and one of the deck boys share. “Three bunks. The smell is a bit overpowering.”
“Yuck. Is it dirty?”
“No. Clean enough.” I turn away from home sweet home and lower my voice. “I won’t get rabies or anything. But Claude reeks it up with the foulest farts you can imagine.”
She cracks up. “A little more than I wanted to know.”
“You never smelled like that.”
“Gross!” Now she’s animated. “I hope not.”
I lean over the back railing and gaze out at the tropical blue bay fringed with lush green islands. “What is it with chicks—don’t you have gas at all?”
“It can get nasty—you wouldn’t believe what it’s like around here at the wrong time of the month. Makes it industrial. Times six of us.”
I pull a face she can’t see. “I don’t ever remember you ripping one.”
“A lady is discreet around the man she loves.”
“I can’t believe I waited all week to hear your voice and we’re discussing farting.” Freak, I love her.
“I think we outlawed everything else.”
“You managed to say you love me.”
“I’m clever that way.” She sighs.
My voice gets husky. “So equal time.”
“Okay.”
There’s a big lump in my throat I can’t speak through.
“I’m waiting, Michael.”
I swallow, but my voice is still rough. “I want to say it, but I want it to be bigger than any other time anyone else in the world has ever said I love you.”
“That is so not fair.” Her voice catches. “I can’t ever say anything that matches that.”
My eyes close. “Just breathe into the phone and let me pretend it’s warm on my cheek.”
I take a deep breath, hold it and blow it out long and slow. Free dive venting. Nothing kinky.
Leesie follows my lead. We breathe in sync, communing in a way words can’t. Another deep breath, and another. Breathe deeper and deeper, exhale longer and longer, get ready to hold your breath when she says, “good-bye” and hangs up. Neither of us want to stop the cycle. Neither of us can speak.
“Next week,” she finally whispers. I imagine her lying back on her pillows, long hair framing her face, still breathing in rhythm with me.
“I love you,” we whisper together.
And then she’s gone, and I’m standing on the upper deck of the Queen Nautica staring at wiry brown Thai boys wheeling hand trucks and wagons out to the boat. Cases of water and beer, boxes of greens, bags of rice, Styrofoam coolers of fish and meat. A chain of strong backs hefts it down into the bowels of the boat. Noise and heat and jungle humidity roll me back to reality.
I already filled all the tanks. Nice to have a compressor onboard. We’re even rigged for Nitrox. The gear’s hanging pretty in the lockers. The weights are sorted by size. I checked the first-aid kit. The O2 bottle is full. I’m off until tomorrow night. I can do anything. Go anywhere.
But all I want to do is call Leesie again. I dial. “Hey.”
She yawns into the phone. “I’m so glad you called back.” I can feel her smile. “We lost our connection.”
“Impossible, babe, not us.”
Chapter 11
APART
LEESIE HUNT / CHATSPOT LOG /10/27 11:17 AM
Kimbo69 says:
Where’ve you been?
Leesie327 says:
8 AM class. What’s up?
Kimbo69 says:
I needed you yesterday.
Leesie327 says:
I’m here now.
Kimbo69 says:
I caught Mark with my roommate…. had cramps and cut class…they were in my bed…she was—sorry, I won’t get graphic.
Leesie327 says:
That’s awful. What did he say?
Kimbo69 says:
They were bored…it didn’t mean anything…I haven’t been putting out like I used to.
Leesie327 says:
Did you strangle him?
Kimbo69 says:
Better. Got even…big frat party… those guys don’t wait for the weekend. I got drunk—did two guys I don’t even know…slept over with the second one. I’m using his computer…still don’t know his name. Can’t go back to my room. Maybe he’ll let me move
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