Fisherman's Helper

A month passed since Carolina and Teresa rode to Arequipa. Carolina spent most of that time preparing for her trip, while Teresa spent it wishing and praying to her golden frog.
Unfortunately, it looked as if the frog was not magic at all. Teresa also thought maybe her wish was too big. If she wished a smaller wish, maybe it would come true.
Since it was Saturday, the Brothers’ Vasquez were getting ready for their fishing trip. Jose Vasquez loaded the pickup truck with minnow buckets and fishing roods while Uncle Arturo organized his tackle box. Aunt Beatriz stepped out onto the porch and watched the men.
“I made you some pancakes,” she said.
The men went inside and ate breakfast. Meanwhile, Aunt Beatriz discussed summer plans for Carolina and for Teresa.
“For the last month, the only thing Teresa talks about is the Alpaca farm. Do you think we could get a ticket for her?”
“Beatriz, you know we don’t have that kind of money for a trip,” replied Uncle Arturo.
“I could help pay for it,” said Mr. Vasquez.
“I wouldn’t think of it,” said Uncle Artor.
“Just think about it,” said Jose.
“It’s too late. There’s no thinking left to be done.”
At least take Teresa fishing,” said Aunt Beatriz.
“Today?”
“You’ve been promising to take her. Tdday would be a perfect day to invite her along.”
“Okay, but…”
“Just take her. It will help take her mind off Cusco.”
Uncle Arturo nodded and Aunt Beatriz went to the girl’s bedroom and woke Teresa. Meanwhile, the men finished getting ready, packing for three instead of two.
With her mom’s help, Teresa woke up, showered and got dressed. In only moments, she came into the kitchen, where her father and Uncle Jose were eating.
“That was quick,” said Uncle Arturo.
“I know why you’re doing this,” said Teresa.
“Doing what?”
“Taking me fishing.”
“We said we’d take you along eventually.”
“It’s okay. I figure if I can’t go over the mountain, I’ll go out to the ocean instead.”
Teresa piled pancakes and fried potatoes on her plate and quickly ate them.
Today was Teresa’s lucky day. Her father and her uncle would spoil her like never before. She would have all their attention, and she planned to make the most of the day.
“Let’s get going,” urged Jose Vasquez, “It’s a long drive to the shore.”
Teresa sat between Uncle Jose and her father as they drove through the misty morning dew. Although the dirt road was rocky, Teresa found herself asleep again.
Back at the house, Like Teresa, Carolina was also fast asleep. The girls had stayed up most of the night. They prepared for Carolina’s trip by packing and unpacking, then re-packing everything again. It wasn’t until Pilar Vasquez came into the girl’s room and forced the girls to sleep that they finally did.
Pilar poured a steaming mug of cocoa, and then topped it with whipped cream. She stepped out to the porch and sat in her rocking chair. A small sip helped warm her body. Slowly, the day unfurled as the sun rose over El Misti and the other Andes Mountains.
Forest creatures of all shapes and sizes came to life. Colorful parrots buzzed from tree-to-tree. Monkeys and lemurs roosted in the treetops, too. Their barks filled the air around the Vasquez house. Soon, Aunt Paola and Carolina woke up, ate pancake leftovers, and then began their day.
Meanwhile, the Vasquez brothers arrived at the shore as Teresa came along for the ride. Jose and Arturo slipped out of the seat and moved the fishing gear from truck to boat. At the last moment before they set sail, Arturo returned to the truck.
“Come on, it’s time to get up.”
“Just give me a few more minutes,” grumbled Teresa.
“I can’t. We’re leaving.” He nudged her again. When she did not get up, he picked her up and carried her to the fishing boat and set her in the back. He covered her in a blanket. She smiled as the ocean breeze cooled her face, then fell back to sleep.
It was almost noon when she awakened. She rose and looked around. The shore was a thin strip of land along one horizon. A flat deserted ocean lie along the other side.
“How far are we from the shore?” she asked.
“Not far, a kilometer maybe, maybe more,” replied her father.
He was sharing a glass of Pisco with Uncle Jose.
“Is there anything to eat? I’m starved.”
“I packed some Guava and Papaya.” Uncle Jose pointed to the ice chest in the front of the boat. As Teresa stood up, the boat rocked gently in the water. She reached down and grabbed the rail. Carefully, she walked towards the front of the boat and sat down beside the ice chest. She grabbed a fresh Papaya and turned it in her hands. The tender orange skin bruised slightly. She returned to the back of the boat and handed the Papaya and handed it to her father.
“Can you cut it for me?”
Arturo reached into his pocket and pulled out a small jack-knife. He cut the fruit through the center and then twisted the two halves apart. Teresa smiled as she saw the bright red flesh of the Papaya.
“Here you go.”
“Can you get the seeds out, too?”
Her father dug his thumb under the bright red seeds in the center of the fruit. He flicked his thumb over the side of the boat, dumping the seeds into the water. Several fish came to the surface, fighting over the seeds.
“They’re eating the seeds?” asked Teresa.
“Why not?”
“What if a Papaya tree grows in their bellies?”
Her father laughed. “Then the fisherman who catches them will have quite a surprise, won’t he?”
“Can we fish now?”
“We’ve been fishing all morning.”
“But I was sleeping.”
“Alright, but this isn’t a good spot to catch fish.”
“Why not?” asked Teresa.
“No birds,” replied her father.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“See those seagulls flying near the shore?”
“Yes.”
“That’s where the fish are.”
Arturo Vasquez stood up and prepared the boat while Uncle Jose jerked on the starter cord. The engine rumbled to life and quickly, they were headed to shore.
Teresa did not understand her father. He dropped Papaya seeds in the water. Several fish came up and ate the seeds, and there wasn’t a single bird flying overhead.
The boat cut through the choppy ocean waters as Uncle Jose steered it toward a flock of seagulls flying over the water.
As the fishing boat arrived beneath the seagulls, Arturo dropped an anchor over the side of the boat and prepared a fishing rod.
“Here, take this,” her father handed her the fishing rod and prepared another. Uncle Jose did the same.
Teresa looked up at the seagulls. Their large white wings shifted back and forth as they rode the wind. Their necks craned downward. Occasionally, a seagull would twist into the wind and splash into the water. When the seagull surfaced, a large white fish usually sat in his beak.
“Now I see what you’re talking about,” she said.
“Cast out your line,” said Uncle Jose.
“What?”
“Have you ever fished before?”
“Not really.”
Uncle Jose stood behind Teresa and grabbed the fishing pole, his hands gently covering hers. He moved the fishing rod over the water and pushed the button on the reel.
“What does that button do?”
“When you press it, you’re getting ready to cast the line.”
“Oh.”
Uncle Jose swung his arms back and forth, releasing the button as he ended the swing. The reel whirred, the bait and hook flew into the air and plopped into the ocean a good distance from the boat.
“Pretend to be the worm on the hook, moving through the water. Fast enough to fool the fish, slow enough to let them catch the worm. They catch the worm and the worm catches the fish.”
Teresa smiled. Before Uncle Jose even had time to bait his line and cast it out, there was a tug on Teresa’s fishing line.
“Reel it in! Reel it in!” shouted her father.
As she reeled in the line, a large fish appeared at the end of the line. Teresa reeled a bit more, dragging the fish out of the water. Just before the fish came up into the boat, Uncle Jose grabbed the fishing line in one hand and the fish in the other. He gently unhooked the fish and dropped it into a holding tank.
“See how easy that was?”
“I guess the birds are right,” said Teresa.
The fish were certainly biting. Throughout the afternoon, one fish after another found their way onto Teresa’s hook. Before day’s end, the holding tank was full. Uncle Jose started the fishing boat’s motor and returned to the shore.
“I’m so hungry,” said Teresa.
“We can get something before we return home,” said Uncle Jose.
“I wonder what my cousin is doing right now.”
Arturo frowned at Jose, then looked to his daughter. He knew that, eventually, Carolina would get to go to Cusco while Teresa stayed behind.
The boat sidled up to the dock, where Jose hopped out and tied it to a mooring post. They loaded the fishing gear into the back of the truck, then hauled the holding tank to the back of the truck as well.
“Let’s grab something to eat,” said Uncle Jose. Both men could see Teresa’s mind wandering as they walked up the dock.
“Papa?”
“Yes, Teresa?”
“Do you think I could work with you this Summer?”
Arturo Vasquez took Teresa by the shoulders and pointed her toward the shipyard.
“Do you know what your Uncle and I do?”
“You work over there in the shipyard.”
“Let’s go for a walk.”
Arturo Vasquez led his daughter along the shore. As they neared the shipyard, the sound of hammers pounding steel grew louder. Some men stood on scaffolding, welding seams in the metal, while others painted the ships with gray primer.
“This is what we do. We work on ships all day long and when we’re done, it takes all our strength to come back the very next day to do it all over again.”
He held out his hands. They were covered in cuts and blisters.
“That’s what our work is like.”
Teresa remained silent as they walked across the dock, watching the ship builders. The noise was loud enough to change Teresa’s mind about a summer job at the shipyard; the blisters on her father’s hands only confirmed her decision.
They continued to the end of the dock to a small diner. They went inside at sat at the counter.
“Hey Margie,” said Teresa’s father.
“Hey Arturo, what will you have?”
“Do you have any Chupe de Camarones?”
“We just made a fresh kettle.”
“Can you give us three bowls?”
“Coming right away.”
Margie served up three bowls of soup. Steam rose from the light yellow broth. Teresa grabbed her spoon and dipped it into the soup. Chunks of shrimp and potato floated to the surface. She took a bite. The hot broth burned the roof of her mouth.
“How do you like it?” asked her father.
Teresa took a gulp of ice water and fanned her mouth with her hand. She nodded her head. Her father poured a tiny amount of ice water in her bowl and stirred the soup. Teresa tried it again, then gave a thumbs up, as if to say it was delicious.
Teresa continued eating her soup and was finished first. She turned around in her seat and watched the workers in the shipyard. She grabbed her frog pendant and thought hard about all of her wishes and the upcoming summertime. Arturo Vasquez finished his soup next, watching his little girl.
“I’ll be right back. I have to make a stop in the restroom before we go.”
Teresa pulled her legs up toward her chest and folded her arms around her knees. As she leaned her chin on her knees, she started to daydream about the seagulls.
“You can still go on fishing trips with your father and me,” said Uncle Jose.
“I know,” she sighed. Uncle Jose rubbed her shoulders then got ready to leave as Arturo Vasquez returned from the restroom. A sly smile crept from the corner of his mouth.
“Let’s go home,” he said.
They walked back to the blue pickup truck, parked on the far side of the dock. Teresa looked at the boats in the shipyard and wondered why she couldn’t work on boats during summer break. Maybe there was another way to get her smaller wish.
Just before the sun set on Arequipa, the blue pickup truck arrived safely at home. Teresa helped unload fishing gear from the truck, stacking it next to the front door. Teresa grabbed a stringer of fish from the ice chest and went toward the house.
As she opened the front door, the smell of baked fruit and vegetables came from inside.
“How was fishing?” Aunt Pilar called from the kitchen.
“Easy,” said Teresa.
“How can that be so? You were gone all day.”
“With the aid of a fisherman’s helper.”
“With what?” asked Aunt Pilar.
“A fisherman’s helper.” Teresa lifted her stringer and showed it proudly to her Aunt. A half-dozen striped marlins and black groupers hung from its hooks.
“You are quite the fisherman’s helper,”
“Not me, Aunt Pilar. I’m talking about the seagulls that led us to the fish.”
“I didn’t think of those helpers,” replied Aunt Pilar.
“They made it easy,” said Teresa.
Teresa placed her stringer in the sink, just like her father had always done after a fishing trip.
“Wash your hands. I’ll clean these fish,” said her father. He rolled up his sleeves and grabbed his filet knife. He dragged the knife under the skin, quickly cutting away the skin and bones. Aunt Pilar washed the fish filets and sprinkled them with corn flour. She placed them in a plate, ready for the oven.
Carolina came out from her bedroom to see what all the chatter was about. The plate of fish was more than she had seen in quite some while.
“I guess we’re having fish tonight,” she said.
“And the day after that and the day after that…” said Teresa.
“Not all of us,” said Carolina.
“Carolina! Be quiet,” scolded Aunt Pilar.
“I’m so sorry,” exclaimed Carolina. She was so excited about her trip she had forgotten about Teresa’s feelings.
“Don’t worry, I plan to work at the shipyard every day.”
“Teresa, you know you can’t do that. It’s too dangerous,” said Uncle Jose.
Teresa’s confident smile fell from her face. She ran into the bedroom and flopped onto her bed. She buried her face in her arm and began sobbing. Just then, her father came into the girl’s bedroom and sat on the bed beside her.
“Teresa?”
She grabbed her pillow and pulled it over her head. She couldn’t bear the thought of a long summer trapped inside the house.
“Teresa, listen to me for a second.”
Arturo Vasquez gently pulled his daughter around to face him and wiped the tears from her eyes with his thumb.
“What daddy?” Teresa’s eyes were puffy and red.
“Do you remember when I went to the restroom at the diner?”
Teresa nodded her head.
“When I went back there, I made a call to your Uncle Jorge in Cusco.”
“You did?”
“I did. I told him that you wanted to work on the Alpaca Ranch with Carolina this summer and I asked if he could help us get you a ticket.”
“And?”
“And I want you to pack your bags because you’re going to Cusco for the summer.”
“I am?”
“You are.”
Teresa’s face sparkled as she realized what her father said. She ran out to the kitchen and gave Carolina a bear hug.
“We’re going to Cusco! We’re going to Cusco!” she shouted.
Arturo Vasquez followed his daughter into the kitchen and retold the story of the phone call to Uncle Jorge. As soon as he finished, the girls went into their room and began packing again.
After the fish came out of the oven, everyone returned to the table for dinner.
“Would you rather work at the shipyard instead?” asked Uncle Jose.
“Absolutely not!” exclaimed Teresa. She quickly finished her dinner and returned to the bedroom. Carolina went with her, helping her finish her packing. Arturo Vasquez sat down at the card table and lit his smoking pipe. The rest of the adults joined him.
“That was quite some trick,” said Aunt Beatriz.
“I just called Jorge.”
“Still, I’m proud of you,” she said
“It was quite a surprise to me, too,” said Jose.
“I wasn’t going to say anything until after dinner. When Teresa started crying, I knew I couldn’t keep it secret any longer.”
The adults stayed int eh family room until the earliest hours of morning. After packing, the girls jumped into bed, but remained awake, anxious for what tomorrow might bring.