Authors: Angela Morrison
Tags: #Social Issues, #Dating & Sex, #Christian, #Friendship, #Juvenile Fiction, #Sports & Recreation, #General, #Religious, #Water Sports, #Death & Dying
Taken by Storm (29 page)
“I worked harvest with my dad summers—saved every cent—killed myself at school—took the ACT three times to get that score.” She loosens her grip on me and her voice gets kind of dead. “You want me to give that up?”
“Look what i’ve given up for you. No sex since—”
“DeeDee?”
“Freak, Leese.”
“It’s not the same.”
“Yeah. It’s way worse.” How can i go back to the darkness of those days we were apart? “So you’re just going to abandon me?” My voice throbs.
“This is killing me. That’s why I didn’t tell you sooner.” She’s on the edge of tears. “I wanted to wait until the memorial was over and I could figure something out.” She’s clutching again, speaking fast and frantic. “Look. We won’t have to break up. We’ll be online all the time. You can come visit whenever you want.”
“That would last until some BYU do-gooder asks you out.”
“Now you need to give me some credit.” She lets go of me, smoothes down my T-shirt, and steps back.
“What am i supposed to do?” i take her hand, feel the scars on the back of it. My prints on her. The brand that says she’s mine and can’t leave. “Sit at Gram’s staring at the stupid crack in the wall?” i suck in fresh sea air, but the bitter taste of anger floats on the breeze.
“I think you’d like Seattle. The University of Washington is a great school. It’s not too late to apply.”
“i’m supposed to just go there by myself? i don’t think i can hack more school for a while. If i’m not going with you—”
“But you have to go to college.”
“Why?” The anger starts to tingle my fingertips and pop in my brain.
“I’m sure that’s what your parents want.”
i drop her hand—burned. “Don’t tell me what they want. They’re dead. They don’t want anything anymore.”
“They still want what’s best for you.” She tries to recapture my hand, but i pull it out of reach.
“Don’t go there, babe. Your heaven isn’t mine.”
Her face gets red. “Wouldn’t it be better if it was?”
“My parents are ash. Thanks to you, they’re mixed up with cement and molded into an artificial reef. We’re sinking them tomorrow. My parents are finished. i’m on my own.” My words echo in the pit of my guts as i realize i won’t even have Leesie.
“You’re wrong.” She won’t quit. “They still love you. They want you to be happy.”
“Just stop. No. If you’re so eager to ditch me, why don’t we start now.” i put my hands up to ward her off. “Stay away from me. Forget diving. Forget the whole damn thing. Stay away from the service. Keep your dad out, too. No way i want you guys there preaching at me. i’m trying to say goodbye.”
“I have to go. That’s why I came.”
“i thought you came for me.”
“You can’t mean this.” Her arms wrap around her stomach, and she’s hunched over like i hit her. “I know it will be hard when I leave”—her voice wavers and dissolves—“but we’ll figure it out.” Her face crumples.
Good. She can hurt, too. i want her to hurt more. i want to crush her right out of existence. “i’m going diving. Maybe you’re right about Mandy. Time i hang with a chick who appreciates what i can offer. She’ll enjoy how much i’ve improved.” i turn to leave.
Leesie doesn’t move. “You can’t just walk away.”
i spin around. “Why not?” i advance on her with all that anger flushing my face into a menace. “Isn’t that what you’re planning to do to me?”
She doesn’t back off. Meets my anger with, “Please, Michael. I love you.”
That doesn’t cool the blast. It just makes her desertion worse. Fuels the fire. Fans the flames. i bend over her, get smack in her face, and seethe, “Prove it,” into her crying eyes.
chapter 40
TEMPTATION
MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG—VOLUME #8
Leesie’s out, so we ditch the wimp beginner dive we were going to do and cruise up to the
Spiegel Grove
. Gutsy. Dangerous. Testosterone-pumping wreck dive. The club just bought scooters, and Mitch is eager to test them out. It’s so good to see these guys. The ones who booked too late to make the Belize trip or couldn’t get off work or didn’t have the cash. Survivors like me. Even Mandy.
Spiegel Grove
. Gutsy. Dangerous. Testosterone-pumping wreck dive. The club just bought scooters, and Mitch is eager to test them out. It’s so good to see these guys. The ones who booked too late to make the Belize trip or couldn’t get off work or didn’t have the cash. Survivors like me. Even Mandy.
i get an intense rush simply setting up my gear and testing a tank of nitrox. i hunker down on deck savoring the sea spray. This is what i came for. Forget Leesie. How could she lie to me again? Act so loving and tender and then wham, rip my heart out. Here i am dreaming of diving forever with her, and all along, she’s packing her bags.
Mandy enjoys being the only chick on the boat. She gets Mitch to set up her gear. She interrupts me testing my second tank. “Where’s Lisa?”
“Leesie.” i stumble over her name. “She doesn’t dive.”
“Too bad.”
“Yeah.” Really bad. i’m stuck toting around a bag of useless pink chick gear.
“Can you help me with this knot?” Mandy turns around and lifts her hair. “I’m going to work on my tan before i change.” She goes commando under her wet suit.
i stand up and work on the knot.
“I always tie it to tight.” She giggles.“Wouldn’t want anything falling out.”
We both know she’s famous for falling out.
My fingers are useless on the tiny knot and slippery strings. i bend down and loose it with my teeth. She smells familiar, slick with coconut tanning oil. “Thanks.” Her lips are close enough to my ear to bite. “Come on up when you’re ready.”
That’s Mandy. Never wastes time. i go back to my nitrox tank as she slinks around to the bow, holding her loose bikini top up with one hand.
Flesh. All i want. A few feet away. Waiting for me. And nobody’s going to call recess.
i fill in the nitrox log and pass the gauge on to Mitch. He looks at me like i just won the lottery.
i hook my first stage to the tank. Turn the gas on. Check my fill. Sit on the bench in front of my gear and reset my computer.
i finish.
Don’t move. Stare out at the ocean to where it curves into the horizon. No clouds in sight, and the swells are only a couple of feet. Calm for February.
Mandy on the bow, waiting, wanting me again—tugs on me like the current pulling on a moored sailboat we pass.
Trust. Respect. Predator.
No matter how angry i am with Leesie, how much i want to hurt her, how easy Mandy’s making it—i loathe that girl. i don’t want any kind of closeness with her. She took me too young, too far, too fast. Kicked me aside. Taught me, sure, but were her lessons worth the pain? How can she think i’d get tangled up in her tentacles again? Sure, it would soothe this rage Leesie brewed in my guts. Hurt Leesie worse than anything else i could do. Destroy everything there ever was or will be between us—
Do i really want that?
What about me?
i got to survive.
i turn my face up to the sun and salt spray and close my eyes. The roar of twin outboards remind why i’m here. i’m going to dive. Sink beneath the surface. Return to the world i’m drowning without. Will Isadore be waiting? i don’t care. She can come, too. i’m going under. Nothing else matters.
We get to the
Grove
, and i sit on the boat’s side and roll backward into the ocean. The current’s ripping. Knocks my mask off. The salt water stings my eyes and gets up my nose. Freak. Where’s the sweet embrace of my daydreams?
Grove
, and i sit on the boat’s side and roll backward into the ocean. The current’s ripping. Knocks my mask off. The salt water stings my eyes and gets up my nose. Freak. Where’s the sweet embrace of my daydreams?
i fight to the back of the boat where Sammy hands me a yellow, torpedo-shaped scooter. i descend hanging tight to the line so the current doesn’t wash me away. Ten feet. Twenty. The vis sucks. i can barely make out the giant conning tower in the gloomy murk. Sadness wells up in me, and i have to stop. This was Dad’s favorite dive. What am i doing here without him?
i hang onto the line, frozen like an idiot. Mitch finds me, leads me to the group scootering down around the massive prop blades. i follow them across the decks. Memories chase me all the way. Mitch leads us out around the bow. The current hits us, but the scooters can hack it. We all begin broad U-turns to head back to the
Grove
.
Grove
.
Halfway through my turn, my BC’s inflator hose gets tangled in the prop of my scooter. i let go of the power button, and the scooter stops. Everybody else keeps going. It takes me about twenty seconds to untangle the hose.
When i look around, i’m in a desert of murky water and white sand. No divers. No wreck. The current swept me downstream while my scooter was off, and i’m living my dead-body nightmare—except Leesie’s gone. She’ll never pull me out again.
i scan the water like a crazy man. Where are the salmon riders hiding? i breathe in and out too quick. Not good at this depth. i could be out of air in minutes.
Isadore pulls. My mother is screaming for
me
to come to
her
. And i stand on the deck. Ignoring her. A surge of regret threatens to sweep me downstream.
me
to come to
her
. And i stand on the deck. Ignoring her. A surge of regret threatens to sweep me downstream.
Let it go. Let it go.
Isadore’s black oily voice is as enticing as Mandy’s.
Come with me, Michael. I’m here.
Isadore’s black oily voice is as enticing as Mandy’s.
Come with me, Michael. I’m here.
i could go to them—right now.
Fear jabs my guts. i’m so not strong. Big cowardly freak. i point the scooter into the current and get my butt out of there.
chapter 41
IN MEMORIAM
LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK
POEM #44, CEREMONY OF TEARS
I am the uninvited, the intrusion,
the traitor.
the traitor.
reef memorial’s catamaran is crowded
enough with divers for me to hide
from the stone gray glare he’s turned
on me since my premature confession.
enough with divers for me to hide
from the stone gray glare he’s turned
on me since my premature confession.
a flat barge carrying the reef
made of his parents leads us forth.
small brown seabirds cry out.
made of his parents leads us forth.
small brown seabirds cry out.
silver scuba tanks flash in the sun.
michael, with his wet suit pulled just to his waist,
Hovers, his face set hard as the concrete monument.
I long to take his hand.
He was supposed to need me.
michael, with his wet suit pulled just to his waist,
Hovers, his face set hard as the concrete monument.
I long to take his hand.
He was supposed to need me.
Chains clank, cranes lower ash reborn
into the glassy Caribbean blue.
into the glassy Caribbean blue.
my dad’s voice crackles on the sound system:
Carry their love with you.
Cherish it. And I promise you,
when you need a parent’s hand,
their hearts will guide you.
Carry their love with you.
Cherish it. And I promise you,
when you need a parent’s hand,
their hearts will guide you.
michael turns away from the power
in my dad’s eyes to find
faces aching for the story
only he can tell.
in my dad’s eyes to find
faces aching for the story
only he can tell.
He eases the valve open, lets it flow,
feeds them crab legs,
pelts them with rain,
drowns them in the storm surge,
plucks them out in time to see
a row of bodies covered in white sheets
lined up along the dock
at a place called monkey river.
feeds them crab legs,
pelts them with rain,
drowns them in the storm surge,
plucks them out in time to see
a row of bodies covered in white sheets
lined up along the dock
at a place called monkey river.
then tanks clank, fins flap—
divers, one by one, stride over the side
as a final tribute.
divers, one by one, stride over the side
as a final tribute.
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