Every Thanksgiving my family, friends, and I take a three day vacation. Two years ago, at the beginning of my freshman year in high school, we took our annual Thanksgiving trip to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. As soon as we had reached the resort, my friends, sister, and I threw on our bathing suits and strolled toward the beach. Our resort was situated right on the water and it took us only two minutes to reach the shore. 

I dipped my toes under the warm water and sighed with content. Mexico was paradise. I grabbed my phone out of my beach bag and snapped a few pictures of the turquoise ocean.

My friend, Sophia, splashed in the water beside me and said, “Hey, can I use your iPhone?” Knowing that she loved documenting her trips and didn’t have a cell phone of her own, I gladly gave it to her. Instead of being careful with my phone like she usually was, Sophia recklessly jumped and danced in her sequined, sparkly bathing suit.

I saw my phone slip out of her hand and disappear under the waves.

“SOPHIA!” I screamed as I frantically tried to find my phone before it vanished in the ocean. Sophia stood idly by, looking down at me with a blank stare. As I pulled my phone out of the water, I saw Sophia run away with tears streaming down her cheeks.
I turned to face my little sister, Rhea, and frustratedly said, “Why is she crying when she was the one who dropped MY phone in the water?” In response, Rhea shrugged her shoulders and turned back to the warm ocean.
 
I frowned as I looked down at my phone. The screen was black and it refused to switch on.

Sitting back up the beach on a low wall that separated the sand from the hotel stairs, Sophia cried, her knees pulled up toward her chest. I trudged through the sand, trying to calm my frustration.

“Sophia. Why are you crying? There is no need for you to cry.” Instead of replying, Sophia turned away from me. “I should be the one that’s crying. You were the one who killed my Christmas present! You should at least say sorry.” Sophia just sat there, bawling. My friends and I had learned years ago not to tolerate any of Sophia’s hysterical crying fits. I rolled my eyes in annoyance and walked away.

I had experienced Sophia’s insufferable tears several times before the Mexico trip. Because our families were so close, Sophia and I would see each other very often, more than I would have liked. Sophia used this closeness to cry her way out of uncomfortable situations. In my household, my parents would never let me bawl my way out of circumstances by shedding a few tears. If I ever did that, I would have been to told to get over it. To me, this concept of manipulation was foreign.

There was a reason behind Sophia’s behavior. When she was around nine years old, Sophia had gotten a paper cut on her finger. Instead of putting a bandaid on it, Sophia’s mom fussed about, yelling for an ice pack, ointment, and an endless supply of bandages. Her parents were very overprotective of their precious Sophia, and would coddle her in every way imaginable.

I wasn’t surprised that Sophia had cried her way out of dealing with the phone debacle, because it was a regular thing for her to do.

Throughout the rest of the morning I successfully tried to prevent the phone fiasco from ruining my trip to Mexico. However, later that afternoon, Sophia’s mom approached me with an angry look on her face. Her hands were clenched into fists and her knuckles were white with rage.

“Why is my daughter crying?” she yelled. A few droplets of spit flew out of her mouth and landed directly on my nose and cheek.

I quickly wiped them away and answered, “I’ve been trying to figure that out all morning.”

Sophia’s mom looked at me with an eyebrow perked, holding an intense gaze. I knew I was testing her patience by replying. But because of the whole phone catastrophe, I didn’t even care.

“Sophia has been feeling very left out during this whole trip. On the plane ride, she was alone and had no one to talk to.”

Not true, I thought. Every family was seated together.

“Even when we got to the beach, all of you ran away from Sophia and left her alone, once again.”

False. Sophia was with us the entire time before she dropped my phone.

“I want you to go apologize to Sophia, right now, for making her cry and leaving her feeling lonely. It’s your job to take care of everybody, Riddhi.”

My mouth hung open in disbelief. I was inexperienced when it came to irrational parents. Instead of replying, I just turned and walked away from her.

As I look back at this experience, I realize that parents can do stupid, unjust things to protect their kids. I don’t agree with Sophia’s mom’s lecture, however I understand the situation from her point of view. When she saw her daughter crying, she stopped thinking about my feelings and, instead of handling the situation rationally, she lashed out at me, accusing me of being behind Sophia’s tears.

I was a lot different back then. I was just out of middle school, and middle school me was rude and impolite. It was harder for me to see something from someone else’s point of view. If I could go back in time, I would have handled the situation differently. Instead of handling Sophia’s mom with sass, I would’ve politely listened and spoken on my behalf. As for Sophia, I realize that she felt guilty. I was like an older sister to her and when she dropped my phone in the water, Sophia didn’t know how to react. Instead of crying and running away, she should have apologized. I would have forgiven her in a second and been concerned about her feelings.