A part of me did want to.
When I was ready, he grabbed my right hand, rubbing it between his. “You’re shaking. Are you okay?”
“I’m just cold. And nervous. And…” I dropped my head, forcing my breath to be even. “This is a big deal.”
He moved in closer, his bare legs grazing mine. “No, Kalamata. A big deal would be coming to an island you’ve never been to in order to see someone you haven’t seen in nine years. This?” He pointed his chin at the water. “This is nothing.”
A grateful smile worked its way through my panic. “You’re right.”
“Of course I’m right,” he said, grabbing my other hand. “Remember to keep moving when you’re in the water. If you ball up, you’ll just get colder and colder. And that is literally the only scuba diving tip I know.” He moved his hands to my waist, helping me to my feet. Even through my nerves, I felt warmth spill through the rest of my body, and when I looked up at him, I saw how close his face was to mine—so close I could kiss him if I wanted to. But now wasn’t the time for such thoughts. “Hey, Kalamata, it’s going to be okay. If you need anything, just surface and I’ll help you. And remember, your dad knows what he’s doing. He’s done so many dives, this is nothing.”
He was basically giving me the reverse talk that Ana had given me. I wanted to thank him, hug him, tell him that he made me feel safe—safer than any emergency equipment or diving protocol ever could—but how to even start that?
I was eventually going to have to deal with this Theo thing. But first, Atlantis.
He hesitated. “After this… after today. We should talk.” His eyes met mine, and a deep flush moved through me. Was he saying what I thought he was saying?
“I’d like that.”
He looked down at my wet suit, cracking a smile.
“What’s so funny?”
“I haven’t seen you get in the ocean once, and now you’re scuba diving. It’s kind of extreme. Also, you look like a mermaid.”
“No, I don’t.” I gestured to where my dad had jumped in. “Where do you think I got the extreme from?”
“Good point. You ready?”
“Ready.” I scooted back on the edge of the boat and placed the regulator in my mouth. Theo gave my hand one last squeeze, and I looked up, catching one quick glimpse of the thick gray clouds overhead as I rolled backward, the ocean enveloping me in an icy hug.
Hello, Poseidon.
Chapter Twenty-Two
#22. RECEIPT FROM JANE ADDAMS MEMORIAL TOLLWAY
I thought all dads went on trips. Every few months my dad would sit me down to tell me he needed to get on the road again, get some research done, and ask me to be a big help to my mom until he got back. Then he’d take the car and we wouldn’t see him for a while. Usually it was a few days, but once it was two weeks. My mom never knew when he’d be back either, and if I asked her, she’d just say soon. It was never soon enough.
Once, I was playing at a neighbor’s house, and I asked her where her dad went on his trips. She had no idea what I was talking about. That’s the first time I realized that not all dads leave. So why had mine?
AT FIRST I FELT LIKE I always did in scuba gear—as effortless and graceful as an elephant wearing roller skates. My mask felt too tight, my fins too loose. I fiddled with my equipment, wiggling my mask and pulling my knees up to adjust my heel straps. You’d think underwater would be a quiet place, but it isn’t. When I was certifying, James had explained to me that sound waves travel much faster underwater than they do in air, and it was even more apparent to me here than in Mexico. Crackling, snapping, and creaking noises came at me from all directions, and to combat it, I focused on the sound of my breath moving through the regulator, the steady whooshing eventually putting the other sounds back into their places.
Deep breathing helped more than just my ears. After a few minutes my body adjusted, giving me the supported, effortless feeling scuba divers must live for. My dad appeared next to me, a cloud of bubbles over his head, and he gave me the OK sign. I signed it back, and he pointed his fingers, one in front of the other. You lead, I’ll follow.
We spent a few unrushed minutes filming the area while I acclimated, kicking with long, even strokes, my toes pointed backward. I’d forgotten how being underwater felt like being on an entirely different planet. The water bent light, coloring everything in deep blue-green shades that I knew would only get darker the deeper we went. Little bits of seaweed and other ocean debris spread around us like confetti. The fish were camera shy, darting away from our lights. Visibility wasn’t great, but it wasn’t as bad as the surface had suggested, and besides the uninterested sea creatures, everything was cool and blue and still, and—best of all—not nearly as tumultuous as it had looked on the surface. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think I was enjoying the ocean.
My dad swam up to me, and we met eyes through our masks. I could tell he was smiling. He turned on his dive light, aiming it downward, then signaled go down with a thumbs-down and another OK. I okayed back. Then he tented his hand into an upside-down V, resting the tips of his fingers onto his opposite palm. It took me a second to realize what he meant. It wasn’t a dive signal. It was our signal. It was a volcano, code for “I lava you.” He’d come up with it when I started elementary school—when it was too embarrassing for him to tell me he loved me in front of my friends.
My hands immediately made the sign back, my throat tightening, and he tapped the tips of his fingers on mine. I aimed the GoPro at him, and he waved a few times before diving toward the darkness.
Dad. So much had changed, and yet so much hadn’t.
It didn’t take long for his figure to disappear from view, and soon I couldn’t see his light, either. I turned off the GoPro and focused on staying calm. The boat was a comforting presence up above, and I made sure to keep it in the corner of my eye.
I deflated my buoyancy control device, dropping six feet or so, but still keeping the boat in my line of vision as I swam in small, careful circles, enjoying the feeling of my body twisting through the water. This wasn’t so bad, was it?
After a while, I wished I had a watch. According to my dad’s calculations, it should take him less than ten minutes of slow movement to get to the bottom, and once he was down there he could stay for as long as his air allowed him to, which would likely be another thirty to forty minutes. That meant about a hundred circles before he’d come back to the surface.
With proof? My heart jumped at the thought. Even if there was something, would he be able to see it? For a blissful few seconds, I allowed myself to imagine what it would be like if he found something. I doubted it would be parades at the White House and our names written in the sky like my dad had said it would be, but what if we actually found something solid enough to link Atlantis to Santorini once and for all? One piece of orichalcum may not be enough, but what if there was more?
I checked my oxygen tank. I had plenty. I could stay down here all day if I wanted to. I rolled faceup, turning my attention to the boat. Vasilios had set up a diving light, a flashing strobe attached to the bottom that felt like a security blanket. All I had to do was swim a few feet up, and I’d be with Theo.