I’m scared witless. It’s a week after the full moon in November. The coral should spawn tonight.
When Tom suggested we go night-diving the idea appalled me. I’m anxious enough during the day, looking over my shoulder for sharks. Tom assures me tropical sharks are too well fed to care about humans. The ones I freaked out about when we snorkelled around the island were harmless reef sharks, he said. They didn’t look harmless to me.
‘Don’t you dare swim away and leave me.’ I glare at Tom as he hands me the strobe-light.
Tom morphs into a fish when he enters the water. He forgets everything, including me. I swear he even forgets to breathe. He stays under so long.
We walk along the shore and I exclaim in delight to see tiny bursts of light swirling around my feet.
‘Look!’ I shout to Tom’s back as he trudges ahead of me as usual.
‘Yeah,’ he says without turning. ‘Phosphorescence.’ And I find myself wondering where the old Tom went. Since he started the new company, the only thing that makes his face light up, is money. This holiday hasn’t changed anything. I’d hoped to talk to him again about starting a family but I got the same spiel about how irresponsible it is to add to the population of the planet. I tried not to let my resentment spoil things but I’m the one who plans our life around caring for the environment. When I broached the subject a year ago his first reaction was to ask if I knew the expense involved in raising a child. My face would have told him what I thought of that question.
I juggle my mask and snorkel onto my head, and pull on my fins. I look out over the black sea and before I can change my mind, sink into the blood-warm water. My strobe won’t turn on. Panic. But then fear vanishes as I find the switch and the colours of the coral come to life in the dark water. A nudibranch dances in her red and black flamenco frock, scorpion fish hover over mushroom-coral ignoring the multitude of tiny iridescent fish darting around them. A clown fish bobs in and out of his anemone and the puffer fish are busy building nests.
I melt into this world, hanging, floating, legs trailing, arms outstretched.
The light of my strobe shines on a sight that makes my heart leap. Parrot fish that during the day, can be seen munching and crunching on the coral, excreting it out in sandy streams, now sleep encased in bubbles. They seem unaware of my presence. I put my hand below one, wondering at its vulnerability. I look around for Tom.
‘Look!’ I squeak through my snorkel.
He nods and tries to take my hand but up ahead I see a mass of tiny pink globules rising in a burst of new life. I kick my fins and swim into the light.
.
