“How about you?” Nick asks Vi with a smile. Vi waves her hand in front of her face.
“No, no. I’m not drinking anymore.”
That’s right, she’s never drinking again. Insert eye roll here.
“I’m good, too,” Francine mutters. “The invisible one is good.”
Nick shrugs and jerks his head toward his make-shift bar behind the folding card table. “Well if you ladies change your mind, you know where to find me.” He turns and walks away.
“Oh, we’ll come find you alright,” Kendall purrs as he leaves. I see his back stiffen, so I know he’s heard her. God, how embarrassing.
Kendall and Vi start chattering to each other over my head. They’re both very excited about this snorkeling endeavor. Francine has snorkeled before, so she’s an old pro, and peppers the conversation with advice that I try desperately to soak in, but nothing seems to be staying in my brain. I’m so wracked with nerves over this that I don’t think my brain is working at all.
“Okay everyone!” The captain is standing on the steps to the top deck and cupping his hands around his mouth to be heard over the multiple conversations that are going on. And the DJ’s crappy music. Which he promptly turns down as the captain shoots him a steely glare.
“We will be arriving at our destination momentarily. When we do get there, I will cut the engine and you can all get into the water from here.” He gestures toward the roped off area at the back of the boat—the same spot where we got on to the boat. This time it’s not connected to a dock. The only thing as far as the eye can see is crystal blue water. Which would be very pretty except for the fact that I am terrified of the crystal blue water. And I am even more terrified of putting my head under the crystal blue water.
“This is so exciting!” Vi squeals, squeezing my arm. I offer her a weak smile and wonder why she can’t see through me. She has known me long enough to realize when I’m faking it. But right now, she doesn’t seem to notice.
All too quickly we arrive at our destination and the captain stops the boat. “Remember your life jackets everyone!”
The fact that we are wearing life jackets should calm me, but for some reason, it doesn’t. In fact, I’m thinking that if we need life jackets, then there must be some danger of drowning. I would feel less panicked if we didn’t have life jackets. I think.
“Are you coming?” Kendall says. I glance at the line that has formed at the end of the boat.
“I think I’ll wait a bit until that clears out,” I tell her, waving at the line. Like forever.
Kendall shrugs and pulls her mask over her face—it immediately fogs up. “Suit yourself,” she says, voice muffled from the mask. She flops away, flippers on her feet slapping at the deck. She looks like a duck, and I normally would laugh, but I am too terrified to laugh at the moment.
“You want me to wait for you?” Vi asks, glancing back and forth between me and the line. As much as I would like her to stay with me, I don’t want to be the reason she doesn’t get to enjoy this excursion to the fullest.
“No, no. You go ahead. I’ll be along in a minute.”
Vi looks at me pointedly. Maybe she can read my mind.
“I swear. I just want to adjust to these stupid things.” I hold up one flipper foot and wave it at her.
“They said you didn’t need those if you didn’t want to use them,” Vi points out.
“Seriously, Vi. Go ahead. I’ll be right behind you.”
“You promise?”
I nod and she turns, flopping away much like Kendall did a minute before. I tuck my hands underneath my thighs, trying to avoid eye contact with Nick. I’m sure that in a minute he’ll come over by me, wondering why I’m not joining my friends on this snorkeling adventure. As soon as the deck clears out, I’m going to have to make an attempt to get in the water—if only to avoid an awkward conversation with the guy that I have a teenager-like crush on.
When the crowd thins out, I rise to my feet, trying—in vain—to flip flop to the end of the deck as suavely as humanly possible with giant flippers on my feet. (It is not very suavely at all, in case you were wondering.) Looking down at the deck to avoid Nick’s gaze—which I can feel on the back of my neck—I make it to the end of the boat and lower myself onto the edge, orange flippers trailing off the side.
The boat is bobbing in the water, and all of the other passengers are bobbing up and down as well, occasionally shouting about a fish or something that they saw underwater. I see Vi and Francine, not too far from where I am. Vi’s smile is a mile wide on her face—I don’t think I’ve seen her this happy in forever.
I feel a tug on my heart—I want to go join my best friend, but I don’t know if I can. I’m too afraid to get in this water. Afraid I’m going to drown and never be able to get out.
“Are you getting in, or you going to just sit there all day?”
Nick.
I cringe. I have to get in the water, or he’s going to want to know why I would sign up to go snorkeling with no intention of actually snorkeling.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” I scoot off the edge and climb down the ladder, my back to Nick. I don’t turn around and look at him. I certainly don’t want my legs to get all rubbery before I climb into this potentially watery grave. This splendidly warm watery grave. I have to be thankful that at least the water is not ice cold to add to my misery.
I slip quietly into the water, not even making a splash. I still sense that Nick is watching me. Intently.
Don’t panic. Just flap around out here—do the doggie paddle or something. Don’t let him see you drown. Oh wait, let him see you if you drown—at least then he can save you.
Attempting to look calm, cool, and totally collected, I gently paddle away from the boat, trying not to splash too much or drawn any attention to myself whatsoever. There’s no one within ten feet of me, so the water is calm. So calm and clear that when I look down, I can see my legs. I wiggle my flippers in amazement. I don’t think I ever remember going swimming in the ocean and seeing my legs underwater. It’s almost like swimming in a pool.
I don’t mind swimming in pools. See? This isn’t so bad!
I’m enjoying floating around in the water, getting acclimated to my surrounding, when I hear a voice call out, “Aren’t you going to put your face underwater so you can see the fish?”
Nick, again. Doesn’t he have some rum punch to hand out or something? Why is he watching me like a hawk?
“Um, yeah, of course,” I call back to him, waving my hand above water. “I just need to put my face mask on!”
My face mask has been strapped to the top of my head, perfectly content to stay there for the remainder of its time with me. Unfortunately, now I need to put it on. Sticking the breathing tube into my mouth, I try not to think about all the people before me that have stuck this very tube in their mouth. I’m just hoping that someone disinfects the damn things in between each outing.
Once that’s in place, my cheeks puffed out like a rabbit, I slide the mask over my face. The rubber strap sticks to my head and pulls a few strands of hair out, causing me to wince. As I try to position the mask over my nose and eyes, it immediately fogs up. Which, of course, causes me to panic because I can’t see a damn thing. I pull it away from my face and breathe.
Relax, Leah. Relax. Breathe. Try it again. Okay, here goes.
Mask back on. Breathe through my mouth like the captain told us (hey, I remembered something!). Mask does not fog up. Put face in water. See the pretty fishes swimming by. Paddle a little to follow them. Hey, this is fun! See more pretty fishes over there. Swim to them while breathing properly through the tube. Mask starts to fog up. Panic sets it. Breathing becomes rapid and shallow. Pull head out of water. Yank face mask off. Discover that I am nowhere near the boat anymore. Panic really sets in.
I start splashing around in the water, turning in all directions. I can see that the rest of the party is pretty far away and I hear a whistle blowing in the distance. Shielding my eyes
from the early afternoon sun, I realize the captain is standing at the back of the boat, waving everyone in from the water, just like he said he would do when it was time to leave.
Oh my God! They’re going to leave without me!
My heart races as I start to paddle feverishly toward the boat. But the flippers that just made it easy to glide through the water when I was following fish, are making it damn near impossible to swim when I actually need to get somewhere in a hurry.
My mask starts sliding down, fogging up, and further impeding my progress. I push it off of my face, on top of my head. Inside my chest, my heart is pounding so loudly that I can hear it whooshing in my ears. Quite possibly the last time it ever does that—if I can’t get to the boat before they leave. There’s no way I will be able to swim to shore. I can barely hold my arms up as it is, swimming for less than a minute. They feel like they’re made of lead or something.
I pull the tube out of my mouth and try to shout, but I get water in my mouth and fog up the face mask that has now slipped over my eyes again. And not only is my face mask foggy, I feel my brain getting foggy, too. I can’t hear or see—at least nothing that makes any sense. Just like that day at the shore twenty-something years ago.
This is it. I’m going to drown in the friggin’ Caribbean. I survived that day, just to die three thousand miles from home with no one to hear my screams. Well, I guess it could be worse. I could have died a lonely spinster with twenty cats that end up feasting on my flesh because no one even knows that I’ve died and have been rotting in—
Suddenly I feel all the air pushed out of my lungs as something wraps itself around my middle and yanks me in the other direction.
Oh great! Even better. I’m going to get eaten by a sea urchin. Wait, do sea urchins eat people? Do they live in the Caribbean? What is a sea urchin? I would Google it, but I don’t have my phone. I wish I had my phone. I could call for help. Wait! I do not want to die! I have to stop this sea urchin!
I start to fight off the sea urchin, with every fiber of strength I have left. I swing at its face and its body, barely able to hold myself up in the water.
“Will you stop it, Leah!” That voice that is becoming oh-so-familiar fills my ears.
Nick? What’s Nick doing in the middle of my fight with a sea urchin?
“I’m trying to help you get back on the boat, Leah. Stop fighting me!” Nick’s voice is firm, but a little panicky.
Oh. I don’t think there’s a sea urchin.
I allow myself to go limp in Nick’s arms as he hauls me toward the boat. It isn’t nearly quite as far as I envisioned it when I was splashing lamely in the water, and it only takes him about a minute to get me there. Where everyone is huddled around the back of the boat, gawking at me like I’m some kind of spectacle. Which, I guess I am.
“Back up everyone!” the captain bellows as we get to the ladder. “Give them some breathing room!”
“Can you climb up?” Nick asks as he takes my hand and places it on the rails of the ladder. In my oxygen deprived state I can only nod numbly as I wrap my fingers around the railings and order my legs to cooperate with the climbing process. I’m like a newborn baby calf, struggling up the ladder onto the deck. The only thing preventing me from collapsing is the fact I know Nick is behind me and I don’t want to land on top of him. Any other time, I probably wouldn’t mind, but definitely not in front of all these people.
Out of the corner of my eye I can see that someone has whipped out a cell phone and is taping this whole thing. I’m sure there will be a video on You Tube entitled “Dramatic Sea Rescue” by the time we get back to the cruise ship.
My feet hit the deck and I am immediately enveloped in a towel—attached to Kendall.
“Oh my God, Leah,” she says, squeezing me unbearably tight. “We were so worried!” She leads me to the bench to sit. Francine is chewing her fingernails on her left hand while patting Vi on the head with her other hand. Vi is staring at her lap, nervously twisting her cover up between her hands.
“Are you okay?” Francine asks as I settle down on the bench.
“You don’t need CPR or anything?” Kendall asks.
“Kendall, she’s obviously breathing and has a pulse,” Francine snaps. “Don’t be a moron.”
Kendall recoils as if Francine has slapped her clear across the face.
Vi, meanwhile, has not looked up from her lap. Her left hand is purple because she has twisted the towel around it so tightly—she’s practically catatonic.
“Vi, are you okay?” I ask, pulling my own towel around my shoulders.
She nods dully, but doesn’t say anything at all.
“Well, if everyone is okay, I’m going to go get a drink,” Kendall says. “Come on, Francine.” She drags Francine off by the arm.
The engine starts back up just then, and as if nothing has happened at all, the DJ starts pumping out his terrible music again. Tracking Kendall and Francine, I notice that Nick has resumed his spot behind the folding table exactly as before. Except now he’s dripping wet.
I steal a glance at him and he raises his hand in acknowledgment. I blush, realizing that once more, I am a damsel in distress that he, the knight in shining armor, has rescued. Will we ever get away from those roles?
I hear Vi make a squeaking noise and I break my gaze from Nick to look at her.
“Are you okay?” I lift her chin so I can see her face—she has a lone tear trickling down her face. “My God, Vi! Why are you crying? Are you hurt?”
She shakes her head and the tears start rolling from both eyes, rapid fire. It’s like a dam that’s sprung a leak. “I was so worried about you, Leah! I can’t believe you never told me you can’t swim!”
I turn bright red, mostly because people are staring at me again. As if the dramatic sea rescue five minutes earlier wasn’t enough.
“I can swim, Vi. I just...don’t.”
“But why?” Vi practically wails.
But why? That’s a great question, Vi. I want to tell her, I really do. It’s been the only secret between us for almost thirty years...the one thing my best friend doesn’t know about me. And probably the one thing that would explain a lot.
I open my mouth to speak just as Kendall returns, bearing gifts of rum punch.
“Here, you could use this now I bet,” she says, shoving a cup in my hand.
Unable to say anything more to Violet, I take the cup. “Thanks.” And then I take a sip, chickening out about sharing my deepest secret with my very best friend.
VIOLET
“You okay, Vi?” Leah pokes me with her fork.
“Yeah, you look upset,” Francine chimes in.
Around the table, there is a chorus of concern for me. I didn’t even realize I looked so out of it. I was just deep in thought—I didn’t think anyone noticed.
I gaze at my six dinner companions, gathered around the circular table with neatly folded white linen napkins. Four of these six people, I didn’t even know a week ago.
It’s been an exhausting week of tears, laughter, and self-realizations, nothing that I expected from this vacation. Despite the emotions running high, I am grateful to Leah for taking me on this trip. It helped open my eyes in a way I could never imagine. I really enjoyed the company of George, Nick, Francine, and Kendall, but there’s one aspect of this trip I haven’t enjoyed—lying.
I’ve been pretending to be something I’m not—divorced. Or at least, I’ve been very vague about my marital status in my interactions with my newfound friends. I want to be able to talk to them in the future. Francine and I have exchanged numbers, and even though she can be a bit of a wet blanket, she’s still a great person...a person I’d like to remain friends with if possible.
The same goes for George. I have a feeling he thinks I’m a potential romantic partner, so I have to make it clear that I’m actually not available and that I’m married, despite the fact that I’m pretty sure divorce is in my immediate future. I don’t want to lead him on—I’m just ho
ping he still wants to be friends when he discovers that I’ve spent the last few days lying to him. Not that I lied about anything really important. I mean, other than being divorced, everything that I shared with him was brutally honest. It was so honest that sometimes I surprised myself by the words coming out of my mouth. I spent countless hours confessing my feelings toward Richard to George, and I realized that I harbored a lot of ill will toward him and the kids—I am not the cheerful, doting mother and wife I pretended to be. A lot of my actions and helicoptering of the kids is due to feelings of inadequacy and loneliness.
I confessed a lot to George, but I have not confessed one thing. It’s the last night of the cruise and I don’t want to leave with this lie hanging over my head.
I clear my throat and everyone looks at me.
“I have something to tell you all.” I lay my silverware to the side of my plate, dropping my gaze to my lap. I feel so guilty that I’m not sure I can look at anyone.
“You’re pregnant,” Kendall says, half joking. Laughter ripples around the table.
“Um, no. Definitely not. That would be horrible.”
“Speak for yourself,” Francine says, staring down at her steak. She begins to meticulously cut it into teeny-tiny bite-sized pieces. I know she wishes she had had children when she was younger, so I feel bad about my words.
“I just meant it would be horrible because I drank so much at the beginning of the cruise,” I attempt to clarify. Although, that’s definitely not the only reason it would be horrible. The main reasons it would be horrible include being forty and having three teenagers at home. Oh, and the little fact that I’ll probably be getting divorced.
“It’s okay if you drank a little while pregnant,” Kendall assures me with her hand over mine.
“Oh, I would never drink when I was pregnant!” I tell her, appalled.
Kendall shrugs. “It’s no big deal. I got so piss drunk with my first. I went to a bachelorette party in Vegas. I barely remember a minute of it. And he’s perfectly fine,” Kendall tells me.
“Kendall, he twitches if you look at him sideways, and he has horrendous OCD. He can’t even leave the house unless he walks through the door eight times.”
Best Friends & Other Liars Page 22
