Unbroken Connection

by Angela Morrison

  Ironic. I came all this way so she’d be free of me, and it took about two seconds for us to go way deeper than we ever would have face to face. It’s tough long-distance. I want her in my arms. But we decided I should stay here. I need the experience. She needs to go to school. I could blow everything off and get on a plane tomorrow. Knowing that helps me stay one more day.

  And now I’ve got a cell phone. I won’t have to wait until we get into a town big enough to have an internet bar or wander around the boat when we dock searching for Wi-Fi to steal. No cell signal out at sea or when we start cruising the Similans, but whenever we dock, I can call her. I dream of hearing her voice like I used to dream of lying next to her all night.

  But where the hell is she? I dial again, amble away from the noise of unloading. It starts to ring.

  Funny how little love can grow on. I used to think it took a lot of sex to love someone. But the way I feel about Leesie keeps expanding, tripling, quadrupling every time I think about her. I don’t know how I can love her more every day, but I do. What will it be like when I can hold her again? Sniff her hair? Kiss the scars I left on the back of her hand? What will it be like to have her lips caress mine again? What will it be like to go where we never have? How can two people contain that much love? How can they withstand it?

  On the sixth ring, I hear, “Hey? Michael?”

  Where is she? Asleep, stupid. It’s 3 AM her time.

  “Sorry to wake you.”

  “It is you! Perfect to wake me. Are you kidding? It’s so good to hear your voice. My roomy went home for an early weekend, so I’m all alone wearing your sweatshirt.”

  “Freak, Leese, you’re not allowed to sound that sexy.”

  She yawns. “What’s up with you?”

  “I’ll blame your innocence for that question.”

  She actually laughs. “I can’t believe you said that.” She exhales into the phone—turns me on even more. “I’m asking about news.”

  “Got my license.” I turn my back on Tap Lamu, the dock outside Khoa Lak where we’re berthed to load fresh supplies for the coming week, and stare down into the water. “Captain Mike just in time.”

  “Cool.”

  “Next week we’ve got a 10-day charter out to Burma, and we’ll catch the Similan opening on the way home. Dive club. Serious action.” I’m talking way fast—like a kid with a crush on his teacher.

  “Even cooler. How do you like living on a boat?”

  Now I laugh. “You should see my cabin.” I walk towards the back of the boat.

  “Is it as cool as you?”

  “Hot and stuffy. Size of a closet.” I stop outside the hole Claude and I 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 in…he’s got a double bed.

  Leesie327 says: Yuck, Kim. That’s so dangerous.

  Kimbo69 says: If it doesn’t mean anything, why do I feel like a whore? Two years. Is that all it was for Mark? Me putting out? His whore?

  Leesie327 says: You need to get somewhere safe. No more booze. No more guys. Promise me. Call your mom.

  Kimbo69 says: I think I’ll call Mark’s instead…let her know she totally failed with her son.

  Leesie327 says: Maybe you should go home for a few days.

  Kimbo69 says: Can’t—too many tests this week. Oh, crap…I have one today…my head is killing me.

  Leesie327 says: Take a nice long shower.

  Kimbo69 says: That’d probably make me pass out… again.

  Leesie327 says: Get dressed and get out of there before that guy comes back.

  Kimbo69 says: He’s nice…I’m okay here.

  Leesie327 says: He took advantage of you drunk.

  Kimbo69 says: I probably took advantage of him…he’s not the bad guy…that’s Mark, crud ball creep cheater…think I’ll stick around and remember what this guy looks like.

  Leesie327 says: Look. Call me. You’ve got my new cell
number. Any time you need to talk.

  Kimbo69 says: Oh, gross. I’m going to hurl. I better not do it on this guy’s sheets.

  Leesie327 says: Shoot, you’re scaring me. You want me to come up there? Maybe I can borrow a car.

  Leesie327 says: Kim? Are you okay?

  Kimbo69 says: I’m back…think I can function now… what did I miss? No…don’t come here… I’ll be fine…there are two hot guys in the shower…I’m going to go see if one of them remembers me.

  Leesie327 says: Not smart.

  Kimbo69 says: You told me to take a shower.

  Leesie327 says: Kim! Come back here! Kim!

  MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG—VOLUME #10

  DIVE BUDDY: Karen

  DATE: 10/26

  DIVE #: 1,234

  LOCATION: Mergui Archipelago, Myanmar

  DIVE SITE: High Rock

  WEATHER CONDITION: Sunny

  WATER CONDITION: slight chop, strong current

  DEPTH: 90’

  VISIBILITY: 50’

  WATER TEMP.: 80

  BOTTOM TIME: 48 minutes

  COMMENTS:

  Silversides. Thousands. Maybe millions. I descend into a school. They pulse in and out from the reef. Engulf me and my divers. I’ve got Karen, a single forty-ish lady, as my buddy and a couple of couples. Claude took all the jock-looking guys. Stuck me with the women. But his guys are crap divers and all these women are great. I saw that as they giant strided off the back of the boat.

  Makes me laugh through my reg. That and the childish delight of running my fingers through tiny fish without ever touching a single, translucent body as they move in a silent symphony around us.

  We’re following Claude. I don’t know my way around down here yet. His guys don’t make the descent clean and quick like my divers did. Kind of a mess, but he corrals them, and we get going. Nice wall, passing vis. My first dive in Burma—I mean, Myanmar.

  We almost didn’t get here. Serious. Sunday when we welcomed our charter group aboard—dive club from Ohio—Captain Jean had bad news in his briefing. Nasty weather. Last blast of monsoon. The forecast predicted rains and pretty high seas for our passage north to Khawtang, a tiny fishing village that’s our entry point into Myanmar.

  His announcement was met with groans and angry faces. These people had come a long way and dropped a bundle. Jean shrugged his shoulders and held up his hands. “Do not despair, mes amis.” His French accent gets thicker when he’s pitching crap. “We can make it. Me and my crew—the boat is very seaworthy, to be sure. But for you all—” he gestured to them and wrote concern on his brow, squinted his brown eyes sympathetically at the women. “Instead of a smooth passage with seas gently rocking you to sleep—you will have the seasick all night.”

  One of the single guys stood up and put his hands on his waist. “I never get seasick.”

  Jean kept his cool. “In these seas—that may not be true. I’ve issued medication for the whole crew. For you—a better plan. We will order a minibus to take you up to Rangon, Thailand. You sleep sound in a hotel tonight, and we’ll meet you in the morning.”

  “How far is it?”

  “Not bad. Three hours drive. You will have time for a delicious supper, and we know a clean hotel—cheap, too.”

  The same guy answers. “You paying for that?”

  “Ah, my friend. No. I am sorry. Extra costs and itinerary changes due to weather are outside the contract.”

  “This is a scam. We paid to stay on this boat. I’m not paying twice. What about the gourmet celebration feast we’re supposed to get tonight?”

  Captain Jean smiled at him and shrugged again. “We’ll savor that tomorrow.”

  “I don’t think so. I’m going to savor it tonight.”

  The guy led a mini revolt. They stayed on board, ate their celebration dinner, and spent the rest of the night tossed around in their cabins vomiting it back up. The whole boat smells like puke. Extra swabbing duty for the two deck hands. Poor guys. That jerk loudmouth owes them a big tip.

  Claude and I stayed with his dad, Captain Jean, in the pilothouse through the night. Rains are a fact of life here. I’ve never even seen a raincoat. Umbrellas, sure, but not on a tossing dive boat. We’re soaked—but that wasn’t dangerous. The wind that whipped the sea up created the danger. It blew right through me all night. I even felt cold. Didn’t think that was possible in this steam bath.

  The boat jerked and bounced. No steady up and down. We had to meet the waves head-on. Made it hard to make headway. I only lost it to Isadore once. I must be getting better.

  At about 3 AM there was a loud crashing—metallic. Then more clanging and more. The scuba tanks on the dive deck had busted loose. Claude and I rushed to help the poor deck guys round them back up.

  “Merd!” Claude yelled when a loose tank rolled into a tank he was just picking up. His fingers got crushed between them.

  “Freak, Claude.” I yelled at him. “Ice that. We’ve got this.”

  Claude rushed off to the galley, holding his bad hand with his good one—cursing loudly in French. He sent Cook to help, and we got the job done—no more injuries. I squashed a toe, but don’t remember doing it. Freaking hurts today.

  Claude’s hand is black and blue. But we got to Rangon, cleared Thai customs, and then crossed the mouth of the Pakchan River to Kawthaung. No official waiting like he was supposed to be, so we wandered around the tiny village for a couple hours. Not much there except the market. It’s full of smiling Thais from across the river getting bargains. Any real money goes a long way here. I bought a woven thing to give Leesie. Kind of native looking. She’ll like it. There are mounds of dried shrimp and other dried sea stuff I didn’t recognize. Freak, it stunk, but not enough to make you puke like the reek of their fresh fish market. Indescribable. Made me want to pour disinfectant up my nose.

  Beautiful morning. Sun, blue skies. Light breeze as we wound our way past one drop dread gorgeous rugged stony island green with rainforest after another. Took a few hours to get to our first dive sight. We aren’t allowed to go near any of the closer islands. Most of the passengers missed it. Sacked out catching up on zzzs. That single woman, Karen, joined Claude and me.

  “How soon to High Rock?” She sat down at our table and handed each of us a fresh cup of coffee. “You boys will need this.”

  I like being called a boy. Reminded me of my mom. Claude didn’t—but he’s too French not to charm any female, even this way past 40 woman with a weatherworn face and short dark hair that’s losing its battle with gray.

  “One hour, madame. You will recognize High Rock. A single limestone pillar alone in the sea, crowned with a single lonely tree.”

  “Limestone? Does that mean swim throughs?”

  He smiled and sipped his coffee. “A warm up. This site. Merely a warm up.”

  Now, as I drift through the swim-through he promised, the intensity of sea life astounds me. The reef is thick, teeming. Moray eels—all colors, all kinds—fight for space. Two to a hole. Never seen so many on a single dive. A couple of fat, fat, nurse sharks. At the far end of the swim-through, we emerge just below a school of juvie barracudas. Schooling barracuda! Giant jacks, silver and silent, hang above them. We finish the dive peering at an old fishing net, encrusted with coral. Yellow and black striped seahorses curl their tails around the encrusted ropes. We count ten before the current sweeps us on.

  I survey the group of divers. Karen, floating in front of me the whole dive, is not bad. Cares about form like Mom did. Her skills are nowhere near what Mom’s were, but she’s got that same intrepid attitude. I think I’ll talk her into taking a Nitrox course. Diving Nitrox is supposed to be loads better for older women. That’s what Mom used to say. Gave her more energy for the next dive. Good stuff on a live aboard.

  I grin to myself as I assess the rest of the bunch. My earlier prediction about the divers is dead on. Claude’s got the two worst divers. And I’ve got the two best. A couple. Early 30s. Totally in sync with each other, Zen
with the water, drifting gracefully—Leesie would say, poetically, through the dive. Attuned and at one with each other and this paradise.

  That’ll be us someday. Leesie and me. After a decade together—that’ll be us.

  Chapter 12

  TIME OUT

  LEESIE HUNT / CHATSPOT LOG / 10/27 9:16 PM

  Leesie327 says: Waiting for Krystal the Perfect?

  Gr8phil says: This is early for you.

  Leesie327 says: I’m reforming myself.

  Gr8phil says: You mean you finally dumped Michael?

  Leesie327 says: Just trying to turn in early while he’s in Burma.

  Gr8phil says: Burma? The chicks in Thailand aren’t good enough for him?

  Leesie327 says: What do you know about chicks in Thailand?

  Gr8phil says: Nothing. What should I know?

  Leesie327 says: Nothing. Absolutely nothing. How’s your angel?

  Gr8phil says: Kinda clingy. Kinda demanding. Kinda like it…I call her that, angel. She LOVEs that. Goes a little wild.

  Leesie327 says: More than I want to know. What does she call you?

  Gr8phil says: That’s top secret.

  Leesie327 says: You can tell me. I’m your sister.

  Gr8phil says: That’s exactly why I’m not telling you.

  Leesie327 says: But I’ve turned over a new leaf. I’m so nice now.

  Gr8phil says: What does Michael call you?

  Leesie327 says: Babe.

  Gr8phil says: He would.

  Leesie327 says: Okay, spill it.

  Gr8phil says: Puppy. She calls me Puppy.

  Leesie327 says: And you let her?

  Gr8phil says: Can you blame me?

  Leesie327 says: Wow. You are so whipped. Is she totally planning your life?

  Gr8phil says: I’m planning mine to fit hers.

  Leesie327 says: That sounds like you’re having a limb amputated.

  Gr8phil says: She’s going to BYU next year. Already accepted.