Unbroken Connection (25 page)

MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG—VOLUME #10

D
IVE
B
UDDY
: solo

D
ATE
: 12/30

D
IVE
#:—

L
OCATION
: Tap Lamu

D
IVE
S
ITE
: Queen Nautica

W
EATHER
C
ONDITION
: night

W
ATER
C
ONDITION
: tidal wave

D
EPTH
: bottomless

V
ISIBILITY
: 0

W
ATER
T
EMP
.: ice again

B
OTTOM
T
IME
:

COMMENTS
:

I call again. Leesie’s phone goes right to voicemail. She turned it off. Freak. She really means this.

She must think I’m so vile. How else could she believe all that? I wanted to do exactly what she thinks, but I didn’t. That deserves some credit. A ton of credit. All the credit out there.

Damn her. If she won’t even hear me out. Just damn her. Damn her. Damn her.

If her God is real, I hope he hears me. She acts so righteous, but she wants to believe I’m evil. What a hypocrite. Isn’t jealousy a deadly sin? It’s the worst one in my book. Next to cheating. I didn’t cheat, but she’s so jealous she won’t even try to see the real picture.

Damn her.

I hook the chain around my neck with my finger and lift her ring from under my T-shirt. Clutch it. Yank—not hard enough. I get ready to yank again and break the chain.

Freeze.

My hand unfurls.

Her diamond sparkles brilliant and white in the hot tropical sun. Freak.

She will wear this.

I’m not ready to give up on her. On us. On everything she means to me—no matter what I mean to her.

This won’t last.

She’ll be back. Even if I did what she thinks, she’d still be back. She’s got me like a disease with no cure.

No.

That’s me. I’ve got her. I’m sick with Leesie. I tuck the ring back under my t-shirt. I wish I could rip it off and chuck it into the bay. Or sell it and give the dough to Suki to help her people. Not that they need my help, but it would be better than wearing it, hanging on to senseless hope that this will blow over. Or that she’ll marry me even though I’m the infidel.

But how can I release that hope? It’s all I have. It’s all I want.

I could try to replace it with Suki. Go live with her and the Moken. Have beautiful Asian/Anglo babies with her. Dedicate my life to saving their archipelago. I wonder how hard it is to immigrate to Myanmar? Life in a kabang wouldn’t be so bad. Simple.

But what would happen when it was time for our babies to go to school? I guess I could teach them. Start a school for all those giggling brown children flowing over, under, and around their watery households.

I look down and trace the outline of Leesie’s ring safe under my shirt again.

No. That could be a good life. But it isn’t my life.

My life is with Leesie.

Somehow.

She has to believe me.

Chapter 27

GAME PLAN

LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK
POEM #64, MEMORIAM

Don’t remember

flying back to school

but I must

have.

I’m here in my dorm

room.

I must look a

wreck.

Even Tawni’s being

nice.

Kanyon dumped her last

weekend—got tired of

waiting

for what we all assumed

she was putting out.

She cries herself to sleep—

shares her Kleenex with me.

Nice.

Mom calls.

Asks about boys in my new

classes.

I dropped

scuba.

Took my pretty pink gear

back to Gram’s.

Couldn’t go in the house.

I remember that much.

I can’t seem to

remember

my new schedule.

Boys? Is Mom kidding?

I’m barely hanging on to

A’s.

And she wants boys?

I dumped my creative

writing class, too.

Nothing left in my soul to

bear—bare? Doesn’t matter,

either will do me

fine.

I’m empty both ways.

I sign up for mission prep Sunday School

class.

Two more years and I can

go

share the gospel with people

who want to hear,

people who won’t lie to me,

people who won’t shatter my heart,

people who I can

believe

in.

Chapter 28

BLOGPRINTS

MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG—VOLUME #10

D
IVE
B
UDDY
: solo

D
ATE
: 02/17

D
IVE
#: lost count

L
OCATION
: Tap Lamu

D
IVE
S
ITE
: Queen Nautica

W
EATHER
C
ONDITION
: hot

W
ATER
C
ONDITION
: there

D
EPTH
: surface

V
ISIBILITY
: muddy

W
ATER
T
EMP
.: 80s

B
OTTOM
T
IME
: too long

C
OMMENTS
:

I’m not logging much anymore. What’s the point? It’s all on my dive computer. Whale shark season is coming up. I’ll log that if I see one. That’s why I came. Stupid freaking whale sharks.

I try to find Leesie online every time we’re in port. Six weeks and nothing. She’s got me blocked. I’ve sent her about a thousand emails. The last batch came back undelivered—no such address. Her phone is never on. Maybe she did burn it.

Six weeks and I’m still waiting for a sign. She’s never been silent this long. Even last summer when we were officially broken up, we were still friends. We kept it to casual contact, but it was always there, a tender current I could hook into whenever I needed it.

I can still feel her—faintly. Something remains. Six weeks? Maybe I’m a fool. But six years wouldn’t phase me.

Suki called. Not me. Captain Jean. She says the illegal dynamite fishing is spreading out from the banks. If they decimate the Mergui—the Moken’s islands—like they did Burma banks, it will destroy them. She wants us to document it. Get the word out.

Captain Jean calls us together, scratches his head, and says, “This won’t be good for business. Bad enough word about the banks is getting out. Myanmar won’t like it if we’re involved with this effort. They’ve been working hard to get the Moken to open up their turtle festival for us. This could ruin everything—they might even stop our cruises.”

I sit forward and fold my arms across my chest. “I’m doing it.”

I was voted hunk of the month on that stupid travel woman’s blog. Who knew she was blogospherically huge? Thousands and thousands of followers? And that they would all copy and cross post me and Suki all over the net. Time I got something for her ruining my freaking life.

“What was that?” Captain Jean and Claude are both staring at me.

“Screw you. I’m doing it.” I flip open my laptop and email Karen. We’re in port, so I can steal Wi-Fi from our neighbors. I saved Karen and her camera. She’ll fix me up with photos.

Captain Jean frowns. “I could fire you for this.”

“Fine by me.”

“Well, just don’t mention Queen Nautica.”

“Deal.”

I fire off a second email to the blog woman. She’s even more famous now thanks to me. I thought she was just another one of those mid-life crisis wives whose husband dives because he’s trying to stay young, and she dives to hang onto him.

She responds right away. I get to guest post.

Great. Now I have to write it.

I’m no activist. Never thought I’d find myself telling other people what I think. Dad would shake his head, but mom would love it.

LEESIE HUNT / CHATSPOT LOG / 03/21 12:47 AM

LEESIE HUNT / CHATSPOT LOG / 4/11 1:32 AM