CAYMAN SUMMER (Taken by Storm) (11 page)

Leesie327 says:
Plans? That’s a good one. Today I’m nibbling on toast and drinking tepid water.

Kimbo69 says:
And Michael’s just sitting there staring at you.

Leesie327 says:
They are all working. I think I’m going to have the place to myself a lot.

Kimbo69 says:
Is it going to hurt forever?

Leesie327 says:
Today’s a big improvement. I don’t feel like throwing up.

Kimbo69 says
: Try chicken broth.

Leesie327 says:
There was a chicken wandering down the beach this morning. Maybe I can get the boys to catch it, and I can cook it up for broth.

Kimbo69 says:
Where the heck are you, girl? Is there even a civilized grocery store? Get that man of yours to buy you some of those little packets of dried up noodle soup. I live on those.

Leesie327 says:
As soon as I can, I’m going to turn this place upside down.

Kimbo69 says:
What does that mean?

Leesie327 says:
It’s a pig sty. Filthy. Bare cupboard. Beer and ketchup in the fridge. I need to get HAZ-MAT gear to attack the guys’ bathroom.

Kimbo69 says:
Don’t hurt yourself.

Leesie327 says:
Too late. Already did that.

Kimbo69 says:
I got to go, but I need to tell you something… don’t know if I should.

Leesie327 says:
What? You have to tell me now.

Kimbo69 says:
Have you seen your wall?

Leesie327 says:
No. I just come straight to chat.

Kimbo69 says:
Go look at it. People love you, Leesie. A lot of them.

LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK
POEM #82, THE WALL

My mouse drifts as far away
from the link to my wall as it can linger.
I thought I was safe here in chat
with online status eternally turned off.
Only Kim can find me.
The wall? Nothing much is ever on it.
It’s not like I’m a ChatSpot queen
with thousands of friends.
What did Kim do? She promised.
I’ll click her off, too. And that
will be that. ChatSpot?
Who needs it?
Friends? I’ve even got a new
one of those. Rare thing for me.

Look at it.
Look at it.
Look at it.
No. No. No.

I move the mouse to click
the site closed. My finger
hovers over the mouse pad—
draws a line to the wall
and taps.

The page blooms before my eyes.
Tiny square pictures—roomies
and friends, a girl from my English class,
even kids from home who hated me
and liked Phil—
all saying one thing:

“Leesie, we love you.
Come home.”

There’s even one from Phil’s
glittering Krystal, “Leesie,
I love you. Come home.
We don’t blame you.”

Tawni says she wants to room
with me next year. Dayla
sends hugs from her and Noah.
Roxi, Cadence and Lily
join the refrain,
“Leesie, we love you.
Come home.”

Hardest to read
is from Stephie.
I vaguely remember her
friending me last month
thinking, wow, she’s growing up.
On ChatSpot already?
What happened to Barbies?
“Leesie, I love you.
Come home.”

Nothing from Kim.
She kept her promise.

Nine pages down
I discover the culprit.
In a few quiet words,
Jaron spills all my secrets
to the world—the accident,
Phil’s death, my injuries,
and flight. He asks
them to pray. He asks
them to understand
my grief, my pain, my guilt.
He closes with,
“Leesie, I love you.
Come home.”

Never. Never. Never.
You spoiled, self-righteous jerk.
This wasn’t your right. I rage
at the screen. This isn’t your
story to uncover. Don’t flay
me with kindness,
unending understanding.
You aren’t my keeper.
Don’t you dare remind God
I exist. How can you be so cruel
to break my heart with all
this lost, lost, love?

Come home?
How can I ever?
I killed my brother.
His blood drips in my dreams
My hands are crimson—
never to be white.
You can’t love me.
You can’t forgive me.
No one can.
No one will.
No one should.

I slam down the screen,
need to get far, far away,
hobble along down to the boat dock.
A white boat crashes through
the foaming break in the reef
into the aquamarine
jeweled water of the safe inlet.
Yes. It’s his. That’s him
waving, smiling, flexing
his bare pects at me
that sheen with sweat
when he finally hugs me hello
after hefting hundreds of pounds
of gear and tanks out of the boat
and onto the dock.

“I love you,” he whispers
and kisses my cheekbone.
“You wanna go home?”

I tense, clench my teeth
and then realize he’s talking
about the apartment.
Our home.
My home with my Michael
where I can hide, pressing my face
into his naked chest,
avoiding the questions in his eyes,
barricaded by his strong arms
forever.

MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG – VOLUME #10

Dive Buddy:
Leesie
Date:
05/10
Dive #:
2
^nd
day in the apartment
Location:
Grand Cayman
Dive Site:
blow holes
Weather Condition:
sunshine
Water Condition:
wild
Depth:
don’t know we’re on the shore
Visibility:
to the horizon
Water Temp:
feels cold when it sprays us
Bottom Time:
all afternoon
Comments:

After our dive Sunday morning, I’m the last one up to the apartment. Even Leesie goes ahead when I get stuck filling some Nitrox orders. When I get there, it’s a pretty cozy scene. Leesie made mac and cheese for everybody.

The guys—even snooty Gabriel—are wolfing it back.

“How did you make this?” Alex scoops up a giant spoonful of golden yellow macaroni. “We were out of milk.” She shoves the spoon in her mouth and closes her eyes like the stuff is ambrosia.

Leesie scoops more mac and cheese out of the pot in a new bowl. “I found some margarine behind that giant bottle of ketchup. I used that. My grandma always made it with butter. That’s even better.”

Cooper’s face lights up. “Ketchup. That’s just what it needs.”

Alex laughs. “Now you know who owns the ketchup.”

“Did you jackals save any for the guy doing all your work?”

Leesie hands me the steaming bowl she just dished. “Of course.”

“Thanks, babe.” All the chairs are full, so I boost myself onto the counter closest to Leesie. “What did you do with yourself this morning?”

She holds up pruned fingers. Her cast is soggy around the edges. “The dishes.”

I swallow my first mouthful of buttery mac. “That took all morning?”

She looks around at the gleaming kitchen. “Did you see the place when you left?”

I take another bite, so I don’t have to answer.

“I need to get some rubber gloves.” She shakes water out of her cast. “Especially,” she talks loud enough for all the guys to hear, “before I tackle that bathroom. What did you guys do in there?”

Ethan points to Brock across the table. “He’s got lousy aim.”

“No way, brother. That’s you.”

Cooper raises his hand. “I plead the fifth.”

Seth looks up from his bowl. “You’re not an American. You can’t plead the fifth.” I was on the boat with Seth today. He’s all right. Not fun like the Commonwealth trio, but he knows his stuff.

Gabriel looks down his long, straight nose, his nostrils flair. “Disgusting.” He flashes his playboy pearly whites at Leesie. “You should not go near that room. I don’t.”

“That’s right, eh.” Cooper squirts more ketchup in his bowl. “He showers in the buff down on the dock.”

Leesie dishes herself a small bowl of mac and hobbles over to the table.

Alex scoots over so she can share her chair. “Don’t clean it for them.” She sticks her tongue out at all her male roomies. “They don’t deserve it.”

Leesie perches on the edge of Alex’s chair. “But it reeks.” She sets her bowl down.

“Keep the door closed.” Alex scrapes the last of the cheese sauce from her bowl.

Brock pushes himself back from the table. “No way we’d suffocate.”

“Here’s the deal.” Leesie puts down her spoon and glances around the table, gathering all their attention. “I’ll clean it if you’ll close the door when you’re using it.”

Ethan laughs and looks toward me. “Ye’ve seen a wee more manliness than you’re used to, have you?”

“Just close the damn door, okay?” I slide off the counter and cross to the table. “She doesn’t want to hear you guys on the john.”

Ethan backs off, still laughing.

Leesie catches my eye. Calm down. It’s cool.

Yeah, right, babe.

She gets up to clear the dirty bowls. Cooper and Brock rush to help. She flashes her full on smile that makes her beautiful. My smile—that I haven’t seen for weeks. At them. “So the big question is—what’s for dinner?”

Brock takes a dirty bowl from her. “We usually go out.”

Alex stares into her empty bowl. “But there’s no place close.” She picks the bowl up and licks it clean.

“I can cook if there’s food.” Leesie gazes out the window to the water that most of us will be diving in again soon. “It gives me something to do until I get this crap off me.” She stares down at her blue cast boots.

Alex hugs her. She’s big on hugs. “Bonus. I’ve got the afternoon off. Let’s drive down to Georgetown and get groceries.”

“It’s Sunday.” She actually says it. Good sign.

Alex shrugs. “The big stores are open at least until 4:00.”

Leesie stares right at me. “Okay.”

“I don’t think so.” I glare back at her, and she gets the message. No tea. No shopping on Sunday. I’m not that dumb, babe. “Better wait until tomorrow. The doctors said to take it easy.”

She can’t argue that in front of everybody. I don’t give her a chance. “Alex, I’ll take your afternoon dives tomorrow, so you can go together.”

Alex gives me two thumbs up. “Deal.”

Leesie won’t talk to me. I don’t care if she’s mad.

Everybody clears out. Alex walks down to the corner store with a shopping list for tonight.

I don’t have to dive. Sunday’s are slower. Tomorrow I’m scheduled for morning and night. Now I’ve got afternoon dives, too. Better go nitrox all day. Wouldn’t want to end up bent when I’m starting a new job.

I sit down on my cot and pick up the laptop. It’s warm from being left on all day. “This is nice. Just us.”

Leesie’s sulking over by the sink. “Can you help with the dishes?”

“Just a second.” I need to check my email. I might have a note from Stan. He promised to let me know if the police are going to lay charges. I flip open the top. The screen dilates onto a ChatSpot wall.

Leesie’s.

And a post from Jaron is front and center. I should have thought of that. Told her friends about the accident. I glance up at Leesie. She would have killed me. I read the post again.

Come home. I love you.

The guy’s got some nerve posting
that
. I scroll up through all the posts on her wall. They all say it. Every post makes me feel worse and worse for taking her away. I didn’t steal her. I’m not the bad guy. My fingers are on the keys typing.

Leesie bangs a pot down on the counter. “Are you going to help or what?”

I nix the post, nix the site, jump to clear the rest of the table. “I’ll wash.”

“You bet you will.”

I take the dish cloth from her and reach into the hot sudsy water, pick up a bowl, scrub it and scrub it until she takes the bowl from me. She knows something’s up. I don’t look at her, keep my eyes on the sink.

She saw that wall. She read those posts. Especially the one from Jaron. Does she regret choosing me? Look where we’ve ended up. In this hole with a bunch of jerks with bad aim. I can’t believe she opened up ChatSpot. I guess she has to when she talks to Kim. I should ask her. Maybe she wants to go home. I saw your wall, babe. Do you want to talk about it? That’s it. All I have to say. I saw your wall. I don’t want to push her. Upset her again.

Right. Truth is I don’t want to take her home. I don’t want to lose standing beside her scrubbing dirty bowls. I hand her another overly clean one. “We’ve got all afternoon. Do you want to do something.”

She shifts from one sprained ankle to the other. “I’m kind of tired.”