Your Dreamland

     “Aren’t you afraid?”

     My voice slices through their sunny, sickening giggles. Robert’s pretending to push Shelly off the boat as she pokes his stomach, and their hips bump together as we slide over the waves. Their flirtatious banter is making me seasick. I grab the accelerator and slow us down, the engine quieting to a low rumble.

     They pause and stare at me. I watch their smiles tighten as they take in my brown tangles scooped up in a rubber-band-bun, my raggedy wetsuit, my tired eyes. Scuba instructors are supposed to be the human equivalent of dolphins—peppy, young, adventurous, welcoming, and ready with tricks to share. Honey, I feel Shelly whining telepathically to her husband, why did we end up with her? As if he received the message, Robert wraps his blue-wet-suited arms around Shelly and grabs a tendril of her soft white hair.

     “What’s there to be scared of, mate?” he asks with a heavy Australian accent. It sounds fake, like the costumed fish characters at Disneyland from my childhood road trips down California. He shakes his yellow curls, laughs, and adds, “Except for the sharks…”

     “What!” Shelly shrieks. “You didn’t tell me there were gonna be sharks! Robbie!” She burrows into his chest, exaggerating her shivers so much that it looks like she’s having a seizure.

     “There are no sharks,” I say, looking out at the open emerald water. It’s two in the afternoon, and the Sydney coast was bustling with surfers and tanners and naked babies when we left, but now all I can see are speckles of people and towels against the bare sand.

     I look back into their smiling eyes. “I was just asking if you’re scared because of the incident a few weeks ago? You know, the reason that the sea was blocked off…?” I trail off.

     They stare at me again, and I realize that they’ve probably been honeymooning in sunny resorts for the past month, focused on tender kisses and coconut suntan oil instead of missing persons.

     “What incident?” demands Shelly, running her pink fingernails up and down her goose-bumped arms.

     I should have stayed quiet.

     “Never mind,” I say. “I was just joking with you. You’re going to have a great time.”

     Just like we used to have.

***

     As the cold washed over you, did you remember how wonderful it used to be? Did you picture that first spring break? Did you imagine the streets of Mexico as your eyes were bound shut by the salt?

     I miss you when I think about La Paz. We were there on your twentieth birthday, and I sang to you in my broken Spanish as we wandered the warm streets, hands clasped tight, while schoolchildren giggled at the crazy American tourists. We ate salsa verde on tacos, drank salty margaritas, looked out our dusty hotel window at the pale moon.

     We separated one morning after an argument stemmed by a group of men calling out to me in my short yellow dress. I explored the flea markets and you explored the fish markets and eventually we met up again in the afternoon for scuba. As I dove deeper and deeper down into the abyss of pink fish and red coral and sparkling seaweed, you were right beside me. And under the water, where talking was impossible, all was forgiven.

***

     I look down at my rusty compass and steer us west. Shelly and Robert are lying on the warm wooden floor. His face is in her sweaty armpit, which makes me gag a bit, and she’s whispering into his ear. I catch the words weird and regret this. He’s just making little uh-huh noises and stroking her sun-burnt cheek.

     We’re finally at the yellow buoy. Its red stripes stick out of the water, and the foam bobs up and down under the clear waves.

     “Ready to dive?” I ask.

     “I’m not so sure now,” says Shelly, her green eyes wavering.
     “Sweetie, come on. We didn’t just pay this much money to take a thirty-minute boat ride and turn around. We have the lovely Lucy here to help us. And we took all those scuba lessons last month! Give it a try at least?”

     She looks back at him and nods okay. He grins. Begging always works.

     “Good choice,” I say. “Coral reefs are magical. You’ll never want to leave the water once you’re down there.”

     You told me you never wanted to leave the water. You got your wish.

***

     “Lucy?” you said, as if my name was a question, while you ran your finger around the parameter of my left hand, pausing at the shimmering golden ring. “We need to talk.”

     I put down my lemonade. The sounds of the café filtered away, the clinking porcelain plates and gossiping waitresses and gurgling babies dulling. All I could hear was my heart beating. I knew what was coming.

     “What’s up?” I asked, trying to even my voice.

     “You know how I’ve been out of work recently?” you asked. I nodded. What did work have to do with us breaking up?

     “Well, I’ve been thinking about possible job opportunities, and I remembered scuba diving in La Paz…”

     “Uh huh…”

     “And I remembered our dream of one day living in Sydney…”

     “And?”

     “Come on, Lucy, you know what I’m getting at. I’m sick of the monotony of the states. Let’s move to Australia and become scuba instructors. You’re sick of your life-guarding job, and I don’t even have one…”

     You continued, mumbling about living on the beach, and I stopped listening. But when you asked if I was in, I couldn’t say no. You made it sound magical.

     So we left.

***

     They came prepared in matching pink and blue wet suits, but I toss over some additional gear. I give Robert two pairs of brand-new flippers and help strap on their breathing tanks, then connect tubes to their masks.

     “So you took a few classes before, right?” I ask.

     “Sure,” Shelly says, as she rustles around in her backpack, searching for something. I assume it’s a camera. But when I glance down, I see she’s gripping a compact mirror.

     As she pulls her hair into a bun, making Robert hold up the mirror, and puts on another layer of water-proof mascara, I pull on my own breathing tank and mask. I grab my flippers and step into each one, forcing the plastic over my feet.

     After I anchor the motor to the buoy, I reach out my arms.
     “Okay, so you’re going to grip my hands and then slowly drop into the water. Before you sink, practice breathing a few times. Then, turn and swim down, making sure to breathe through your nose so your ears don’t…” As I rattle off instructions, their eyes glaze over, and I remember that there’s not really a point to them completely understanding the art of scuba.

     “Alright, mate,” says Robert. “Can we get started?”

     “Of course,” I say. I grasp their hands and we each plop into the water. And then, suddenly, I give them a signal and we’re off. I hear the familiar sound of my breath, the whir of oxygen traveling through the plastic. As I float downwards, I watch Robert and Shelly. Their fingers are interwoven and they grin through their masks, pointing to sparkling yellow fish. It’s just like us, before it all.

***

     It was okay at first, when we were trained together and would skip home each night, salty from the ocean and ready to eat sticky sweet oranges shipped to Sidney from California.     

     But you started disappearing. I remember that first night you were gone. I woke up cold, shivering, my skin covered in goosebumps. The comforter was on the floor and the bed was empty. I looked through the house, calling your name, but I couldn’t find you.

     Four hours and three boxes of tissues later, you re-appeared, dripping wet.

     Your answer to my sobs and questions?

     “I was scuba diving.”

***

     They’re deeper now. Shelly’s ponytail released itself as they swam down, and her flowing hair reminds me of the rare translucent octopi, white and reaching, ready to be preyed upon.

     I float in a patch of seaweed, waiting for them to discover the coral caves. They will. They always do. You knew about them, but you didn’t suspect a thing when I lured you in.

***

     I had to do it. You were always gone, your seat at the table empty, your pillow freezing. I learned to cook, to care for myself. My friends tactfully sat me down and asked if we were still together; they never saw you anymore. I said yes but I meant for now.

     You were obsessed with it, with scuba, with disappearing from the world and exploring this hidden jungle. You were hooked to this drug, in love with it, and you didn’t need me anymore.

     I started going crazy trying to bring you back, cooking you Mexican food with salsa verde like before. But now it was different.

***

     They’ve found it. They’re jumping into the hole, the trap, touching the glassy white patterns. Schools of rainbow fish tickle their feet, and their giggles turn into tiny bubbles that will slowly travel up to the surface as the only evidence that they’re down here.

     I follow them. They can’t hear me, see me. All they can feel is the water and the artificial air in their lungs.

     I plunge forward and grab the air tubes. Just like always.

***

     You didn’t expect it. Any of it. I’d stopped teaching scuba lessons then and was working in the neighborhood coffee shop, so I remember your eyebrow raise when you found me sitting in your boat in the backyard at five in the morning. Waiting.

     As we swam down once again, I knew it was finally over. You were an expert, but I was a gymnast, and I knew how to leap up from under you in the water. I grabbed your tube and watched as your lungs filled with water. You shrunk, your body convulsing, the pores of your skin expanding. I couldn’t watch, but I knew it was right. You were in a dreamland, and I had to save you.

***

     They scream, their high-pitched underwater voices dissolving into the empty ocean. Their hands turn white as they grip each other and try to swim towards the surface. I kick Shelly and push her deeper into the cave, then Robert. I push harder, with my fins, and then race away, towards the surface. They’ll never make it up alive. As I feel the water flipping off my skin as I swim up up up, I smile. There are fish around me and my boat outside and I just saved another couple from our fate. Your fate. Your dreamland.