Unbroken Connection (8 page)

LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK
POEM #55, THE BEST TIME I EVER HAD

(title credit:
Phil the Pill
Philip Aaron Hunt, my brother)

Wet bike wheels sped silent

down the dirt road past the grain elevator

slicked into a mud speedway complete with

jumps, bumps and water obstructions.

We flew round and round the loop

up and down the lane

my shins slick with rain and mud,

toes pickling in smelly sneakers,

hair streaming muddy water into my eyes,

down my neck.

You in the lead, howling with laughter

at my washboarded shrieks across the ruts—

reverb hysteria that kept the laughter peeling

with the thunder and biblical deluge.

Our feet pushed the pedals faster and faster,

together.

On and on, together.

Not wanting this moment of life to pass

into shadows, misunderstanding,

sharp edges that won’t know

round and round, racing and laughing

until the cold, the storm, the thunder bolts

win.

Chapter 10

CONNECTIONS

MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG—VOLUME #10

D
IVE
B
UDDY
: Leesie

D
ATE
: 1/23

D
IVE
#: 1 on my cell

L
OCATION
: Tap Lamu

D
IVE
S
ITE
: Queen Nautica

W
EATHER
C
ONDITION
: sunny

W
ATER
C
ONDITION
: flat

D
EPTH
: bottomless

V
ISIBILITY
: forever

W
ATER
T
EMP
.: steamy

B
OTTOM
T
IME
: 37 minutes

C
OMMENTS
:

I passed off my license. Captain Mike. How does that sound? Pretty freaking amazing.

Doesn’t compare, though to flipping open my cell, watching for a signal as the launch glides alongside the dock, seeing those happy bars dancing on the screen, and punching numbers. It rings ten times and goes to her voice mail.

I almost chuck my new cell phone into the bay. I’m so stupid. I bought Leesie a cell, but I didn’t have one that worked here.

I managed to get to the internet a couple times coming and going, getting my papers signed off. I found her waiting up for me Wednesday at, freak, it must have been three, oozing with delight over my high-tech engagement present. She doesn’t know that’s what it was. I need to start looking for diamonds. She’ll get that for sure.

She’s strangely calm. Confident. In me? I don’t know. Maybe in her God’s ability to work miracles. That’s what it’s going to take. A big fat giant one. I agreed to stop trying to get her to come to Thailand. She promised not to mention any guys who cross her path. We made a pact to stop bringing up M-words, like marriage and missionaries. We can talk about anything except us.

Ironic. I came all this way so she’d be free of me, and it took about two seconds for us to go way deeper than we ever would have face to face. It’s tough long-distance. I want her in my arms. But we decided I should stay here. I need the experience. She needs to go to school. I could blow everything off and get on a plane tomorrow. Knowing that helps me stay one more day.

And now I’ve got a cell phone. I won’t have to wait until we get into a town big enough to have an internet bar or wander around the boat when we dock searching for Wi-Fi to steal. No cell signal out at sea or when we start cruising the Similans, but whenever we dock, I can call her. I dream of hearing her voice like I used to dream of lying next to her all night.

But where the hell is she? I dial again, amble away from the noise of unloading. It starts to ring.

Funny how little love can grow on. I used to think it took a lot of sex to love someone. But the way I feel about Leesie keeps expanding, tripling, quadrupling every time I think about her. I don’t know how I can love her more every day, but I do. What will it be like when I can hold her again? Sniff her hair? Kiss the scars I left on the back of her hand? What will it be like to have her lips caress mine again? What will it be like to go where we never have? How can two people contain that much love? How can they withstand it?

On the sixth ring, I hear, “Hey? Michael?”

Where is she? Asleep, stupid. It’s 3 AM her time.

“Sorry to wake you.”

“It is you! Perfect to wake me. Are you kidding? It’s so good to hear your voice. My roomy went home for an early weekend, so I’m all alone wearing your sweatshirt.”

“Freak, Leese, you’re not allowed to sound that sexy.”

She yawns. “What’s up with you?”

“I’ll blame your innocence for that question.”

She actually laughs. “I can’t believe you said that.” She exhales into the phone—turns me on even more. “I’m asking about news.”

“Got my license.” I turn my back on Tap Lamu, the dock outside Khoa Lak where we’re berthed to load fresh supplies for the coming week, and stare down into the water. “Captain Mike just in time.”

“Cool.”

“Next week we’ve got a 10-day charter out to Burma, and we’ll catch the Similan opening on the way home. Dive club. Serious action.” I’m talking way fast—like a kid with a crush on his teacher.

“Even cooler. How do you like living on a boat?”

Now I laugh. “You should see my cabin.” I walk towards the back of the boat.

“Is it as cool as you?”

“Hot and stuffy. Size of a closet.” I stop outside the hole Claude and I and one of the deck boys share. “Three bunks. The smell is a bit overpowering.”

“Yuck. Is it dirty?”

“No. Clean enough.” I turn away from home sweet home and lower my voice. “I won’t get rabies or anything. But Claude reeks it up with the foulest farts you can imagine.”

She cracks up. “A little more than I wanted to know.”

“You never smelled like that.”

“Gross!” Now she’s animated. “I hope not.”

I lean over the back railing and gaze out at the tropical blue bay fringed with lush green islands. “What is it with chicks—don’t you have gas at all?”

“It can get nasty—you wouldn’t believe what it’s like around here at the wrong time of the month. Makes it industrial. Times six of us.”

I pull a face she can’t see. “I don’t ever remember you ripping one.”

“A lady is discreet around the man she loves.”

“I can’t believe I waited all week to hear your voice and we’re discussing farting.” Freak, I love her.

“I think we outlawed everything else.”

“You managed to say you love me.”

“I’m clever that way.” She sighs.

My voice gets husky. “So equal time.”

“Okay.”

There’s a big lump in my throat I can’t speak through.

“I’m waiting, Michael.”

I swallow, but my voice is still rough. “I want to say it, but I want it to be bigger than any other time anyone else in the world has ever said I love you.”

“That is so not fair.” Her voice catches. “I can’t ever say anything that matches that.”

My eyes close. “Just breathe into the phone and let me pretend it’s warm on my cheek.”

I take a deep breath, hold it and blow it out long and slow. Free dive venting. Nothing kinky.

Leesie follows my lead. We breathe in sync, communing in a way words can’t. Another deep breath, and another. Breathe deeper and deeper, exhale longer and longer, get ready to hold your breath when she says, “good-bye” and hangs up. Neither of us want to stop the cycle. Neither of us can speak.

“Next week,” she finally whispers. I imagine her lying back on her pillows, long hair framing her face, still breathing in rhythm with me.

“I love you,” we whisper together.

And then she’s gone, and I’m standing on the upper deck of the Queen Nautica staring at wiry brown Thai boys wheeling hand trucks and wagons out to the boat. Cases of water and beer, boxes of greens, bags of rice, Styrofoam coolers of fish and meat. A chain of strong backs hefts it down into the bowels of the boat. Noise and heat and jungle humidity roll me back to reality.

I already filled all the tanks. Nice to have a compressor onboard. We’re even rigged for Nitrox. The gear’s hanging pretty in the lockers. The weights are sorted by size. I checked the first-aid kit. The O2 bottle is full. I’m off until tomorrow night. I can do anything. Go anywhere.

But all I want to do is call Leesie again. I dial. “Hey.”

She yawns into the phone. “I’m so glad you called back.” I can feel her smile. “We lost our connection.”

“Impossible, babe, not us.”

Chapter 11

APART

LEESIE HUNT / CHATSPOT LOG /10/27 11:17 AM