fo’ talk story with? Don’t you leave. I forbid you to go!”
Sarge knocks me over, trying to wiggle close to his master, his whines mixed with yips of joy. He pushes between Uncle and Auntie, who snaps her fingers to keep him back. “Alex, tie him. Over there by the fence. The ambulance is coming.”
“Got it.” Sarge would get in the way, and the wire leash ending in a clip isn’t far away, but dragging an excited Sarge where I want him with arms more seaweed than bone is like telling a hurricane to mind. After a few failed attempts where Sarge dragged us both back to Uncle, Auntie rolls from her knees to her feet and grabs his collar. “You come now!”
With Auntie here to take charge, the pillars of stone that held me upright crumble, and I sag against the kayak.
Sarge barks toward the front of the house, and Auntie disappears around the corner to let the paramedics into the yard.
I lace my fingers through Uncle’s chilled hand and lean close to kiss his forehead, but something jabs my hip. Sliding my hand into my pocket, I pull out the precious vial of aged noni medicine. None of the other medicine is ready yet. If Mom flies to the island today and I don’t have this, she might never be strong enough to come home.
What should I do?
What would Mom want me to do?
Uncle’s eyes flutter, and