behind him, and plopped it onto the counter
between them. “But it’s probably covered under the standard release form.”
John
nodded. He waited while Chris considered the situation out loud.
“You
won’t be diving alone, of course.”
“Right.”
John nodded again.
“And you
gotta do well on my quiz before we go out.”
“No
problem.” John knew he could ace any written test—he always did well on paper.
Chris
scratched his chin again. It sounded like sandpaper. After what seemed like
forever but was probably only ten seconds, he made up his mind.
“If you
start to feel that way again, give me a sign—hands at your throat works for
me—and I’ll drag you up. Also, you gotta wear a full-face mask.” He waited for
John’s nod before grinning. The lantern of his large white teeth lit up his
long face. “Now that’s settled, I gotta ask: is it true that some woman pulled
you out?”
“Afraid
so.” John shifted his feet, shrugged, and smiled. “Any idea who she was?”
“Maybe.
What’d she look like?” Chris’s eyes had taken on a funny light, especially
given how serious he’d been only seconds before. Later, John would wonder
uneasily if he’d misread Chris the whole time or if he’d turned into a whack
job only after hearing John’s story.
“Not
sure. I was a little out of it.”
“Did you
see breasts?” Chris sounded eager; breasts might do that, but the fact that
he’d even asked the question stunned John.
“Y-yes,”
he said. “Is that relevant?”
Chris’s
grin had grown excited. “Maybe. I’ve seen one or two of them but never so close
to the island.”
“Of
who?” The change that had come over Chris surprised John. Worse yet, he
couldn’t follow Chris’s narrative. “How many women swim alone and naked around
here?”
Chris
blinked as though the question caught him by surprise. “Women? No women swim
alone and naked around here.”
John
began to feel exasperated, but he pushed it down. It would do no good to let it
out; who knows how Chris’s mood would shift. “I’m sorry. What are we talking
about then?”
Chris’s
expression lightened. “The gente del mar . I’ve seen them several times.”
“‘ Gente
del mar’ ? People of the sea?” Even when he translated it into English, John
didn’t understand as quickly as he should. When he did, incredulity flickered
through his thoughts, and then died down. He smiled. “I see you talked to
Tomás. He teased me too.”
Chris,
who’d been staring out the window and muttering to himself, a little smile
curling his mouth, stopped and focused on John. “No one’s teasing you. I have seen mermaids. And so have other Culebrenses. Pablo and Jorge, the guys who
work on my boat, talk about seeing mermaids. …”
“The
oceans are such a huge mystery,” John said, choosing his words carefully.
Chris’s
smile faded. “You think I’m one of those people who believe in UFOs and the
Bermuda Triangle, don’t you?”
John
couldn’t meet Chris’s eyes. “I didn’t say that.”
Awkward
silence padded the space between them. John looked down at the consent form
that Chris had left on the counter. One man’s fish might be another’s mermaid.
Who was he to decide? He looked at Chris, who watched him, shrugged again, and
smiled.
“A
mermaid’s certainly better than a giant squid.”
Chris
smiled back. “I bet you see her again. I’d take you out, panic attacks and all,
just for the chance to be with you when you do.”
***
After
leaving the dive shop, John spent the rest of the morning in Dewey. Chris, although
he’d agreed to rent a kayak, had stipulated that he needed to check on John for
his own peace of mind. What that meant was that John had to wait until
tomorrow. So he shopped for supplies at the mercado , picking up a
Caribbean soda made with tamarind syrup, peanut butter, a loaf of bread, and a
half a dozen oranges. He’d brought a camp stove and enamelware for some of his
meals but only