“Okay,” he says, defeated.
He whimpers quietly as I sit next to him watching him break up the sandwich into tiny bits and force them into his mouth as though they were pieces of poison. I think Dillon’s bluffing about Dad. The phone hasn’t rung in ages, and Mum says he doesn’t pick up when she rings. But what if he’s not?
“What did you do with my pills?” he asks. “I need them—I get all blocked up when I eat.”
“I threw them away,” I say. “They’re dangerous.”
He chucks a bit of sandwich on the floor, like a toddler having a tantrum.
“Why were you at the bar last night, Dil? I thought you were too sick to come out.”
“I’m not sick, and I don’t need to eat. I went to make sure you were okay. Lara told me where you were going, and I was worried about you. You don’t like going to the city.”
“I was fine. I was doing you a favor by keeping her away from you.”
“No more diving, Elsie. I don’t want to lose you.”
“Eat the sandwich,” I say. “Please, just eat.”
Later, after Mum and I have eaten two ice creams each, I remove Dillon’s laxatives from under my bed, along with my Superdrug stash, and hide them in my cupboard in the boathouse.
12
A WEEK AFTER TAY’S RETURN, WE SHORE DIVE FROM ROSEMARKIE BEACH. Tay follows me along the seabed as I twist and turn and run my fingers through the parsley seaweed. I put on a show for him and he laps it up. Bubbles trail from his open mouth as he laughs, and the minutes we spend under the surface feel like hours. And when our bodies collide against each other, our wetsuits feel invisible and we are just two creatures writhing around in our natural habitats. Dillon is wrong, though. I have not turned into a fish. I am turning into water, fluid and ever changing. I am not a visitor to the ocean; I am part of it.
Tay and I play Rock Paper Scissors, and the loser has to remove an item of “clothing.” Tay loses. When he has removed both fins, his booties, his mask, and the top half of his wetsuit, and secured them under a rock, I start to feel sorry for him. He keeps blinking as the salt stings his eyes, and he has goose bumps all over his arms, but he still smiles.
He arches his back and reaches over his head to grab his feet. He is almost a perfect circle. I glide through him and then back underneath him, and then he breaks and swoops down on me, engulfing me with arms, legs, body. We rise together, tangled. The sun beats down on our heads as we get our breath back.
“I need a rest,” Tay gasps. “I can’t keep up with you.”
“Liar,” I say. I know that he’s holding back.
“I’ve got to save my energy,” he says. “Mick’s got me working hard at the diving club.”
Tay thinks Danny needs a bit of time, so I haven’t been there since Tay’s been back, even though Danny still owes me a couple of lessons. Not having the lessons is okay because I’ve got Tay, but I miss hanging out at the Black Fin, and I miss Mick.
As we bask in the sun on the pink grainy sand while our wetsuits hang over a rock, I tell Tay that I want to go back to the drop-off. He turns his head away from me.
“Are you listening to me?”
“I’m not listening, because it’s a crazy idea.”
He tells me it’s impossible. That I’ll need extra weights, that it’s too deep, too technical, too cold. The tides aren’t right, the current is too strong. He says it doesn’t matter how long I can hold my breath for; it’s the coming back up that’s risky. He lists a hundred reasons why it’s a crazy idea. Then I tell him that I’m going with or without his help.
He remains lying still with his eyes closed. I want him to open them and look at me just for a second so he can see how important this is to me.
“It’s his resting place. I just want to see it. I was so close before.”
Tay rolls over and kisses me. He’s gentle, but his weight presses down on me.
“Rest here with me,” he groans. “We’re not otters. We’re humans. We’re meant to do other things with our time.”
Finally, I bargain with him.
“If you come with me, I’ll get naked for you.”
He opens one eye lazily.
“When will you get naked?”
“Soon,” I say.
“I’ll think about it,” he says, then covers my mouth with his.
We roll around in the sand until some kids climb over the rocks that were shielding us, sniggering. As I gather our wetsuits, Tay stares at something in the water.
“Do you see that?” He’s beaming. I have never seen him look so beautiful, with his stubble and his new long hair. The salt in it catches the light, so it looks like he is covered in glitter. I look toward the spot that he’s peering at, but I can’t see anything.
“Look closely. Can you see that reddish stone? You can see the light coming through it.”
“What is it?” I ask, even though everything looks red to me.
“It’s called jasper,” he whispers. “Actually, it’s a mineral, not a stone.”