Page 60 of Diving In

“Yeah, of course.”

While waiting for our waitress to return, I incessantly fumbled around with the envelope in my lap, deciding if I wanted to read it right here or not. Unable to resist any longer, I opened it before I could talk myself out of it.

CHAPTER 23

Dear Georgia,

It looks like you made it to The Rogue Shallot, and you’d better have gotten the damn lobster bisque.

Nothing else compares, I swear.

If you’re here, that means you’re hopefully sitting in my once chosen spot. You might not have noticed, but just north of the marina, you’ll see a buoy. That same buoy indicates our beloved diving spot. Fletcher was nine when I first took him there. He was so eager to jump in and explore the shipwreck. From that day on, we returned to the same location. No matter how many times he dove it, he always went back, insisting there was more to see.

I know you’ve never wanted to hear this story, but I thought if you were ever going to listen, this moment right here might just be my only chance.

May 2nd… A date that will forever haunt me. That morning was already a scorcher, and the sun hadn’t even risen yet. Fletcher, Cal, and I headed out for an early morning dive before the boys had to be at the dive shop for work and I was needed at the aquarium.

It was a typical dive. The three of us geared up quickly and only planned on being below the surface for fifteen minutes or so, just a quick dive to get the day started. Fletcher always said his days were shit if they didn’t start underwater. We all jumped in and began our descent. The first five minutes were like any other, a dive that we had all done a million times before. We went our separate ways, but we stayed close enough to be in on each other’s line of sight and sound.

An unexpected current came out of nowhere, and it ripped me in all sorts of directions. As comfortable as I’ve always been underwater, I’d felt more vulnerable than ever in that moment. Even with how calm I was, I don’t think I would’ve been able to get out of it safely on my own. Luckily, Cal had caught sight of what I’d gotten myself into and swam over to assist me. Within seconds, we’d managed to maneuver out of the current and into safer water. I’d never been more grateful to have had Cal there.

Yet, as quickly as the relief had washed over us, it was snatched up once again, instantly replaced with fear as we watched Fletcher doing his best to signal for help. It all happened so quickly. One second, Cal was helping me, and the next, we saw Fletcher desperately flailing his arms and legs. Both of us swam as fast as we could, knowing time was of the essence. As we made our way to him, we both looked at each other and knew what the other was thinking: it was already too late.

Being underwater in a situation like that has to be hands down one of the worst feelings on this entire planet. You’re drowning, both literally and figuratively. The helplessness is so heavy it’s almost incapacitating. It felt as though water was filling my lungs inch by inch and I was swimming but making no progress.

As soon as we reached him, it was clear Fletcher’s equipment had malfunctioned, simply based on how fast it had happened and the lack of pressure indicated on his tank. He’d lost so much air in such a short amount of time. Cal and I moved as fast as possible to get him to the surface, but we risked him having an air embolism if we brought him up too quickly.

In the end, we did everything we could think of to save him. Cal even tried giving Fletcher his own air, but too much time had passed. Fletch was gone. I wanted to be the one to help my son, but Cal insisted on carrying your brother over his back all the way to the top.

Cal was with them.

I was frozen in time. I took a second to catch my breath, reaching for my water.

“I’ll take the check whenever you get the chance,” I choked out as our waitress approached the table.

“Great, I’ll be right back.” She did her best to ignore my current state, but I could tell she was uncomfortable.

Once I was alone again, I returned to the letter.

Cal and I immediately rang the Coast Guard. They were there within minutes, only to tell us what we already knew.

Fletcher was gone.

That was the worst day of my life. I’ll never forget watching as the last breath of life left your brother. I’ve spent years trying to get that image out of my mind, but sometimes it still surfaces as a vivid memory.

The only thing worse than witnessing it myself was having to tell you and your mother. I remember telling myself to stay strong, worried that if I didn’t, our whole family would crumble.

However, despite my best efforts, our demise was inevitable.

I was his dad. I was supposed to protect him, and I didn’t. I couldn’t. Not only did I fail Fletcher, but I also failed you and your mother, which is something I will regret until the day I die. I know you always hated that I continued to dive, but you have to understand that that was the only way I could feel close to your brother. For you, it was escaping, getting as far away from this place as possible. For me, it was staying as close as possible to this island, to the diving spot, to whatever I could to feel even a glimpse of Fletch.

I’ve dived at that spot almost every morning since the accident because I swear when I’m down there, Fletcher’s right next to me. It’s the only thing that keeps me going most days, especially since finding out I was sick. Diving wasourthing, and even though he’s gone, I think when I’m diving, Fletcher is too.

I’m sorry that I’ve never shared the whole story with you before. I guess I thought the less you knew, the less you had to endure. I didn’t care if that meant that you blamed me, as long as you were okay.

I guess what it boils down to is that I’m sorry I wasn’t a better dad to you. I’m sorry I didn’t come after you and your mother. I’m sorry it took this long for me to apologize. But most of all, I’m really fucking sorry that my decisions have impacted you so much that they’ve made you feel as though you don’t deserve happiness. I’m not talking about the happiness that you control, Georgia. No. Actual, true happiness. The kind of happiness that is wild and chaotic but safe and comforting too. Something I was so lucky to experience throughout my life and something I need you to experience too. Trust me when I say, when you finally do, you’ll know, and you’ll never want to let go of it.

Out of everything I have to apologize for, the one thing I’m not sorry for is that my death forced you to come back to this island. I’m not sorry that you’re finally facing your fears one tiny step at a time. I’m not sorry that this trip may bring you closer to your nephew, Beau. I’m not sorry that for once you’ve let yourself just live in the moment—no schedule, no plan, no nothing.

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