What?Jem is poking her finger in every single pie here. Lexi responds, but I can’t hear what she says. Hopefully she puts Jem in her place. That might be a tough one, though. Jem and Mike are older and have been here forever. Neither of them likes to be told what to do by younger outsiders who are only here to fill a gap.
“Well, there’s nothing worse for the vibes in this place than when management is having a personal tiff.” Jem’s last words float to me through the open office door. “And it’s been clear from day one that you two need to patch something up.”
Fuck’s sakes.And it doesn’t help if there’s tension between Jem and Lexi either. Things in that office didn’t exactly feel convivial. If there’s a reason to make this fake engagement real on at least one score, it’s the sixth sense of the people working here. The last thing we need is the locals suspecting we’re up to no good.
I’m still chewing on this thought when I arrive at the dive center. Roger is already there, for the first time early and literally bouncing on the balls of his feet. At least someone is happy with the changes coming.
Matthias de Fuck-Off-Already arrives in time for the morning’s dives, and I’m neither surprised nor pleased. I nod at him in acknowledgement, and he shoots me a grimace. He’s an experienced diver, having been at Ne’emba nine times in the past few years if the records hold true. I still want to pummel his face, but I’m on the job and know when to behave. As long as he toes the line, I can toe the line.
When we get back from the morning’s outing, some wedding guests have arrived, ready to book their dives, and I can see Lexi already wishing the next week was over. At least there’s somearm candy for De Foch now, and with a slow exhale, I thank God that Lexi will be out of his line of fire.
After a quick lunch, I spend some time with Roger, working through the beginner’s manual on dive theory, and then we head out for some practical instruction. He is sharp and eager, which makes teaching fun, and he knows a lot of things already. He just didn’t know he knew them. At this rate, I’ll be able to leave him with more knowledge than the diving. He wants to learn everything about underwater photography too, and during our shallow dive, I hand him my camera to try out. Let him play.
As we wrap up for the day, he comes to stand next to me where I’m taking my camera out of its waterproof case.
“Do you think I took any good photos?” he asks.
“Yeah, definitely.” If he wants to get a grip on the art, I’ll need to invite him into my closet and show him the apps I use to produce social-media-worthy content. This is the moment to cross that bridge. “Do you want to have a look?”
“Please.”
“Come with me. But first dinner.” I lock up the dive center, and Roger has a skip in his step as we walk together to the canteen. I smile, praying that there’ll be at least one good image to stoke his enthusiasm. “Do you have social media?”
“Of course. Do you think I live under a rock here?”
I laugh. “No, only on an island in the middle of nowhere.”
“I’m connected to the office’s internet, and then when I go to home to Pemba, it’s not a problem at all.”
Guests are on the beach for their sundowners, and we don’t encounter anybody except the waiters who are scurrying around with hefty cocktails.
We eat quickly, and then I lead the way into our cottage, which has already had its room turndown. It’s spotless as always, the mosquito net closed around the bed. “This way.”
Roger follows and seems surprised when I open the door to the walk-in closet. “You hide in here?”
“It’s the most bug-proof room and comes with lights. So I can work at night without disturbing Lexi.” I switch my laptop on. “Go fetch an extra chair? There’s one in the bathroom.”
He comes back a second later, and I’m already typing away. I take the disk out of my camera and slot it into the laptop. “Let’s see what you got.”
“You don’t need the internet to do this?” he asks as I download our images in my editing app.
“Nope. This I do offline. As for my social media, I schedule posts to go out. I post three images or reels a day, even though I’m here.”
Roger nods. “Cool. I want to do the same. Can you show me how?”
“Do you have a computer? Or a laptop?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“Nope. All I have is this.” He holds his phone up, and it’s vintage. Everything Roger knows, he’s gathered from scraps or learned online from the apps that still work on his dated phone. Not that it’s stopping him—this man is ready to climb an exponential wall of learning—but he needs a new device to practice and refine his skills.
I glance at my own latest-edition phone. I can let that go when I leave here and get a new one at home. It’s not as if I use it much right now. Maybe I can arrange for a new phone from Dar es Salaam and have it shipped to Ne’emba. That would give Roger a head start. With the floatplane coming in so regularly, that has to be an option. I’m not sure how Roger will feel about handouts, though.
“Here we go.” I only took about two shots. The rest are all Roger’s. At first there’re a lot of duds, but then the moment when something clicked becomes clear. Roger’s images are crisp, thecolors bright, a split second of paradise captured for eternity. “Look at this one. It’s freaking awesome.”
I glance over at Roger when he says nothing, only to see his bottom lip trembling, his eyes welling up.
My throat tightens too, but I am well acquainted with this feeling. I have it every time I capture something that seems bigger than life itself, even if it’s the tiniest of creatures. “That’s talent, man. Pure, undiluted talent. And we’re going to hone it over the next weeks.”
Roger swallows, his Adam’s apple rising in his throat. “I didn’t think this was possible.”
