Delgado’s hotel was a cluster of huts. Some of the huts were on the beach or in the jungle. The rest were on stilts above the ocean, at the end of warped piers. Esme and I managed to ride almost all the way to shore. I cut to the right on the wave I took, and Esme cut to the left, which sent her toward the large black rocks. I watched her bail, well before she came in too close, and swim out of the maul of the next breaking wave.
“It’s like the waves want to wreck you on those rocks,” she said as we dragged our boards onto the beach.
“Or they just want you to cut to the right,” I said. We walked along the beach until we came to a pier leading to the hotel’s office. The office was a thatch-roof hut, only slightly larger than the surrounding huts. The only way we could tell it was the office was on account of a large OFFICE sign pegged near the entrance.
Reggae was playing inside. The music had a soft, light beat, and for the first time since we had arrived in Panama, it wasn’t Bob Marley. We lay our boards beside our backpacks and went inside.
A big white guy was lying on a couch with a MacBook on his stomach. He swiveled his head toward the doorway.
“Hola,” he said.
“Hey,” I said. “Are you, um, Delgado?”
“Loco Delgado,” he said. He set the laptop on the ground and rolled off the couch. His T-shirt clung to him. Other than a small fan, which seemed to be doing little more than pulling the heat in from outside, there was no air circulation. It smelled musty, as if the room itself was sweating. Delgado was our parents’ age, although his skin was wrinkled and leathery from too much time in the sun. I tried to imagine him touring the world searching out the best waves. But his rotund form didn’t seem to fit the mold. “Are you the two Armadio brought over earlier?”
“Yeah,” I said. “We need a place to stay for a couple of days. Do you have any vacancies?”
Delgado nodded his head seriously and walked over to the counter. He ran a finger down a blank page, then looked up at us. “I think you can be accommodated,” he said, laughing.
“There’s no one else here?” Esme asked.
“Sure, sure. I think there are about twenty people here right now. They’ll let me know when they decide to check out. And pay as well.”
“That’s very trusting of you,” I said.
Delgado rolled his head from shoulder to shoulder, and a succession of cracks and pops sounded. “Surfing is a culture. You know how it is, man? What you give is what you get. Nice waves come in, and people feel good. The last thing they want to do is rip someone off and start feeling bad.” He leaned back to look out the window. “There’s an empty hut right here. Has a double in it. I imagine one bed will suffice?”
“Actually, two would be better,” I said.
Delgado nodded. “That’s all right. The double is actually just two singles jammed together with a big mattress on top. We can pull them apart.” Delgado came around the counter. “Come on, I’ll show you your new digs.”
“Wait a second,” Esme said when we were outside. She opened the front pocket on her backpack and pulled out a photograph of Kevin. “Have you seen this guy?” She handed the picture to Delgado.
He glanced at it and handed it back. “No. Why?”
“He disappeared a couple of months back. We’re trying to find him,” Esme said.
“What makes you think he would be here?” Delgado asked.
“In January his parents died in an airplane accident on one of the nearby islands.”
Delgado nodded. “I remember,” he said. “It was a stormy, foggy day. I remember because it was clear first thing in the morning, and then a fog set in and the waves got angry. They were mean that day. Out for blood, some of the locals said.”
Esme and I stared at a colorful school of fish in the water off the pier. Esme cast her eyes down, but I could see they were glazed. Kevin’s parents were kind, giving people, and Esme was the daughter they never had. She spent more time at Kevin’s house than anywhere else. It was still hard for us to believe his parents were gone. Kevin’s family had always made me feel like family. A heaviness settled on my chest, and I gulped a couple of times to hold back tears.
Delgado reached down and grabbed my backpack. “Let me show you the hut. How many days do you think you’ll be here?”
Esme’s damp hair hung across her face. She was working hard at not crying.
“Until we find him,” I said.
The hut had two stories. The first was an open space with a barbecue and some chairs. The upper level had a bed, sink, compostable toilet and a giant window facing the water. The sun was starting to set, and a dim orange glow filled the upper level.
“Ahh, it’s nice in here,” Delgado said. “I like this hut. It’s one of my favorites.” He looked at me. “Oh, man, I almost forgot. The single mattresses are in another hut. Do you want to help me get them?”
“It’s okay,” Esme said. She pulled her sleeping bag out of her backpack and tossed it on the bed. “This will work.”
“You sure?” I said.
“Sure.” She went and sat on the bed with her back to us.
“All right,” Delgado said. “Stay as long as you like, pay when you leave. Respect everyone and everything around here, that’s all I ask. The jungle, the beach, the waves, one another. Be kind.” He reached out and shook my hand. “And if you need anything, I’ll be next door.” He pointed out the window. From where we were, we could see right into his hut. “There are two restaurants along the beach. But, and I say this as an honorary local, I wouldn’t go much beyond the Purple Parrot.”
“Why?” I asked.
“This island has its locals. When big waves come in, the island really fills up with surfers and, well, the locals get a little testy.”
“I can imagine,” I said.
“Fair enough, right? You wouldn’t want a bunch of tourists invading your backyard either. So stick to this end of the island, and you’ll be fine.”
The smell of barbecuing shrimp wafted in the window, and my stomach growled. “Is that smell coming from the Purple Parrot?” I said.
“Special on garlic shrimp tonight.” Delgado smiled again and shuffled out of the hut.
“He’s not here, Luca,” Esme said without turning around. “We’re never going to find him.”
I clasped her shoulders. I could feel her trembling. “He’ll be here, Esme. He might not be here yet, but he will be.”
She shook her head. “How can you know that?”
I didn’t. I didn’t have a clue where Kevin was. He could be in Australia for all I knew. But I had to believe the lure of these big waves would be enough to deliver him to us. And I needed Esme to believe it too.
“I don’t know. But we have to hope, right?” I said.
“I guess.”
“You know it.” I squeezed her shoulders. “Let’s go get some dinner. I’m starved.”