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Soon they were in the water, and Alex sank like a stone. Hope descended more slowly, still getting the hang of diving, then checked her dive computer. They were in twenty-five feet of water and her ears were well adjusted to the depth. She returned Alex’s ok signal, and he beckoned her to follow.
They slipped over a ledge and descended further. Hope added too much air into her BCD and began to float up before quickly dumping the excess air and continuing after Alex, who of course, looked effortless. He hovered close to the reef but never touched it, and hardly appeared to breathe. Goals, Hope. Goals.
Alex approached a coral outcropping and stopped, tilting his head this way and that. Hope came up beside him as he let out a triumphant, “Ha!”
Hope startled, not realizing she could hear so well underwater. He turned to her, smiling around his regulator, and beckoned her closer. Alex gestured for her to hold on to his arm to steady herself and pointed.
Right in front of her was a bright yellow seahorse about three inches tall, its tail curled around a purple sea fan. Next to it was another, this one with brown and white stripes, its body waving back and forth gently in the surge.
Alex looked at her as she excitedly held up two fingers. He shook his head and held up four, eyes crinkling. Hope frowned, studying the reef. There! A purple one clung off to the side, so she held up a third finger. But she couldn’t see any more. She turned to him and shrugged. Is he seeing things, or what?
Alex pointed directly in front of her, and the beautifully camouflaged seahorse appeared. It was nearly the same shade as the coral it clung to, a brownish red, and its tail curled around a clump of coral. Hope stared, fascinated.
He waited until she was done and gestured to continue. Though Hope had joined a couple of morning group trips, having Alex to herself was a different experience altogether. It was as if he knew every inch of the reef. The two swam slowly on, a school of creole wrasse splitting around them in a cloud of blue iridescence. Hope craned her neck, enchanted by the sight, and Alex stilled, smiling back at her, then held her gaze longer than strictly necessary.
He soon asked how much air she had left, and she replied with two fingers on the lower arm of her wetsuit as he’d taught—2000 psi. Alex nodded and turned back around to lead.
Out of the corner of her eye, Hope spied a turtle resting in a crevice and turned for a closer look. It watched her, slowly blinking. About three feet long, it was mottled brownish-green with a sharpened beak for a mouth. Excited, she whirled around to get Alex’s attention.
Her face collided with his fin.
Hope’s mask was knocked completely off, and the regulator dislodged from her mouth. The world became an amorphous scene with no clarity. She tightly closed her eyes, and by reflex tried to take a breath, only getting seawater. Her brain immediately short-circuited as her survival reflex took over.
I have to get to air NOW.
Hope wanted to scream, but some primitive part of her brain prevented that as she started to bolt for the surface. Eyes screwed shut, she was flailing upwards when two powerful hands grabbed her arms and held her in place.
She thrashed against the restraint, desperate to breathe.
I’m drowning!
The hands let go, which was somehow even more frightening. Then her regulator suddenly appeared in her mouth, and she took a long shuddering breath of cool, incredible air as her nostrils were gently pinched closed. Her eyes were still clamped shut.
Hope sucked in the clean air, taking great, panicky gasps. Her body was desperate for the life-giving air. Every muscle clenched as she opened and closed her hands. There was a gentle pressure against her forehead, followed by another soft pressure on one cheek.
At last, Hope opened her eyes, and through the fuzzy water-induced panic found Alex leaning his forehead against hers, one hand resting against her cheek as the other held her nose closed. She leaned into him, into his strength, but she was still taking shuddering breaths, her heart exploding in her chest. She reached out and gripped his arms, shaking badly but desperate for the contact to ground her.
He withdrew his head slightly, removing the hand holding her nose to point at her and gave her a fuzzy-looking ok signal. She whipped her head back and forth. He shook his and pointed at her again forcefully, once again giving her the ok.
He’s not asking if I’m ok—he’s telling me I’m ok.
Looking through the blurred scene before her, Alex held her mask in his hand. He gently placed it against her face and gestured for her to clear it, and she nodded. She closed her eyes and began performing the task. It took her several panicky breaths, and her hands trembled so badly she had a hard time keeping hold of the mask. The world became sharp again as she gazed up.
Hope’s heart still pounded, and she tried to fight against the instinct to rush to the surface now. Her panic had subsided enough to know a bolt to the surface could be very dangerous. Forcing herself to focus, she pulled the mask strap behind her head and shut her eyes again, still taking great, gasping breaths. At last, she opened her eyes to find herself staring at Alex in sharp focus now.
He gazed at her—steady, calm, and in control—and she started to relax.
Still holding on to her arm with one hand, Alex waved his other hand gently in front of his mouth, matching his slow inhales and exhales, and gesturing for her to copy him. She tried to do so, still taking large, choking gasps. Some of her breaths were sobs as her eyes leaked a steady stream of tears.
Alex’s gaze never left her, and she fixated on his crystal blue eyes—they were her lifeline.
Once again, he leaned his forehead against hers and cupped her face in his hands as she tried to match his slow, steady breaths. Hope concentrated on the gentle pressure of his hands, and, an eternity later, her breathing calmed. He pulled back from her, then gave her the thumbs-up signal.
They began slowly ascending as they held each other’s arms, their eyes locked together, faces only inches apart.
As they broke the surface and inflated their BCDs, Hope pulled her mask up with shaking hands and cried in earnest. Alex drew her into a clumsy embrace—scuba equipment wasn’t made for intimate moments.
“You’re fine, Hope. You did great. I am so proud of you.” He pulled away to grasp her arms, keeping eye contact with her.
