“Do you know what you’ve just done? To the environment?”
She cringed with worry. She’d grown to love and respect the ocean.
“That was sta-rong stuff! Now every fish within a fifty foot er-radius is going to get arrested for DUI, diving under the influence.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Maybe if you don’t drink anymore, you’ll remember this in the morning.” She started putting her clothes back on. He tied off the condom and stuck it in his pocket with the other one.
“I think that Porgy has already chugged.”
“What?”
“That ship has already sailed, but the Porgy doesn’t sail, it chugs, and I was beyond remembering anything before the Porgy brought me back.”
She watched him fumbling to get his clothes back on, and sadly, knew he was probably right.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let any of this happen just now. I-I just—”
“You didn’t like it?” He reached for her and took her face between his hands, studying her eyes. “I didn’t just set you back—like annihilate any kind of therapeutic progress or something, did I?”
“No!” Rhees scoffed. “I loved it—I love you! And getting what happened to me, out in the open, has been very good for me. I wish I hadn’t spent my whole life trying to keep it hidden.” She sighed with regret.
“These last few weeks . . . I’ve learned a lot about myself. The most important thing is that—it’s different—tonight was—”
She paused, thinking it through. “There is definitely a difference between what happened to me as a child—against my will—and what happened with you and I in the dressing room, and especially, just now.
“I want to talk about that with you. I think I’m even ready to talk about that with Keene, but I won’t go see him alone. You’ll have to come with me, or you can bring him back down here, but we are not separating. Not until you stop this ridiculous campaign about doing the right thing and sending me away so I can marry someone else—that is horse crap, Paul. We stick together, do you hear me?”
“Horse crap?” he mumbled. He’d fallen back on the mat and listened with an amused grin. “You’re beautiful, and I love you! You know that? I wish I had another condom. I can run back to my apartment and grab a few more—” he paused, “—I’m still pissed, by the way. I can’t believe you gave up your apartment. You’re making this too hard.”
“I don’t understand why you’re so angry about it, so angry that you’d take off and leave me alone all night—wait—making it too hard to what?” Her fears resurfaced. “I’m making it too hard to keep your love nest—sex pad—whatever it’s called? What? Am I putting a kink in your lifestyle? You can’t be sneaking all your girlfriends in there anymore, because now you’ll have to worry the wife might be home, instead of sitting around, blissfully stupid, at her own apartment?”
“What? Sex pad? Where do you come up with these things? What girlfriends?”
“Ronnie!” she sneered on the name, showing her distaste for his choice in women. “I saw the way you flirted with her yesterday. I saw you flash your beautiful smile, and that twinkly, winkly eye-thingy you do.”
He’d grown guiltily quiet.
“Oh my gosh!” She watched him, waiting for him, expecting him to deny it, but he did nothing except lie there, looking guilty. “I would so like to punch you in the face right now, but I’ll wait and let the alcohol do it for me in the morning.”
She stormed to the gazebo, yanked down another mat, and rolled it out, away from him. It wasn’t her mat, but what she thought he’d done concerned her more at the moment than any germs. It would be good therapy, she thought, another fear to face, head on.
She’d made a connection between her fear of germs and the dirty house where the assault had happened. Refusing to let the incident rule any more of her life than it had, she wanted to work on calling a truce with the microscopic organisms. Morning was right around the corner. She could last an hour and a half.
“What are you doing?” Paul sounded hurt. “I don’t want to sleep alone.”
“Good night, Paul.”
“Rhees? Baby. Dani Girrrl.” He sounded absolutely dismal, sitting dejectedly, as he called to her from his own mat.
“Go to sleep.”
“I can’t. Not without you.” He started crawling toward her.
“You get any closer, I’ll bite you.”
“Sounds good to me.” He didn’t stop his stealthy approach. “Sexxxy.”
“I’ll bite He!”
“Why are you being so mean?” Paul stopped advancing on her and made a face of anguish. “I just want to be near you.”
“Think about that the next time you think you should drive me away.”
He sulked back to his mat and sat staring at her like a lost little boy, but she turned her back on him in self-defense. If she had to keep looking at him, she’d give in, and crawl back into his arms for sure. Eventually he stopped cooing her name and trying to change her mind. The alcohol won, and he finally fell asleep.
She’d overestimated her courage against the germs. To keep her mind occupied, she concentrated on everything except how her skin crawled . . . and her infuriating husband. She almost gave up on sleep in favor of another shower, but she liked the lingering scent of Paul on her. She didn’t ever want to wash it off.
Chapter 22
Rhees woke to the sounds of a woman’s voice, a woman’s voice calling Paul’s name, and giggling.
“What are you doing here so early?” Rhees lifted her head off the mat to glare at Ronnie, who knelt over Paul, tickling his nose with her hair.
“I’m on tank duty, but the boss is asleep on the job.” Ronnie tickled his nose again, making Paul swat at her hair in his sleep.
“You’re too new for tank duty . . . aw crap,” Rhees almost yelled, sitting up, abruptly. She watched Ronnie put her face down a little too close to Paul’s and whisper something in his ear.
“The tanks are around back, not in my husband’s face.” Rhees did her best impression of Mr. Meanie-head.
Ronnie stood and exaggerated her notice of the separate sleeping arrangements, but she didn’t say anything—she didn’t need to.
“Wait for me at the compressor,” Rhees barked. As soon as Ronnie walked around the corner, out of hearing range, she kicked Paul’s leg, not as hard as she wanted to, but it made him stir.
“You put that—that new girl on tank duty?” she asked, trying to keep her voice down, but not quite managing it.
Paul squinted, trying to wake up and make sense of what she was talking about. He sat up very slowly and rubbed his face.
“Do you have to scream? I have a headache.”
“I didn’t scream—maybe I did . . . I’m sorry about your head.” She remembered her comment the night before about letting the alcohol hit him in the face. It didn’t give her any satisfaction to be right about that. “Do you want some aspirin?”
Paul glanced at the other mat, and then back to her.
“I was that bad, huh?” he asked with remorse. “You actually slept on that dirty mat—to get away from me?”
“Go back to sleep. I’m taking care of tank duty today, me and Ronnie, Miss Whore-ible.”
“What? Why is she so horrible?”
“I was thinking an entirely different kind of whore.” Rhees glanced down as she muttered the words.
“Oh.” He chuckled, but then winced. She knew the brief laugh had to have pounded his head.
“Why did you put her on tank duty? She’s too new.” Rhees looked off over the water. It came out whinier than she’d wanted.
“I didn’t. What’s she done to get you so worked up?”
“You don’t remember? You weren’t even drunk at the time.”
Rhees pinched her lips together, waiting for it to hit him. It never did, or he never let on, if it did. He just sat and looked at her as if he expected her to explain what he should be explaining. “You put her on tank duty so you could be alone with her.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did. She has the hots for you.”
“So, she has a crush.” He looked confused. “We deal with that sort of thing all the time.”
“She’s different. The others back off when they realize we’re together. She hasn’t.”
He lay back down and rubbed his temples. “She’s not different. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“I don’t like it. You and her on tank duty, together.”
“Rhees, you’re overreacting.” He scrubbed his face with his hands and made annoyed, growly sounds. “I’m really not in the mood for this. I’m not interested in her, and it’s not like you’re not here every morning, too. I don’t remember scheduling her, but she’s a paying student, so let it drop, okay?”
“What do you remember?” Rhees watched him suffering, trying to rub the pain from his head. “—About last night?”
“Not a damned thing.”
Rhees looked out over the water again, she felt disappointed at that. It would be easier if Paul remembered, easier to know if he thought it was a good thing or not. She didn’t know if she should tell him.
“Rhees?” he said, calling her from her thoughts. “I . . . um, I spoke to Keene on the office phone again, yesterday, before I left for the mainland. He told me more about the facility. He works there a couple days a week. They have doctors there, around the clock. It sounds really nice—”
“What?” She did shriek that time. “You are not having me committed. I was sexually assaulted as a child—I’m not mentally ill! How could you even think—”
“No!” He jumped to his feet and landed at her side in one graceful motion, but she stepped away, not wanting him near her. “It’s just a place you can stay while you work this out and get professional help. You’d be safe. I wouldn’t have to worry about you.”
“No! You just want to get rid of me so you can hook up with Ronnie.”
He growled but looked too guilty about the accusation, again.
“I’ll go start the compressor,” she said and marched off.
oOo
Paul didn’t dive, but he tagged along on the boat because Rhees did. She’d become an excellent diver, but he always felt better being near when she dived, of course, he’d never let her know that. The divers were just starting to pop up after the last dive of the day, and Paul finally breathed relief when Rhees and her dive buddy-student, Gio, broke the surface. The current was a little stronger than usual, so Paul had thrown the line for the divers to hang on to while they waited for their turn on the ladders.
Rhees had just grabbed a hold of the rope, made sure Gio grabbed hold too, and turned to look at the boat, trying to judge how long the wait would be. It was going to be a while. Khafid, a newbie with only seven dives under his belt, struggled to get his fins off, and was taking longer than most experienced divers would find necessary. When he had finally just handed Paul his second fin and started to pull himself up, Ronnie grabbed the ladder.
“Excuse me,” she said, and Khafid, without thinking, let go. He and his heavy gear fell backward, becoming helpless in the water without fins. Because of the current, he floundered several feet away from the boat while the gap grew by the second. Rhees had witnessed it and put her regulator back in her mouth, ready to help him, but Paul was in the water before anyone else realized what had happened. He swam, while pushing Khafid back toward the boat until they were both securely on the ladder, and Paul had helped him climb into the boat.
When everyone was finally out of the water, no one, especially Khafid, enjoyed Paul’s lecture about never letting go of the ladder once they’ve removed their fins, and the dangers of being behind a diver exiting the water.
“More accidents happen while surfacing and getting back on the boat than any other part of the dive,” he continued to teach. “You’re not going anywhere, all geared up, without fins, and—” he glared at Ronnie, “never get behind a diver exiting the water. He could have fallen on you, hit your head with his tank.”
Ronnie didn’t seem to mind the attention. She just smiled and batted her lashes as if she enjoyed being singled out by him. He turned to the rest of the divers.
“Do you hear me? Wait your turn, and stay back until the ladder is clear.”
oOo
“Okay, so there is something wrong with Ronnie, but I didn’t schedule her for tank duty. I was on the mainland all afternoon, remember?” Paul managed to sneak up on Rhees while they put gear away.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Rhees happily apologized, simply for the fact that he was speaking to her, and not trying to avoid her at every turn. “But she’s not only a little too shameless about wanting your attention—Paul, her ego makes her dangerous to the other students.”
“It was just a stupid mistake. It won’t happen again after my lecture.”
“I think she’ll do it again—” Rhees sighed, “—just to get your attention.”
“Rhees, she’s a paying student.”
“I thought I was the naïve one.” She sighed, a little too aggressively, but then she forced herself to calm down. “How’s your headache?”
“Like I’ve been punched in the face, a hundred times.”
She looked down to hide the smirk, but he noticed.
“What is it?”
She shrugged, innocently, but then gave up any feelings of satisfaction. “Come on. I think I can help.” She took his hand and led him to the table under the gazebo where she gestured for him to sit. She went to work massaging his neck and shoulders.
“That feels amazing.” He melted at her touch.
“So, how did Operation Emergency Engine Rescue go last night?” she asked while she kneaded his muscles.
Paul’s face contorted into a troubled mess before he looked out over the ocean. “I don’t know.”
oOo
Rhees walked into the office. Claire sat at her computer.
“Claire? What were you thinking when you put Ronnie on tank duty?”
Claire turned. “I wanted to stick it to that wanker, that’s what.”
“Claire!” Rhees sighed. “You put her on tank duty! With Paul.”
“I’m sorry!” Claire almost gasped. “I didn’t think of that. Oh, Rhees, I’m so sorry.”
Rhees nodded.
“It was a mistake. I’m on your side, Sweet.”
“I know. I don’t want her here any more than you do. Let’s get her certified as soon as possible so she can get out of our hair.”
“Good luck with that. People come to the island, and they never leave.”
“I’ve noticed. Tracy said she came planning to stay for three months, Christian one. Then there’s me.” They both laughed, until they sighed, remembering their problem with Ronnie.
oOo
“I’m going to go grab a shower.” Paul walked through the office where Rhees and Claire both sat at their computers. He hoped it would do him some good to get cleaned up. He needed some help.
He turned the shower on, slid his shorts down from the night before, and noticed the smell. He paused to think about it. He shook his head and stepped into the cold water. When he finished, he turned the water off, grabbed a towel, quickly rubbed it over his hair and then wrapped it around his waist.
He reached into the pocket of his dirty trunks to grab his wallet and noticed something that made his breath hitch. He recognized the feel but didn’t have the memory to make sense of it. His mouth twitched before pulling two used condoms from the pocket. He stared at the offending tokens of his
drunken affair for an uncommonly long time.
“What have I done?” He closed his eyes, shook his head, pursed his lips a few times, and then leaned over the toilet and vomited. He hadn’t thrown up from a hangover in twelve years—he’d still hang to that claim—it wasn’t the hangover that had made him throw up.
He rinsed his mouth, stumbled to the couch and flopped himself down. He flung his arm over his eyes and groaned, not because of how miserable he felt, physically. He spent the next fifteen minutes trying to piece together the bits and pieces of his memory of the night before.
He remembered the mainland, The Tow’d’s engine parts, the mechanic, dinner, drinks . . . more drinks, dancing. He remembered dancing with girls—that’s the point where things grew fuzzy. He groaned again because he did remember dancing . . . but not with his wife.
“Fuck.”
oOo
Paul hurried, but didn’t go back to the shop. He went next door to find Randy sitting on the small deck at his house.
“What happened last night?” The creases between Paul’s eyes grew extra deep.
“Din’t your mama ever teach you ta knock?”
“Sorry,” Paul said. “Now, what happened?”
“You got drunk, mon. You were plowed.”
“I know that. My head hasn’t let me miss that point. But what happened?”
“You got drunk. I tell you we got ta get home but you never lis’n ta me. You’re dancin’ with lot a women.”
“Anything else?” Paul’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Did I . . . did you see me doing anything . . . compromising?”
“No mon. I didn’t see you doin’ that. Not this time.” Randy laughed. “Not for a long time. You’re just dancin’.”
Paul closed his eyes and pursed his lips. He didn’t feel comforted by the report. He’d found used condoms in his pocket.
Wet Part 3 Page 33
