Pam Chun

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Against the Wave

Woody tracked the waves breaking in even sets, one large followed by a second and third that diminished in a pattern, gentle and rhythmic. The waves curled at the toes of his two boys at water’s edge, then pulled back stranding dozens of jellyfish, the glassine Portuguese-man-of-war that blew to shore eight days after the full moon. The sky was azure blue and a twenty knot offshore wind eased the heat on the sun-glazed sand.

For whatever reason, a change in harmonics or a storm thousands of miles across the Pacific, the wave pattern changed. The rogue wave swelled suddenly, engorged with the power of the sea. It towered so high it blotted out the sun. Woody’s younger son looked up and scrambled up the beach kicking sand in his haste. His older brother dreamily watched the wave crest. It broke over his head and carried him out to sea.

Woody instantly dove into the retreating swell. He grabbed his first-born with one arm and paddled with the other. The two rode the glass-like crest of the wave like fish floats. The next wave carried them towards shore. My father dug in his toes to plant his feet as soon as the wave crashed. A lull, a moment of hope. But the sea sucked the duo back out.

Two Hawaiians, no more than sixteen but experienced in the ways of the sea, their broad backs muscled and sinewy from swimming this beach most of their lives, waved their arms and shouted to my father. The fourth wave in the set was the weakest; they would pull him in then.

My father and brother slid down the curl of the third wave, swallowed water, and gasped for breath. Dad wasn’t a strong swimmer; he got seasick just watching the waves. His only hope was reaching shore before he ran out of luck. He bent his head down again as the wave swept them back in. Intent and calm, he felt his son’s heart race like a baby bird’s. The vast ocean stretched endlessly behind him, dwarfing him with its power. He wailed when it pulled them out for the third time.

The Hawaiians lunged for my father. But the wave was quicker and yanked its hostages from their fingers. Father and son were mere dots on the face of the wave now. All voices hushed on the beach.

The two rode the crest of the fourth wave. As predicted, it curled in huge and sweet. The Hawaiians had already slipped into the surf. When the wall of water crashed over their heads, they grabbed two and hung on.

*

My father lay on his stomach under the shade of a wide-leafed tree. He breathed heavily, deeply, as if all his emotions and heart were gasping for air from that deep space inside him. Water beaded on the knotted muscles of his back and arms. A moan rumbled in his chest. And with each breath he released the terror of the sea until his muscles relaxed and he fell asleep.
I sat by his side watching the beads of water drip from his smooth skin onto the straw mat. I was five years old, and he was my world. I wanted to touch him, to ask if he was all right, to assure myself that he was safe. I had screamed when he dove after my brother and fought for their lives. I never doubted he would return. I leaned close and inhaled the comforting scent of his ocean-washed skin.

Only when I heard fear and terror escape in little cries as he lay in the shade did I realize that possibly, my father might be mortal.

*

In my callow teens, I went to Honolulu Airport to say goodbye to friends from California my father had met only once before. My friends missed their plane so we returned to their hosts’ house in Wai`alae Kahala to wait for the morning flight. By then it was midnight and, knowing my parents would be asleep, in a serious lapse of judgment I decided I needn’t bother them. At five a.m., over our animated collegiate chatter, a strong voice from the dark called my name. When I saw my father in the driveway, I cringed. My father said that he had waited up for me. When I didn’t return he got in his car. How did he know where I was? I had mentioned Wai`alae Kahala and a certain street sign so he drove, guided by an inner sense, through an area of over a thousand exclusive homes and pulled up in exactly the right driveway.