by A W Hartoin
I found the back of Lucia’s bungalow and started for the door when I heard whispering. Someone ran from behind a fat coconut tree and disappeared between two maintenance sheds. I couldn’t make out who it was. There was just this sense that it was a man. Nothing else. Lucia! I ran to the back door and pounded on it.
“Lucia!” I yelled. “Open up!”
What if she’s dead in there?
“Lucia!”
A hand tapped me on the shoulder.
Being a cool customer, I shrieked good and loud.
“What are you doing?” asked Mauro, squinting at me in the dim light.
I straightened my tanktop and said, “What are you doing?”
“Following you.”
“There was someone out here and now Lucia’s not answering the door. Something might’ve happened to her.”
“The Carrows are at the restaurant. Who did you see?”
“It was too dark. I couldn’t make them out, but they were definitely lurking out here.”
Mauro smiled and moved in closer. He smelled fresh and clean with a hint of allspice. “Lurking? Are you sure you’re a nurse?”
“Of course, I’m sure.” I backed up and bumped my head on the coconut tree that loomed over me.
Mauro held out his arm. “I’ll walk you to the restaurant before I go.”
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
I instantly pictured his house, small, slightly messy with a big—
Stop it.
“You don’t have to walk me,” I said, just a little breathless. “Um…did you happen to tell Lucia about the regs?”
“Spitball did.”
“And?”
“And nothing. They weren’t concerned,” said Mauro.
“They? Graeme was there?”
“He is her husband. You don’t suspect him, do you?”
I thought of the bruises on Lucia’s hips, but kept it to myself. “I don’t know what I think.”
“You don’t like Graeme?” Mauro took my arm, his strong fingers wrapped all the way around my bicep.
“No, he’s fine.” I shook him off. “Got to go. See you bright and early.”
I took off down the path and glanced back to see him go between the sheds where the other person had gone.
“Got it.”
Shriek. Aaron stood on the main path, holding the lionfish with a long two-pronged fork.
“Are you trying to scare me to death?”
“No.”
“Are you following me?”
“No.”
I threw up my hands and passed him. I hoped he wouldn’t follow, but he did. He always did. I went down to the restaurant. There was a small band on the makeshift stage made of bamboo and the smell from that night’s special, roast pig, hung heavy in the air. Lucia and Graeme were there at the bar with the Gmucas and Todd. They raised their glasses with smiles stretching their sunburned cheeks. I couldn’t talk to Lucia with so many people around, so I went in search of Mom. I passed the frat boys sprawled out at a table covered with empty glasses and beer bottles. Colin leered at me, but didn’t get up thankfully. Eventually, I found Mom sitting on the deck overlooking the sea. She had her arms crossed, not a good sign. Dixie was on the dance floor in a queue for the limbo. Aunt Tenne was behind her, wearing that new sarong and smiling like I’d never seen her smile. A waiter brought Mom a plate of fish tacos and set a tiny salad in front of an empty seat. Must be for Dixie. She was forever on a diet.
I sat down next to Mom and Aaron sat next to me. He held the lionfish out like an Olympic torch.
“Aaron,” said Mom. “What’s with the fish?”
“I cooked it.”
“Nice.” She looked out over the dance floor with a serious frown.
One of the lionfish’s spines brushed my face and I inched my chair closer to Mom. “He barbecued it on our porch.”
“That’s nice.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Do you see what she’s doing?” asked Mom.
“Dixie? I think she’s going to limbo.” It was unexpected, but she was giving happiness a shot.
“Not Dixie. Tenne.”
“She’s going to limbo, too. So what?” I asked.
“So what? Do you see who she’s with?”
“Um…”
The waiter brought a platter and a carving knife over. Aaron slapped his crusty fish on it and smacked his lips.
“The pool boy,” said Mom. I hadn’t heard that edge in her voice since I dated Lorenzo Stern for about five minutes before I met Pete. Lorenzo was the son of Lorenzo Stern, Sr., a defense attorney that hated my dad like herpes.
“There’s a pool boy?” I hadn’t seen any pool boys. La Isla Bonita was kind of a self-serve joint. A few pool boys would’ve been nice, especially if they kept a steady stream of Monkey Lalas coming. I needed them to forget my hair, man-sized wetsuit and the Fibonacci situation.
“Bruno.” Aaron carved a hunk off the lionfish and held it out to me. “Try it.”
“You named the fish?”
“Bruno’s the pool boy,” said Mom.
Then I saw him. He stood behind Aunt Tenne, swaying to the music. Bruno had helped with the luggage on the first day. He seemed alright, even if he was wearing a Hawaiian shirt. “I think he’s a porter.”
“That hardly matters.”
I had no idea what did matter, other than keeping Lucia alive until we got back to the States. Aaron poked the fish in front of my face again. “It’s good.”
“Aren’t they poisonous?”
“Venomous.”
“That does not make me feel better,” I said. “You first.”
Aaron poked the white flakey meat into his mouth and groaned with happiness. Lucia and Graeme left the bar and took to the dance floor. I had to admit they looked like a happy couple. That is until Graeme spun her and her blouse slipped off her shoulder, revealing a fresh reddish bruise on her back. I had to talk to her. She wasn’t running into doors. Oz was right. Something was going on.
Aaron carved me a piece of lionfish and before I could say no, he’d shoved it in my mouth. Not bad for a venomous fish.
“You like it?” asked Aaron.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I could do without the eyeballs watching me.”
Aaron began telling me all about the gutting and the batter he used. I tuned out when he got to the venom sacs. I’d rather not know. The waiter came. I ordered a salad to make up for all the Monkey Lalas and a Monkey Lala to make me feel better about eating a salad.
I chewed slowly, watching Lucia dance and laugh. I couldn’t shake the feeling that she wouldn’t be laughing for long.
Chapter 7
NIGHT THREE OF the girl trip from hell I slept on the hammock, trying to listen for trouble in the Carrows’ bungalow. I hadn’t been able to see Lucia alone. Graeme was always there hovering. A lot like Aaron actually, only without the food. I saw Lucia and Graeme come out in the morning, arm in arm. We all got through our last certification dive without a problem, although the frat boys were hung over and miserable. Mauro stayed close to Lucia the whole time and I stayed with her during our two-hundred-meter swim. After it was over we filled out paperwork and went to lunch. I thought maybe I could talk to her at the restaurant. Graeme had to go to the bathroom sometime, but they took their lunch back to the bungalow and came back to the beach together.
I did my best to keep an eye on Lucia and avoid Mom. Aunt Tenne had come in at about three in the morning, whistling. I lied to Mom again, but she was getting suspicious. Aunt Tenne was still asleep and that wasn’t normal for her.
I lay on the hot floating platform, sunny-side down with a lizard an inch from my nose. The sun was so hot it felt like it was pressing me down. I could’ve stayed there all day if it weren’t for Tyler and Tara, the Land’s End kids, arguing about scuba diving on the other side of the platform.
“We are old enough,” said Tara.
“Dad said we are
n’t,” said Tyler.
“I asked that scuba guy. He said you only have to be eight.”
“So what?”
“I’m ten. I could get certified.”
“No, you couldn’t.”
“You can get certified when you’re ten. I’m ten.”
“You’re stupid.” Tyler ran past my head and did a cannonball. Cool seawater pebbled my sizzling body, making me jerk and gasp.
“I hate you!” yelled Tara.
I hate both of you. Isn’t it time for naps?
“You’re still not scuba diving,” Tyler yelled back and then he hawked a lugie into the water. Awesome.
“I’m going to make Dad take me this afternoon.”
“No, you’re not.”
They went on yelling and I closed my eyes. I went to my happy place, which happened to be as cold as the platform was hot. The butler’s pantry in my parents’ house. I pictured the little drawers and cubbies with their little brass plaques. They hid all manner of good things, chocolates, cocoa, cognac, flavored sugars, and prosciutto. I’d never discovered all their secrets, but I wanted to.
“Mercy!” Mom came walking down the broad wooden stairs to the beach, oblivious to the guy that was trailing her and trying to work up the nerve to speak. He had a camera. Great. Mom saw me and tromped across the sand with her hips swinging. The guy’s eyes widened when I lifted myself onto my elbows. He raised the camera. Mauro came across the sand and pointed his finger at the guy. “Beat it.”
He turned tail and almost knocked over a waiter bringing Lucia a fresh iced tea. She lay under an umbrella wearing a coverup that left everything to the imagination. Graeme was right there, reading a paperback thriller and blocking my access.
“Are you ready?” called Mauro. “The boat leaves in fifteen minutes.”
I dropped back on my chest, and Mom picked up my beach bag from beside my chair. “Come on, Mercy. This is just for fun. We’re certified divers now.”
I glanced at Lucia. “Maybe I’ll just stay here.”
“Everyone’s coming,” said Mauro, his rich voice carrying well over the water.
“Everyone?”
“Of course,” said Mom.
Tyler chased Tara through the water toward the platform, both screaming like sugared-up three-year-olds. My happy place wasn’t enough to combat them, so I slipped in the water that always seemed to be the perfect temperature and wished my lizard luck, but he scampered over the side to hide under one of the chains that held the platform in place.
I swam to the beach while Mauro went over to Lucia. I half-hoped Lucia would shake her head no. I’d had about enough diving. Every time we went down, my nerves tightened one more notch. I didn’t need the stress. Dad had called and ranted about The Girls’ lawsuit. I asked him if he ever met Josiah Bled, which only made him madder. It’s a good thing I didn’t ask anything really insulting like ‘Was our house a payoff?’ After that, Dixie’d started crying again during lunch. Aunt Tenne was the only one who was happy and Mom seemed determined to ruin it.
Lucia got up and I groaned. Why couldn’t she lay on the beach where I could read and watch her without worrying about regs or oxygen levels? Lucia smiled at me and I followed her and Graeme to the dive shop, where I put on my hated wetsuit and coated my hair with a half cup of conditioner. Todd, the Land’s End dad, was the last to arrive and we all walked down to the beach behind the golf carts. Colin patted my rear three times and smacking his hand only seemed to encourage him. I was starting to wear down my teeth from grinding them so much. To distract myself, I asked Lucia if she had her inhaler. She did, but it was her last one. I didn’t like that. She had no idea where the other one went. My guess was over the side of the boat, because her other inhaler and wallet hadn’t turned up in her room and that was worrisome. Graeme wouldn’t take Lucia’s wallet. What would be the point? Her money was his and vise versa.
Alex the captain took us out to Pablo’s Place, a dive spot known for great coral and lobsters. The boat skipped over waves as the wind picked up and I yawned.
“Tired?” asked Todd.
“Just a little,” I said.
“So’s Tracy. Not sleeping well on the hotel bed.”
Frankie leaned forward. “Maybe they can switch out the mattress. Ours is great.”
Linda nodded and braided her long hair. “I’m sleeping like a rock.”
Alex turned the boat and we all leaned to the right. Then he cut the engine and we coasted to a stop. Mauro went around helping with gear and stopped in front of me, so close my chest brushed his BCD.
“I’ve checked everything,” he said.
“Twice?” I asked.
“Three times. No worries today.”
We queued and the line went fast. Lucia and Graeme were in first. She had no fear and I admired her for it. From my point of view, she had a lot to be fearful of. On that dive there was no lead rope and we all deflated our BCDs to descend together. The spot was beautiful but different than our previous dive areas. The coral was larger with lots of fanciful formations and big schools of colorful fish darting around them. We descended to forty feet and began to spread out. Mauro clinked on his tank and the sharp metallic sound echoed through the water. He made the sign for turtle and everyone got out their cameras. It was a hawksbill, if I remembered the dive book pictures correctly. The shell was at least two feet across with a jagged section at the back.
Mauro clinked again and made the sign for shark. Five feet from the turtle was a nurse shark lying on the sandy bottom between two walls of blue and yellow coral. He was maybe nine feet in length and reminded me of a catfish with its broad head. Mauro indicated that we should spread out and look for seahorses among the coral. Lucia was to my right, swimming behind Graeme. He pointed to some tall formations of coral, the kind that looks like crusty old vases. Around them were lots of fan coral, black and red, and brain coral that always made me want to touch its lovely swirls and grooves.
I followed Graeme and Lucia into the coral maze and we spent fifteen minutes looking before Graeme found a little yellow seahorse hanging on a fan coral branch. He had a long snout and spines running down his back. I couldn’t stop looking at him. He was so small and delicate, the size of my little finger.
Lucia took a picture and then swam deeper into the maze. I tore myself away to follow. There was a tug on my foot. Mauro gave me the okay sign and I gave it back. He asked how much air I had left. Plenty. Over fifteen hundred PSI. I turned back to where Lucia had gone and saw her drop down between the edge of the dropoff and a large area of brain coral. Lucia emerged again, twisting in the water, a cloud of red around one thigh. I darted over, my knees scraping the coral. Her hands were on her thigh. A shaft of white stuck out from between her fingers.
I yelled through my reg, “Don’t take it out.” But she yanked it out anyway and dropped it. I got a glimpse before it disappeared into the depths, a five-inch serrated piece of bone. Lucia shot up, headed for the surface through a cloud of red. I held her foot. She’d give herself the bends. Graeme was there. He gestured wildly. I didn’t think. I grabbed his hands and pressed them on the spewing wound. Then we started the ascent, painfully slow. I tapped on my tank with my fingernails. The noise wasn’t nearly as effective as Mauro’s bottle opener, but he heard me. His brown eyes were wide beneath the mask. I shrugged and made the sign for stingray. He made us slow down further and it took an extra five minutes to get up top.
By the time my ears broke the surface, Mauro was yelling for Alex. Then the boat was there. In the movies, they like to show things happening in slow motion as if that’s the way people see action. In my experience, traumatic situations happen so fast the brain can’t even track it. I saw Alex’s face. I saw the boat. Then it was there beside us. I swear I didn’t see it move. Alex took Lucia’s hands and hauled her onboard. A stream of blood coated her leg the instant Graeme let go of her thigh. He went for the ladder, but I shoved him out of the way and tried to climb with my fins on. Not go
ing to happen. Alex grabbed me and I flew over the side, cracking my head on the bench and slipping in Lucia’s blood, which coated the floor.
“I need a belt or a strap!” I yelled.
Alex yanked off his belt and I wrapped it around Lucia’s thigh. The puncture was an inch in width and deep. Once I had the tourniquet in place the bleeding stopped and I looked up at Lucia’s white face.
“I didn’t even see it,” she gasped.
“It’s okay. It’s all under control.” Yeah, right. My voice was shaking like I was sitting on top of a dryer.
Graeme knelt beside Lucia. “What the hell happened?”
“Stingray, I think,” said Lucia.
Mauro yelled from the water. “How is she?”
“The bleeding’s under control,” I said. “We have to get her to a hospital. I think it was a stingray.”
He gave me a look that said, “No way.” And then he told Alex, “Take them to shore and send another boat. I can’t leave. I’ve got divers down.”
Alex got on the radio and asked for an ambulance to meet us on shore. He turned the boat around and we sped off. Graeme lay on the bottom of the boat with Lucia. He cradled her, not noticing how his head banged against the spare tanks with every wave. I slipped on the blood and landed painfully on my scraped knees. Lucia’s pulse was racing, but she’d pinked up. I liked that. I wrapped her leg in my towel and said stupid things like we’re almost there and relax. Because telling people to relax always makes them do it.
We passed another La Isla Bonita boat going out at full speed and then landed on the beach like we were under a hail of gunfire. Spitball jumped into the water to tie us up.
“Who is it?” he yelled, but his eyes said he already knew.
“Lucia!”
“God damn son of a bitch fuck!”
Graeme gathered Lucia into his arms. He leaned over the boat’s side, every muscle strained to the limit, and gingerly gave her to Spitball. He carried her onto the beach and laid her on a towel. Graeme turned to me and I pulled back in surprise. His eyes were full of tears. “Is she going to be okay?”