everyone else. Except Tawni.
An idea blooms across Roxi’s face
like the sun this morning as I stood
by myself at the temple gates and prayed
I’d get Michael through them some day.
Roxi is always dawn.
“Google this for me.” She scribbles.
I delete, “Myanmar scuba diving”
from my Google search box.
Not like I need to do that again.
Been there.
Done that.
Bookmarked it all.
Memorized the video of long narrow boats
full of orange robed monks;
children with shining black hair,
filled with as much life as their
brown eyes and brown bodies, wiry thin,
crawling, pushing, laughing for the camera.
Then a boat, white men, a tree-topped stone.
Striding off the back. Their self-confident splash.
Sinking, sinking, pulling me along to an underwater vision:
Silvery mass undulating around pink coral walls.
Warty black octopi duo scrambling away.
A spiny princess decked out for a ball
floating slow motion in her splendor—
And then one lone diver.
I tell myself it’s not him.
Those long strong legs kicking long strong fins.
Not his.
“Leesie? Type this in.”
Roxi shoves a scribbled scrap at me.
“Hey, girl—are you with us?”
I pass my laptop over to her.
She gets googling.
My arms take its place on the table.
I bury my head, close my eyes,
conjure that vision again.
Is that him right now?
Swimming so alone,
wishing I was there
like I wish he was here?
Where are you tonight?
Or is it today?
Are you in the future or past?
I can’t keep it straight.
Can’t locate that sense that I know
is you. The missing is too loud.
The hunger too strong.
The wanting too great,
tonight.
Chapter 14
TREATMENT
MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG—VOLUME #10
DIVE BUDDY: Karen
DATE: 10/31
DIVE #:—
LOCATION: Phuket Town
DIVE SITE: hospital
WEATHER CONDITION: sunny
WATER CONDITION: calm
DEPTH: 0
VISIBILITY: 0
WATER TEMP.: 0
BOTTOM TIME: 0
COMMENTS:
The EMTs whisk Karen into emergency. The hospital’s dive medicine specialist is standing by. I stay with Karen until a gaggle of tiny Thai chick nurses come in and start helping her into a hospital gown. I back out of the draped bay. Fast. Poor, Karen. All she’s got is a swimsuit. I should have had someone pack up her stuff.
I look down at myself. Swimsuit. That’s me, too. And Claude’s smelly T-shirt caked with three days of French sweat. The guy doesn’t seem to know antiperspirant exists.
The doctor stalks up with a clipboard and a lot of questions. “You the son?”
“No.”
His eyebrows rise. Creep.
“I’m the dive instructor from the Queen Nautica. I took care of her.”
“Good. Good. I see. She’s been on oxygen the whole time?”
“Yeah.”
“What happened?”
I recap the accident.
“Oxygen is good. Saved her life.”
I nod.
“We’ll get her in the chamber as soon as it’s free. Four hours tonight. She’ll have some nerve damage in her leg, but nothing serious. We’ll put her back in the chamber a time or two to minimize that.”
I rub my nose. “Great.”
The doctor stares at me. “You ascended with her?”
“I’m fine.” I will my hand to hang loose by my side.
“Tingles in your nose? fingers?”
“Not much.”
“And you haven’t been on O2?”
“No need.”
“We still better check you out.”
“I’m not bent.”
“Not much—but, I think, enough.”
A nurse in pink floral scrubs comes out of Karen’s space. “Is there Michael? Karen ask for Michael.”
I bolt away from that wack doctor.
Karen’s pale, but she’s resting and calm.
“Hey—how you feeling?”
“They gave me something nice. Head aches. But now woozy getting.”
“Enjoy it.” I pat her hand. “You need to rest.”
“You saved me.” Her eyes close.
I shrug. “Just doing my job.”
Her eyes open, “Thanks. Never thought anything like this would happen to me.”
“Me neither.”
Karen’s eyes close again. Nurses descend filling the small space around Karen’s bed with bustle. Two start taking her vitals. Three hustle me into my own draped space.
“You change,” the nurse in pink floral says.
“No.”
She nods. “Can.”
I shake my head. “Can’t.”
A cute skinny one wearing purple with “Ning” on her name badge picks up the stuff they want me to wear. “We help?”
I grab the soft bundle and wave them off and put the freaking stuff on. At least they gave me bottoms to go with the gown. My butt won’t be flashing if they make me walk around.
A minute later, Ning’s voice comes from outside the curtain. “Okay?”
“Sure.”
She comes back in and smiles at me. Freak, she’s tiny. “You pee?” She holds up a plastic specimen cup.
I pretend to not get it. “Sure. How about you?”
“No need me pee today.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
“You—Michael—pee right now?”
I exaggerate a glance down at my vitals. “I don’t think so.”
Ning giggles. “In cup for doctor.”
I nod. “Yeah. Sure. I already did that.”
She squints her eyes and tilts her head to one side.
“Today?”
I nod—deadpan. She shakes her head, slow and confused, leaves for a few minutes, comes back. “No pee.” She tries to look stern. “You pee now.”
I flash her my most innocent grin. “My pee is fine.”
Ning shakes the bottle at me. “Doctor need pee.”
“Why?”
“To see something wrong.”
“There’s nothing wrong.”
“Pee in cup.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You need me help?”
“Sorry, I’m taken.”
“You have Thai girlfriend? I talk her. She get you pee.”
“No Thai girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend back home? No help.”
“I guess it’s hopeless.”
She puts down the cup and picks up the chart. “You make ka-ka poo poo today?”
Ka-ka poo poo? She’s serious. No way she knows how outrageous that sounds. I don’t laugh, but I’m not done having fun with her. “That’s kind of personal.”
She looks up and frowns. “Need for chart.”
“Okay. I’ll play. Yes. I made ka-ka poo poo this morning.”
“Good boy.” I’m surprised she doesn’t pat my head. She tosses me the cup. “Now pee.”
I go in the bathroom and pee in the cup. Ning comes back and takes my temperature, blood pressure, and puts me on an IV.
I stare at the needle sticking out of the back of my hand. “I don’t need this.”
“Doctor order fluids.”
“How is Karen?”
“She sleep nice.”
Two other nurses wheel in an oxygen tan
k. Ning slides the mask over my face. “Doctor back soon.”
I lean on the pillows and breathe deep. Might as well enjoy the pure O2 while I can. It’s supposed to make you kind of high. I lie there for an hour breathing pure oxygen. Does feel great. I’m not even stressing over the dumb doctor thinking I could possibly be bent. It’s just a tiny bit of numbness in my nose and fingertips. Nothing. He’ll come back, apologize, and they’ll let me go. I’ll check in on Karen first. Maybe I can call Leesie. Freak. My phone and my laptop are on that stupid boat that’s heading back out to the Burma Banks.
I get a little dozy, almost sleep. It’s okay. Everything is fine. Okay. Great.
The doctor barges in trailing Ning. I startle awake.
“Any headache?”
“No.”
“Any more numbness?”
“There never was any numbness.”
“Any more tingling in your nose? Hands? Feet?”
The outside of my left foot is asleep, but I’m not admitting it. I’m fine.
“Okay. We’ll get you in the chamber right after Karen. Sometime around 4 AM.”
“But I’m not bent.”
“I say you are. You cannot leave here until I release you. You must have treatment. Stay on that oxygen. Nurse, he’ll need another bag of fluid.”
Ning takes the chart. “You need pee first?”
I ignore her. “But I have to get back to work.”
The doctor purses his lips together. “I’m afraid that is impossible.”
“You know what this means. I’m a scuba instructor.”
“Yes. I’m sorry, but the risks are too high. Six weeks no diving. Get some rest. You’ll feel like a truck hit you tomorrow.”
Six weeks no diving? What the freak am I going to do?
Chapter 15
UTAH AIR
LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK
POEM # 57,A GENTLEMAN CALLER
“Somebody’s knocking!”
Roxi’s voice bounces down
the hall and curls under my bedroom door.
I look up from cramming for a psych
exam, sitting cross-legged in the middle of
my high-rise twin bed.
Roxi yells again, “Come on, people.
I got it last time.”
“Probably Kanyon,” I mumble at Tawni.
“No.” She doesn’t move her eyes off her cell.
“He just texted me.”
The knock comes again. Short, rapid bursts
in a vaguely familiar rhythm.
“I’ll get it.” Dayla runs down the hall,
no doubt hoping for Noah.
I plunge my head back into memorizing mumbo
jumbo I’ll forget as soon as I can.
I get lost in methodology that always proves nothing—
Then Dayla barges into our room.
I glare at Tawni—oblivious.
Of course, it was Kanyon. She probably
knew it.
Dayla grins at me.
“There’s a guy for you, Leesie.”
“Me?” A current of wonder slides down my arms. “Who?”
She shrugs and exaggerates a grimace.
“Never seen him before.”
Weird. I shove my psych book away, stand, stretch,
yawn. Another delivery?
What else could Michael buy me?
A new t-shirt? My eyes rest
on my fringed suede jacket.
Maybe it’s a new one—svelte and weather proof.
Dayla takes my hand and drags me down the hall.
My eyes focus on the guy in the doorway—
Oh, my gosh!
He’s there!
Not a delivery. Michael.
In the flesh, outlined by the door frame,
hair getting wavy and long again,
stubble on his face that doesn’t
look healthy under his tan.
“Your spidey sense must be way off.”
He smiles, strong and alive and so close.
“I thought you’d meet me at the airport.”
I unfreeze—leap across the kitchen
to get to him. “Are you real? Are you—”
His mouth convinces mine,
gently caressing, capturing my lower
lip between his. Tingling? Oh, yes
my senses are tingling.
My voyeur roomies crowd in the kitchen—ogle us.
I push Michael back out the door
and pull it shut behind me. He presses
me up against it. “Hey, babe.”
I cup his face in my hands.
“I love you.”
He smiles but his eyes water.
“I know.”
I pull his mouth to mine.
He fills his searching
hands with my hair.
My fingers lock around his neck.
Our bodies touch, melt.
We’re lost in that kiss—nothing
else exists until the door behind me opens.
I fall back into the clutches of my roommates
chanting, “Ice cream, ice cream, ice cream.”
Roxi says, “No way—that was brownies.”
Michael looks at me like he’s
entered an asylum.
I throw back my head and laugh.
Maybe he has.
I grab his hand and get him close again.
“Welcome to the Zoo.”
I kiss him one more time—half
the hall is watching by now.
“I thought you’d never get here.”
MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG—VOLUME #10
DIVE BUDDY: Leesie
DATE: 11/04
DIVE #:—
LOCATION: Provo, Utah
DIVE SITE: BY-Zoo
WEATHER CONDITION: sunny, cold
WATER CONDITION: perfect
DEPTH: bottomless
VISIBILITY: to the horizon
WATER TEMP.: hot
BOTTOM TIME: 4 hours
COMMENTS:
I don’t get to say, “Hello,” to Leesie long enough. Her roommates are all over us. They keep going on about brownies and ice cream.
“Leesie—were you—?”
“Guys!” She’s deep red. Sweating. Them or me? Definitely me. “Clam it.”
They just laugh at her. A short pudgy one with bangs in her eyes and glasses on her nose—got to be Lily—points at our entwined hands. “Look. He’s holding her hand. M&Ms, too.”
The front door stays open, and chicks from next door, upstairs, downstairs, across the lounge—flow in. And then the room starts to fill from the back door. Leesie lives in this dorm called Heritage Halls. Two and three story red and gold brick buildings on the edge of campus. Old. The floors are linoleum. Not ancient and picturesque. Boxy fifties architecture. Dayla—the roommate she set the homecoming guy up with who played along with my surprise—later told me that her mom stayed in this very same apartment when she was a freshmen, and they were old then. Each unit has three bedrooms, a bathroom, and a kitchen with table, chairs, and a hard couch.
“Hey!” About the thirtieth tall, tan, blonde girl enters. “I hear Leesie’s buying ice cream. Who’s the guy?”
The kitchen jams with Leesie-ites. All shapes and sizes. Then guys start appearing. A group of them says they are Leesie’s brothers and act all protective. Guess the girls are here to gawk at me, the guys to gawk at the girls, and for some reason Leesie owes them all dessert.
Through all the commotion, Leesie sits on my lap on their rock hard no-way-could-anyone-make-out-on-that couch in a big square kitchen, with her face pressed to my neck. My lips rest on her forehead with the scent of Sweet Banana Mango flavored hair reviving my hammered senses. (The doctor was right. By the next day—Mac truck right between the eyes.)
“What’s with the ice cream?” I readjust Leesie on my knee.
Dayla hears. “You owe ice cream if you get kissed. Brownies for making out. M&Ms for hold
ing hands. Oh, and sundaes if you get engaged.”
“Yeah, Leesie,” some guy shouts. “Where’s the food?”
Roxi, clearly the California girl, turns away from three guys and adds, “It’s for roomies only. The rest of you are a bunch of freeloaders.”
I slip out my wallet and pass it to Dayla. “Don’t spend it all.”
A roar punctuated with hungry college co-ed squeals rocks the room.
I whisper to Leesie, “Should I tell them to get chocolate syrup?”