Page 22 of That Birthday in Barbados
“That’s Ernesto. I told him we’d be back in an hour. He hasn’t had any takers yet today, anyway.”
“Where are we going?” I ask, as he idles back through the no-wake zone.
“It’s a surprise,” he throws over his shoulder. And then he laughs. “Wait. Don’t bail on me. This is a good surprise. I think you’re going to like it.”
I start to protest, but we’re already sailing off over the gentle waves. My “I hate surprises!” gets caught in the wind and is gone.
He angles right, the coast line flowing by in splashes of color, pink bougainvillea, a red umbrella, a bright green wooden boat bobbing against an anchor. The sky is that incredible blue above us, and for a moment, I think I must have landed in a dream. Yesterday morning, I woke to a cold, gray winter New York day. It seems impossible that this day could exist on the same planet.
We drive for ten minutes or so, and Anders points the Sea-Doo toward a row of buoys bouncing gently on the water.
He eases to a stop, pops the front compartment, pulling out the box he’d taken from the cooler. He opens it, scoops out something I can’t see. “Come on,” he says, sliding into the water.
I give him a skeptical look. “What are we doing?”
“Trust me.”
It’s a ridiculous request. I don’t know him. He could be planning to drown me. Maybe all the flirtation stuff wasa lead-up. “Ah, I’m just now remembering my mother taught me not to talk to strangers. And here I am out in the ocean with you, trusting you don’t have some sinister plan to do away with me.”
“Hold on,” he says, leaning back to give me a look. “First, I’m expecting you in spin tomorrow, and second, what I really want to do is kiss you right now, but since it’s way too soon for that, come on. Let’s do this.”
He slides off the Sea-Doo, making a splash into the water. I’m still suffering from the shell-shock brought on by his last admission. Did he say kiss me?
“Come on!” he calls back, waving one hand in my direction, clutching a plastic bag in the other.
I could overthink this, find plenty of reasons to stay right where I am. But the water is a deep compelling blue, and the sun is shining down on my face, and I want to. I just want to.
And so I do.
I stand up, step off the side and do a knife dive straight into the ocean.
The life vest brings me up. Sputtering, I push my hair out of my face as Anders reaches for my hand and drags me along behind him, kick-swimming several yards out from the Sea-Doo.
He lets go of my hand, opens the plastic bag and pulls out something, tossing it in the water.
“Is that meat?” I ask, picturing sharks from miles away calling all their friends and swimming toward us in a straight line.
“Yeah,” he says. “Watch what happens.”
He tosses out another piece, and I barely suppress a small squeal of terror, voicing my fear. “Um, are there sharks in these waters?”
He looks at me and laughs, as if I have truly amused him. “Here comes my girl.”
I look out to where he’s pointing and spot the sea turtle swimming at us from just beneath the surface, her face pointed straight at Anders.
“Oh my gosh!” I scream in delight.
Anders holds out the treat, and she swims right up to him. He drops it in the water and she whisks it up. “Against the law to touch them,” he says.
I stare at her, stunned by how beautiful she is.“How do you know she’s a she?”
“Adult males have a long tail. Adult females don’t. And the girls have prettier faces. She’s a Loggerhead.” He tosses out another treat, and she swims a circle around us and dives for the snack. “They have been considered critically endangered for some time now.”
“Why?” I ask, crestfallen, my gaze falling to the beautiful turtlea few feet away.
“Over-harvesting by man. For the meat, shell and eggs.”
Hearing the words makes me feel sick. “It’s really too bad God made us overseer. We’re certainly doing a lousy job.”
