We sailed 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 still cried my little heart out. We bounced over waves, and wind gushed through my hair. I 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 answering, “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 stopped short when a six-foot rogue wave came from nowhere.
The gray bastard smashed into the side of little Oceania.
The boat tipped and got worse until the waves tossed us overboard.
During the mayhem, Oceania’s downhaul came loose.
Untethered, the mast fell out of its hole (with the main sail).
My worst nightmare happened. 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 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 scared about going out there? Was it my survival instinct kicking in?
Dad and I bobbed at the surface of the ocean with Oceania. The mast and sail floated beside it. I saw Dad had lost his hat when we tipped, but he couldn’t care less.
He free-styled to me and asked, “You okay, Teuila?”
I was fine. I wasn’t even in shock. It was 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.” 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 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 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 toward 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 toward me. I will disconnect the boom, so we will only deal with the mast and sail. Lift the mast while you guide the base of it back into its hole in the deck. The mast is a little heavy, so it may take 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 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. It 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 Dad serious? 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.”
I 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.
“So, you see, my little Teuila...” Dad paused. “You’re an Oceania baby. That’s why your mother and I named you ‘Teuila.’”
Huh, so that was where it came from. I always thought my name was unusual—like 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 said. “Your mom and I wanted to tell you, but we thought it’d be best to tell 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.
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