The day after the robbery in Arecibo, everybody was on edge. No one more than me.
“Stephen, I think you’re losing your grip,” Pam said that morning during the drive to her office. “You lose your keys, and you go ballistic. You used to choose your battles wisely, but these days you don’t seem to be afraid of anyone or anything. You took those guys on even though you were totally outnumbered. The old you would never have done that. I’m afraid it’s going to get you killed.”
“It wasn’t as simple as losing my fucking keys!”
“Steve, you know what I mean.”
“Give it a rest!” I snapped, although somewhere deep in my subconscious what remained of my reason knew she was right.
“Stephen, I love you, but this isn’t like you. Please, don’t bite my head off.”
This was becoming a common theme in our conversation: Pam worrying, me being obstinate.
She kissed me good-bye. “Please be safe.” The look of concern in her eyes killed me. I hated that I was making her feel this way. She didn’t deserve it.
I mumbled something back to her as she shut the door (this had also become a standard bit of behavior on my part). As I made a U-turn to exit the facility, I saw her wave to me in my peripheral vision. I didn’t bother to wave back.
I knew my life was spiraling out of control. I knew she was right, I was losing my grip on reality, getting entirely consumed by the beach and my quest to save the dogs. I didn’t even have a plan or a solution in place. I just knew I had to do something, because if I didn’t, no one else would. I knew that the other people helping the dogs shared some compassion and food with them, but they’d given up on the possibility of actually saving the dogs and stopping the cycle of abuse.
But it wasn’t right to take out my frustration on Pam. I didn’t want to turn into one of those people who loves animals but hates human beings. I resolved to call Pam later to apologize.
I’m pretty sure I never did.
In order to get some much-needed relaxation in, after we fed the dogs Yann and I decided to hang out on the beach at Palmas del Mar and do some snorkeling instead of going elsewhere.
There was a coral reef in the bay that created a natural wave break. It wasn’t ideal for snorkeling, but the water was clean and clear, and we had a great time swimming. I hadn’t brought my swim fins with me, and after an hour or so my legs were starting to get tired. I turned to head back to shore.
I felt something brush against my lower back and the back of my arm. I gasped, sucking in water through my snorkel. I pulled my face out of the water, panicked. Whatever had just rubbed up against me was really big.
“Yann!”
He was by my side in a flash. “What’s wrong?”
“Something huge just bumped me, bro.” He could tell by the look on my face that I wasn’t kidding around.
We looked around in the water, but whatever it was had stirred up the sand, and the water was cloudy now. We couldn’t see anything.
“Should we make a break for shore?”
“Hey, we only need to be faster than the slowest guy,” he joked. Yann swam better and faster than anyone I knew.
“That’s comforting. Thanks!”
Suddenly the smile on his face evaporated. “Dude, it just brushed against me!” he shouted.
And then it brushed against both of us at the same time, which was intense since we were several feet apart.
“What the—”
Right between us, the water broke, and an enormous manatee surfaced. The shock initially scared us, but then we started laughing. The manatee blew her big blubbery nose in my face.
“I wonder how long she was checking us out,” Yann said.
“She must have been watching us this whole time, and finally summoned the courage to come over and play.”
She was soft to the touch and remarkably gentle with us. We put our arms out to the sides and she swam between us, making contact with both of us as she passed.
Two smaller manatees surfaced a few feet away. They weren’t as friendly and kept their distance.
“I bet those are her babies.”
The mother stayed and swam with us for about an hour before she and her young ones went on their way. It was heaven.