If turtles could be said to smile, Sweetie definitely is. Her flippers are waving frantically as she scrabbles to the edge. She’d had fishing hooks removed from her mouth and throat several weeks ago and has been kept at the sanctuary while her wounds healed. But these creatures aren’t meant to be locked up in tubs.
My heart aches for Jimmy and all of the sea turtles in aquariums all over the world. We can’t help them all—can’t protect even most of them—but the sanctuary might’ve saved Sweetie’s life and it’s incredible to be a part of this moment.
“She’s ready. I don’t think I can hold her back anymore. Everyone in position?” Steven asks. As always, he looks like a bronzed God—wearing only his red board shorts, stomach muscles taut and strained in a deep vee I want to follow with mytongue. I know where it leads and what it tastes like, and I don’t think I’ll ever get enough.
Sweetie is no crocodile but as he wrangles her shell closer to the edge, he reminds me of Steve Irwin crawling through the bush. He flips his long hair out of his eyes with a flick of his head then lifts the heavy hawksbill up and over the edge.
She zooms off without a backward glance. We all follow her with our eyes for as long as we can. Mike swims off with powerful kicks of his fins and takes video below the surface. We watch his snorkel disappear as he fills his lungs and dives down after her, keeping a respectful distance as she’s re-introduced to her home.
“She looked so happy,” I say, wiping a tear from my eye. I hadn’t expected it to be so moving. What we’re doing here really matters. I’m lucky to be a part of it.
“It’s a good reminder of why we’re all here.” Mason stares out at the deep blue even though all we can see are a few of Mike’s distant bubbles.
“They do good work here.” Victoria nods.
The sun has barely crested the horizon and the boat rocks on gentle waves. Mike reappears, waving the camera over his head.
“She’s beautiful!” he calls. “She already found some sponges to eat. Her form is perfect. There doesn’t seem to be any lasting damage. I think she’ll be okay.”
Steven finds me on the deck, places a kiss on my head, and pulls me into his arms.
“Do you ever get sad when you let them go?” I ask, trying to swallow the hitch in my breath that threatens to undo me.
“No.” He adjusts our bodies so that I can lean into him for comfort. “This is where she belongs. Free. Everything we do is just to get them strong enough to return home and have a fighting chance.”
I blink and swallow past the ache in my throat. I can’t help feeling like we’re not talking about turtles.
“We’ll miss her,” he says, giving me a squeeze. “But she’ll come back to these reefs to visit and hunt. This is where she’s safe and comfortable.”
“And Jimmy too?” I ask.
“He’ll be ready soon. I hate keeping them confined at the sanctuary, but if we send them back into the ocean before their wounds heal, they might not make it. If they get infected, they could lose flippers or worse, and we want to give them the best chance possible.”
“How do you find the balance?”
“We just do the best we can.”
“It’s still early yet, should we go check out Nest before the feeding frenzy?” Victoria asks as she gives Mike a hand back onto the boat.
“Have you been yet, Junie?”
“I don’t think so. What kind of nest?” I wipe my eyes, pushing down my sad, reflective thoughts. Steven and I need to have a deep talk soon. Our conversation styles are extremely different and I don’t want to keep reading into his silences and projecting my worst fears. But this isn’t the time or place.
“They’re underwater statues. As soon as the sun is fully up, it gets swarmed with tourists who can barely swim—but it’s a must-see at least once.” Juliette says.
“Oh, I think I’ve seen pictures of it! Can we really go?” I ask.
Captain Baylu signs off and spins the boat around toward Gili Meno. I’m surprised by how close we are to the shore when everyone grabs a snorkel and jumps off the side.
“Ready?” Steven holds out a hand. I adjust my mask, grab on, and we jump in together.
My skin tingles as we sink below the surface in a cloud of bubbles, then bounce back up from the air in our lungs. I instantly recognize the statues. Fifteen stone couples embrace in a circle, teeming with algae and inquisitive fish. In the middle, more stone bodies lie stretched out on the seafloor. They’re beautiful but eerie. The sound of the waves and my own breathing fill my ears as we swim closer.
I lift my head above the surface and look at Steven. He spits out his snorkel and says, “It’s an artificial reef. We have some similar projects growing in the area, but none of them look as impressive as this one.”
“It’s awesome. But also kind of… strange.”
“Agreed,” he laughs and we both duck our heads back under.
