CAYMAN SUMMER (Taken by Storm) (14 page)

PHANTOM

LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK
POEM #84, NOTHING

Michael’s quiet, distant—cold?
Working too much.
No time off Monday.
No kayak ride.
No mishap.
No rescue.
He’s out late filling bottles,
mixing Nitrox, fixing o-rings.
Misses dinner. Gone early.
I make French toast
adding more and more cinnamon.

He hasn’t touched me since
his nightmare, since
he dragged me into his cot, since
I almost won, but lost—lost
too much to try again.
He looks guilty. I feel evil.
I hide that white dress,
the bikini, and the push-up bra—
wear my old T-shirts and ugly capris.
Find his baseball cap and keep
it on my head so he can see I’m his
from this distant strain I can’t surmount.

I bake him cookies he doesn’t eat,
an apple pie that Cooper smacks his lips
over and says, “Just like my mum’s.”
The slice I guard for Michael
sits in the fridge day after day,
untouched.

A week. Ten days. Limbo.
Alex drives me to my rehab date,
tells me he told her about us—
He spilled our secrets out
in the middle of the night
all over this stranger?
Good thing I never told her
about the night in that pickup cab
when I screamed at Phil before
I killed him. She wouldn’t be
sitting beside me, with sympathy
plastered on her face.
“He’s trying to decide.” Her eyes
whip to my stunned face and back to the road.
“What do you mean?”
“You need to go home.”
“That’s none of your business.”

Next day, I wash his blanket
and sheet, make up his new cot
all nice for him.
I wash all the clothes jumbled
in the duffel bag he never unpacked.
I fold and put it away in empty
drawers, clean out the bottom of the
bag.

My fingers slip on silk.
I draw out a black bundle.
A turquoise necklace of shell
and beads clatters to the floor.
I jump away quick like it’s a snake,
but still its fangs sink deep.

With my broken left hand,
careful not to snag the slick fabric
on the jagged edges of my cast,
I shake out the silk.
A long black skirt,
sexy and Asian, hangs
from my fingertips.

I see it on her—Sukanda
the Seductress—her taking
it off, leaving it on his cabin’s
floor to mingle with his
shed shorts.

I search the bag—find sheer
scarves, another skirt.

Suki and Michael?
Suki and Michael?
Pictures don’t lie.
They don’t lie.
Does he?

An enormous fear rises
from the fabric clutched
in my hands.
Dear Lord, Phil?
You died for this?

The guy screwed half of Asia by now
and you want him back?
Open your flipping eyes!
Echoes fly at me from every direction.
Open your eyes, open your eyes,
your eyes, your eyes, eyes!
I hurl the fabric at the wall.

Michael’s keys shine on the dresser.
I grab them and run.
I pull out into honking cars
and the right lane—wrong.
I swerve hard over to the left
where I should have been
in this upside down world,
floor it up the highway—
away,
away,
just take me away before
echoes catch up to me
and force me to ask,
If all I am is Michael,
what am I now?

Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.

A bottle of my pain pills
rolls out from under
the passenger’s seat.

Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.

MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG – VOLUME #10

Dive Buddy:
solo
Date:
05/28
Dive #:
doesn’t matter
Location:
Grand Cayman
Dive Site:
the whole freaking island
Weather Condition:
too hot
Water Condition:
feels like a whirlpool sucking me under
Depth:
never been this deep
Visibility:
dark
Water Temp:
cold
Bottom Time:
too long
Comments:

I avoid the apartment. Avoid Alex. Avoid Leesie. Avoid everything. There’s enough work to hide in—to bury my resolve to take her home, my doubts, my desire. The passion that flares every time I look at her.

I can tell she thinks I’m punishing her, but it’s me that needs punishment. Every day that passes makes the new dawn harder to face.

“We can’t get married.” I try to imagine myself tell her that. “I’m not a Mormon. Marry Jaron. He loves you—even thinking you’re sleeping with me, he loves you.” But I can’t say it.

“I’m taking you home.”

I can’t say that, either.

I dial her dad—hang up when it rings. Six days in a row. On the seventh day, I give up.

I will marry her.

I won’t take her home.

I don’t even care if she tells me about the accident. Keep it a secret forever, babe. Just be mine.

I’ll quit this job, and we’ll get out of this stupid apartment—away from Alex and that look she gives me like I’m the world’s worst criminal.

She’s looking at me like that right now from across the boat. I hustle when we dock, get up to the apartment before everybody. “Babe!” No answer. “Leesie—let’s get out of here. We need to talk.”

A sheen of black silk bathed in sunlight catches my eye. The skirts I bought Leesie. The pretty scarves. A shell necklace I thought would look cool with her fringed up leather jacket are crumpled on the floor.

I stare at the mess—confused. “Leese?”

No answer.

I look for my keys. They’re gone.

Freak. What would this look like to her?

I scoop the gifts into my arms, grab Alex’s car keys and head out.

“Where are you going?” Alex blocks my way halfway down the stairs.

“She’s gone. I’m taking your car.” I push past Alex’s stunned face, get in her car, dump my burden on the car seat, and squeal out of the parking lot.

Airport.

Nope.

Our first hotel.

The rehab place.

The beach where she first floated on seawater.

Nope, nope, nope.

She could be anywhere.

I keep pushing west, and north, driving all around the island. Check beaches. Keep driving, driving.

Freak. Why don’t we have stupid cell phones that work here? After I find her, we’ll get phones. Tonight. No. Better yet, when I find her, I won’t ever let her out of my sight again.

When I find her? How am I supposed to do that? Go back to the apartment and wait? No. Not yet. I can’t sit and wait. Push on.

It’s dark when I get up north to Rum Point where we had dinner with the guys and those sleazy chicks. The place is empty. Cruise ship sheep gone home for the night.

Except there’s a girl at a table, slumped over—wearing my old black baseball hat with “Eagle Ray Dive Club” embroidered across the front.

“Leesie,” I yell and run over to her. “Thank, God.”

I sit down next to her. She doesn’t move. There’s a pill bottle clasped in her fingers. “Babe.” I shake her, pry the bottle from her hand. “Wake up.”

Freak.

The bottle is empty.

“Leese, babe, did you take these?”

One eye opens. She sees me. Turns her face the other direction.

“How long ago? You need to vomit. I’m calling Sugar.” I grab her arm.

She jerks away like my touch is poison. “I flushed them down the toilet. I can’t even kill myself. I was lying here hoping a hurricane would stop by. Instead I get you.”

“Leese. Leese. Listen to me.”

“No.” She stands up and wanders away—to the beach, to the water.

I run after her. “Leese. Listen.”

“No!”

Chapter 14

GUILT TRIP

LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK
POEM # 85, NO

I spin around and scream
in his face, “No, no, no, no!”
sink to my knees in the sand,
bang my head on the ground.
“No.”

He’s there, beside me.
“Leese, listen.”
His hand finds my arm.
I flick it off. “Don’t touch me.”
I scramble to get away, but he
has me, holds me, won’t let me
go.

“No.” I cry into his shoulder
and pound his chest with my cast.
“Remember that crazy honeymoon
we made up?”
“No.”
“Our deserted island and 24/7?”
“No.”
“Remember how I said I’d buy
you seashells?”
“No.”
“Every market I went to, I bought
something for
you
.”

“For
me?
”

He kisses my forehead.
“For you.”
“
Me?
”
“The skirts and scarves—all the stuff
you found—it’s not Suki’s.”
I shudder and he squeezes me.
“I bought it all for you.”
He puts the necklace
in my hand and kisses
my trembling mouth.

“Really?”
“Yes.”
“I want to believe you,
but—”
He lets go, hangs his head, steps back.
“I’ve been a freaking moron lately?”
I hold up the necklace to catch floodlights
from the restaurant behind us.
A round shell center pierced
with strands of wood beads
turquoise, round and square,
light and dark.
“It’s Cayman colored.”
He kisses my fingers. “It is.”

I kiss his mouth so I don’t cry, turn
and wade into the water.
“Just leave me here.”
A few steps take me up
to my knees in soft,
pulsing blue perfection.
Cool. Clear. Enticing.
“Maybe the tide will take me away.”
He plunges after me, grabs my arm.
“That’s enough. It’s over.”
I jerk my arm trying to free it.
“I’m too evil to live! I pervert
everything. This gift. Your love.”
His grip tightens—
I stare at his fingers and into his eyes,
“You’re too good to be near me.”
My eyes drop to the cool water
sucking on my knees.
“I killed my brother, Michael.”
I take a step deeper.
“I really did. And I wanted to.
I was so mad at him.
We fought—worse than
we ever have over anything.
I screamed, cursed him,
and drove
off the road.”

Michael’s arms wrap around me.
He presses my head
against his beating heart.
“It’s okay. I’m here now.”
His voice breaks.
He doesn’t move,
doesn’t speak,
until he regains control
enough to whisper,
“I’m back.”

His two little words unlock
my heart. My body relaxes
against his. “Where did you go?”
He kisses the top
of my furry buzz cut.
“Let’s call it a guilt trip.”

LEESIE HUNT / CHATSPOT LOG / 05/30 3:21 PM

Leesie327 says:
He won’t leave my side, and I like it.

Kimbo69 says:
How’s he managing that?

Leesie327 says:
Took the rest of the week off.

Kimbo69 says:
They let him?

Leesie327 says:
Everybody owes him shifts. He’s been working too hard.

Kimbo69 says:
You guys ever heard of the balance?

Leesie327 says:
Maybe I should lose all hope more often.

Kimbo69 says:
Hardly balanced! You know Michael isn’t your only hope.

Leesie327 says:
Thanks, Kim. I know I can count on you.

Kimbo69 says:
I talked to your dad again. He says, “Hi.”

Leesie327 says:
I didn’t say you could call him twice!

Kimbo69 says:
He called me.

Leesie327 says:
You didn’t spill anything, did you?

Kimbo69 says:
I was so tempted. But that’s your job, my friend.

Leesie327 says:
I don’t want to talk about it.

Kimbo69 says:
Well, you better think about it.

Leesie327 says:
I’m not thinking about anything ever again.

Kimbo69 says:
Leesie’s getting lazy!

Leesie327 says:
I’m healing—it takes a lot of energy. I told Michael Phil and I fought before the accident. It did make me feel better to get that out.

Kimbo69 says:
What? You told Michael you were fighting over him?

Leesie327 says:
No. Are you kidding? Just that we were fighting.