Head First

Chapter 7

Nine dives to go

I listen to Vanessa explain the boat in a daze. I vaguely register the words ‘life jacket’. I avoid looking at Hugh, wondering if I can successfully avoid him for the entirety of our trip.

I don’t remember the name of the camera-toting man although I’m pretty sure the scarf-wearing woman’s name starts with an N, something pretty and feminine sounding, like Natasha. The name Hugh Harris runs through my mind on what feels like a continuous loop.

We pull away from the pier. I force myself to take in my surroundings, looking everywhere except where Hugh is seated, which is on the same bench I am, but as far away from me as physically possible. He scoots away from me again, and I’m tempted to lift my arm and check and see if I remembered deodorant. I either smell, or he has put two and two together and figured out who I am. He won’t want to talk to me either. He thinks Millie hates him.

And he knows as well as I do that there can’t be that many marine biologists named Millie studying the Great Barrier Reef, can there? For once, I agree with Millie, cursing my mother under my breath for giving us such untraditional names. Millicent? What was she thinking? What happened to Rachel or Sarah or Hannah?

We leave the marina in our wake, the cluster of tall buildings and ships getting smaller and smaller. The mountains frame the background, huge and soft, trees rounding out their edges, so the peaks look like scales of a friendly dragon, and not like the jagged spines of a triceratops. As I relax into the rhythmic pounding of water against the side of the boat, I can’t help but smile. The water is crystal clear and where it meets the shore it turns a brilliant shade of aquamarine. The beaches of Cairns sparkle a bright white as we pull away. Grey rocks and palm trees dot the shore, swaying gently in the wind. People are already setting up chairs on the beach, and there’s a group playing volley-ball, sand spraying up around their feet as they run back and forth. Sandwiched between the vivid, electric blue sea and the lush, sloping mountains, Cairns is a tropical paradise.

But despite the view, the further we get from land the more my anxiety rises. Five days on a boat with Hugh Harris. Five days of not knowing how Millie’s surgery went. Five days of reckoning with the fact that I’m now single with hardly anything at home to return to, and that after being on a boat for five minutes I’m already happier than I have been in two years.

Vanessa and Miguel hand out instant coffee packets and pour hot water out of a tumbler. I accept both gratefully. The mix of the coffee and the sea breeze starts to clear my head. At some point I forget about Hugh. The water is bright blue and is getting choppier the further away from the marina we get. The waves have got a little bigger and the boat has leaned into a gentle swaying rhythm. I find myself smiling into the distance, at the swaying palm trees getting smaller and smaller.

This is the feeling I search for in yoga classes. Being so content where I am that I can fully be in the moment. When I’ve checked my troubles and worries at the door and for an hour, I am fully present. I am only able to be fully present right now because there is no service or Wi-Fi and no option for me to exit the boat. But I sink into it, and it feels strangely blissful.

I create a reminder in my phone for three months from now, when I know I’ll be slogging through a dreary Ohio March, that reads: ‘Do a yoga retreat.’ Then I create another reminder, this one for January, that reads: ‘Start doing more yoga to prep for yoga retreat.’

‘Millie?’

I look around in confusion, wondering where my sister is.

‘Millie?’ Vanessa asks again. She’s staring straight at me. I’m about to shake my head, I can feel my spine stiffening and my neck muscles preparing to communicate Nope, you’ve got the wrong girl . But thankfully, my tongue regains movement and I parrot, ‘Yep!’ and try to ignore how much it must have looked like I was having a neck spasm. I spot Hugh giving me a weird look. I ignore it. If he’s not going to address that we might know each other, then neither am I.

Vanessa has already disappeared down the stairs and into the cabin. I follow her because no one else has got up and it appears I have been summoned.

‘Watch your head!’ she calls. Just in time, because I’m centimetres away from banging my forehead on the metal door frame. I grab onto the door with my hand and lower myself down into the first level of the ship’s cabin.

I take about six stairs down and land in a small area with three beds. Bunk beds stack on one side and the opposite wall holds a mattress piled with notebooks and papers and maps. There’s duffels and backpacks littering the space, along with various hats and sunglasses. There are dark-tinted windows that look out onto the deck. It feels homey and must be where the crew sleeps.

I follow Vanessa down another ladder further below deck. It empties out into a room with a table and a booth around it, backing up to a galley kitchen. The table is littered with suitcases and backpacks.

‘Grab yours?’ she says, making her way down a narrow hallway.

I lug my suitcase behind her, following her into an impossibly narrow room with four bunk beds. It smells slightly mildewy but seems to be clean, with worn wood bedframes and a patch of peeling paint in the corner.

‘Is this OK?’ she asks.

‘Um,’ I hesitate. Millie hadn’t mentioned I would be sharing a room with strangers. There isn’t even space in the room to put down my bag. If I drop it, I’ll have to lay it on a bed. It’s so cramped I feel like I’m having trouble breathing. As if Vanessa can sense I’m about to start hyperventilating, she steps back and lets me stand in the room myself. I feel marginally better.

‘The other two rooms just have a queen bed, and we think the couples should take those. So, if all right with you, you’ll share with . . .’ She pauses and consults her clipboard.

Not Hugh , I think.

‘Hugh!’ she says brightly.

‘Um . . .’ I trail off again. I have no idea what to say. Millie would say no, but I hate confrontation.

‘If you don’t feel comfortable,’ Vanessa says, leaning in closer, her voice dropping to a sympathetic whisper, ‘we can figure something out. Sometimes we throw all the men in the bunk room, but—’ she glances at her clipboard ‘—usually the couples take the bigger beds.’

She must read the concern on my face, because she adds, ‘I thought this was explained in the waiver when you signed up, there’s usually a warning about the room situation because the boat is so small.’

‘Oh no, it’s fine,’ I say quickly. The last thing I want to do is bring attention to myself, and I can manage to share a room for four nights. I’ll take the top bunks, and Hugh can take the bottom ones. Given how tiny it is, we’ll only be in this room to sleep and change anyways. ‘This is great.’ I force a smile.

‘Wonderful!’ Vanessa makes a notation on her clipboard and then proceeds to show me the bathroom, which is so small it takes practically no ‘showing’. There’s a toilet and a showerhead jammed right next to each other. There isn’t even a mirror. When I stand up inside of it, my head almost grazes the ceiling. I wonder how Hugh will fit inside, and then I realise that he probably won’t. The shower looks more like it was built for dogs than for humans, the faucet only comes up to my neck.

‘I know it’s small,’ Vanessa acquiesces, as we climb the ladders back up out onto the deck, ‘but a small boat is the only way we can get to the best reefs.’ She smiles at me, her bun spilling out all over head, and, despite the news that I’ll be crammed in a room with Hugh Harris for the next four nights, I can’t help but mirror her excitement. That’s what Millie had told me too. The best scuba diving in the world.

Derek and Natalie are the man with the camera and the woman with the scarf. I commit to remembering their names this time around. Derek is a hobbyist aquatic photographer and Natalie is his girlfriend. She hasn’t taken off her large sunglasses, so I never know if she’s looking at me or not. But she seems observant, her gaze constantly roving around the room. I stay quiet, trying not to draw any attention to myself.

Thankfully, Pippa does most of the talking for the group of us. After Aaron let us know the trip out to the reef was three hours, she started chatting away. When she asks Derek and Natalie how long they’ve been dating, Natalie shrugs and says, ‘A couple of months,’ and Derek says, ‘We’re in the honeymoon phase,’ while beaming. I wish Millie was here because the difference in their reactions is so stark that I don’t think they’ll last much longer than this trip, and I desperately want someone to gossip with.

I decide to avoid Natalie, at least for today. She seems forward and smart. And I’m nervous she’s the type to notice I’m going by a different name, and want to address it. So instead, I focus on Derek, making the mistake of asking him about his camera and getting trapped in what felt like an hour-long lecture on the pros and cons of underwater cameras and why this one in particular was the best money could buy. I find out that he works for a tech company, which confirms my worst fears: Derek is a very smart man from Texas who acts like a frat boy and buys the most expensive toys he can. Once again, I wish for Millie, but I see Pippa stifle a giggle when Derek asks if I want to see some of his old dive photos, and I feel a sense of relief that there is someone like-minded on the boat with me.

Throughout the conversation, if you could even call it that considering I hardly said more than three words, I see Hugh glance once or twice in my direction. We have settled into a familiar seat pattern. Hugh and I are on the same bench, Derek and Natalie are on the bench in the middle, and Pippa and Andrew are across from Hugh and me. We form a U-shape around Aaron, who presides over us from the captain’s chair.

At one point, Derek launches into an explanation of how cameras are instrumental in researching marine life. He accompanies this monologue with an explanation of the marine life present in the Great Barrier Reef. During his lecture, I see Hugh shift in his seat more than once. I see him fight back a smile out of my peripherals. It’s good to know at least one person is enjoying this conversation.

The more Derek mansplains, the more annoyed I get. I force a smile at him through clenched teeth, trying to ignore Hugh’s amusement. At least I’m being social! How was I supposed to know I was signing up for a lecture from someone who knows less than I do? And, in my defence, it was hard not to ask him questions, given he lugged his camera back upstairs into the captain’s room and had his feet around the box like he was protecting a human life inside of it.

Mercifully, at some point Vanessa interrupts Derek to ask what his camera is doing on deck. She is not amused that he’s already gone against her rules. I turn away as she stares him down, trying to stifle my own laughter. I hear Derek tell Vanessa that the ‘sea breeze is good for drying out the equipment after all the humidity in Cairns’. I can practically see Vanessa’s eyes roll all the way back into her head. ‘But it’s an underwater camera,’ she points out.

I look around for another conversation to join but Pippa and Andrew are holding hands and watching the shoreline get smaller and smaller, Aaron is poring over a map and saying something into a radio, and Hugh has stood up and walked over to the railing to look out to sea. His hair has been ruffled by the ocean breeze and looks even more shaggy than it did when we met. We go over a larger wave than usual, and I watch as the veins on his forearm pop when he grabs the railing of the boat to steady himself.

He turns around and we make direct eye contact. I feel so caught in the act of staring at him that I immediately stand up, which forces me into an awkward situation of pretending like I have somewhere to go. Reluctantly, I make my way towards the front of the boat, where Miguel is readying our scuba equipment. The sun is beating down and the heat is unrelenting once I’m out of the shade. The aluminium guide rails are hot to the touch. I can’t wait to get into the water. To get to Miguel I have to pass Hugh, which turns out to be impossible given how much space he takes up and how narrow the sides of the boat are.

‘Excuse me,’ I say, attempting to edge around him but not wanting to touch his backside.

He shifts his torso completely so he’s parallel to me, effectively cutting me off from where I was headed.

We stand, in a stalemate, warily glancing at each other.

‘I was just going to sit back down,’ Hugh informs me.

‘I was just going to talk to Miguel,’ I reply. Neither of us move.

‘Oh, is Derek’s marine biology 101 class over?’ he says, his expression unreadable. ‘I have to say, I was happy to see you listening so closely. You do have a lot to learn.’

My heart skips a beat. So he does know who I am. ‘Oh wow, you certainly are something.’ Hugh cocks his head. A muscle in the side of his jaw ticks. ‘I’ve never met someone who is more annoying in person than online.’

‘What can I say? I don’t like to disappoint.’

I scowl.

‘Speaking of disappointments, did I hear Vanessa say we’re rooming together?’ he asks, with no preamble and certainly no smile. His mouth is still a perfectly straight line.

I check the box in my head that he in fact does smile at everyone but me. My scowl deepens. ‘Yes.’

Hugh returns my scowl with one of his own. ‘Just my luck,’ he mutters, turning back towards the sea.

‘OK, you don’t have to be such an asshole,’ I mumble. It comes out a little louder than I intended.

Hugh whips back around. ‘I just need rest, that’s all. I didn’t know I would be sharing a room. Some of us have important work to do.’

I raise my eyebrows. ‘I’ll do my best not to get in your way, then.’ I turn to go, just as Hugh starts to crack a smile. He glances pointedly at the space I’m taking up in the walkway.

‘You kind of already are.’

I glare at him.

‘If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go see if Miguel needs help,’ I lie, knowing I won’t actually be able to help Miguel in any way. I pray Hugh doesn’t try to follow me.

Thankfully, he steps aside to let me pass, still smirking.

I huff out a breath as I walk towards Miguel, keeping a hand on the rail for balance. The ocean feels choppier from the front of the boat, so I scurry as fast as I can towards Miguel’s bustling movements.

‘Hey! I’m Millie,’ I introduce myself. He’s humming softly, arranging tanks and what looks like black bulky life jackets neatly in a row.

‘Miguel.’ He shakes my hand in between swift movements. He smiles broadly, setting me instantly at ease. He has a thick accent I can’t place, but it’s definitely not Australian.

‘You’re so steady on a boat,’ I observe. Only once it’s out of my mouth do I realise how dumb I sound. Of course he’s steady on a boat, this is his job.

But, to my surprise, he smiles bigger, thrilled. ‘I just started, so I’m still getting my sea legs.’

‘Oh! Did you just move here?’

‘From Colombia.’ He runs a hand through his wavy dark hair, pulling a lock of it behind an ear. ‘I think I’m finally getting the hang of it.’

‘It seems like it.’ I clutch the railing to make sure I’m out of his way. We chat about the weather and the trips he’s done in the past. He’s cute, with an easy charm about him. This is his fifth trip. The question I’m desperate to ask is wriggling to the front of my brain. He’s so nice and we’re alone, so it seems like the perfect time.

‘Hey, Miguel,’ I say, interrupting him checking the air pressure on an oxygen tank.

He looks up, sensing the trepidation in my voice. His eyebrows press together, and his dark eyes grow big with worry. The colour drains from his face.

‘Are you going to be sick?’ he asks, reaching out a hand to steady me.

‘Oh, no, I feel fine!’ I say quickly.

The colour quickly returns to his cheeks, and he laughs. ‘I’m not good with puke,’ he confides in a whisper, ‘it freaks me out.’

‘Me too!’ I agree. ‘Someone else puking usually makes me sick.’ Miguel and I share a conspiratorial look that says, Nobody better be puking on this boat . Satisfied, he returns to checking air pressure. ‘What’s up?’

‘I was actually wondering if you could give me a refresher. I haven’t dived in a while, and I want to make sure I have a good handle on the equipment.’ I’m so nervous to ask that I stumble over some of my words, but Miguel doesn’t notice.

‘Sure thing!’ he says. ‘Come back up here when we’re closer to the reef, in another two hours or so, and I’ll run over everything with you.’ He holds my stare for a beat longer than normal, and I wonder if he’s like this with everyone on the boat.

‘Thanks,’ I say, breaking eye contact. I can’t help but feel a wave of relief. Miguel was nice about it, flirty, but nice, and no one else from the boat heard me ask. A marine biologist needing a dive refresher isn’t exactly in Millie’s notes for how to blend in.

I turn around to head back towards the benches to sit with the rest of the group and bump straight into someone’s chest. It’s so unyielding that I practically bounce backwards off it. And it smells slightly of cedar.

‘Ah!’ I cry out, although I am the only one who seems to be affected by our collision, seeing as the chest is immobile. I curse the narrow walkways of the boat. I’m bound to be bumping into people all week. I blink up into the face of the man I just hit as a deep voice grumbles back.

‘No worries,’ Hugh says, but he doesn’t move. Our torsos are so close we are centimetres from touching.

I feel my throat go dry again. ‘Ahem,’ I cough, sounding like a drowned cat. I take a step back from him but there’s so little space I only create six more inches between us.

Hugh opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off. ‘Oh don’t tell me,’ I say, crossing my arms in front of my chest, ‘you’re going to point out that I’m in your way again, when really you just pick the most inconvenient place to stand.’

Hugh’s face cracks into a smile. My stomach flips.

‘Technically, I was here first,’ he says, his eyes not leaving mine. ‘But no, that isn’t what I was going to say.’

I feel my face softening. ‘OK,’ I mutter. ‘Forget I brought that up then.’

‘I was going to ask if you were OK with taking the top bunk . . .’

I squint up at him. Technically, I already wanted the top bunk . . . but he doesn’t need to know that . ‘Why?’ I ask. ‘Does the top bunk make you seasick?’

Hugh’s face remains impassive. ‘No,’ he says slowly.

‘I’m fine with whatever.’ I shrug, deciding to take a cue from Miguel. ‘I’m really comfortable on the water. I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it soon. It’s just like riding a bike.’

‘I’m not uncomfortable on the water,’ Hugh says quickly, his lips pressing together.

‘Whatever you say,’ I say in a sing-song voice. ‘But to answer your question, sure. I like being on top anyways.’ I smile at him sweetly, feeling proud of myself, and make my getaway, scooting by him and towards the benches.

‘I’m sure you do,’ he calls after me, his voice lilting into unknown territory. As I process the double entendre I perfectly set him up for, heat blazes through my body. I can feel his gaze on me as I walk away.

Sweat prickles the backs of my knees. I remind myself that Hugh’s attention is not a good thing. If he finds out I’m not Millie and reports it, anything I find on this trip will no longer be credible.

I shake the thought out of my head. We haven’t even broached the subject of the wrasse yet, I reassure myself. Plus, he’s already admitted that he has to focus on work. He may not ever want to discuss it. But my stomach feels unsettled. By the time I sit down on the benches, I can still feel the way his chest felt against mine when our bodies collided. My heart rate hasn’t slowed all the way down yet. First Miguel and now Hugh. I haven’t been that close to a man that I wasn’t dating in two years.

‘Focus, Andi,’ I say under my breath. I check my phone. Millie’s surgery is in sixteen hours. I need to remember what’s important.