Atmosphere(17)

“There are sharks in the water,” Griff said to Joan under his breath. “Just because we didn’t see them the past two days doesn’t mean they aren’t there. Right?”

“Here, mostly hammerheads and tiger sharks,” Marty said. “I’d be surprised if we saw a great white, but it’s certainly possible. Maybe some bull sharks.”

“So then just say yes,” Lydia said. “Nobody needs a list.”

Donna had told Joan that Marty and Lydia had slept together that first Friday they’d all gone out to the Outpost. This had made perfect sense to Joan. Both of them were more in love with the sound of their own voices than listening to anyone else. She pictured them carrying on two conversations at once, talking only to themselves, and having the most wonderful time.

But today, Marty said something about Atlantic water currents and Joan saw Lydia roll her eyes. So, unless Joan was mistaken, it seemed probable that Lydia had ended it.

People say opposites attract, but Joan had found this to almost never be true. People just couldn’t see the ways they were drawn to exactly who they feared—or hoped—they might be.

Lydia and Marty were now quarreling, Griff and Ted looked seasick, and Joan could not stand to listen to Donna talk anymore.

She turned to Vanessa. With her hair pulled back, it was easier to see that Vanessa’s cheeks were a little rosy, her skin smooth without any makeup. Joan had always worn a little mascara, a little powder. She’d been beaten into it by Barbara’s taunts as a teenager. Plain Joan.

“You’re not afraid,” Joan said to Vanessa. She’d meant it as a question, but it came out as an observation.

“I am,” Vanessa said. “Specifically of the part where we have to get out from under the parachute.”

“But you seem so calm.”

Vanessa nodded. “Yeah, I suppose I am.”

“Braver than me,” Joan said.

“No, not braver than you.”

Their boat slowed as it met up with the speedboat.

“I’m . . .” Joan blew all the air from her lungs. “I’m terrified,” she said. “It doesn’t even make any sense. I passed the other two tests well enough. But today, I . . .” She would swear her hands were shaking except that she could see they were completely still.

“Do you know the difference between bravery and courage?” Vanessa said.

Joan considered the question. “I don’t think so.”

“My dad taught me when I was little. Bravery is being unafraid of something other people are afraid of. Courage is being afraid, but strong enough to do it anyway.”

“Oh,” Joan said.

“Neither of us are particularly brave right now,” Vanessa said. “But both of us are going to be courageous.”

Joan again imagined herself disconnecting from the boat.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay.”

Griff went first.

Joan watched every second. The sun blinded her as he got higher, but she could not look away. He detached from the speedboat and drifted on his parachute down to the open water. And then he was gone under the surface. She kept watching, holding her breath, waiting for him to pop up.

A second went by. Then another. And then there he was.

Joan inhaled.

She watched as he inflated his raft. It took him a few attempts before he could get himself onto it, but on the fourth try, he managed it. A second later, he put his fist up in the air.

“If he can do it, you can do it,” Vanessa said.

Joan nodded, unsure.

When it was Joan’s turn, she took a deep breath.

“Don’t think about it,” Vanessa said. “Just go do it. And then you can tell your niece how courageous you were.”

“Frances,” Joan said.

“Yeah, you can tell Frances.”

Joan got into position. They connected her harness to the speedboat. Her heart started to race. She stood on the edge of the deck, waiting for the go-ahead. She pictured telling Frances she had parachuted into the ocean from behind a speedboat. She laughed to think of it.

Okay, she thought, here we go.

When she got the thumbs-up, she took off, running as fast as she could. She felt the catch of the air as the speedboat accelerated. For a moment, she fought against the fear in her body. But then she gave in to it. She let herself feel the horror, and then it passed through her.

In fact, for a few slow seconds, Joan could feel nothing but the ocean air on her face. The smell of the brine of the sea overtook her nose and filled her lungs.

When she looked down, she could see the expanse of the dark blue ocean, how quiet it was, how steady, cut by the strong wake behind the boat.

When they gave her the signal, she put her hand on the latch of her harness and closed her eyes.

She disconnected.

Her parachute slowed her down, softened her descent enough that it felt like being cradled more than falling. And the view of the ocean drawing nearer felt a little mesmerizing. By the time her whole body landed in the water, she’d forgotten to panic.

Suddenly she was underwater, her ears clogged, her vision cloudy, her body dragged down by the weight of everything she was tied to. Her parachute darkened the ocean above her. She managed to get herself free from it and then twisted and turned, looking for the light of the sky. Soon she found it, just to her left, the sunshine diffused across the surface. She swam for it.