« Out of Service | Main | What are the Chances? »

Tuesday 200 - #33

“Danny, You okay?” Meg asked, kicking some sand at me to break my trance. I was sitting on the beach, staring out at the breakers. The tide was rolling out , skeletons of a pink-fingered sunset reaching up from the horizon into a periwinkle summer sky.

I gave a quick nod. We’d been out three times today. An AOW course in the morning and a couple wrecks in the afternoon. Nothing spectacular, but I learned years ago that a mediocre day underwater beats a good day at the office.

“He’s out there,” I whispered, digging my feet into the warm sand.

She scruffed her knuckles across my scalp, like Mom used to when she couldn’t find any words. Meg saw him too. The skinny blonde kid in the O’Neill wetsuit and yellow fins. The spitting image of Tommy.

Seagulls squawked above the breakers.

Not a dive goes by I don’t look for him, hoping to see him swimming with some turtles or playing with a school of nurse sharks. Maybe hiding in the hull of a wreck. He promised he’d come back.

“Never saw it coming,” people tell me. ”He seemed so carefree.”

Suicide notes don’t always tell the truth.

:: :: ::

What's a Tuesday 200?

Last week's Tuesday 200.