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Summer passed. Ryo continued to slowly, gradually improve. His stump healed. He had therapy, learning to walk with a prosthesis. He stayed in diapers full time, making no effort to get to the toilet. Ro eventually convinced him she wasn’t abalone diving. She just picked up more diving classes since it was the busy tourist season. He was reluctant in his trust, as if he didn’t fully believe her. She reiterated what the doctors and his therapist said; he was just emotionally scarred from his own attack. Tourists flocked to their small coastal town. They went diving, surfing, swimming. No shark attacks all scorching summer long. There were a few sightings. Great white breeding season passed. Abalone season was drawing to a close. The late summer sun beat strongly on.
Ro swam through the open water, hugging the craggy reef line. The churning tide pushed and pulled her as she hunted the elusive abalone. The shells blended perfectly with the algae covered rocks. Long, flowing seaweed and kelp helped hide the hand-sized sea snails. Ro felt her way along slowly, her seasoned eye on the lookout for any bumps or movement that might give the snail away.
The abalone liked cold, deep water and strong currents. Their muscled feet clutched tightly to the rock. Removing them was delicate, tricky work. The abalone were very touch sensitive; she had one shot to remove them before they clamped down tightly to the rocks in a defensive anchor. She could still remove them after that, but the odds of damaging the valuable delicacy increased. A single abalone could sell for a hundred bucks. To pry them loose, she used a tool that resembled a paint scraper. She slid the flat blade under the snail, pried it loose, scooped it up and put it in her bag. Intact, whole, and sure to fetch top dollar.
Before she did any of that, her first action was to measure the shell to make sure it was legal size. To keep wild abalone farming sustainable, there were strictly enforced limits, licenses, and permits. Ro took care of her end, but most of that fell on Sheila’s head.
Ro moved along through the kelp field, searching for another abalone cluster. She was on her last bag of the day. It had been a good dive. One abalone bag could net a few thousand dollars. A boat needed at least three bags full to break even with operating costs. She’d send up over half a dozen. They were sitting pretty today. All the bags were of green lipped abalone, which fetched the highest market prices, particularly in Asia.
This last bag was almost full. She just needed a few more abalone and she could call it a day. She’d been under for several hours filling up bag after bag of abalone. This spot was empty; time to move on. She looked up, searching all around. She was far under the ocean, smack dab in the middle of the great whites’ hunting ground. Up on the surface above, the sun beat down in a merciless, hazy heat. Sheila wore a sunhat, sunglasses, and an old t-shirt dress. Down here, Ro had on a wetsuit due to how cold it was. Summer temperatures above, winter below. The sun’s heat couldn’t penetrate this deep. The light still reached, making everything around her a murky, blurry blue.
Her vision was limited through her mask. She’d never see a shark coming until it was too late. She couldn’t hear under the water. She was a helpless sitting duck. A large, seal shaped happy meal. Down here, the sharks had all the advantages. Sight, sound, smell, stealth, strength. Teeth. Her only defenses were the shark shield-a small, rectangular black box with a red button that emitted an electromagnetic field to deter sharks- and the shark prod- a new invention that was basically an underwater cattleprod modified for sharks.
Looking around, she saw no sign of a shark, so she was safe to move on. She kicked hard, swimming parallel to the current until she found a promising spot. Pushing aside the dark green undersea foliage, she hit pay shell. With one last safety check, she began to collect the last few abalone she needed to fill her bag.
Some abalone divers used a motorized shark cages as an added layer of protection. The small cages slowed down the hunt. Moving along in the cage was slow. They were bulky and cumbersome. Ro preferred the protection of time. She could swim and gather abalone much faster without it. Which meant less time in the water. Less time for a shark to find her.
She put an abalone into her bag when a large, blurry movement in the murky distance caught her eye. Instantly, all her senses went on alert. She gripped the shark prod tightly and slipped her abalone scraper into her bag. Her heart beat sped up as adrenaline kicked in, but she kept her breathing even. Forced herself to stay calm. Panic killed divers. She kept her eyes on that blurry shape. From this distance, it could’ve been anything; a dolphin, a small whale, a tightly packed school of fish. Or a shark. Whatever it was, she wasn’t sticking around to find out.
An image of Ryo’s mangled, severed leg popped into her head. White bone sticking out of red meat. That could be her. Ryo’s voice, his tear-filled, shaky pleas, filled her mind. The shadow circled closer with each arc. She squeezed the prod’s long handle and began to swim for the surface. Adrenaline gave renewed vigor and strength to her tired limbs. She kept her fear tightly in check. She swam in slow, wide circles and always kept the tip of the shark prod between her body and the lazily approaching shadow. Keeping pace with the potential predator.
Other sharks could be approaching. She made sure to never leave her back exposed to the same side for too long. That gave her hunters an opportunity to strike her blind. Just because she didn’t see a shark didn’t mean it wasn’t there. Her instincts screamed for her to swim break-neck for the surface and the safety of the boat in a blind panic.
Too rapid of an ascent put her in just as much danger as the shark circling her. Even at a depth of thirty some feet, she risked getting the bends, or decompression sickness if she ascended too fast. A blind swim would also trigger the shark’s hunting instincts, enticing it to chase her. It also made her few defenses useless.
Gradually, she worked her way to the surface. The seconds stretched into tense minutes that felt like hours. She glanced up every so often, careful to keep herself oriented to the boat. She could clearly see the outline of the shark now as it circled closer, growing more bold. Memories of Ryo’s sobbing filled her ears.
[I]Please, Ro. Stay out of the water. We’ll be alright. It’s not worth your life.
Say you mean it, Ro. Not just an empty promise. I love you.[/I]
I love you, too.
If anything happened to you, I don’t know what I’d do.
How would Ryo react to Sheila telling him his wife was dead? He’d have to plan her funeral. Who would take care of him with her gone?
The great white was massive; easily seventeen feet in her estimation. Maybe that was just her fear talking. The jet black eyes focused on her were empty and cold. Just a beast full of a voracious, ancient hunger. She could make out every detail clearly. Gray upper body, white belly. Huge gills. Pink gums. Rows of serrated teeth. She felt like a chicken on the chopping block.
Ro clutched the prod, ready to poke the shark if it got any closer. She stared her death in the eye. In the end, she had only one regret. She never should’ve lied to her injured husband. The shock of her death might be more than her pretty, fragile doll could handle. Betrayal, hurt, and lies would be his last memories and emotions of her.
The shark circled closer, still swimming lazily. She turned with it. She risked a glance up; she was three fourths of the way to the surface.
No human today, buddy. This snack fights back. Ro thought then dropped the abalone bag. A few thousand dollars for her life. Predatory instincts flared to life; the shark gave chase to the swiftly sinking abalone.
Ro took a gamble, rising faster than was generally considered safe. She was a well seasoned diver in tune with her body. She knew the first signs of when she’d pushed herself too far and was approaching danger. She wanted more distance between her and the shark. She couldn’t see it. Distance gave her a better chance of getting onto the boat.
Ascending and descending were the most dangerous times for divers. Like surfers, they especially resembled plump, tasty seals near the surface. Sheila’s father had lost his life mere feet from the boat. Yet Sheila continued on. The money was too good, and she had many surgeries she wanted for her transition.
Ro rotated her body 360 for a clear view around and below her. No sign of the shark, or any other sharks. Was this the same shark that had bitten her beloved? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was finding where it went. Up here the water warmed. Almost to the surface. She could see the shadow of the boat’s bottom clearly.
She looked for the shark again. No blurry shadows. Maybe the shark swam off. Or maybe it circled below, just out of sight. Waiting for the right opportunity to strike. One tiny mistake on her part would open a window of opportunity. A second’s lapse in judgement. Dropping her guard, like when she was getting on the boat.
She could feel the heat of the surface now. Safety was so close. Fear urged her to swim faster, to go for broke in one last, desperate plunge. She ignored it, clutching her shark prod. Vigilance was vital now. She was so close to the surface she knew Sheila could clearly see her. They still had no way to communicate. Sheila could not help her; she was on her own.
Was that a shadow moving far below her? The shark? A trick of the rippling water and sunlight? A school of fish? She had no other bait to offer. The shark could close the distance between them in seconds.
The shark shield helped deter curious sharks who came up for a tentative, investigative nibble. Not a hungry shark with mouth open wide, massive weight thrown into a full-tilt , go for broke, all or nothing kill strike. Not even the shark prod could save her from that.
Heart thumping in her ears, Ro spat out her mouthpiece as she surfaced. Sheila had already shelled the last abalone bag she’d brought up. Sheila stood by, watching for Ro. At Ro’s cry of “SHARK!”, she jumped into action. She kept a lookout around Ro as she swam for the boat. Ro kicked hard. Salty water sprayed over her face and stung her lips. Both she and the boat bobbed up and down on the choppy waves. She panted hard as fear finally started to get the better of her.
Up on the surface, the water was a brilliant, crystal azure. Sheila scanned the water, face pinched tight as she fought off her own panic and memories of her father. “To me, Ro! Come on! You’re clear! Move it, girly!” She bellowed in her deep voice, as if she could make Ro swim faster by sheer force of will.
Ro wasn’t looking down; she kept her eyes locked on Sheila’s and swimming with all the energy she had left. She trusted her friend to have her back. Sheila saw a big, dark shape moving down in the depths and rising fast. She didn’t want to call out and break Ro’s concentration. She hollered out some more.
Once Ro was close enough, Sheila reached out and hooked her hands under her armpits. Water splashed over both of them. Hot summer wind blew stray hairs into her eyes. She gave a mighty, manly yank and quickly hauled Ro up into the safety of the boat.
Ro lay gasping in a sprawled, soggy heap on the boat floor. The normally oppressive summer heat kissed her chilled, shaking bones. She closed her eyes against the bright light. Safe. She was safe. The danger had passed. Her brain took several moments to process that realization. Her chest heaved with released tension as she panted, breathing heavily. She shuddered violently, limbs twitching spastically as the tight hold she’d kept on her pent up and repressed fear snapped like a rubber band. The emotional recoil rolled over her in waves.
She could hear Sheila panting as hard as if she’d just been chased by a shark herself. No doubt she was reliving memories of her father, thinking what almost happened to her best friend. Wondering what the hell they were thinking, doing this crazy shit. Doubting their decisions.
Ro’s heart drummed a staccato rhythm in her ears while her thoughts ping-ponged around like lottery balls. She couldn’t think straight. All she could do was lay there like a ragdoll, recovering from her brush with death.
“Shit, Ro. Holy shit. That was a big ass pointer. He’s circling like he’s still hungry. Think he could top the boat? Let’s get the hell outta here.” Sheila’s voice held more awe than fear. She called the shark a white pointer, a local name for great white.
Ro listened to the clunkings and thumpings of Sheila getting the boat ready to return to shore. Now that her pulse had calmed and adrenaline rush faded, she was drained. Tired. The hard, wet floor was surprisingly comfortable. She could really go for a nap right now. Hell, she wouldn’t have minded one of Ryo’s thick, soft diapers….
“Oi. Don’t sleep on me now. Let’s get you into a seat. I’m tired of stepping over you.” Huge hands lifted Ro up. Her legs wobbled like jelly; she had no will, strength, or coherent thought left. She just wobbled along where Sheila led like a lost child. If it wasn’t for Sheila’s strength supporting her, she’d fall flat on her face.
“Hm? I’m good. Really.” Ro yawned as she plopped heavily into the passenger seat. Her limp body was a dead weight on the sun-warmed leather. “Just need a minute to catch my breath.”
Sheila eyed her critically. “You’re a lil green around the gills, but you’ll be fine.” She stepped behind the controls and started up the boat. The engine roared to life, rumbling in Ro’s ears.
“As long as I’m not dinner.” Ro’s head flopped against the headrest and lolled sideways. She squinted at the harsh sunlight bouncing off the waves. A gray dorsal fin cut cleanly through the water. She stared, blanking out thoughts of her recent swim with the creature. Definitely a shark. A very large shark. The motor whirred to life and the boat sped off as the fin sank underwater. Nearby floated the sad scraps of a shredded abalone net. The loss that bag represented twisted her heart. She stared at it without blinking until it was out of sight.
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“Ryo. Baby. Look at me. Please.”
Ryo lay on his back on their king size bed. He was naked except for his diaper. All of his slender, beautiful body was exposed and vulnerable, even his healing stump. Ro leaned over him, changing his diaper. She’d wiped him so attentively. He ignored her. Ever since that day in the hospital, she’d been so sweet with him. So loving, always smiling. Acting like her carefree self from before the accident. She never mentioned Sheila and abalone diving. When he asked, she just smiled and told him they’d already settled the matter. She promised, and she meant what she said. He could trust her. She was his true love, after all. His wife. Surely, he could trust her.
So Ryo smiled back and quit bringing it up. The shadow of her silence laid on his heart. He did trust her. That’s what broke his heart. He went through the motions of healing, fake smiling at the doctors until they released him after keeping him longer than they should have.
He had thought he’d feel normal, more like himself at home. While he’d been in the hospital, Ro had made changes at home, making things more accessible for him. He felt like a stranger in his own home. In his own body. This was the new normal; he doubted he’d ever get use to it. Dorothy trapped in Oz; Kansas but a memory. The sutures in his stump had healed, but the stump itself continued to pain him. Not as bad as in the hospital.
The worst change was his relationship with Ro. Both were clinging to memories. Wanting to be as close as they used to be. Now there was a sea of missing legs and lies between them and he didn’t know how to reach her. He’d tried earlier and failed. So now he just floated along in the current of life. Ro had wrecked that ship when Ryo saw all the huge deposits in their bank account. There was only one way they’d have such a big leap in income; an even higher jump than in past abalone seasons. He showed her their banking statements; asked about the money. Her silence and the look of guilt on her face were all the answers he’d needed. That’s when he fell silent and Ro begged for his forgiveness.
Ro rubbed the plastic panel on his freshly fastened, clean diaper. Ryo stared at the wall. She touched his face with tentative, searching fingers. He let her turn his head, but kept his gaze lowered. “Ryo. Please.” The hurt and rejection in her voice almost broke his heart.
“What’s there to say? You’ll just do whatever you want to do. Fuck my feelings. Maybe you can just get the shrink to give me more pills. Since I’m emotionally distraught and an albatross around your neck.” Long held hurt and anger flavored his words with extra bite.
Ro winced. Ryo didn’t feel guilty. She deserved this. Angry tears welled in his eyes and he closed them. He opened them when he felt her crawl on top of him, pinning his slim body under hers. One knee accidentally brushed against his stump; he gasped at the sensation. He tried to wriggle free, his diaper crinkling loudly. Her hands held his wrists and her weight held him down.
“Ro.”
“Ryo.” She leaned down, licking a tear then swallowing it. His eyes widened as his tears continued to fall. “I love you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I hurt you. I should’ve talked this over with you more. Been more honest. I’m not going to ask you to forgive me. I’m not sorry. I did what I felt I had to do. I’d do it again. You’d do the same if the situation was reversed.”
Ryo bit his lip at that. Would he have risked his life to give them a better future? He stared up into the grey sincerity in Ro’s eyes. Yes, yes he would. He sighed. “It hurts. You lied to me. You went behind my back. That really hurts, Ro. More than my missing leg. Maybe I can forgive you in time. But it’ll be a long time.”
Ro stared down into his eyes for a long moment. Her heart turned in her chest. She nodded her head, accepting his words. It was no more than she deserved. More than she deserved, actually. He was giving her a second chance, despite being so hurt. She could respect that. Be grateful for it. “So…are we okay?”
Ryo thought her words over, taking his time. Examining his own emotions. “I don’t know. But I want to be.”
“I want to be, too.” She touched her forehead to his. “I miss us.”
“Me, too.”
“So…we work on making us okay again?”
“Yeah.” Ryo chewed his lip. “Ro….did all that money really come from abalone diving? You’ve never made that much before….”
“Let’s just say the man in the gray suit threw in an added bonus.” Ro cut off any more questions with a soft, gentle kiss to his pink lips.
