Chapter 19 #2
I lift my head above the surface and look at Steven. He spits out his snorkel and says, “It’s an artificial reef. We have some similar projects growing in the area, but none of them look as impressive as this one.”
“It’s awesome. But also kind of… strange.”
“Agreed,” he laughs and we both duck our heads back under.
Mike swims by holding the GoPro. Steven and I make the diver’s Okay sign, then they encourage me to swim closer to the statues to get a photo on my own.
My heart races as I take a deep breath and plunge to the bottom. Mike snaps a few pictures as I peer at the statues’ faces, smiling at the fish nibbling on their features. What an amazing idea, to use art to create new life in the ocean.
As I float to the surface for air, I hear the unmistakable mechanical whirring of an engine.
“Here they come.” Thomas grimaces. There are several boats heading our way from the nearby party island Gili Trawangan—some blasting music, all teeming with tourists glowing in their bright orange life jackets.
“Let’s go.” Steven grabs my hand again and we all take off for the boat.
“That was beautiful,” I say when I’ve pulled off my mask, shaking my hair out. “I can see why it’s so popular.”
“It’s a blessing and a curse,” Mike says, wiping his eyes. “It was a good idea, but it’s so busy that the reef can’t actually grow. Too many tourists kicking up sediment, too many poor swimmers being dragged down below by their friends and tour guides to take pictures.”
“That’s why we have our own reef projects.” I detect a hint of pride in Steven’s voice.
“Could I see those some time?” I ask.
He shares a look with Mike. “What about now? We don’t have any dives scheduled and the interns are basically done with their training. Soon they’ll be running the place.”
“We could never replace you.” Mason grins, punching Steven in the arm. “Though it would be a dream to work here full-time.”
“God yes, the sun, the quiet, the friendly people,” Thomas agrees.
“I think I would miss too many things,” Juliette says thoughtfully. “Like cheese. And good bread. The island does not have everything.” When she feels the eyes of everyone in the group, she throws up her hands. “But it is very nice! I love island life, but it could never be home for me.”
“I don’t have the complexion to live on an island year-round.” Victoria shrugs.
I laugh. “That’s fair. I keep trying to think of things that I miss from back home, but nothing really stands out.
Maybe central AC…” I look out over the ocean, sparkling in the sun, and catch a glimpse of the mass of tourists floating off shore.
“I definitely don’t miss driving everywhere.
Or feeling like I’m never doing enough. Always running late.
Falling behind. Not being productive enough… ”
There’s a tense moment of silence and then they all erupt into laughter.
“I’m sorry, that’s just so American,” Victoria says.
“You definitely need more island time.” Mason nods.
“It gets ingrained in us, but you really don’t have to live with the hustle and grind mindset.
Since I started traveling, time moves differently.
I’ve learned how to enjoy things more. Every time I go back home, I start to feel that silent daily stress creep back in, and I know I’m due for another trip. ”
“You might be right,” I say, realizing how much more relaxed I’ve been since coming to Indonesia. Even with my life kind of falling apart, I’m enjoying it more than ever. Work doesn’t feel stressful here, it’s so intertwined with play. And things really do feel different on island time.
“You two go check out the reefs. We’ll be fine on our own,” Mike says.
Steven didn’t join the gentle teasing about my American mindset. I wonder what he thinks. Did he escape Australia for similar reasons? Or does he think I’m silly for pushing myself so hard?
Rather than putting him on the spot to answer now, I let him lead the way to another perfect day out on the water.
“Have you ever heard, ‘Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes’?” I ask.
“No,” he smiles. “What’s that mean?”
“It’s a Jimmy Buffet song. My dad loves him.” I sing a few lyrics and do a little dance. “I think it should be my mantra. Maybe island life really is changing me.” When I eventually get back to the US, it’s going to be with a whole new perspective. Grandma Frannie would be so proud.
The artificial reefs created by the Gili Telu Turtle Sanctuary are incredible. They don’t have the eerie, majestic quality of the statues, but they have grown much more wild and full of life because of it.
We see the small, intensely orange clownfish peeking out from between their soft-looking anemones.
There are parrotfish in splashes of iridescent color, nibbling at corals.
Even triggerfish. Steven points them out with finger guns and we’re careful to give them a wide berth so they won’t attack.
After swimming with sharks, I’m not exactly afraid, but I still have a healthy respect for the animals protecting their homes.
And of course, there are turtles. We see seven this afternoon. Steven seems to have a sixth sense for them, making the now familiar motion with one hand stacked on top of the other, thumbs circling like flippers.
I love watching them swim gracefully, rising to the surface for a breath of fresh air before diving back down to the deep. They seem to glide through the water like they’re flying through space. I chase bubbles beside them, feeling light and graceful and alive.
Until suddenly, an intense burning erupts on my ankle. I whirl around, choking on a salty swallow through my snorkel as I search for the source. I reach for my foot, cradling it to my chest as I cough water from my throat and my skin crawls with fiery pain.
Behind me floats a blue gelatinous motherfucker. Its long tentacles float on the current innocently, belying the agony ripping through my flesh. I try not to panic, but my arms are whirling through the water frantically as I seek out Steven’s eyes. A jellyfish. What should I do?
He hooks a hand around my bicep and pulls me away from the evil blob. Our heads pop above water and I spit out my snorkel with a soft whimper.
“Fuck!” I shout.
“Are you alright?” he asks, dragging me to shore as my body refuses to participate. I take a deep breath and consider his question. It hurts, but it actually isn’t as bad as it was a moment ago.
“Yes, but ow,” I whine, pouting my lips and turning to face the shore so I can contribute to our movement.
“Don’t worry, we’ll get on land and neutralize the string. It hurts, but unless you have an allergic reaction, it should go away soon.”
His words pierce the haze of pain. I’ve seen enough TV to know how you neutralize a jellyfish sting. I look at Steven with wide eyes, dreading crossing this line with him so early in our relationship, but desperate for the pain to stop.
As we climb out of the water, contact with the air leaves the area pulsing with heat. I whimper again and resist the urge to touch it, afraid that the pain might spread.
“Okay,” I say “Go ahead. I won’t look.” I turn my face away and cover my eyes with my arm.
“What do you mean? Let’s go grab a kit,” he says, and I turn back, hope inflating in my chest.
“A kit?” I bite my lip, wincing. I chance a glance at my ankle and see red welts on my skin.
“Of course. Some vinegar will kill the pain. Can you walk?”
“You mean you’re not going to—” I blanch and feel the color rising to my cheeks as he belly laughs.
“Did you think I was going to piss on you?” He grins and his deep dimple distracts me from my pain and embarrassment. “You’ve seen too many movies.”
He dives for my waist, tossing me over his shoulder. I want to protest, but it feels so much better than walking and his broad muscles flexing beneath me are a pleasant diversion.
“Let’s get you home.” He jogs through the sand like he does this every day.
I brace one hand against his back, my mask and snorkel in the other.
I have a great view of his ass, tightening and bunching in his shorts, and I let it fill my thoughts as I try to ignore the dull throb radiating out of my inflated ankle.
That ass is all mine to squeeze and grope once I get him alone again.
Even stung by a jellyfish, I’m still the luckiest woman in the world.
I’m surprised by how quickly he gets us back to the bungalow. I suck my teeth as he deposits me in the hammock out front, but he’s gentle, treating me like precious cargo.
He returns with a bottle of plain kitchen vinegar, splashing it over my tender flesh. I groan as the sting flares and then soothes into a dull throb. The bite is instantly defanged, settling into more annoyance than pain.
I look at him with big eyes, radiating love and thanks.
“Better?” He strokes my calf, giving a wide berth to the affected area.
I nod, trying to blink back the tears. It hurt, and it surprised me, but it really wasn’t the worst feeling in the world. I feel a little silly for overreacting.
“They’re a right pain in the arse, but you should be all good now.” He leans down and kisses my knee, then my toes, sending a different sort of heat flickering between my thighs. He looks up as if he senses it, and the tilt to his lip sends a tremor through my spine.
“I’m really glad you didn’t have to pee on me,” I joke. “I’m not sure I would’ve been able to look at you the same.”
“Hey, it’s not my kink but I won’t judge.” He places a hand on his heart as if making a solemn vow. “Can I help take your mind off it?” he asks, spreading my thighs wider and leaning forward so I can feel his hot breath against my core.
I release a shaky breath, sending my awareness throughout my body. Am I really okay? The vinegar worked like magic. “Just be gentle with me,” I pout, running my fingers through his crazy hair.
“Always,” he rasps, tugging my bikini bottoms to the side. “Unless you ask me not to.” He winks, and then his tongue makes contact with my flesh and I forget about everything else.