On her way out of the hospital, Aurora stopped at the nursing station to ask about a therapist for Ryo and told them about his breakdown. After this morning’s tear-filled crying jag, he obviously needed psychiatric help. His recovery was taking longer than she expected. He’d suffered a major, traumatic, life-changing injury, so she knew he wasn’t going to magically heal overnight and bounce back. According to the doctors, he should’ve been further along in recovery than he was. The staff reported him as being listless, almost catatonic at times. Lost in his own head. He never asked for a diaper change, wet or messy. They had to check his diapers. She was starting to think the shark had knocked Ryo clear off his rocker. Instead of a husband, she had a deranged loon.
She left the hospital and headed over to Kangaroo Jack’s Kafe; a small hole in the wall diner in a nearby shopping center. It was a well known, favorite hangout spot with locals of all ages. Tourists passed it on by in favor of loud, flashy, already-known chain fast food and restaurants. It was relatively close to the beach, too. She and Ryo used to come here practically everyday. Now, the next time Ryo would come here would be in a wheelchair or on crutches. She now had a disabled husband. It was a sobering thought.
As Ro stood in line, she looked around the greasy spoon with a new perspective. Tables, chairs, and booths clustered together with narrow aisles between. This was an old joint. Judging by the black and white pictures cluttering the stained, faded wallpaper, it had been here since her grandparents were young. Maybe even longer. A wheelchair sticker on a booth was as handicap friendly as it got. She’d have to park Ryo there then go get his food.
Had Ryo thought what his life was going to be like from now on? She doubted it. He barely tolerated looking at his leg. His mind was still on the attack, full of sharks. He was almost in tinfoil hat territory. The doctors assured her he hadn’t suffered any brain damage. Just emotional trauma.
Surfing, diving, any activity in the sea risked a shark attack. It was common knowledge. Even the landies knew it. Sometimes the dice of life came up snake eyes. Shit happened. She could be struck by a car, by lightning. Killed by a trigger happy robber with a hankering for burgers. Diagnosed with cancer. Just staying out of the water didn’t mean she’d be safe. Given the number of criminal elements in society, she might even be safer in the water with the sharks than she was on land with the humans.
Ro placed her order and handed over her money. She’d been diving for abalone for nearly a decade. She encountered no sharks. She had no doubt they were there in the waters with her. Other divers besides Sheila’s dad had been attacked, some of them fatally. Every time she dived, she risked running into a massive, hungry white pointer.
Massive increase in their bank account from the abalone was a certainty. Just a few dives would boost their depleted nest egg. Ryo would not be working any time soon; he had a long road to recovery. No more prize money from surfing competitions. No more modeling contracts. All he had was a part time position at his grandfather’s shop. A dinky paycheck compared to the big ones they were used to. She was the sole breadwinner now. Ryo was relying on her to protect and provide for him. He needed her. Diving lessons to tourists wasn’t a bad gig, but abalones were her golden goose. Giving that up was out of the question. Medical bills piled on top of top of their regular expenses. Insurance helped to a point. Now, more than ever, they could use some big, fat abalone pay checks.
She took her food and wound her way through the crowd. People she knew called out to her; she waved back but didn’t pause to chat. She passed by before they could ask after Ryo. She was too wrapped up in her thoughts for pleasantries. She should’ve chosen somewhere else for lunch; a place she wouldn’t be bothered. Like an overpriced tourist trap. She’d come here on autopilot; hadn’t even thought about it. One look at Ro’s tight, stressed smile was all the answer well-wishers needed about Ryo’s condition. They left her alone to settle down in an empty corner table by the window.