Cayman Summer Page 13
The clock reads 1:52 AM when I usher Leesie in through the apartment door. All the guys—including Gabriel—mill around the kitchen and living room drinking beer, waiting for Dani and Seth.
“Shhh!” Gabriel puts a finger up to his lips. “Alex is asleep.”
Cooper chucks a pillow at him. “Worn out, eh?”
Gabriel catches the pillow, frowns. “She was distressed.”
Brock sets his beer down. “And you took her mind off her troubles?”
Ethan looks up from soccer reruns on TV. “She does not need another rascal breaking her wee heart.”
“I’m well aware of that.” Gabriel lets the pillow drop from his hands.
Cooper stands. “Then what the hell are you doing?”
Gabriel rifles his fingers through his black play-boy hair. “She wants me.” He rotates, gathers everyone’s eyes. “What am I supposed to do? Turn her down? Humiliate her?”
“You’re taking advantage of her.” Cooper gets right in Gabriel’s face. “Not cool, dude.”
Gabriel puts his hand flat on Cooper’s chest and pushes him back. “I’m trying to make her happy.” He sits down on the couch.
Brock cocks his head. “You care if she’s happy?”
Gabriel’s face softens. “I do. I care.” He see’s Alex’s face peeking from a crack in her and Leesie’s bedroom door, turns, and addresses her. “I care very much.”
Alex slips through the door, crosses the room to Gabriel, climbs on his lap, and hides her face against his neck. Gabriel’s arms go around her, protecting, a hand strokes her head, and he kisses her forehead.
Leesie smiles, goes to the fridge and takes out butter and eggs. “I need brownies. Anybody want to help?”
I crack the eggs. Leesie melts the butter and chocolate on the stove. Brock turns on the oven. And Cooper and Ethan measure flour and sugar.
A half hour later, we’re crowded around the table, eating hot, gooey brownies—same recipe that she made when I met those jerk missionaries back at BYU. The guys traded their beer for milk. The apartment door opens and a half-drunk Seth leads in a very drunk blonde girl spilling out of her fuchsia halter top and matching mini skirt. Dani.
Alex gives her a brutal, loathing glare and stalks into her and Leesie’s bedroom.
Gabriel stands up. “Hello, Dani.” He speaks in a solemn voice and goes after Alex.
Dani giggles and punches Seth in the arm. “You’re right, Sethie. They all want me back. “ She stumbles. Seth catches her—stumbles, too.
Cooper and Ethan leap to help them. “It’s cool, Dani,” Cooper says. “We’re glad you’re back.”
“Liars.” The giggle dissolves to tears. “She should be mad at Kai—not me. It’s his fault.”
Brock pats her arm. “If you promise to make this pathetic bloke happy again, we’ll all be thrilled with your return.”
She beams at Seth. “So it’s true? He can’t live without me?”
Seth plants a loud smack on the side of her face. “You’re never getting away from me again.”
She kisses him, and Brock and Cooper hustle them into their room and shut the door.
Leesie leaves the table with the dirty plates balanced on her broken left hand.
I gather up the dirty glasses and join her.
She dumps her sling on the counter and whispers so only I can hear. “Dyed hair. Long, though. Pretty.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And those”—she rolls her eyes dramatically—“weren’t real.”
“I didn’t look.” I concentrate on scrubbing the plate in my hand.
Leesie elbows me. “Yes, you did.”
“They weren’t so big.”
“So you admit it?” She pulls the sprayer gadget out and rinses the plates I washed.
I nuzzle the side of her head. “Sorry. I won’t ever look at those again.”
“Or any other girl’s frontal zone.” She turns to me holding the sprayer like a weapon.
I hold up my hands. “For the rest of my life?”
“Yes. This is all you get.” She drops her hands to I can assess my fate.
I put my hands on her waist and whisper, “You know I’m a small breast guy.”
“There’s no such thing.” She glances down at her white T-shirt. “Should I get them fixed? Look like that?”
“No way, babe.” I hug her. “I want ‘em real.”
Leesie still has the sprayer in her hand, and somehow it gets pressed and soaks my back. I wrestle it away from her, making sure I douse her front.
She hides against my chest and whispers, “Do you want to go back out to the beach?”
“Yeah.” It’s too late, we’re too tired, too turned on, and feeling her up is a huge sin, but we’ll just roll around in the sand—make out some more—that’s it.
She takes my hand, walks backward to the door so I get a good view of her wet T-shirt, pulls me forward.
Gabriel opens the bedroom door. “Leesie?” he calls. “Alex needs you.”
The teasing excitement drains out of her face. “Sure. I’m coming.” She kisses me goodnight and disappears.
LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK
POEM #88, GOOD THING?
Alex sobs curled in a fetal
ball on the bathroom floor.
Gabriel picks her up,
tucks her in bed,
wipes her face
with tissues. “Come on,
now, my treasure,
enough.”
I relieve him of the box
of tissues. “Let her cry.”
His handsome face
shows doubt. “Are you sure?”
I nod and sniff, blinking
back my own tears that threaten
to break through the stone
I’ve buried my heart under.
Gabriel bends over and kisses
her forehead. “Goodnight, my Alex.”
He retreats elegantly, looking every bit
the millionaire playboy caught
in caring that’s morphing to love
with every tear Alex sheds.
Once he’s gone, she groans, hiccups.
“I can’t stop. I keep trying.
Gabriel saw me like this.
How hideous am I?”
I give her a fresh wad of
soft whiteness to staunch
the hot snot dripping down
her chin. “He loves you like this.”
“I wish.” She buries her face
in the tissues.
“Cry, Alex. Don’t stop.
Even I still believe
in the power of tears.”
She sobs and sobs,
mourning her hurt, her loss,
melting into new found
tenderness that tinges her pain
with promises of joy,
flutters of hope,
and the dawn of love.
In the morning, she meets
Dani with coolness, but doesn’t
tear all the hair out of her head
or stab her with the knife Alex
wears strapped to her leg when she dives.
Gabriel whisks her away
for a day off in the sun, lazing
on beaches and sipping icy fruit froth.
Dani’s got double shifts
until hell freezes over
to make up for leaving
everybody high and dry.
Seth’s working with her.
The boys have the other boat—
which leaves me my Michael
to dote on all day long.
Bonus.
We leave the dishes undone
and the place a wreck,
drive down to the blow holes,
buy spicy grilled chicken
from a roadside stand,
eat it, sitting side by side
on the bare coral shore
as waves crash against the cliffs
and force water in the cracks
/>
and up through the spouts
to spray white and pure
high into the air.
He picks up a drumstick.
“I’m sorry about last night.”
He bites and chews. “Good thing
Alex needed you.”
Good thing?
Bad thing?
It used to be so easy
to spot which was which.
I’ve opened the door
to bad thing.
Crave it more and more
every day. Would it
be so bad? Or would
it be the best thing
that ever happened to me?
I lean my head against
his shoulder. “If we would
have gone down to
the beach—?”
His eyes move away
from the intensity of mine
and gather the spectacle
of the ocean’s purity.
“I don’t know, babe.”
He shakes his head.
“I don’t know.”
Chapter 18
I KNOW
MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG – VOLUME #10
Dive Buddy: Leesie
Date: 06/08
Dive #: last time here
Location: Grand Cayman
Dive Site: Rehab Center
Weather Condition: sunshine
Water Condition: 2’ swells
Depth: on the surface
Visibility: 100+
Water Temp: fine
Bottom Time: the rest of the day
Comments:
Diving this morning. Seth and Dani. She ran the show. Whatever else you say about her, she knows her stuff. Great with the people on the boat. Not just the drooling guys. Even the kids and their moms.
I’m off this afternoon to take Leesie to her appointment at the rehab place. She got all dolled up for the nurses. Pretty white dress and the hip white scarf twisted around her head—I hadn’t noticed the silver and white beads tied onto the fringe. Lots of makeup. The only color she’s got on is the bead and shell necklace she thought was Suki’s. I love that she wears it.
“Ah, Sugar, look at you!” Her favorite nurse greets her with a hug. “So pretty! Better, no?”
Leesie blinks, getting emotional. “No more pills.” She’s refused to even take over-the-counter pain pills since that night she flushed her drugs down the toilet at Rum Point.
“Good for you.” Sugar pats her back.
We wait for the doctor in a treatment room. Leesie’s nervous. “What if it’s not fixed right?” She holds up her hand, twists it trying to see under cast and inside to the bones.
I take her hand. “Don’t worry.”
“What if he says I have to keep wearing the cast?”
“Then my plans for tomorrow are wrecked.” I want to get her in the water so bad.
“Here, take my ring. I don’t want cast-dust on it.”
I take her hand and slide the ring off her finger and put it in my pocket.
“Do you think they’re fat now? My fingers?”
I bring her fingers to my lips and kiss them. “Your fingers are fine.”
She tips her head to rest against my cheek. “I love you.”
“I know.”
She sticks her tongue out at me, and the doctor walks in. Leesie gets cherry red and flustered, but the dude has his nose in Leesie’s chart.
“Let’s see what we’ve got now.” He directs Leesie to perch on one of those doctor’s office exam tables. He checks how the wound on her head is healing. “Any headaches?”
“Only him.” Her eyebrows rise in my direction.
The doctor laughs. “How’s your nose?” His expert fingers press along the ridge of her nose, stop at the slight bump from the break. “Is it still tender here?”
“Not very.”
“Any nosebleeds?”
“No.”
“Good.” He unlatches her sling and pulls it off.
The dress is bare on top, shows how tan she’s getting.
The doctor runs his fingers all along her collarbone—spends extra time around the break. “This has healed nicely. Have you been using your arm?”
“Some.” She looks down at the white skirt of her dress draped over her knees.
“A lot.” I fold my arms across my chest.
She glares.
“Good.” The doctor helps her put the sling back on. “Wear the sling as needed for another two weeks. But you can take it off for exercise. Swimming would be good. Are you doing your exercises?”
“Yes. Every day.”
That and more. She works out until she hurts. I think she wants to be buff like Alex. I got to change her mind on that one.
The doctor finally gets to her hand. He rolls a wheelie table in front of her and takes an electric saw with a round whirling blade out of a drawer. “Rest your hand here.” He puts on safety glasses and revs up the saw. “Hold still.”
The blade whirrs and kicks up a billow of white dust. It’s hot in the room. Airless. A vision of him cutting her hand right off invades. I breathe faster and faster like a newbie diver in panic mode. Choke on the dust.
Leesie stops the doctor with a touch on his shoulder. “Are you all right?”
I wipe my face. “Fine.”
“Good—look.” She holds her hand up so I can see her cast hangs on by a mere half inch width.
The doctor puts down the saw and opens a drawer. “I’ll use my scissors on that. Don’t want to slice open your hand.”
He didn’t need to say that.
I take a deep breath, move closer for a better view. Snip. Snip. He pulls the cast off and her hand is free.
Pale, clammy, greenish contrasted with her tan fingertips. She turns it over. Four faint scars curved to fit my fingernails emerge and memory blurs my vision. She’s holding my hand for the very first time, talking about angels, and I hang on to her so tight I hurt her.
She sees them, too. Remembers? I hope so. I need her to remember the power and conviction she bathed my wounds with that night. I wish I could bathe hers like that now.
Not my element.
Saltwater, though. Healed me up fine in the end. It should work for her, too. A good place to start.
Tomorrow.
LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK
POEM # 89, SALTWATER WONDER
Water closes over my head.
My pulse rate triples.
Michael, his face inches
from mine as we sink
together, motions slow,
take it slow, slow, slow.
I swallow, and my ears pop
like we practiced yesterday
in the pool, swallow again.
No pinching my nose and blowing
like I learned with him back
in SLC in that hotel pool—
he’s worried about pressure
on my weakened nose.
To avoid strain on my newly
healed collarbone, Michael
geared me up in the water,
kicking tanks and weights to where
I floated and gently wrapped me
in the complex web of equipment.
He motions, Okay?
I nod—remember to return
his signal, swallow again
and bump my leg into his
on purpose. Private lesson today.
No other students.
Just him and me, coral
and aqua water. Stray fish
staring at me like I’m an alien.
Alex with her students stir
up the sand on the other side
of the boat.
I’m in a new world with
Michael—his world
where my heart races
and I want to kick free
and swim for blue skies,
his world where bubbles
he exhales break around me,
calm my soul enough to pass off
>
skills kneeling in the sand,
wetsuited knees touching,
gauges checked, masks cleared,
air supply recovered, buddy
breathing.
Buoyancy balanced, he
leads me on a swim around
that replaces final fearful
wisps with wonder.
Is this really just under the surface?
Or did he transport me?
Am I on the moon? Mars? Venus?
A purplish world where
large flat fans screen the water
in lazy rhythm, fantastical formations
top every coral head.
A kingdom of tiny bright subjects
whiz in and out of their intricate
castles. Yellow. Blue. Black. Orange.
Vivid in tubular rays descending
from our own bright sun,
revealing their hidden playground.
Too soon we’re on the surface.
Too soon Michael unsnaps my B.C.
and unsnugs the Velcro cumberbun.
Too soon he boosts me back into the boat.
Too soon he reads the delight
in my face.
“Can we go again?”
I’m dying for another taste
of this mystery he loves so much.
He crushes me close, wipes a tear
from his eye before it can fall.
“Sure, babe.” He whispers,
“I love you.”
I blink, sniff, and manage to say,
“I know,” before his lips
take my breath away.
Chapter 19
MERMAID?
LEESIE HUNT / CHATSPOT LOG / 06/12 9:18 PM
Kimbo69 says: Where have you been?
Leesie327 says: Diving every day.
Kimbo69 says: Doesn’t it scare you?
Leesie327 says: Not anymore. I love it. I love it. I love it.
Kimbo69 says: You love it?
Leesie327 says: I’m totally certified now and I love it.
Kimbo69 says: Are you sure you didn’t mean certifiable?