The Wife Between Us(50)

I can come back up anytime, I told myself as I began to climb down the ladder, where the heavy equipment would help drag me beneath the surface. I won’t be trapped.

Moments after I sank into the cool, salty ocean, everything was blotted out.

All I could hear was breathing.

I couldn’t see; Eric had said that if fog formed on the inside of our masks, we should simply tilt them just enough to allow a stream of water to clear the condensation. “Hold up one hand if something’s wrong; that’ll be our emergency signal,” he’d said. But all I could do was kick and flail, trying to maneuver to the surface. The straps of my equipment compressed my body, binding my chest. I tried to suck in oxygen as my mask grew cloudier.

The noise was awful. Even now, I can hear jagged, tortured gasps filling my ears and feel the tightness in my chest.

I couldn’t spot Eric or Richard. I spun alone in the ocean, my limbs churning, a scream building in my lungs.

Then someone gripped my arm and I felt myself being pulled. I went limp.

I broke the surface and spit out my mouthpiece, then yanked off my mask, feeling a burst of pain as it ripped away a few strands of my hair.

Gasping and coughing, I tried to draw more air into my lungs.

“The boat’s right here,” Eric said. “I’ve got you. Just float.”

I reached out and grabbed a rung of the ladder. I was too weak to climb it, but Eric hauled himself up onto the boat, then leaned down for my hand. I collapsed on a bench, so dizzy I had to put my head between my legs.

I heard Richard’s voice from below. “You’re safe. Look at me.”

The pressure in my ears made him sound like a stranger.

I tried to do as he said, but he was still bobbing in the water. Seeing the blue ripples made me nauseous.

Eric knelt next to me, unhooking the straps from around my body. “You’ll be okay. You panicked, right? This happens sometimes. You’re not the only one.”

“I just couldn’t see,” I whispered.

Richard climbed up the ladder and hoisted himself over the side, his equipment clanging as he landed. “I’m here. Oh, sweetheart, you’re shaking. I’m so sorry, Nellie. I should have known.”

The mask had left a red imprint encircling his eyes.

“I’ve got her,” he said to Eric, who finished unstrapping my tank, then moved aside. “We’d better head in.”

Richard held me close as the speedboat skipped over the waves. We returned to the resort in silence. After Eric docked, he reached into a cooler and handed me a bottle of water. “How do you feel now?”

“Much better,” I lied. I was still trembling, and the bottle of water in my hand shook. “Richard, you can go back out. . . .”

He shook his head. “No way.”

“Let’s get you onto land,” Eric said. He jumped onto the dock and Richard followed him. Eric reached down for my hand again. “Here.” My legs were unsteady, but I managed to stretch out my arm for him to take.

But Richard said, “I’ve got her.” He gripped my upper left arm and pulled me out of the boat. I winced at the feel of his fingers pressing into my soft flesh as he held me tightly to stabilize me.

“I’m going to take her to the room,” Richard told Eric. “You’ll return our equipment?”

“No problem.” Eric looked worried, maybe because Richard’s voice was a little clipped. I knew Richard was only concerned about me, but perhaps Eric thought we’d make a complaint.

“Thanks for helping me,” I told him. “Sorry I freaked out.”

Richard wrapped a fresh towel around my shoulders, and we walked off the dock, through the soft sand, toward our room.

I felt better after I’d changed out of my wet bikini and wrapped myself in a fluffy white robe. When Richard suggested we return to the beach, I pleaded a headache, but insisted that he go.

“I’ll just rest for a little while,” I said.

My temples did throb mildly—a side effect of the dive, or maybe just residual tension. As soon as I heard the door close behind Richard, I walked into the bathroom. I reached for the Advil in my toiletries bag, then hesitated. Next to it was the orange plastic prescription bottle of Xanax I’d obtained in case of a long flight. I hesitated, thinking of my mother as I always did when I swallowed a pill, then shook out one of the oval white tablets and gulped it down with some of the bottled Fiji water the maid replenished twice a day. I closed the heavy drapes, blotting out the sun, then crawled into bed and waited for the drug to take effect.

Just as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard a knock on the door. Thinking it was the maid, I called, “Can you come back later?”

“It’s Eric. I’ve got your sunglasses. I’ll just leave them out here.”

I knew I should’ve gotten up to thank him, but my body felt so heavy it was weighing me down. “Okay. I appreciate it.”

My cell phone rang a moment later. I reached for it on the nightstand. “Hello.”

No answer.

“Richard?” My tongue already felt thick from the sedative.

Again, no response.

I knew what I’d see even before I looked down at my phone: Blocked number.

I bolted upright, my hand gripping the receiver, suddenly wide awake. All I could hear was the rush of cold air whirling through the vent in our room.