His high school friend lived close by. A short walk separated their homes which were near the sea. Swimming and fishing were their favorite pastimes.

“Are we ready?” asked his friend.

“Yeah, I have enough worms for both of us,” he replied. “Oh, and I sneakily took one of my dad’s better fishing rods,” he added.

“Your dad is going to get mad at you,” his friend chided.

“Nah, this is one of the many he has. He won’t miss it.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk!” his friend muttered, shaking his own fishing rod at him.

They walked with arms on each other’s backs. With their free hands holding their fishing rods, they looked like soldiers striding abreast to some battle. They laughed as they shared reactions to pranks they did on their classmates the day before.

Being the weekend, they had all the time to enjoy each other’s company. In fact, they were just together at noontime, relishing a simple lunch that his friend’s mom made for them.

After a short siesta, they walked to a friendly neighbor’s bamboo and nipa hut built on stilts along the seashore. The tide was quite high; the clear, blue-green water almost reaching the bamboo-slatted floor of the hut.

They jumped off the edge of the open air section of the hut which was used for *tabó showering, feet first, eyes closed, and noses pinched. Yelling and laughing, they splashed on each other’s already wet faces as they surfaced. Like little, unfettered boys, they continued with their water fun until the tide started to ebb.

Their favorite fishing place was a rocky boulder pier, tapering to a point from the shore. The pockmarked asphalt road leading to it was straight as it followed the shoreline. On the beach were numerous bamboo, nipa huts, packed tight, with some huts sharing one bamboo bridge to the edge of the road. Across the road were rows of tile-roofed homes inside tall brick walls. They stopped to peek through the iron gates to marvel at the beautifully-painted homes with their well-manicured lawns and to wish that theirs were the same.

The jagged rocks were treacherous, but he made it to the farthest tip of the pier so he could feel the mist created by the lapping waves. He turned around to look at his friend who was already seated on a flat, smooth rock, baiting his hook with a worm.

Not finding any flat rock, he sat on the nearest one, ignoring the jagged edges poking his butt. He proceeded to bait his hook, looking forward to the nibbling by the fish which he found exhilarating. He hoped to be better at sharply tugging his line when the much-awaited moment came. He didn’t want to lose a fish this time.

He cast, eyeing a target on the water with the tip of his fishing rod as the reel whirred.

“Ow! ow!” he heard someone yelling!

He immediately turned around. It was his friend!

He ran, ignoring the pain as his feet hit the jagged rocks. His jaw dropped when he realized what happened.

His hook was stuck on his friend’s face!

No wonder there was no plopping sound on the water immediately after he cast. The lead sinker, went straight to his friend’s face as it swung back during casting. The hook with a wriggling worm were on his friend’s face like a facial ornament.

He carefully removed the hook while his friend was trying his best not to move or cry. Fortunately it was superficial. In fact, there was only minimal bleeding.

“I am terribly sorry,” he said.

“Oh, that’s okay,” his friend replied.

They understood how it happened, but were amazed as to the odds of it happening.

They continued with their fishing. However, he now tried harder to be careful with his casts; his friend now eyed him carefully each time he cast.

They went home when the sun started to set, his friend with 2 small fish. Except for some guilt, he went home with nothing.

As he turned the page of his subscribed magazine for seniors, an ad for fishing caught his eyes. It made him wonder where his high school friend was now. They lost touch with each other after high school graduation.

Endless internet searches followed. Since none was fruitful, he slowly realized that his friend had a sister who became his college classmate.

“Could it be that she is still alive?” he thought as he started a new search. He almost gave up until he found out her married name.

He excitedly sent her a message along with the graduation photo of her brother for good measure. After a time, there was a response.

The text started with the usual how-are-you-nice-to-reconnect-with-you. His smile widened knowing that update on her classmate’s brother, his friend, was next.

“Oh, and Jesse passed away a few years ago.”

He reread that line several times. His eyes failing to focus on the rest of her message, he looked up.

His thoughts slowly wandered to visions of his best friend and he walking to school, their arms on each other’s backs, laughing as they compared new pranks to do on their classmates.

His smile came back.

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*Tabó showering – bathing by pouring water over your head with a “tabó” or scoop.