‘They even give you more air in Texas,’ Derek whispers, his eyes glinting.
‘But you’re not supposed to fill up tanks more than regulation,’ I remind him.
‘If you pay enough, you can do whatever you want.’
I feel Hugh stiffen beside me.
‘That sounds super safe,’ I say, a tight smile on my face.
The air seems to crackle with tension. Even Pippa and Andrew have quieted.
‘It’s my choice,’ Derek says defiantly, ‘and isn’t everybody all up in arms about “choice” these days?’
White-hot rage courses through me at his dismissive mention of the right to choose. I force myself to take a deep breath. The ocean is not the place for politics, I remind myself. I need to stay calm before this dive, I cannot afford to jump underwater with my heart already beating out of my ears.
Derek looks at me smugly, knowing he’s riled me up. Before I can open my mouth to respond, Hugh interjects.
‘I’m not sure if you can just “choose” to break the law, mate. Those rules are in place for the safety of dive instructors too. It’s not cool to pay more and expect them to compromise their own safety.’
Derek opens and closes his mouth twice, looking exactly like a fish, before he excuses himself to go prep his camera, clearly at a loss for words.
Only when he leaves does Hugh finally relax his ramrod posture.
‘Thanks,’ I whisper.
‘He was being a right dick,’ Hugh whispers back. ‘But for the record, it’s now the second time I’ve rescued you.’
‘I didn’t know I needed rescuing.’
‘Well,’ he muses, ‘I guess you’ve bitten my head off plenty. Maybe I should have let you do it to someone else for a change. But you seemed to be floundering so I think that counts as a second point in my favour.’
‘I didn’t know we were keeping score,’ I murmur.
‘As long as I’m winning, we’re always keeping score.’ Hugh crosses his arms in front of his chest and grins.
Despite how annoyed I am at Derek, I can’t keep my lips from curling up into a smile.
As time marches towards the night dive my anxiety grows. We are supposed to start our descent in a little over an hour. When Pippa starts joking about us all going on the night dive to our deaths, I snap at her. I apologise as soon as the words leave my mouth, but I definitely don’t feel like myself. My anxiety is getting to me. I vow to spend the remainder of the evening, at least before the night dive, by myself.
Alone in the cabin, I lie down on the small twin bed. Everyone else is upstairs, chatting or reading or asking Aaron more questions about his life before he was a captain – he dived commercially to harvest sea cucumbers, which is something I would find very cool if I wasn’t totally stressed. I toss and turn, a ball of nerves. I wish I knew how Millie was doing. I wish I had proof of the wrasse already. I’m glad it’s a foregone conclusion that I won’t see them tonight. They’re not as active at night, and I don’t have a camera that takes night photos.
I turn on my side and pick at the peeling paint in the corner of the room. Maybe I should just opt out of the night dive. There’s no reason for me to do it. I’m anxious and I need some rest. If I don’t do the dive, I’ll be better prepared for tomorrow. That settles it, I think. No night dive for me.
I arrive at this conclusion just when Hugh knocks softly on the door.
‘Millie?’ he asks.
‘Come in.’ I stare at the ceiling.
‘Are you OK?’ Hugh says finally, sitting down on the bunk bed below and across from me. I know he’s looking up at me, but I can’t bring myself to meet his eyes.
‘Yeah, just tired.’
‘You’ll find the wrasse tomorrow,’ he says after a pause.
‘You really think so?’
‘I do.’
