Taken by Storm by Angela Morrison
No, but at least i’m dry, and she’s got the heater cranked.
The pickup roars down the highway. My fingers clutch the armrest beside me. Lightning flashes. Thunder rocks the truck, and Isadore starts to blow.
i sneak out of the Dive Festiva’s dining salon, where the captain tells everyone to be calm and my waitress cries. i race to our cabin, grab the camera and strobe. Then i’m out in the storm.
Darkness edged with a yellow-green glow envelopes the lagoon. Rain falls in sheets driven slantways by the wind. i shelter in the lee, filming chaos, drinking in the power. Palm fronds and broken boards shoot through the air. Sand and gravel pelt the deck, falling like hail. Isadore beats me flat against the bulkhead.
Mom calls from the stairs, “Michael! Get down here.”
No way am i leaving. Mom yells something about taking cover. i inch around the bulkhead and get a face full of muddy grit.
“Michael!” Mom screams. “Michael!”
Isadore twists her voice and blows it away.
The Festiva’s engines roar. Isadore slams into the boat and keeps right on going. She takes me along for the ride. i figure Mom’s safe back on the Festiva and the storm just got me. She drags me under, and i fight to breathe, get a mouthful of her, choke. My free-dive training takes over, and i hold my breath.
Then rain, cold and fresh, hits my face. i stand by a white pickup. Leesie holds an orange emergency blanket over my head. She hands me a half-full bottle of water. i gulp and spit. Gulp, swallow. “Did i hurl all over?”
She wrinkles up her nose. “You just made nasty sounds.” She pushes me back into the pickup, fishes around under the seat, and finds a plastic grocery bag. “Just in case.”
The engine revs, and we’re hurtling down the country highway through the rain—again.
i think maybe i could tell Leesie about the hurricane dinner, the mounds of crab Dad and i downed, my crying waitress with three kids, tell her about Mom trying to wipe off the butter that dripped down my chin. Tell her how i pulled away. i’m so full of Isadore. The shrink said i should talk.
“So you’re all right now?” Leesie steers the pickup around a wicked curve, one hand on the wheel, one small hand lightly touching my arm.
“Sure.” i ease my arm away from her warm fingertips.
And i don’t tell her a thing.
chapter 10
UNFUDDLED
LEESIE HUNT / CHATSPOT LOG / 10/03 11:14 P.M.
Hey Michael,
You okay this morning? Sorry if I overreacted at the lake. I usually don’t scare that easy. It started out nice. I hope you aren’t sick. Thought you might like to read this—one writer to another. I like it better with your word. Thanks for the inspiration.
Later,
Leesie
SHE COMES TO ME
I lie in darkness,
spent of tears,
tired of sleep,
close to soft memories,
alive in her fuzzy sweater
draped on my chair.
I wrap my heart
in pastel patchwork
pieced by her hand,
my tired mind, empty,
open—
The night erupts into flowing
white glory:
She comes to me,
a pure and shining presence,
knocking on my soul,
defogged, unfuddled,
reveling in perfection,
spilling joy that
embraces my sorrow,
she smiles
and waves
farewell.
LEESIE HUNT / CHATSPOT LOG / 10/04 8:32 A.M.
chapter 11
POOL DIVE
MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG—VOLUME #8
i walk up to the pool from Gram’s. Thinking about diving—really getting off somewhere, strapping on tanks, and sinking a hundred feet—makes my heart pump warm blood all through me. Lukewarm? For the first time in this dreary wasteland, i actually feel hot.
Tonight’s a test. If this works, i’ll cut school and take off for a week. It’s still warm enough in the Keys. October diving is great there. The place is always next to empty. We loved that. But now—empty? i don’t know. It’s not just off-season. Maybe i could go, fool myself that the missing divers are all back home at work. But my mom and dad? Our condo sitting there full of all our best memories?
i better make it Cozumel, where i can lie back and drift on the currents, let them carry me back to the world Isadore stole. Silent Peaceful. Carefree as juvie fish flitting over the coral. Majestic as an eagle ray spreading its wings and flying through a canyon. Blue so true it sinks right through you. A load better than huddling under the pants quilt, holding my breath while Isadore shrieks at me. Freak—it’d even beat out my pills.
The lake yesterday. Huge mistake. I’ve never felt that freaked underwater. This time i’ll be in a safe, controlled environment. i’ve even got a buddy. She’s there already, pacing around her country girl white pickup that glows under a streetlamp.
Leesie meets me at the edge of the light. No smile. Arms folded. Hair pulled back. “You sure you want to do this?”
“Thanks for coming.” i feel so dumb. “Sorry for yesterday.” i kick a piece of gravel and then look back at her. Her eyes are blue tonight, fill her face. “Truce?”
She falls for that. An echo of her smile hints. With a little encouragement she’d fall for a lot more. She’d probably be better than diving in frozen lakes and swimming pools. But she’d have to be pretty good to top a week drift diving Cozumel.
i close in on her, whiff her trapped hair and hip suede, and almost ditch the dive test and go with the hormones she’s sparking. Maybe i’m not completely numb to chicks. Thawing? In the Ice Queen’s realm?
She backs off, turns toward the pool. “Let me show you the way in.”
We climb over the counter and drop into a room full of chewed foam noodles, lifeguard rings, and broken kickboards. A blow-up dolphin sags in the corner. i follow Leesie through an empty doorway out to the pool. i take off my jacket and slip off my track pants. i’ve already got my wet suit on.
She slaps her hand over her eyes. “I didn’t realize you’d be stripping again.”
“i’m not. Look, fully clothed.”
She peeks through her fingers. “That’ll keep you warm?”
i hold out my arm. “Warm enough.”
She comes over to me and touches the neoprene sleeve. “Poor DeeDee.” She tips her head back. Our eyes connect.
“What?”
“She’s missing a show.”
“Come off it.” i look like a string bean in a wet suit.
She eases away and perches on a picnic table.
i turn and stare at the water. “This is my thickest suit. i lost my three mil in Belize or i’d double up.”
“Belize?”
i ignore that. “Those are heaters, right?” Round plastic disks with black cords snaking out of them bob in the water. “They won’t electrocute me, will they?”
Leesie shakes her head. “You’re safe. They just keep the water from freezing—that’s it. You ready for another swim in ice water?”
i whip my weight belt around my waist and buckle it. “Be back in a minute.” i take two strides to the pool’s edge and dive in. It’s not painful like jumping into her lake. It’s cold, even with the seven mil, but i can hack it.
“Be careful.” Leesie’s pacing the pool’s edge. “What are you doing?”
i zone her out, kick my legs up, and fall through the water. i relax on the bottom, facedown, eyes shut. Everything’s sunlit blue. No black, dark lake. No quarry vis. i’m actually warm. My final dive with my parents, Mom in the lead, Dad and me lagging behind with the camera, replays in full color. We find a barrel sponge with a party of hermit crabs packed down its tube and shoot video of a pair of queen angelfish. Dad films Mom, and she pushes away the camera.
Lying on the bottom of that pool, i feel like i can open my eyes, and t
My eyes stay shut. i know there’s only empty water and an ugly patch. My parents are gone. i hold my breath and swim with memories. The cold turns into a drowsy warmth, and my dream parents dissolve.
Then i’m trapped. Isadore has me. She sucks me deep. The pressure pains sharp in my ears. i manage to equalize before the drums rupture but use air. i slam into something hard, big rock, maybe a wreck, fight to the surface, think i’ve made it. Breathe and get seawater. Choke. i break the surface again and inhale through teeth clenched to keep the salt water out, packing like crazy. Isadore pulls me under again. i fight her, claw through the water trying to find the surface, holding my breath. i will myself to relax and float with the storm surge. The storm gets quieter and quieter, fades into shimmering Caribbean blue.
My parents are there—just through that canyon. i’m swimming as fast as i can, but i can’t catch them. They’re ahead of me. Caught in a current that won’t take me. Please. Wait. i’m almost there—
Leesie’s in the water, grabbing my weight belt, wrenching me away.
“What do you think you’re doing?” i shout at the surface.
“S-s-saving your l-l-life!” i don’t need her screaming in my face.
We swim to the edge of the pool. i climb out. She tries to pull herself up but can’t, so i grab her arms and yank her onto the pool deck.
“You’re saving me?” The cold air hits my wet suit, and i start to zip out of it. “Good one.”
She drags herself upright. “You don’t have to be a snot about it.”
Goose bumps rise on my chest. “i didn’t ask for a rescue.”
The glow of the streetlamp makes her face look bluish white. She pulls off a dripping fleece. Her skin shows through her soaked T-shirt. Her bra keeps her decent, but it’s made of thin stuff. As i peel my wet suit down to my waist, i can’t help noticing she isn’t totally flat-chested. Small, sure, but enough’s happening there to make me stare.
She gives me a lesson in Disgust 101 and crosses her arms. “You were down there for like four minutes. What was i supposed to think?” Her teeth chatter as the night air super-chills her wet clothing.
i put my hands on my hips. “i told you i free dive.”
“That means you don’t have to breathe like normal people?” Hysteria plays at the edge of her voice. “We had a deal.” She’s screaming.
“Shut up.” i glance around—expecting sirens or at least a night watchman. “You should have left me alone.” i keep my voice low and cold.
Her face draws up tight. “If that’s what you want.” She takes off, manages to get over the counter despite her soaked jeans and wet tennis shoes.
i pick up my duffel bag and follow her to the pickup. “You better get out of that wet stuff.” i hand her my towel. “You can use this.”
Her mouth drops. “Here? No way.” She pushes the towel back at me. Guess she doesn’t change much on boats.
“At least get in the truck. You’re going to freeze.” i push her into the passenger’s side, slam the door. i get dressed behind the truck, throw my bag in the back, and get into the driver’s side. “Keys.”
She points at the ignition where they swing, lets me try to start it a couple of times, then reaches over, slaps my hand out of the way, and turns the key. She jams her sopping shoe on my foot and pumps the gas pedal twice, holds it down halfway: the motor roars to life.
i back up, swing the truck around, and drive up the hill. Left, right, right and we’re in Gram’s driveway.
“Just leave it r-r-running.”
“You can’t go home like that.” i’m steamed at her, but she’s too cold. It could get serious if she doesn’t change fast. “You looked after me yesterday. My turn. Come in and get dried off.”
“Your grandmother will freak.”
“Asleep, remember?” i try to add something calm and reassuring to my voice. “Come on. Let’s get you into something dry.”
“What do you mean let’s?” The scowl isn’t cute this time.
i crank the keys, and the pickup’s engine dies. “Get inside before you’re hypothermic.” i open the driver’s door and get out.
She slides into the driver’s seat. “i’m already hypothermic.”
“You’re right.” i grab her arm and tug. “Your lips are blue.”
That scares her enough to let me pull her out of the truck. The wind hits, and as she stumbles against me, the shaking gets worse. i take her arm, support her to the door, open it, and flick on the light. Air, warm and yellow, flows out, embracing us in the dark.
She puts her hand against the doorjamb. “I can’t go in there with you.”
“What?”
“I can’t go in there with you.” She clenches her jaw but can’t keep her teeth from chattering.
“What are you talking about?” i seize her wrist and push her inside, shut the door. “Go in the bathroom and take off that wet stuff before you get sick. i’ll get you something to wear.”
She turns to face me and takes a step back like i’m going to attack her. “I’ve got to go.” She’s dripping a puddle on Gram’s worn linoleum floor. “I can’t be in a house alone with a guy. Family rule.” She’s too cold to blush but would if she could.
She’s more into me than i thought. “Gram’s here.” i keep my voice normal, matter-of-fact, consciously fight my reflex to drop into seduction mode.
“B-b-but—”
i push her down the hall. “Go get in the shower. Turn it on warm, not too hot.”
chapter 12
THAWING
MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG—VOLUME #8
When i come up from checking on Leesie’s clothes, she’s finally emerged from the bathroom. She sits on the couch, her mouth a straight line, her hair twisted up in a towel. She looks good in my sweatshirt, swims in the pants, but the pale gray around her face is nice.
“Your stuff will be dry in a half hour or so.”
“Thanks.” She leans forward and untwists the towel, rubs her hair.
Part of me wants to just get her out of here, but another parts says, “Hey, go sit next to her.” My shirt touching her body is getting to me. Her cheekbones seem higher. Her face looks smaller, delicate. Unearthly. i get this primal protective urge—like on the bus. But after the fit she threw at the door?
i take a chair on the far side of Gram’s small living room. Be decent. That’s all i have to do. “Are you warm enough?”
“Fine.” She stands up and folds the towel.
i take it from her and hang it in the bathroom. She’s sitting on the couch again when i get back.
“Do you want some cocoa or something?” i ask to ward off the evil eye she’s drilling into me.
“What’s going on with you? Why do you keep doing this to me?”
i stare at my hands.
“What were you thinking?”
None of your business. i glance at Gram’s shrine of family pictures on the desk next to my chair. A copy of the one of Mom, Dad, and me sitting in a dive boat that disintegrated in my wallet is there. i pick it up. We all wear big smiles, lots of teeth. Mom has her arm around me, and my head is on her shoulder. She’s sitting on Dad’s lap. He’s got his massive arms around us both, holding us together.
Leesie clears her throat.
After what she’s put up with the past couple of days, guess i owe her something. “i needed to get back in the water. Back under water.”
“So was it worth it?”
i set down the picture, look over at her. “You soaking wet? Yeah. Definitely.”
She tries not to, but she smiles. She drops her eyes, fluffs her damp hair, twists it into a ponytail, realizes she doesn’t have anything to hold it with, and lets it fall back down. She looks up and catches my eyes on her, but she holds my gaze. “I’m still waiting.”
“i haven’t been underwater since Belize.” i stare at Gram’s flowered
“Belize is where—”
i nod. “Hurricane hit our boat. i was up on deck with the stupid camera when the storm surge hit. Isadore took me, but i held my breath. My dad. All my friends were trapped. My mom came on deck searching for me. But she—” i can’t say it. Drowned. i see her sinking and choking, breathing in seawater. Dying. No. That didn’t happen. She’s a diver. Divers don’t drown.