“Dad, I don’t want to go sailing!” I tossed a dandelion sundress into our red and white canvas beach bag.

        Sophie, our Maine Coon, rubbed her soft fur against my leg.

        Dad jogged down the tan, carpeted stairs of the beach house, followed closely by Mom. He stopped and gripped the wooden railing with both hands. “Oh, come on, Teuila. We’re only going out on the Laser.”

        Was that supposed to make me feel better? A Laser was still a sailboat. I pulled some of my curly, brown hair behind my ear and picked up Sophie.

        She purred deeply into my polka dot bikini, like when a mother cuddled their infant.

        “Why can’t I stay here with Sophie?” I asked. “The little booger could use some company.”

        Mom, who fiddled with a camera, bumped Dad’s back. She looked up from her new toy and smiled nervously.

        Dad looked over his shoulder at her. He ran his fingers through his short, brown hair and jogged the rest of the way down the stairs. He almost crashed into the front door’s glass. That’s how excited he was. Dad pinched my cheek and shook my tan skin. “Oh, come on! What happened to spending days with your old man?”

        I felt myself blushing. “Daddy, I’m in college. I’ve been so busy lately. All I ask for is a quiet summer break.” College of Charleston got out only a few days ago. To celebrate completing my first year, Mom and Dad booked a beach house for us at Seabrook Island, which was about an hour away from campus.

        Dad took Sophie out of my hands. He set her down on the tile floor. “And what better way to chillax than on a sailboat?”

        “But look at the weather!” I whipped my phone out of the bag and pulled up the Weather app. I held the screen up to Dad’s face. “80% chance of rain! Wind speed of twenty-five miles-per hour, and that’s just inland.”

        “Yes, but if you look at it again, Teuila…” Dad pointed at the hourly weather chart. “It’s not supposed to hit until three o’clock, and it’s only ten. Between now and then, the weather is great for sailing. It’s a bit sporty, but perfect!”

        “Oh, come on, dear. At least give it a try.” Mom joined us at the bottom of the stairs. She kissed Dad’s cheek. “I want to get some pictures with my new camera.” Dad got her the camera for her birthday, and she was head over heels for it.

        “But I don’t like sailing.”

        A few years ago, Dad took Mom and me on a sail on his keel boat in the Charleston Harbor. We ran aground near Castle Pinckney and were stuck there until the tide shifted. We did not get back to the docks until after dark. It was horrible.

        Dad loved that adventure. He used to sail the harbor all the time when he was in the Navy. Running aground was rare, but it was part of the challenge of sailing, or so he says...

        I kneeled to Sophie and ran my hand across her back.

        She slipped through my fingers and trotted into Mom and Dad’s room at the end of the condensed hallway.

        Mom chuckled. “You’ll see the cat again.” She took my arm and pulled me to my feet. “Now, let’s go. North Beach is waiting.”

        I groaned, but I followed Mom and Dad outside. A zephyr that smelled like pluff mud passed through my nostrils. My cinnamon-colored eyes landed on the condo’s steep staircase. It broke off into two smaller ones at the base. A car passed in front of the house. Two paddleboards were on top of it. Heck, why couldn’t I paddleboard instead?

        Mom, Dad, and I moved swiftly down the stairs. Mom and I’s flip flops and Dad’s sailing shoes touched the driveway. Next to us was the garage and our tan Suburban. It was almost too big for the enclosure. The car’s nose was right up against two kayaks at the back of the garage.

        Its trunk was open. Inside were sails and gear for Dad’s Laser. Her name was Oceania.

        He set the canvas bag under a few extra sails and squeezed in some chairs on the side.

        I roamed a little bit, to take in my surroundings: the lines of condos and cottages running up and down the road and marsh, and the wide supply of palms that provided them with much-needed shade. The air was hot but not sauna-like. In fact, it was a rather comfortable temperature. Just feeling it, I knew I was at the beach.

        Dad shut the car’s trunk. He slapped his hands together. “All right, we’re all set.”

        “Time to go, Teuila.” Flash! Mom took a sudden picture of me with her camera.

        White and black dots clouded my vision. “Mom, what was that for?”

        “I’m going to do a before and after photo blog of the sail trip.” I couldn’t help but to notice Mom had a menacing look on her face. She shared my curly, brown hair, but hers was much fluffier than mine.

        The drive to North Beach was quick–merely six minutes. Seabrook Island, unlike its next-door neighbor Kiawah, was only three miles roundtrip.

        Mom rolled down her window and snapped pictures of the looming live oak trees that lined Seabrook Island Rd., the island’s main circumference. I think she liked that new camera a little too much.

        Dad batted the gray steering wheel with the palm of his hand. “So, I’ve got it all planned out, Teuila,” he excitedly explained. “We’re going to sail across the inlet to Kiawah Island, make our way along the length of the beach, and head up the river to Bohicket Marina.”

        I wasn’t really paying attention. I was too busy slathering myself down with sunscreen that smelled like baby powder.

        “Your mom will meet us there. We will pull the boat in and have a late lunch,” Dad continued.

        My butt itched on the Suburban’s back seat, but I shifted my body weight to make myself more comfortable. My eyes landed on a few bikers, who carefully rode in the bike lane of the road. “Great, Dad. That sounds wonderful,” I mumbled.

        “I know, right?” Dad had a hard time distinguishing sarcasm from obligation.

        The car left the mass of trees and drove over a bridge across a huge marsh area. Herons and egrets stalked dinner in the tall grass. The tide was coming in, but it would be a good three hours before it reached its peak. A golf course was in the distance, behind the marsh.

        Mom snapped photos of the wildlife and marshland. She jiggled in her seat. “Oh, these are going to look so good on my blog.”

        I shivered at the sight of a build-up of clouds on the clear horizon. A powerful gust of wind hit the side of the car, shaking it ever so slightly.

        “Oh-ho! Just feel that wind. Today is a perfect day for sailing,” Dad said.

        “That’s as if we don’t flip over,” I blurted. I squeezed the sunscreen bottle a little too hard. A mountain of gooey cream landed on my arm.

        “We won’t,” laughed Dad. “I’m an expert when it comes to boats. Remember, I sailed all the way to Oceania.” His overconfidence was going to cost us our lives. Summer break was already a bust.

        The North Beach parking lot was full. Aside from the beach’s boardwalk, it also held the North Beach pool. Many beachcombers liked to rinse off in it after a long day at the end of the Earth.

        We pulled in next to a red Jeep that was parked behind the pool’s gate and berry-filled bushes. Dad was the first one out. Mom was second, and I was third.

        I texted my best friend. I wished I was with her, instead of my crazy parents. Something about watching the words scroll across the screen was comforting. However, I snapped out of my trance when Dad thrusted his arm around my shoulders.

        “Isn’t this exciting?” he asked. “You and your old man are doing something fun again. I remember when you were just a wee tot, and you danced on my feet at parties.”

        I dug my flip flops into the concrete, too embarrassed to speak. Rays from the sun heated my face, but I secretly hoped I was coming down with something. “Dad, I told you I wanted a relaxing summer vacation.”

        “This is relaxing!” Dad flashed me a smile, but I could tell he was a little frustrated. He pulled Oceania’s best sail out of the Suburban. It was tucked away in a silver bag that had Laser on it in big blue letters.

        Mom and I gathered the beach bag and chairs. Dad swung the sail bag around, so we ducked under it. He almost hit a young couple, but they dodged at the last second.

        The husband glared and growled, “Watch it with that thing.”

        “Sorry.” But Daddy still grinned.

        Mom captured a photo of us before we stepped onto the boardwalk. “Say ‘cheese’.” Bushes cushioned the boardwalk in a blanket. That was just the beginning section of it. The main part was only twenty steps away.

        Dad led the way. Mom helped him with the sail. She handed me the chairs and grabbed the back end of the bag.

        I wanted to run; I wanted to hide, but at the same time, I had a weird urge to be on the ocean with my dad. I didn’t like sailing, but it had been a long time since we spent some quality bonding time together. Ugh, internal conflicts were the worst.

        The boardwalk’s main section was just across a small road at the end of the bushes. It cut through a neighborhood. Each house was neatly buried in trees, like hidden treasure nestled in the sands of the Caribbean. Parallel to the boardwalk was a dirt path. Bikers preferred it over the wooden one.

        The walk took a long time, because the pathway stretched forever. It was hot. The wood creaked under my shoes. With each step, my internal thoughts scattered like feathers pierced from the sky by an arrow. Yet, the walk gave me ample time to explore my limited options: find my own little space on the beach, or build up my confidence and go with Dad. Each one had their pros and cons.

***

        The beach. There it was. I was the first one in my group to reach the end of the boardwalk. The dunes hovered over me like buildings. Wind blasted my cheeks, giving me a slight chill.

        I kicked off my flip flops and pushed them to the side where a group of shoes were. The soft sand tickled my toes. I wanted to bury my feet in it and never come out. I always found the beach to be one of the most soothing places in the world.

        Children scurried by me, kicking soccer balls. The ocean was getting closer by the second: that beautiful, blue painting.

        I unfolded our chairs and set them down on the darker sand. It wasn’t as soft, but I still rubbed my heels across it.

        Seagulls soared over my head and cawed to one another. A few landed and tried to steal food from beachgoers.

        Phone in hand, I came within reach of the foamy water. A warming sensation overtook my bare feet. The waves there were gentle, but they grew in size further out. The water was choppy that day, with whitecaps and waves having a little too much fun with each other (if you know what I mean). Seriously, Dad? That was not sailing weather!

        Feet stopped next to me. Mom. She captured the ocean’s essence with her camera and said, “Now that’s a nice picture. All we’re missing are some dolphins.”

        I took a deep breath. “Mom, why can’t you go sailing with Dad? I mean, you like it more than me.”

        She laughed. “Oh, honey, I want to.”

        “Then why don’t you?”

        Mom scrolled through the pictures she had so far. I couldn’t tell if she was paying attention or not. A larger wave crashed into our exposed legs. The water suddenly felt colder.

        Mom moved her camera so it wouldn’t get wet. She winked at me. “I think that’s a better question to ask your dad.”

        “What are you talking about?” I was so confused. “This has nothing to do with me. Only you.”

        “You’re wrong, sweetie.” Mom bumped me with her shoulder. “There’s a reason why your dad wants to take you out on the Oceania.”

        Oh great. Now my own parents were hiding something from me?

        Dad had stored the Oceania at the beach overnight. Mom and I saw him carrying it out to the water, with the help of a friend I was sure he just met… a friend who loved sailing just as much as him. Dad had a weird habit of talking to strangers who he felt shared similar interests. He was a very social man.

        Like any other Laser sailboat, the Oceania was small, flat, and white with black fittings. Ocean waves hit it. The Oceania bounced up and down like a rocking chair. Dad’s new friend was about his age–forty-eight. Both men wore their best swim shirts, shorts, and caps.

        Dad worked on setting up the boom and sail.

        The man kept him company by chatting up a storm. I saw it.

        Mom left, allowing me to ponder my thoughts. I knew Dad wanted to spend time with me, but there was definitely something else at stake.

        A pit formed in my stomach. I distracted myself by collecting seashells. The ocean chucked hordes of them onto the beach. My favorite seashell was the sand dollar, but I always had a hard time finding a complete one.

        I kneeled and clawed through the sand. There were no sand dollars: just a bunch of clams and whelks. I gulped when I saw that the scattered clouds were becoming organized and drawing closer. The wind picked up. Hair blew in my face, but I pulled it out. Why was my dad so crazy?

        “Teuila, ready?” he called. Dad tossed a yellow life jacket over his torso.

        Well, that was it. It was time for my life to end.

        I returned my phone to our beach camp.

        Mom sat in a large, green chair. The sight of the dunes and other families behind her made for an enthralling image.

        Vroom! A lifeguard truck drove across the wide-open area. It dragged a rescue board at its bumper. Two, beefy women were inside the vehicle. It was all too clear they worked out.

        They pulled up next to a large dune. Nothing was out of place. They were just on duty. What’d be hilarious was if Dad and I flipped over and one of the women had to come rescue us.

        Mom escorted me over to him and his new friend. Oceania’s sail was up and ready to go. It flapped in the breeze. I half-expected the wind to rip it right off the boom.

        Dad’s friend smiled and said, “Ah, so you’re Teuila. Your dad was just talking about you.” He took his cap off his messy, black hair and bowed to me. “I am Eric.”

        Dad pushed a smaller life jacket into my chest. “Eric’s going to help us out.”

        “Oh, terrific,” I mumbled. “Dad, do you seriously not see how rough the ocean is?” I pointed at the whitecaps. They grew larger and more frightening. The Weather Channel always lied. The storm was not going to hit at three o’clock but twelve.

        “We’ll be fine. I sailed the South Pacific, so this is nothing new.” Dad helped me into my life jacket. His powerful hands tightened the straps.

        I gasped but soon found my breaths. The jacket was nice and snug over my body. “Let’s just get this over with,” I grumbled.

        “Oh, wait. This is perfect.” Mom joined Dad, Eric, and I. She held her camera in front of her. “Group selfie!”

        I was the only one who didn’t smile. How could I? A deadly parasite called “fear” invaded my innards. The end was near.

        Dad and Eric pushed the Oceania into the water.

        “Good luck!” Mom called. Was she seriously not worried? Her husband was about to sacrifice her little girl to Davy Jones’s locker.

        Yes, I could have run, but once again, something stopped me. What was it? It was an anomaly for sure.

        The waves increased in size the further out we walked.

        Dad patted Oceania’s stern and said, “All right, hop on, Teuila.”

        My hands touched the hard, flat surface of the boat. I jumped onto it and put my feet in its cockpit. A powerful wave pushed the bow down. Without warning, a small scream escaped my lips. “Daddy,” I begged.

        “We’re almost behind the waves,” he comfortably said, nodding at Eric. “Thanks, Eric. We’ve got it from here.”

        “Aye, aye, captain!” Eric gave him a quick salute. He let go of Oceania’s stern and backed away. The water was up to his stomach.

        Dad bounced on his heels a few times before he jumped onto the boat’s bow. It tipped under his weight, but he shifted to its sturdy center.

        “Daddy,” I said again. Tears ran down my cheeks. Another wave splashed us. I screamed for a second time.

        “It’s okay, Teuila. A little wind won’t hurt us,” Dad said. He gave me a tip of his cap. I just noticed there was a sailboat on it.

        I peered over my shoulder to my old life.

        Eric waded in the water. He wanted to make sure Dad and I got out safely.

        Mom watched us from the shoreline.

        In the meantime, the beachcombers carried on with their daily lives. Children grabbed their boogie boards and rode waves in. The buff lifeguard ladies monitored them.

        Oh, Dad, all I wanted was a peaceful summer break.

***

        We sailed about a mile away from Seabrook Island.

        Dad pulled on the lines and shifted the sail, to try to get us in a comfortable sailing position.

        I was still crying my little heart out. We bounced over waves. Wind gushed through my hair. I just kept my eyes on the clouds.

        “See? We’re perfectly fine, Teuila.” Nevertheless, I could tell Dad was focusing a bit too much. For a man who knew a lot about sailing, one would think he would understand it was a little dangerous for us to be out there that day.

        “Dad,” I choked out, “I know you. You would never put us in a dangerous situation. So why on Earth did you decide that today would be a good day for sailing?”

        He sighed. Momentarily, Dad stopped messing with the lines. He looked lost in thought. Had I said too much? It was just a simple question. He was silent for a long time before he finally decided to speak. “You see, Teuila, it was a day much like today when you were born.”

        Huh? What was he talking about? I opened my mouth and prepared to ask him a question, but I stopped short when a 6-foot rogue wave came from out of nowhere. The gray bastard smashed into the side of little Oceania. The boat tipped, and it got worse until eventually, in slow motion, we were thrown into the waves and water.

        During the mayhem that ensued, the boat’s downhaul came loose. Untethered, the mast fell out of its hole (with the main sail). My worst nightmare came true. Dad and I flipped over, not even twenty minutes after leaving the shoreline.

        I splashed into the warm Atlantic Ocean. I was so glad I had my life jacket on. At least the current wasn’t terribly powerful… not yet at least. The strangest thing was that from out of nowhere, all my fear just washed out of my system. Dad and I had an accident, so why wasn’t I freaking out when I was clearly scared about going out there? Was it my survival instinct kicking in and telling me to remain calm?

        Dad and I bobbed at the surface of the ocean with the Oceania. The mast and sail floated next to it. I noticed Dad lost his hat when we tipped, but he could care less.

        He free-styled to me and asked, “You okay, Teuila?”

        I was fine. I wasn’t even in shock. Rather, it was actually peaceful floating in the water. “Oh, I’m good, Dad,” I replied. “What happened, though?”

        “The downhaul came loose,” he explained. “Come on. The boat flipped, but it’s upright now, and we need to get back on her.” He, too, was calm.

        Maybe I wasn’t freaking out because I knew there were two, beefy lifeguards back on the beach? I noticed their truck moving. It stopped at the shoreline, and the guards peered in our direction.

        Dad and I worked together to get the Oceania oriented into the waves, with us on opposite sides, so we could each climb on.

        “Daddy, Daddy,” I said with a smile, “do you think the mermaids will come rescue us?”

        “Maybe, Teuila,” he answered, gesturing at the sail. “Can you hand me the end of the mast there floating by your hand, so we can get it alongside the boat? Please?”

        I followed every instruction he gave me.

        Dad lugged himself over the side near Oceania’s stern and into the cockpit. He tied the main sail so it wouldn’t mess up our DIY rescue attempt.

        I placed my arms on the boat and waited for his next instruction. “Let’s just hope the mermaids aren’t sirens,” I joked.

        “That would be bad,” Dad said. “All right, you can get on and move towards the bow, now.” He grabbed my arm and helped me onto the Laser. The wind continued to blow, and the waves kept bumping against us. My fear was nonexistent. Perhaps my survival instinct was to tell bad jokes?

        “This is what we’re going to do,” Dad explained. “You’re going to sit at the bow and look aft towards me. I am going to disconnect the boom, so we are just dealing with the mast and sail. Lift the mast up while you guide the base of it back into its hole in the deck. The mast is a little heavy, so it may take us a few tries.”

        “Sounds good.” I nodded, to show him I understood. “Um, Dad, before we flipped, what exactly were you about to tell me? I mean, about me being born and all?” I settled down at Oceania’s bow and offered him my hands.

        Dad was in the cockpit. He tried lifting the mast, but he strained under the weight. However, he did not give up. “It was a day much like today. Your mother and I were sailing back from Tuvalu.”

        Tuvalu. That was a small island in the South Pacific that was halfway between Hawaii and Australia.

        “Your mother went into labor,” Dad continued, “and the sea gods blessed us with a beautiful, little girl.”

        My mouth gaped. Was he being serious right now? Weird thoughts fluttered through my head. How could one pull off a boat birth? I grabbed the mast and tried to guide it into the hole, but another gust of wind knocked it out of my hand.

        “It’s okay,” Dad said. “We just keep on trying.”

        Honestly, I actually enjoyed my time with him, even though we were in a survival situation. I felt the glimmer of fun I used to have with him as a little girl rise up from my tummy.

        “So, you see, my little Teuila…” Dad paused. “You’re an Oceania baby. That’s why your mother and I name you ‘Teuila’.”

        Huh, so that was where it came from. I always thought my name was rather unusual, like one someone from the USA wouldn’t have.

        “I wanted to bring you out here today to show you just how important the ocean is to our family,” Dad continued. “Your mom and I wanted to tell you, but we thought it’d be best if we told you on the boat.”

        I was still trying to wrap my head around the reveal. I wondered if, deep down, I loved the sea just as much as my parents. That could have been the very reason why I was so conflicted earlier.

        By the fourth attempt, Dad and I finally got the mast in the hole. My arms were sore.

        Dad grinned at me. “There we go.”

        The lifeguard truck still watched us from the beach. I also just noticed the tiny forms of Mom and Eric. Aw, it would have been a little funny if Dad–the professional sailor–had to be rescued by a girl.

        The wind still blew, but Dad and I were safe. The dark clouds now hovered overhead. A few drops of rain touched my cheeks. It was some of the most soothing rain I ever felt. I wanted to sleep under it. The drops were like silky fairy wings brushing against my skin.

        Dad sat in the cockpit. He placed his hand on the Laser’s tiller and moved the rudder back and forth, as he caught the wind in the sail. Slowly but surely, we started to make our way back into shore. The wind pushed hard on the sail, which sped up our pace.

        I noticed something out of the corner of my eyes. “Dad, look!” On the Oceania’s port side, a few gray dorsal fins appeared at the ocean’s surface. “The mermaids did come,” I said. Now, they were, of course, dolphins, but I always saw a dolphin as the closest thing we had to the mythical beings.

        “Oh, yeah. This happened the day you were born, too,” Dad said. “The dolphins came and said hello to you.”

        I ran my fingertips through the water.

        The dolphins playfully flapped their tails. There was even a calf.

        He clicked at me and splashed water onto my life jacket.

        I chuckled.

        “Hey, Moana, do you want to steer the boat?” Dad wanted to know. Moana. Very funny, Dad. But yeah, I did want to give it a try.

        Dad and I switched places. I got in the cockpit, and he settled down on the bow. I wrapped my fingers around the tiller. Pins and needles rushed through my arm, but they were of excitement.

        Dad handled the lines while I steered the boat. It actually wasn’t as bad as I thought it was: move the tiller to the right, and the boat went left; move the tiller to the left, and the boat went right. I thoroughly enjoyed it. Perhaps just being on the ocean was in my family’s blood.

        Finally, finally, we made it back to the sandy beach. While I enjoyed Dad and mine’s time out, it was nice to be back on land, especially after an accident.

        “Land! Land!” I cheered. I fell to my hands and knees and kissed the sand. The rain fell a bit harder. A rumble of thunder shook the sky. Dad and I got back just in time.

        Flash! More white and black dots clouded my vision. Mom lowered her camera and tossed a towel over my shoulders. “Teuila!” She pulled me into a tight hug. “I saw you guys flip, and I was just like: Oh no! What have we done? But then I remembered that your dad is a professional sailor. But, baby, I was so worried!”

        “Mom, we’re fine.” Nevertheless, I returned her hug. So, she did care about me. “Mom, when we were out on the ocean, Dad told me something.” She and I let go. “Did you really have me in Oceania?” I didn’t know why I suddenly felt nervous asking that question. What if Dad was just pulling a joke on me to keep us cool, calm, and collected while we were stranded?

        Mom smiled gently. She rubbed her finger across my tan cheek. “I did, dear. You’re my little Teuila.”

        Dad and Eric joined us. “Aw, what’s all this boo-hooing about?” Eric wanted to know. “I was waiting for one of those beefy lifeguard gals to rescue y’all.”

        Dad chuckled. He gently pushed Eric’s shoulder. “It’s going to take more than a little wind to bring me down.”

        I let go of Mom and approached him. I leaned up against his side.

        “Eric,” Mom said with a small smile, “would you like to come to Bohicket with us?”

        “Seriously?” Eric looked quite shocked by the offer. He even lost his smile.

        “Of course,” Mom replied. “After all, it was you who told the lifeguards what happened. Let’s make it up to you.”

        “Well, um… sure.” Eric grinned. “It’s not every day I hang out with a family such as yours.”

        “Great! Let’s go, then.” Mom gestured for Eric to follow her.

        He did, but he almost bumped into a few little kids.

        The rain wetted my towel, but I did not mind. Sand brushed up against Dad and mine’s legs. A scratching sensation followed, as each grain stuck to our skin.

        “Well, I hope I didn’t ruin your vacation too much, Teuila,” Dad joked.

        I rolled my eyes. “Are you kidding, Dad?” I kissed his wet cheek, tasting salt. “This is the best vacation ever. Thank you for taking me out on the Oceania.”

 

Final Word Count: 4,928