Never Have I Ever(36)

For the first time since Roux had said that word to me, “justice,” I felt as if the air I drew got all the way inside me. I exhaled in regulated, even ways, using my own breath and the ocean’s to keep my body angling ever downward, following the sloping sand into this sacred, silent space. It was huge enough to hold the things inside me.

I came to the wreckage of the pier, where the baitfish churned in schools, flashing silver in the green gloom. They swam, like with like, hundreds banded into a single organism. Each was its own self, but they all stayed in formation, each hoping it would not be singled out. Two long, thin shadows took shape in front of me. Barracuda, drawn by the baitfish, and this was the way the world worked. Predators came, drawn to easy meat. They watched me go by, impassive.

Near the end of the old pier’s remains, a nurse shark lay basking under a rock ledge. He was a good-size fellow, almost as long as I was. He regarded me in profile with his calm, taupe-colored eye. A remora, slim and busy, worked around his gills.

I was more than thirty feet down now, and I kept on going, gliding past him, to the remains of the last pylon. If I wished it, I could simply keep on swimming, out to where there was only ocean and more ocean. I could follow the sloping sand down so deep I’d get narc’d. Giddy-high on oxygen, I could press on until my gauge told me my tank was in the red. I’d drink my last scant air while I stripped down mother-naked. I’d hold my weights, to keep me in the cool, dark deeps. Then I would learn what the real Lolly Shipley had learned, the day she walked into her neighborhood pool. I could watch my last bubble rise, follow it with my eyes as high as I could see but not rise with it. My past would sink with me.

I could see how it would be. I was not afraid of it. If Roux had come seven years ago, I might even have done it. Just kept going, south and down and out. But the life I had now was so sweet, so very dear. Above me, somewhere in airy sunlight, Oliver played with Ruby, safe under Char’s watchful eye. Davis worked in his office, maybe grading papers. Maddy was sneak-texting or doodling her way through math. I had to return to them.

But not yet. And truthfully, if Roux had come seven years ago, I wouldn’t feel this way. Seven years back I had been easy meat. I might simply have given her whatever she wanted. But now? The stakes were higher than she knew. I could feel my heart rate rising. Too much thinking. I was breathing hard now, sucking gas like a newbie. I had to shut it down.

I breathed myself up a foot and flutter-kicked toward the largest heap of rubble, and as I passed, the nurse shark stirred himself and followed, curious. He sailed easily past me, then circled back, clearly used to divers. He angled in close, pushy as a cat, and I scratched his head gently with my fingertips. His skin was smooth and cool, a pleasure to my bare fingers. He slid past, then circled again, coming back in for another scratch.

For this small and stolen moment, I let there be no shore, no small son needing me, no family, no friends, no job. No Roux, invading, knowing things she could not know.

There was only breath and now. The ocean surged around me, teeming and seething with urgent life, each animal, each plant, each cell bent to its own singular business. Time passed, though I was not truly aware of it as time. It was only numbers winding down on my computer, reminding me my stay was finite as I moved in easy loops around the site, the nurse shark shadowing me.

Near the end I found a blue crab peering at me from under a slab of rock. He spread his claws out wide, trying to make himself look bigger, just in case I was a thing that dragged crabs out from under rocks and ate them. I found myself smiling around my regulator, charmed by his bravado. I was all right again. I looked at the crab, fronting large, and I knew what Roux was. I knew I owed her nothing. I was ready to face her.

I made my way back, angling up the sloping sand toward shore, making a safety stop and then surfacing. By the time I’d stowed my gear and traded my wet suit for my damp and sandy dress, it was past noon. I repacked the car, my mind a calm blank, and got in behind the wheel. I didn’t start the engine. Instead I dug my phone out of the glove box and went to Google Docs.

Char had added Roux’s contact info to our shared files. We kept the phone list alphabetical by first name, which put Angelica Roux in second place. The pettiest little piece of me didn’t like seeing her name just under mine, almost touching. She didn’t go by Angelica, so why not shove her down among the R’s where she belonged? I resisted the urge. She had my secrets, and they were not safe with her. I knew what she was. I had to seem compliant, keep her calm. I pushed my salt-thick hair back from my face, breathing steady, staying centered.

When I was ready, I dialed. It barely had time to ring twice before she picked up.

“Hello?” She sounded tense.

“Hey. It’s Amy,” I said. “I think—”

“You take your own sweet time, don’t you?” she said, and I realized she was not just tense. She was downright angry. I couldn’t afford to like this, but I liked it. “Are you coming?”

“In a little bit,” I said, and she snorted.

“Oh, in a little bit? God, who are you?”

“Who are you?” I asked her back. “When you said I owed—”

“Never on the phone. Come over. Now.” And that was all.

“Oh, you bitch,” I said, soft, into the dead connection. Half of me wanted to regear, take my second tank, go straight under again. But I was as ready to face her as I was going to be.