Reverberations of the Sea

    The noise coming from both the breeze and the stereo systems under his room was enough of a distraction from his reoccurring nightmare. It was a persistent dream that had him restless and draped in cold sweat, and the moment his eyes open welcomes the sight of emptiness and darkness into his vision. Eventually, the icy breeze knocks on his window pane causing him to stir in his sheets before finally deciding to get out of bed and change into his sweats. He pauses for a brief moment to catch a glimpse of a girl’s picture on his desk, thus he softly takes it into his hands flipping it over to read the handwritten letter. The penmanship was barely legible, but his mind had simply memorized every bit of curve and line that resembled a letter making it possible for him to understand the message she sent him. To my Kiko, I’m going home. Don’t wait for me, and please have fun in university while you’re at it. Meet some nice girl and get married soon, maybe, people from my hometown used to be like that during their era. Anyway, just don’t be like me who’s a little too career-driven and ambitious, but then again I’m not at all worried about you since you’re not a dreamer. It’s fun to enjoy life at its simplest form, so do that for me when I’m away— I don’t want to babysit you any longer, asshat. Nagmamahal, Hira Ginto Nagmamahal, he remembered, was her way of saying ‘my love,’ but he never truly knew if it was directed at him or if it had been part of her hospitable nature. Kiko knew Hira back in high school, an outgoing girl who kept to herself when strangers were around, only that seemed to be the case on the surface; rather, Hira was his complete opposite: lovely, a jester, an optimist and a complete dreamer. All those thoughts tugged painfully at the strings of his own heart that had him immediately shoving down the picture into his pocket without a second thought. The corridors seemed to narrow down the more he strolled towards the stairs of the apartment building. Kiko found it harder to breathe as the walls infinitely towered over him and constricted his movements in addition to his endless thoughts, but all of those had been interrupted by a gruff voice coming from the room that kept blasting alternative rock songs all night. Suddenly, he straightens his back and looks to his right where he sees a tan man around his age in a university jacket and some slip-on slippers which Kiko deemed to be rather out of character. The latter speaks up once again, “Hira keeping you awake again, Ko?”     “You say her name as if nothing happened to her, Erico.” Kiko shoves both his hands into his pockets as he stands firmly in front of his friend. The stare Erico sends towards Kiko’s direction increases the tension of the atmosphere surrounding them, and then he releases a sigh that seems all too familiar for the both of them. The latter leaves the door to his room open as he searches for something. Concern laces Erico’s voice as he utters, “I’ll bring you there and we’ll say goodbye, yeah?”      Kiko paces and shifts from leg to leg to balance his weight all the while inspecting Erico’s room; there had been several posters lined on the four walls, figurines of superheroes, stacks of textbooks and comics, and lastly on the smallest corner of his room was where all of their individual pictures had been pinned above the study desk. Curious, he walks towards the stack to observe the candid images that managed to capture different stories and timelines of each person. Scanning a few photographs of Erico’s family, Kiko comes upon a photo of himself in a ready stance with both bow and arrow held in each hand; beside his captured moment was Hira’s fencing awarding ceremony. On the lower end of their pictures, Erico and April’s last dance during prom was photographed with a small ‘thank you’ note attached to the bottom. The remaining Polaroid had made Kiko speak, “Saying goodbye is easy, but I don’t think it’s for everybody. Going back there just prolongs that emptiness and yearning in me that wishes even for a second or a fraction of a second she’d be here talking my ear out until her words just drown me into her intensive tales of unrealistic and crazy adventures. I’ll be honest with you, Erico, I hate going back there, but that place is my last memory of her and I don’t think I can ever let that go.”     “Kiko, the truth is she isn’t here anymore.” Erico’s quick reply accompanied with clinking metals casted a heavier weight that he had to carry until he could reconcile with himself and stow away the dreamer in the depths of his tired soul. His lips formed in a tight line as he keeps himself from gritting his teeth in desperation, he retorts grabbing the last photograph, “I’m well-aware of that that it keeps me up every night.”     The ride back to the seashore had only been one playlist for Erico, but it had been a dreadful passing moment for the other as he retreats further back into the passenger’s seat as the car passes by several buildings and houses. The town had seem distant and foreign to Kiko once they had gotten farther away that it shaped and molded itself into a singular block to which he thought resembled a painting of a house on a hill. Slowly, he averted his gaze to the sea and sky full of stars. The waves just like before were thrashing and crashing against one another echoing violent sounds into the dead of the night.     “Do you still remember that stupid time capsule we buried?” Erico questioned only to continue without waiting for a reply, “I found out Hira reburied it several times because she kept adding in more stuff. You might want to check on that, because she might’ve left you something.”     Kiko mutters, “I’m burying the photograph with it, so I’m not taking anything.”     Erico gives Kiko a side glance before he turns back to the road to park the vehicle beside the hillside. Without another word, Kiko stepped out of the car immediately ready to leave once again as he feels the painful throb of his chest as he gets closer to the sand of the secluded beach. Only then, a hand stops him from getting further into the warm refined beads of the shore. Kiko looks up at the strict look Erico gives, “I’ll wait for you here, man. Don’t do anything stupid, because I can’t swim for shit.”     Kiko gives him a curt nod as he carries the weight of his heart with him to the sand. The waters are unrelenting as he nears the spot of the buried capsule. Photograph enveloped by his right hand. Kiko digs into the sand, throwing the excess away and pushing any water that blocks his view of the object. After awhile, he notices a small reflection from the whole he dug and instantly he plunges his hand inside to retrieve the capsule. He scans the metallic box— not having seen it for five years— only to notice a few washed out stickers, scratches on the side, and a worn out lock. Meticulously, he cleans out the lock before opening the capsule. Inside were stashed away letters, memoirs of sort, heirlooms that seemed to be forgotten, photographs, and random objects. Kiko puts away the last Polaroid in the box until he comes across a hello kitty bandaid. The bandaid was given to Hira back in their second year of high school at West Kingston International. Hira was announced MIA during one of his classes. The students had tried to search for her around the campus and the town, but to no avail as her father had already proceeded with a search and rescue team for Hira. She, for some reason, just vanished as her friends had repeated that they'd last seen her in swimming class. Kiko doubted her sudden disappearance or maybe it had felt surreal that a rather easy-going and jubilant girl would run off elsewhere. Initially, Hira was just a mere familiar face of a schoolmate; hence, he'd recognized the vanished girl basking underneath the sun and lying near the borders of the campus pool—that had been two days after the announcement. “Hira," Kiko whispers her name after catching a glimpse of her tan skin and dark auburn hair. The mention of her name seemed bizarre, because she had been missing for more than 48 hours to even call it coincidental. Hira sprawled there on the floor imitating those cinematic shots of people enjoying the contrast of the heat coming from the sunlight and the cold of the water from the pool. She, Kiko noted, seemed unaware of her own disappearance that had left her father wary and the school silent for days. Hira raises a hand to her face to block the sun from her view before speaking to the boy, “I can feel when someone’s eyes are on me.” Shifting her position to angle her face towards his direction, she beckons him closer, “I’m Hira Ginto.” “I know who you are,” Kiko mutters warily taking a step closer towards her, “you were gone for two days. I’m sure you know that, after all posters of you were laced all over town.” Hira tilted her head to the side in confusion not fully believing his words as she disagrees, “I’ve been gone for two hours. It’s Tuesday today and I had just finished fencing practice.” He shakes his head before noting the deep wound on her wrist; immediately, her gaze follows his stare and retracts the wounded arm away from his perception. Breaking the silence they had built after some time, Kiko explains showing her an updated message from the club, “It’s Friday. And fencing practice got cancelled.” Without a moment’s hesitation, Hira stands up deeply distraught as her emotions battling with one another as she stares at the message. Frantically, she averts her gaze from corner to corner within the area before fully becoming aware of the empty halls. She sputters quickly covering her body with a piece of towel left on a bench to the side of the pool, “I need to go home—“ “You’re bleeding,” Kiko disrupts her proclamation, “it’s quite deep too and somewhat fresh. Better to get it treated before you scurry off elsewhere.” “I’m not lying. Time just works differently here.” Those words rang inside Kiko’s mind as if she were hinting about the another world. A different time and place far from this mundane world of ordinary experiences unless a man was rich enough to leave. However, he firmly disapproves and persuades the girl, “Neither am I. It’ll be quick unless you can walk to the infirmary and get it done yourself.” She hesitates for a bit, looking away from his stare, then decides. “I don’t know know where the kit is— never been to the infirmary.” Nodding his head to the direction if the infirmary, Kiko leads Hira to the exact location in silence. The walk there is short and peaceful, but an exchange that had been secretly dealt with on both their parts. Hira got to know more from the cheeky but reserved boy; meanwhile, Kiko observed the girl’s meekness and stubborn nature all the while throwing quick glances at her features. Hira had deep eyes that could capture the light and mirror his own, ears shaped in small hearts and had a few pierced holes that were left untouched, and lips that had a never-ending story to tell. Hence, she did. “You don’t seem like the type to listen to fairytales or children’s books full of adventures.” Hira huffed as she continued watching the boy clean out her wound before medicating it. He retorts, “That’s quite presumptuous of you.” “Well, are you?” He sighs while wrapping a small bandaid around the wound, “I don’t believe in the fantasy.” “So, I was right.” Hira waited for a response not particularly a reply, but something less formal and more friendly. A welcoming invitation of friendship on both ends. The boy stands up slowly, his eyes still on her, “Kiko Azahara.” “Kiko,” She whispers and for a minute it makes him keen, “Fantasy is a way to escape the cruel realities of this world. But some fantasies are real.” “You sound like a dreamer,” he observes and she agrees with a small smile, “I am.” Kiko leaves the reply for a later time or maybe never, and instead gestures for her to open her palm in front of him. Placing the character bandaid on her palm, Kiko watches her leave after muttering a soft hum of approval of his kind act towards her. Relief washes over him as he takes the bandaid into his hand— a small tale-tell of its significance on their encounter. Appreciative of the little things, Kiko smiles for the longest time like the weight had slowly tried to lift itself from clinging onto his body for an eternity. Putting the soft material back into the box, he reburies it at the same spot. For even a brief moment, he passes the time listening to the tune of the sea wondering what Hira had meant that time. Onward, he looks to the site of Hira standing near the beach’s waves that night and recalls the event that had happened. They were preparing for a coming of age and drinking party before Hira left for her flight back home to Manila. Smoke laced the vehicle that night as the others tried to pass the cigarette around, but Hira opted out of the car and decided to stroll around the seaside. Kiko, without another glance back at the car as it had been parked at the gas station and getting refueled, followed after her. His heart wasn’t only heavy, it was anxious and wary. Whenever he saw her near the waters, it had always tugged at a piece of him that seemed to know exactly what was due to happen. For his soul felt connected to hers in a way that even the gods had years ago. He called out her name trying to reach her and eventually pull her away from going near the dark deep depths of the unknown that the sea holds. His fear was imminent the moment Hira pauses to look onward with yonder. “Did you hear that?” It was rather silent except for the crashing of waves and the abrupt swift of directions of the wind. In that duration, no one spoke a word—not one exchange between the boy standing on the sand and the dreamer enveloped by the sea—until came a reply from a third party, “Car’s all gassed up!” “Hira, there’s nothing there—in the sea, I mean.” The boy spoke softly enough to resemble a whisper, but persistent to hold her back from dipping in further into the dark depths of the unknown. There had been a sliver of fear tipping near the edges of his tired soul as he watches the dreamer slowly turn to him with a small smile. Hira utters a quick reply before retreating from the twinkling waters touching her feet, “You’re wrong, I heard the sea singing an old song like my mum’s lullaby from when I was younger. It’s a small message, but it’s important to me.” Kiko couldn’t face that fear of her vanishing for the second time, at that moment he faintly takes a harsh step into this vague relationship they shared. Purely one-sided, love and pain weighing on him and the other seemingly oblivious but curious about everything else. Hira wasn’t bound for the ordinary life Kiko had— he wished to avoid the thought that hammered its way in his head everyday— because Hira was different. The truth was she had always been different compared to him. At first it had been slight envy turning into wonder then into yearning and longing for her to stay. His words reverberate breaking the awe and wonder of Hira towards the tune only she could hear, “Stop dreaming, there’s nothing there. No song, no wail, nothing but waves trashing about. Hira, your stories are mere fantasies, they aren’t realities.” Words escape him in an instant. No filter, yet words he spoke and regretted. For the first time, Hira’s eyes had lost their light and hope, and she turned away to hide the frustrated look she had harbored. Hira had been quiet as she walked away leaving him alone with the deafening silence pervading his auditory senses. Kiko thought he finally avoided that incident, only to find her gone the next day. He retraced his steps that could eventually lead him to her location, but Hira never left a clue for them to follow. It had been her final farewell hinting to never find her. Everyone else accepted it, moved on and carried out their lives like usual. Her father, Mr. Ginto, had reluctantly left a bouquet of daisies on her grave. Kiko had been reluctant of the report as well. No body was discovered and Hira’s whereabouts were left unknown and unsolved by the police department. Here, he stood once again trying to listen in on the sounds of the waves waiting for a miracle or a possibility that could give him an answer to her sudden curiosity of the sea’s song. This lullaby that had kept her in a trance— that had called for her like a place of belongingness. He heard nothing. Ready to bid his own farewell— and to leave a piece of his heart in the shore where it could eventually reach her— Kiko lets himself go only for this moment as he grabs a stone and flings it hard onto the surface of the water allowing it to jump from one end to another. Waiting for a miracle— a possibility or even a slight probability— for a moment or a second. Perhaps, a fraction of a second— a swift glimpse of the girl he loved. Nothing. Time stops for him as he lowers both his arms from continuously casting pebbles into the seashore. With a hefty heart, he prepares his departure. It took a minute for him to turn to the side when he heard the waves wash over a body. His gaze casts upon the unmoving person only to shout battling against the external noises. “Erico! Erico!” Kiko runs to the body while taking short breaths to steady his roaring heart. He cries in a desperate plea as he approaches the girl lying down unwaveringly on the sand, “Erico, help! I found her!” Knees fall to the ground as he pulls the girl towards him. It was Hira. Her body was cold to the touch, her breathing was faint, and she was slightly dazed. Footsteps hit the floor creating a vibration, which caused Kiko to stir and pull his sweater over his head to cover Hira’s shivering body. Erico watches the scene unfold in front of him. Lost for words, he drops beside Kiko with his mouth agape. “Is she breathing?” “She’s alive,” he breathes, “but we need to get her home.” “How— I don’t understand— it’s impossible.” Erico frantically paces as he furrows his brows at Kiko. The latter remains quiet at his friend’s outburst. Kiko knew there were mysteries held in this world that only those who believed and belonged could find. Hira just happened to be one of them.