SoC 2:4

Tiki Coin

 

T he black sandy beach held a secret. In the dark, still water shells and feet glowed. Bodies of my family floated as the silver coin sunk. The tiki head on the top of the coin turned face down. No one saw it but me.

I took a deep breath and dove to the sandy bottom. I heard music…the strumming of guitars, voices sweet and alluring, the dancing of the palm fronds, but I was under water.

I flipped over the coin. The music grew silent. I gasped. It was only in my head. The shortness of breath came. I needed to get to the surface, but I felt so safe underwater. There was no yelling, no disappointing anyone.

The family fought last night. Everyone wanted me to go with them snorkling. I wanted to stay on the ship, sleep late, nurse my cold; I was sick, Dad’s cold spread to me. My brother and the others reminded me how Dad, ala super man traveled with a cold and snorkled and took the wave runner. Dad even beat on his chest on the ship’s balcony, the jungle roar; hear me I’m alive and evincible. The lies…cancer snagged him months ago and he won the battle. Yet, weakened me wanted to lounge, read a book and gaze at the swaying palms in the distance, at the blue green water and watch the white and silver clouds float in the sky’s dance. They do the ballet and the tango if you watch them close enough; a dance my family didn’t see. They saw my sin… acknowledging my body’s frailty, giving into being ill, not a forced ray of sunshine, the way of the family; how selfish I felt and guilt ridden.

I needed to get up and go to the surface I told myself as I reached again to flip over the coin. I wanted to hear the music again. Instead, I felt a weight on my head. My brother held my head. We used to dunk each other as kids. I refused to kick, the sign begging for a rescue, the release from his grip. I played dead. He left me in the water.

I waited for the music. Blue grass, Tahitian style a mix of jazz and the Polynesian melodies I’d come to love the night before in the wee hours at a café. With gestures: the universal hang loose, thumbs up, and smiles, so many smiles the strangers welcomed me. We shared a love of music with barely a spoken word understood between English, French and Tahitian. Our language barriers seemed so small.

The tiki on the coin now I could see so perfectly, yet I was under water I reminded myself. In Tahiti they build Tikis in front of houses so the departed family stays close. I held tight onto the coin and sunk to the bottom.

Some trip to paradise...I got sick and the family tried to drown me. No…it was only my brother and a game at that. What if I never came to shore?

Tiki head said, “You can’t escape so easily.“ The coin fell from my hand. I didn’t drop it. I didn’t drop it.

Tiki head said, “I know and you didn’t stop needing oxygen either. “

I reached for the coin in the sand. Buoyed by the current I floated upward. I saw my family resting on the towels in the sand. They rested, they actually rested!