“Weights,” Eva says next, tapping her pockets and belt to confirm they’re properly attached, not tangled, and easy to access in case of an emergency.
Steven watches the four of us silently as we prepare for the dive. When we’re finished, we give him the okay sign: index finger forming a circle with the thumb and the other three fingers up.
“Excellent. Grab your mask and fins, and let’s get in the water!” His smile is infectious. Where has this side of him been the last few days? The surly scowl is gone, replaced by a charming and boyish grin.
He steps up onto the side of the boat and takes another giant step out into open water. He pops back up like a balloon as his BCD inflates and swims backward from the vessel to clear the way for the next person.
“Are we doing this?” I ask Eva with a nervous smile behind my mask.
“We’re doing this!” She pumps her fist in the air and hops off the boat. I follow, holding my mask and regulator in place with one hand as I plunge into the crystal blue.
I take a deep breath of the cool, dry air from my tank and twirl in place. There is so much to see. I swim toward Eva and Steven as we wait for Nick and Nancy to begin the dive. On Steven’s signal, we all press the button that releases the air in our vests. I smile around my regulator, rolling my lips to keep the water out, as we sink below the surface.
The visibility is incredible. We can see straight down to the bottom and spot massive schools of fish in the distance as if looking through glass. I meet Eva’s eyes and they’re glittering with excitement. We flash the OK sign at each other and I workto consciously slow down my breathing as we await Steven’s direction.
Underwater, he has full control. His competent presence is a comfort in this alien landscape. Steven points toward me and Eva and mimes dropping his regulator. As part of our test, we have to prove we know what to do.
I take a measured breath and then drop the mouthpiece that allows me to breathe underwater. It’s a scary feeling. If we were much deeper, we may not be able to reach the surface in time, so it’s important not to panic.
I let out air in a slow stream of bubbles as I reach for my vest and follow the hose down. I place it back between my teeth and press the button on the back, clearing out the water, and then take a shallow breath.
My heart rate slows as my lungs inflate with air again. I turn toward Eva and I can see the smile in her eyes before she exhales a burst of bubbles. Steven gives us the OK signal and then motions for everyone to follow him. I think I see a flash of pride before he turns and the five of us descend toward the reef.
Chapter 7
Steven
Junie is a natural in the water. She’s relaxed, confident, and aware of her surroundings. She’ll make a great diver.
Falling into her on the boat this morning was almost the death of me. Thank god for the wetsuit hiding just how excited I got at the feeling of her body pressed up against mine.
But it can’t happen. I overheard her and Eva talking and I know that this is their last night on the island. Some might see that as the ideal situation, but I have no interest in spending time with yet another person who is just going to disappear.
I care about preserving the reefs and the turtles because I care about the future. I want to live in the now, I want to appreciate what I have, but when everything looks so bleak, when the trash won’t stop riding in on the waves, when we find an animal we can’t save, when another person gives up and leaves… it’s not enough. I’m tired of saying goodbye.
Diving is the only time I’m really living in the moment. Time stretches and bends in new ways down here. The rhythmic sound of my breathing, the slow rock of the ocean.
Below the surface, I pay attention to things I’d never notice on land. I feel tuned into the space around me. Guests are alwaysstunned when I point out the moray eels blending into the rocks or a stunning but deadly blue-ringed octopus, but it’s just a lucky guess based on hours and hours of observation. Sea creatures fall into habits and routines just like us.
At night, it’s even more surreal. The colors at depth come alive under the beam of a torch. Fish hover in place as they sleep. I’d love to see Junie on a night dive. The joy on her face is one I recognize in myself, but that I haven’t acknowledged in a long time.
Maybe I should teach more beginner classes. Maybe I’ve let the fights against pollution, climate change, and waste disposal turn me jaded. Every breath under the ocean is a privilege, an insight into another world. A better world. One where you don’t have to listen to people’s stupidity. I never want to take that for granted.
On their final certification dive, I swim alongside Junie and Eva, Nick and Nancy, and joy unfurls in my belly when I spot a friend. I get everyone’s attention and make the signal for turtle, one hand flat on top of the other, thumbs circling, and point toward a small hawksbill poking his head into some sea grass.
I catch Junie’s face when she spots him and it makes my chest tighten. I turn away and watch the turtle for a moment before checking my air gauge and prompting all four of my students to do the same.
Smooth and easy. I’ll be signing off on four new scuba divers today. I bring them around the reef, back to our starting point, and initiate a safety stop. It isn’t necessary at this depth, but it’s good practice, and it allows me to get a last look at how well everyone regulates their buoyancy. It also buys me another few minutes of quiet.
Nick starts floating away and I tug his fin down gently as we count down. I have to look away from Junie’s wide brown eyes. She’s leaving tomorrow, and that’s for the best.
Juliette is waiting on deck to help everyone aboard. I relegated her to grunt work when I took over her class, a decision I can’t quite explain to myself. I hang back until the end, taking a few deep breaths before climbing up. I’m at my best in the quiet depths, but everyone is waiting on me to celebrate.
Nothing takes it out of me like the salt, the sea, and the wind. Under the ocean, everything is weightless, but on land, just having a body feels exhausting.
My team of new divers all changed into their clothes before swarming on a massive platter of mie goreng and fruit. I dry off and join them, popping open a crisp stubbie.
The way Junie digs into the fried noodle dish is almost pornographic. Her eyes light up with joy as she shovels food into her mouth. It’s hard to focus on my own meal. Her pleasure is electric. I’ve never met anyone so enthusiastically cheerful about everything.
