Unbroken Connection

by Angela Morrison

  She steps back. “You aren’t even trying. At the pool, I stuck it out.”

  “That’s because I’m teaching you”—I reach for her—“with every ounce of love I can muster.” She lets my hands settle around her waist.

  “What do you mean? I love you.” Her face softens, and her voice drops. “But the elders—”

  “You teach me.” I kiss her temple.

  “I can’t—”

  “Why not?” I pull her in close and whisper, “You live it. You know this stuff cold. Lay it on me—right now.”

  She tips her head back. “You’ll just say it’s a crazy lie.”

  “Have I ever?”

  “Yes.” Her eyes drop to our feet. Her shiny black heels and my Vans alternating in a pattern that speaks to both of us.

  She whispers, “Don’t you remember that night you almost—”

  I lift her chin, make her eyes meet mine. “You almost—”

  She frowns. “We almost—that night we broke up—the first time?”

  “Is that where we’re heading now?” I wrap my arms tight around her. “Is that what you want tonight? A break-up?” Maybe she paid those guys off to be nasty to get rid of me.

  She shakes her head, breathing fast. “No. Of course not. I just want you to try like I’m trying.”

  I exhale relief. “Then tell me what those two goons—”

  “They were goons weren’t they.” Her eyes soften. “Just my luck to get rotten elders.” Her arms wrap me up.

  “Maybe I was a goon, too.” She lets me kiss her. “I’ll listen to you.”

  She squeezes my hand. “I can’t like this. All crazy. I’ll start talking, and we’ll end up making out.”

  I kiss her again. “Then this night will end way better than I dreamed it could.”

  I try to keep kissing her, but she turns her cheek. “No. Let’s see. We need—” strains of music, lots of youthful voices singing a churchy song reach us. Leesie herds me toward the swelling sound. “We need an opening hymn.”

  We end up in the long tunnel that leads from the Marriot Center, where they play basketball, have rock concerts, and religious guys come and speak to all 30K students every Tuesday, back down to the lower campus. The tunnel is packed with freshmen like Leesie, hundreds of them, and they are all singing hymns. Four part harmony. A capella.

  I stand behind Leesie with my arms around her waist, my hands clasped in front of her. She puts her hands on my arms, snuggles in to me to keep warm, and sways gently with the regular beat of the hymn.

  I listen, bored, for a couple of songs. I bend down and whisper, “Stop stalling. Can we go?”

  She holds up one finger. “One more—please?”

  The next hymn begins, “I know that my Redeemer lives.”

  A tremor runs through Leesie. Holding her like that I can’t help but feel it.

  “What comfort this sweet sentence gives.”

  The tone of the singing takes on an intensity it didn’t have before. They mean this one.

  “He lives, He lives who once was dead.”

  The girl in my arms is an ethereal being again. I look at her delicate, pale hand resting on my rough tan arm. I feel like I shouldn’t even touch her. She’s pure—and me? Who knows? I could be seriously diseased. Definitely not good enough for her. I’ll never be good enough for her. I notice the pale nail print scars I left behind on her hand. She loves me. She’s mine. I must be doing something right. I don’t care what anyone says, what anyone does, she’s going to be mine for the rest of our lives.

  Leesie’s singing, but she’s struggling with emotion. My eyes get wet. Thousands of voices reverberate in the tunnel.

  “He lives to wipe away my tears.

  He lives to silence all my fears.”

  There is power here. Strange to me. Not of this world. I can’t deny it. Can I share it? Can it be a part of me like it’s a part of Leesie?

  The hymn ends and the feeling wanes. Leesie lifts up her shoulders, and I bend down and kiss her hair.

  The next song starts. It’s upbeat—almost military.

  “Let’s go,” Leesie whispers. “They sing this for the guys who’ve just got mission calls.”

  “I like this one. Good beat.”

  The first verse ends and about twenty guys yell, “Let’s baptize.”

  Leesie goes stiff. “They aren’t supposed to do that.” She drags me away. “Stupid boys. They always ruin everything.”

  I feel like she just showed me the enemy playbook. I laugh. “You almost had me there.”

  “It’s not funny. The Spirit was so close. You felt it. I could tell.”

  She leads me past the administration building onto the perfectly manicured quad. I don’t admit my emotion during the earlier hymn. I’m not sure if I really felt anything other than how precious she is to me.

  She grips my hand tight. “I’m reporting this. They were supposed to stop that.”

  “Why?”

  “It makes converts seem like numbers. Notches on a tally stick.” We sit on the edge of a low cement retaining wall that runs along a bed of faded flowers. “When they are people—sons and daughters of God—like you.”

  “Me? I’m a son ofGod?”

  She turns to me and touches my face. “A precious son of God.”

  “Isn’t that Jesus?”

  “He’s our older brother. We all lived together in a big family in Heaven. We knew each other then. I know it. I promised to find you.” Her lips hold mine. “I’m not losing you again.”

  “You won’t.” I pull a white velvet box out of my pocket and press it into her hand.

  She drops her head and opens it.

  I slip the simple solitaire engagement ring—brilliant cut, 1.1 karats, excellent clarity and color—out of the box and slide it on her left hand, third finger.

  “Come to Thailand with me. It’s no good when we’re apart.”

  Her body starts to shake.

  “Finish this semester. I’ll wait around until you’re through finals. Let’s go see your parents and Gram and then fly to Thailand. We can find that island.”

  Tears overwhelm her eyes and slip down her cheeks.

  Something inside me—hope? dreams? I don’t know—deflates. “You won’t do it?”

  She holds her left hand with my ring on her third finger over her heart, presses on it with her other hand and sobs, harder and harder.

  LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK

  POEM #63, RINGED

  “Please, Leesie, say, yes.”

  His diamond cuts my palm

  as I try to keep the shattered pieces of my heart

  from scattering shards throughout my body.

  If this pain gets into my bloodstream,

  can I continue to exist?

  “All that back there is you, Leese.”

  His back pocket produces a folded

  piece of paper. I take it.

  “I love that you’re like that, but babe,

  this isn’t scuba. I can’t learn a few

  skills and all the sudden I’m different.”

  I unfold the paper, hold it to catch

  the light beaming up at a tree behind us.

  Utah wedding license.

  His name and mine.

  He slips onto one knee,

  kisses my hand.

  “Will you marry me?”

  Hysteria takes over.

  “Sure, why not.”

  I gulp back another sob.

  “Let’s go find my bishop.”

  “For real?”

  “Of course not.”

  He stands. “Freak, that was mean.”

  He’s right. It was, but I can’t find

  the words to say, “I’m sorry,” again.

  My sorry’s are used up, the remorse well dry.

  I want him to hurt like I’m hurting.

  I want him to understand these tears.

  I pull the ring off my finger—

  hold it out to him. The s
potlight

  catches the diamond and dazzles flash

  in my eyes.

  “Maybe you can get your money back.”

  He takes it. Silent.

  The pain in his precious gray eyes

  will haunt me forever.

  I run full out—as fast as I can in Sunday spikes,

  stop at my dorm door, double over panting, touch

  the sticky blood oozing from my battered heels,

  can’t get the tears to cease.

  Absolutely no control.

  I hide in my room.

  The flood rips open.

  All night, sleep refuses

  to soften the ache.

  At dawn,

  I phone his room.

  No answer.

  Chapter 22

  COOLED

  MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG—VOLUME #10

  DIVE BUDDY: Gram

  DATE: 12/10

  DIVE #:—

  LOCATION: Teacup

  DIVE SITE: Gram’s house

  WEATHER CONDITION: snowstorm

  WATER CONDITION: icicles

  DEPTH: 1½”

  VISIBILITY: nil

  WATER TEMP.: -16 F

  BOTTOM TIME: a week

  COMMENTS:

  I want to fast forward my life. Dementia would be good. I look over at Gram nodding on the sofa with the remote in her hand.

  She still remembers everything.

  I thought Leesie would be calling every minute. I can’t get emails or go online here. My computer is in Thailand. Teacup doesn’t have all night internet bars. Maybe I should drive to Spokane. Or call somebody I know here. DeeDee? Troy? Right.

  I can’t call Leesie. Not before I read all those emails she’s probably sent.

  Freak. What would I say?

  I’m stupid.

  You’re stupid.

  Run away with me.

  That pretty much says it.

  I’ve got my ticket back to Thailand. Three days before her last final. I was going to fly her home. Now, I don’t know how she’s getting here. Catch a ride with somebody? Yuck. I don’t want her doing that.

  I guess I’m a coward for bolting, but I had to leave. I didn’t want to say the next mean thing. Didn’t want to chase her down and escalate—wound her back. Nasty was the only thing in me at the moment. I had to get away before I spilled all that ugliness all over her. I didn’t want to hear what those wounds would make her say.

  When my mom got, “irrational,” as my dad called it, he’d take off—head for the dive shop. Sometimes with me. He didn’t badmouth her. “You can’t do that, son. Not if you really love her.” He’d buy her something—anything—from a three dollar plastic clip to a new wetsuit to a trip to Grand Cayman or a cruise in Belize.

  He’d wink at me. “Helps with the apology.”

  Maybe I bought Leesie too much of the wrong thing. Dad always got it right. I wanted the ring to be right. I didn’t think about what Leesie wanted—needed.

  I open the little square box and look at the ring. There’s no light today—the stone is lifeless. I snap the box closed, head down to the Variety Store, and buy a long thin gold-colored chain, cheap but strong. Back at Gram’s, I lock myself in her pink bathroom, string the ring onto the chain, and fasten it around my neck. The ring flashes for an instant in the warm yellow bathroom light before I hide it under my shirt.

  I close my eyes, place my hand on my chest, and press the ring’s imprint into my skin.

  Gram’s at the door. “Michael? The French toast is ready.”

  Good old Gram. Her ultimate weapon of comfort.

  I eat six pieces.

  There will be an email in Thailand. Waiting.

  She’ll forgive me.

  I’ll forgive her.

  It’ll be cool.

  I was a jerk.

  But that idiot elder—may hell be real just for him—made me feel like some loathsome swamp creature running off with their best vestal virgin.

  Freak.

  That’s exactly what I am.

  LEESIE HUNT / CHATSPOT LOG / 12/16 12:00 PM

  liv2div says: Leesie! babe…talk to me

  Leesie327 says: What happened to you?

  liv2div says: I went to Gram’s. Where else? You didn’t call.

  Leesie327 says: YOU didn’t call. I’ve been out of my mind.

  liv2div says: don’t give me that…you knew I’d be there

  Leesie327 says: I’ve been such a mess…barely hanging on here for finals

  liv2div says: freak…I’m wrecking your life again

  Leesie327 says: You’re not in Tekoa anymore?

  liv2div says: Right. I’m back in Thailand. One of the boats docked by us has Wi-Fi…I’m stealing…want me to call?

  Leesie327 says: No. If I hear your voice, I’ll lose it. It took me three days to stop crying.

  liv2div says: don’t cry…I kept the ring…I’ll wear it around my neck until you wear it on your finger

  Leesie327 says: I can’t go there. Shoot, I’m tearing up again. Can we keep things light for a while? Please?

  liv2div says: friends? not that crap again

  Leesie327 says: I’m here. You’re there. Let’s just be nice.

  liv2div says: take a break from decimating each other? is it possible?

  Leesie327 says: We can’t even get along for six weeks.

  liv2div says: that’s due to the unnatural way you make me live

  Leesie327 says: Was that nice?

  liv2div says: sorry

  Leesie327 says: Speaking of unnatural, I signed up for a scuba PE class next semester. I’m going to pick up my pretty pink gear when I’m home and bring it back so I can use it for the class.

  liv2div says: you’re going to learn without me?

  Leesie327 says: I’ll knock your booties off when you get back.

  liv2div says: is that a hint?

  Leesie327 says: No. It’s my PE class.

  liv2div says: you’re not allowed to talk to the instructor

  Leesie327 says: Only if you stay out of those nasty bars.

  liv2div says: deal. how are you getting home?

  Leesie327 says: Dad emailed me a ticket. Early Christmas present. He didn’t want me driving through all those mountain passes.

  liv2div says: neither do I

  Leesie327 says: Kind of dumb. I can drive through anything, but I wouldn’t be driving. Can’t trust another driver to be as awesome as me.

  liv2div says: I have to work Christmas week…you’ll be home having fun…I booked a cabin that week on the Queen Nautica for us… dumb, huh? I just unloaded it on some European guy…Dutch, I think

  Leesie327 says: And his 14-year-old concubine?

  liv2div says: he swears she’s twenty

  Leesie327 says: Ick for you.

  liv2div says: at least I won’t be out the cash

  Leesie327 says: Can’t you turn him in?

  liv2div says: I don’t think so…if she’s twenty, nothing much we can do

  Leesie327 says: Throw him overboard?

  liv2div says: now there’s an idea…might be bad for business, though

  Leesie327 says: You had it all planned out for us, didn’t you?

  liv2div says: please let me call you

  Leesie327 says: No. This is better. Safe.

  liv2div says: no feelings?

  Leesie327 says: Not as many.

  liv2div says: that’s not fair…feelings are on my side

  Leesie327 says: I’m worried about you.

  liv2div says: I’m not going to do anything drastic

  Leesie327 says: Like get married and run off with your boyfriend to Thailand?

  liv2div says: I’m crazed…not suicidal…don’t worry… I’ll be back, though…the Similans shut down mid-May for monsoon season… I’m out of here then

  Leesie327 says: Mid-May? I’ll be home trying to find a job in Spokane. I can’t afford to stay for Spring and Summer terms.

  liv2div says: okay, babe…it’s a
date

  Leesie327 says: Five months from yesterday.

  liv2div says: that’s too long.

  Leesie327 says: Way too long.

  liv2div says: I keep thinking about what you said about knowing me…finding me… where’d you get that? Shinto doesn’t even have that

  Leesie327 says: It’s Mormonism in a nutshell. There’s about a jillion corny stories like that—but this feeling I have for you isn’t normal.

  liv2div says: it’s insane

  Leesie327 says: DIVINE

  liv2div says: you believe in destiny? we have to be together? it’s written?

  Leesie327 says: No. I believe in choice.

  Chapter 23

  DEPARTURE

  MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG—VOLUME #10

  DIVE BUDDY: solo

  DATE: 12/20

  DIVE #:—

  LOCATION: Tap Lamu

  DIVE SITE: Queen Nautica

  WEATHER CONDITION: sunny

  WATER CONDITION: calm

  DEPTH: way shallow, I admit it

  VISIBILITY: nice

  WATER TEMP.: 84

  BOTTOM TIME: 10 whole days

  COMMENTS:

  Sukanda, the concubine, has arrived. I saw her name on the manifest. She isn’t fourteen. She doesn’t look twenty. Maybe eighteen.

  The Dutch dude, Maximillian Von something, leaves her on the dock with a mound of gear bags and suitcases. He’s big—6 foot plus, red-faced, hammy. He crosses the gangplank carrying nothing.

  “Good morning, monsieur.” Claude puts out his hand. “I am the chief dive master, Cla—”

  “Bar? Where?”