A New Life - 18. Chapter 18: Whispers in the Dark

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jill interrupted, holding up her hand before Haze had managed to finish his first sentence. She sat bolt upright on her seat, Blake observed, hawkish and imposing, her voice stern and her eyes hard.

“Why were they doin’ a swim-through in the first place?” she demanded.

Everyone turned back to Haze.

“Because they wanted to?” he answered, sardonically, defensively. “How should I know?”

“And you let them?” she shrilled.

There was the sound of people shifting uncomfortably upon the assortment of chairs that had been dragged across the shop’s carpet to form a roughly circular shape.

“Come on mate,” Nats interjected softly, always the peacemaker, Blake noted. “It’s a tourist thing, I let ‘em do it too.”

“So do I,” Matt added.

“We all do,” Vicky chimed in.

“Well then maybe that has to stop!” Jill snapped, clearly annoyed at the perceived challenge to her authority. Somehow she appeared to sit at the ‘head’ of this circle. There was certainly no mistaking who was in charge of the meeting, at any rate.

Matt and Vicky had the good graces to appear admonished, but Haze was in a different sort of mood this evening.

“Maybe we can stop ‘em goin’ into the water too while we’re at it?” he muttered, folding his arms and looking surly.

“What did you say-” Jill began, but once again Nats rode to the rescue.

“Maybe we can talk about that at the end?” she suggested, speaking over Jill without appearing to be rude about it. “Let Haze tell the story and then we can talk about what to do in future at the end?”

She sounded very reasonable and Blake could see that Matt and Vicky were nodding vigorously in agreement. Jill glared across all of them for a moment, but then she huffed and folded her arms.

“Fine. Haze?”

Haze sat a little higher in his seat, but he didn’t appear to be any less sullen nor any less defensive.

“They were doin’ a swim-through on this cave ... rock ... thing ... I dunno, it was near the pinnacle and she was halfway through when she got stuck-”

“Before, you said it collapsed on her,” Jill interrupted, yet again.

“Well it probably did, I didn’t see it happen ‘til after she got stuck, it was wedged in there pretty tight-”

“She was wedged under a rock?” Matt asked curiously.

“No,” Haze snapped, seeming exasperated at all the interruptions. “The tank was stuck, she was fine.”

Blake watched him carefully, taking mental note of the way he acted. There was something about his tone, his posture, his behaviour in general, that didn’t seem quite right. To be annoyed at the repeated interruptions was understandable, but it just wasn’t like Haze to be so easily riled, or rather, to be so visibly riled. The blue-eyed boy was overly edgy and aggressive, a little too defensive in Blake’s opinion. Too real, given the audience.

“So you swapped-” Matt began but was hushed loudly by his girlfriend. “Argh! Fine. Sorry.”

After a moment’s silence, all eyes turned back to Haze.

“So, I got her out of her BC and then ... well ...” he shifted uncomfortably in his seat for a moment, before continuing. “I guess I could’ve just taken her up, I admit ... but I thought I could get the tank free, save the gear ... ya know how Jill complains about the expensive gear.”

“Hey!” Jill snapped. “I always say: safety first. I ain’t never suggested riskin’ ya life for a tank mate.”

“I wasn’t riskin’ my life!” Haze snarled back.

“Ha!”

“Okay, okay, people!” Nats interrupted again. “At the end, bring it up at the end.”

Jill made a point of scribbling something down on her notebook, but left the argument there for the moment.

“So ... you stuck her in your gear?” Matt asked. “That’s the bit I don’t get.”

“Shhh!” hushed Vicky. “Let him tell the story.”

“There wasn’t enough room to get at it,” Haze explained, his voice sounding strained. “I thought if I stuck her in my gear I could get in closer and get her tank free.”

“So you gave her your BC and tank?”

“Yes!” Haze replied in that same overly aggressive tone. “I got outta mine and stuck her in it so she wasn’t in my face.”

He glared at Matt, as if daring him to say something else, but the New Zealander stayed silent.

“Then what happened Haze,” Nats prodded, softly, after a short pause.

“Then she must’ve panicked or something and she ...” he trailed off for a bit, as if choosing his next words carefully. “She must’ve kicked me or something. That’s when I lost my mask so I couldn’t really tell what was happening. She must’ve taken off after that. Or got lost. I couldn’t see so I dunno.”

There was a moment’s silence punctuated only by the clicking of Jill’s pen.

“And then?” Nats prodded again, when Haze didn’t seem to have anything else to add.

“And then I fucked around waiting for someone to come help me,” he snapped. “Why? What would you do?”

“I would’ve tried for an emergency ascent,” Matt offered in a jovial tone. “Made a dash for it.”

“At a hundred feet?” Vicky exclaimed.

“Why not?”

“You can’t hold your breath for five seconds baby.”

“Better than drowning!”

Blake could tell that Matt hadn’t meant anything in particular by that. He’d just been trying to lighten the mood a bit with some light-hearted banter. But the joke fell flat as everyone’s eyes quickly dropped to the floor or darted to some other corner of the room.

An awkward silence descended upon them, as the unspoken possibility was left hanging.

“Err ... anyway ... so ...” Matt stumbled, in an obvious attempt to back track the conversation. “So then Blake rescued you?”

Blake felt himself flinch involuntarily at the mention of his name. He had hardly rescued anyone. That was a bit of an exaggeration. He had ended up needing to be rescued as it had turned out, much to his lasting shame and humiliation.

He had barely a moment to think on this though, when a mighty crash from behind made him jump with fright. Abruptly, he spun around, eyes drawn immediately to the metal bucket as it rolled back and forth on the concrete floor, making a terrible din. He quickly surmised that he must have bumped the mop which he recalled seeing propped-up against the wall right next to him only a moment ago.

When the noise had finally stopped, Blake peeked his head around the doorway again to see that everyone had turned in their chairs and were now looking his way. Everyone except Haze that was.

“Sorry,” he muttered, his face burning with embarrassment as he stalked around the corner and into the shop, awkwardly.

“Hey, hey, its aqua man!” Matt declared gregariously, amidst the warm smiles and good-natured jeers from the others.

They meant well, Blake knew, but all the attention made him shrink back against the wall.

“What are ya doin’ up?” Jill demanded in a stern tone. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I-I c-can’t rest with all the noise,” Blake stammered, his protest sounding only half-heartedly at best.

In truth he hadn’t even tried ‘resting’. He’d been snooping even before the others had entered the shop for the special ‘debrief’ meeting Jill had arranged.

“You’re not well.”

“I-I’m ... o-okay now,” he stuttered, unable to meet anyone’s eyes.

“Go back to sickbay!” she ordered.

“Oh come on Jill,” said Nats. “Sickbay is a couch in the back room.”

Matt, Vicky and Carlos smirked, snorted and chortled amongst themselves, trying hard not to provoke Jill further as she glowered at them all.

“Anyway,” Nats continued, her tone placating. “The doctor said-”

“Nurse,” Jill snapped, cutting her off mid sentence as if the distinction were important.

Nats rolled her eyes.

“The nurse then ... said he was fine.”

The town didn’t have a doctor, just a part-time, all-purpose, field-nurse who could call for a flying doctor if necessary. Burt was his name, Blake recalled. He was a big guy with a permanent scowl on his face and an attitude towards patients that seemed to suggest an unwillingness to take anything less than a severed limb seriously.

Not that any kind of nurse or doctor, sympathetic or otherwise, would’ve been much help, had either Blake or Haze actually been suffering from decompression sickness. The only real treatment was to be put into a hyperbaric oxygen chamber and the nearest one of those was probably in Perth. Maybe a patient could be flown there by emergency helicopter, but help would still be hours away.

As it was though, Burt’s diagnosis was that Blake had suffered ‘a fainting spell’ and ‘bleeding nose’, brought on by a stressful situation and the strain caused by the rapid pressure changes.

All Blake heard was: ‘nothing is wrong with you, except that you are weak and a nutcase’.

He’d been feeling thoroughly ashamed and disgusted with himself ever since.

The moment was etched into his memory. Jill had breathed an audible sigh of relief upon Burt’s pronouncement and collapsed herself onto a nearby chair, but Haze had become suddenly quiet and withdrawn. That was the last time they’d had any kind of interaction. After that everything changed between them and Haze wouldn’t even look at him now.

Not that Blake felt he deserved anything more.

“Blake’s still under observation,” Jill argued, refusing to let up.

“We can observe him out here better than in there,” Nats pointed out, reasonably.

Jill didn’t say anything else after that, so Blake took this to be acceptance and he awkwardly entered the room. Since there were no more chairs, sat himself down on the carpet, resting his back against the counter. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him, so he kept his face downcast, trying not to visibly wither under the intensity of their collective gaze.

“Ya want my chair?” Nats offered kindly, but he shook his head at her.

“I’m fine with the floor thanks,” he muttered, anxious to have everyone’s attention elsewhere.

“Are ya feeling joint pain, swelling, sensations of insects crawling over the skin, numbness, itching-”

“I’m fine,” Blake said a little louder, cringing with embarrassment.

Jill put down the photocopied piece of paper she had just been reading from and then huffed.

“Fine. Just don’t piss me off, I’m still mad at ya.”

“Mad at Blake? What’d he do?” Matt asked, but he was promptly elbowed and hushed into silence again by Vicky.

Jill glared at them both for a second, but then she turned her attention back to the circle.

“So, for Blake’s benefit, the story so far goes like this. Haze decides to let one of the novice divers swim into a tiny hole, where she got stuck and then he decides to risk life and limb by performin’ a dangerous underwater swap of equipment just so he can go after her gear, rather than callin’ off the dive and takin’ ‘em back to the surface like any sensible person would’ve. Did I miss anything?”

She glanced around the circle, but her eyes narrowed and trailed especially slowly as they passed over Haze.

He ignored her though, folding his arms and looking pointedly in another direction.

“Questions?” Jill asked of the room.

Several burning questions leapt to Blake’s mind, but he had absolutely no intention of raising them.

“So, where did the other girls go then?” Vicky asked, after several moments of silence had past.

“Ask them,” was all that Haze muttered in response, his voice thick with sarcasm.

“They’re Italian,” Nats explained to Vicky and Matt who seemed confused by Haze’s answer. “Don’t speak English.”

“Did you speak to them then, Carlos?” Vicky asked, turning to face the young man next to her.

“I wasn’t there, I was at the shop,” he explained, speaking up for the first time. “I spoke to them when I got back but ... errr ...”

“But he mislead me as to his ability to speak Italian,” Jill sniped.

“I speak Spanish, not Italian,” he huffed. “I can understand a lot of Italian, but I never said I could speak it.”

“Well what did you understand?” Vicky asked.

Carlos shrugged. “Same sort of thing. She got stuck. They swapped tanks. I didn’t understand the full details, but it’s like Haze says.”

“What, so they just left him down there?” Vicky demanded, sounding scandalised by the possibility. “So much for the buddy system.”

“The visibility was shit, Vicks,” Nats pointed out. “Ya couldn’t see ya hand in front of ya face. They probably got frightened and got lost.”

“Still, they might’ve at least tried to help,” she sulked. “God, the number of times I’ve thought of leaving a tourist down there ...”

Blake was only half paying attention to the back and forth quarrelling between his co-workers. Now that the others had forgotten about him down there on the carpet, he was free to study the one person he was truly interested in and very much worried about. Haze.

Superficially it appeared as though Haze had retreated back into his shell again. He was facing away from the others with his arms crossed and a fairly bland scowl upon his face. Detached and avoidant. However, Blake knew better. He could tell that Haze was still listening intently to the conversation. He was not emotionally mute. He seemed tense and aggressive, especially when Matt next piped up.

“So can we go back to the bit about swapping the gear? Cause I gotta say, I find that the most interesting part.”

Matt’s tone and manner did not denote any level of seriousness. It was obvious to anyone that the New Zealander thought the whole saga amusing, but little more. He was not probing for details, he was merely interested.

So, it was curious, Blake thought, that Haze seemed so on edge whenever Matt brought this bit up.

“I mean, how do ya even go about that? Underwater I mean?”

“It’s not that hard,” Haze responded, gruffly.

“Did you take off your BC while she was still stuck?” Matt asked, grinning.

“No ...” Haze paused and licked his lips for a moment. “Of course not.”

“So she was breathing from your spare at the time?”

“Yeah, so?”

Blake knew that Haze was lying.

He might’ve been able to guess as much based purely on his observations of the other boy, who flinched at the question and sounded far too defensive when responding.

As it was though, he didn’t need to watch Haze to know that he was lying. Blake had inspected the blue-eyed boy’s diving gear afterwards and knew for a fact that the backup regulator wasn’t working on Haze’s gear.

It was just one of the burning questions he wanted to ask about, but bringing that up here would do nothing to help Haze. Blake was worried that it would only make things worse for the other boy and right now Haze’s welfare was the most important thing, not his own curiosity.

“So how did she take off on you, if you were both breathing from the same tank?” Vicky asked.

“I ...” Haze hesitated for a moment. “I’d swapped to the tank that was stuck. So I could get in closer.”

“I’d have stayed with the girl,” said Matt, adding a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrow and a laugh.

“How did you manage that without getting tangled?” Vicky pressed, ignoring Matt’s antics.

“Skill,” was Haze’s answer, his expression deadpan.

“Skill my arse,” Matt goaded. “You’d be in a sorry state of affairs if Blake didn’t save your hide.”

Blake started at the mention of his name, but since he had been watching Haze at the time, he didn’t have a chance to duck his head before the other boy looked over at him. Haze seemed every bit as unhappy about the eye contact himself though, and the two of them looked the other way almost simultaneously.

This is how it had been between them since they’d left the medical centre. An invisible, yet impenetrable barrier of awkward, tension now kept them apart, making any form of interaction impossible. Even a fleeting glance from Haze was enough to make the hairs on the back of Blake’s neck stand on end. The idea of talking to or even approaching the blue-eyed boy now seemed fanciful.

But before that, things had been entirely different between them. Blake recalled a completely different picture, lying in the cabin, his head in Haze’s lap as the other boy dabbed the blood off his face. Maybe he’d just been hallucinating at the time, but he seemed to remember a look of such tenderness on Haze’s face that it made his heart burst to think back on it now.

Had that just been a dream? A wishful delusion created by his crazy desperate mind?

Regardless, that time was now over. Everything had changed between them.

Blake wasn’t entirely sure why, but he wasn’t wanting for possible explanations.

For his part, the burning shame and humiliation he felt about blacking out in front of Haze mid ‘rescue’ certainly didn’t help matters. He couldn’t believe that he’d managed to hold it together for so long during the search only to fall apart right in front of Haze once the hard bit was over, once they were back on the surface. What a failure.

Blake only wished that he really did have decompression sickness. At least then he would have an explanation, an excuse for appearing so weak and pathetic. A bit of a bleeding nose and some dizziness and he’d made Haze think he was dying. What a joke he must seem in Haze’s eyes now.

If that wasn’t enough of a reason to feel uncomfortable, there was also the persistent memory of, what he had come to think of as, ‘the’ kiss. That terrifying, wondrous and confusing moment of bliss. It shook Blake to the core every time he thought back on it. What had possessed him to kiss his straight friend in the first place?

As for why Haze was acting strangely too, Blake could only guess.

Haze was probably furious, not to mention disgusted by the kiss for one thing. Blake couldn’t believe that he had been so stupid as to kiss Haze. Why had he done that? He’d been so deluded and crazy at the time that he’d even imagined it was Haze’s fault, that it was Haze who had initiated the kiss! How ridiculous that now seemed. Haze had only just broken up with his girlfriend. Why would he be kissing anyone, much less a boy, much less someone as unappealing as Blake himself?

No. It wasn’t Haze’s doing. Blake had only himself to blame. He couldn’t remember how, but he knew it was his fault. He’d spent too much time obsessing over Haze and hadn’t been able to control himself.

On top of that, Haze was also probably embarrassed about needing assistance from a weakling like Blake. The look Haze had given him when they first got to the surface had said it all. Or maybe he was put out by having to take over the failed rescue? He probably felt used too after taking Blake’s imaginary decompression sickness seriously, only to find out later it was nothing.

That was the last time Haze had looked at him properly, anyway.

Made sense.

Whatever the reasons, the result was a tension between them so intense they were like magnets repelling each other from across the room.

Blake couldn’t think of any way to breach the chasm that had grown between them, which was bad news, because he knew that he had to do just that. Because most troubling to Blake now was not the things that had happened on the boat that day, but the things that he’d learned afterwards, after he’d snooped through Haze’s diving gear.

If it were possible, Blake was more worried about Haze now, than he had been when the boy was lost beneath the ocean earlier.

But what could he do about it? How could he approach Haze? What would he say?

He was running out of time to figure something out too.

How much longer was this meeting going to go for? Where would Haze go after it had finished? Blake knew that he couldn’t let the other boy out of his sight, but what would his excuse be? He couldn’t just follow him around ... could he?

“Blake!”

Blake jumped at the sound of his name, glancing up to meet a sea of eyes staring at him. Except Haze’s beautiful blue eyes of course. They were looking elsewhere.

“W-what?” he stammered nervously.

“Did you faint again?” Matt joked in a teasing, but light-hearted tone, drawing a few giggles from the others.

Blake tried to smile and to laugh with them, but he was far too raw from the experience to stifle the overpowering sense of shame and self-loathing evoked by the cutting remark. He felt sick to the pit of his stomach, the smothering feelings gnawing at his insides, but he managed to contain them and to half smile, half wince in response.

He answered with only a downcast shake of his head, unable to trust that his voice wouldn’t give him away.

“Shuddup you.” Jill scolded, and Vicky backed her up with another elbow to her boyfriend’s ribcage, much to his annoyance.

“Are ya sure you’re okay mate?” Nats asked, leaning closer while the others were distracted by Matts loud complaining.

“Y-Yeah s-sorry,” Blake mumbled quietly. “Just a bit ...”

He trailed off for a moment, distracted by what he thought he saw just beyond her shoulder. A glance from Haze? He’d blinked though and it was gone. He must’ve imagined it.

“Just a bit spacey,” he finished. “I’m fine though, really.”

Nats seemed dissatisfied with his answer, but before she could say anything else, Matt had spoken up again.

“So let’s hear Blake’s story then!”

Nats drew back in her seat and left Blake facing everyone again, much to his discomfort.

“I ... err ...” he paused to clear his throat in an awkward manner before continuing. “N-not much to t-tell really. I ... um ... followed the trail of air and ... was lucky to find H-Haze.”

He risked an upwards glance just then, his eyes drawn involuntarily to the boy in question as he spoke his name, but Haze wasn’t looking his way. Haze was still pretending to ignore everyone.

“He used my spare reg and we got back to the surface. I-I didn’t see the gear that well, but it was stuck under some rocks.”

“I can’t believe you managed to follow the trail in that shit viz,” said Nats, sounding overly impressed.

Blake knew she was just being a friend to him, trying to boost his self-esteem or something, but he really wished that she hadn’t said anything. He’d actually fucked up the search and had stumbled upon Haze quite by accident. He was not deserving of praise. The rescue had been a failure.

“Luck I guess,” he mumbled, praying that this would be the end of it.

“Lucky for Haze anyway,” she said, but Blake just shrugged in response to that, not wanting to draw out the story any longer than was necessary.

“So was he freakin’ out when you found him?” Matt asked with a sly smile on her face.

Blake risked another glance over towards Haze, but the other boy was withdrawn, still ignoring the discussion. Or at least pretending to.

“N-no. He was ...” Blake felt a shiver go down his spine at the image his memory conjured up.

Haze as still as a corpse.

“He was ... calm.”

Too calm, considering, but Blake wasn’t about to bring that up.

After the story had finished and there were no more questions Jill took charge of the meeting again.

“Okay people so what’ve we learned?” she asked, scanning down the list of scribbles she’d made on her note pad.

“Never trust Italians?” Matt quipped, earning himself a laugh from the others and a glare from Jill.

“Number one,” she began, speaking in what Blake thought of as her ‘teacher’s voice’. “Follow the rules.

“Almost every diving accident happens when someone doesn’t follow the rules.

“If ya buddy gets trapped, spend no more than three or four minutes tryin’ to get ‘em free. If ya can’t ... then get ‘em out of their gear and onto ya spare reg. Then immediately surface together.

“Don’t!” and she paused to glare at Haze in particular as she said this next bit.

“Don’t fluff about worryin’ over gear. Yes, it’s expensive. Yes, we have to be careful with it. No, we don’t ever take risks with our safety for it. If it’s stuck, leave it.”

She paused for a moment as if to underscore her point.

“What else, what else ... ah ... the buddy system.

“Everyone stays with their buddy. Especially when the visibility is bad. If ya lose track of your buddy, spend no more than 5 minutes lookin’ for them. If ya can’t find ‘em, return to the surface straight away ... meet up there.”

She put the note book down for a moment and scanned across the room.

“Everyone needs to hammer this into the tourists especially. Don’t leave ya buddy. Don’t leave ya buddy. Ya have to tell ‘em every single time, a hundred times, and don’t let ‘em forget it.

“And don’t ever swap tanks with someone underwater either ... that’s just dumb.”

A murmur of giggles arose from the others, but Blake noted that there was no reaction from Haze, who seemed to be back to his usual introverted self. Neutral, detached, avoidant. No sign of real Haze now.

“Another thing, Matt mentioned this, emergency ascent.

“If ya do get stuck and somehow ya can’t find a buddy, and ya run out of air, don’t forget the emergency ascent.

“Drop your gear, drop your weight belt and swim to the surface as fast as you can, making sure that you breathe out slowly in one continuous breath. Never hold ya breath. The air in ya lungs will expand as the pressure drops and ya can burst a lung or somethin’.

“Emergency ascents are dangerous and there is a good chance you will get decomp injuries, so it’s a last resort only. But ... yeah ... it’s there to remember if ya ... ever find yourself in ...” she trailed off, as if uncomfortable with where she was straying. “... in a position like ... like Hazewas in.”

Jill continued her summary and debrief of the day’s incident, but Blake’s attention was elsewhere. He grew more and more restless, worrying about what he was going to do when the meeting was over. It was nearly 7 o’clock and getting quite late outside. There was no way Jill was likely to drag this meeting out much longer and no way anyone would stick around when it was over.

What was he going to do? He couldn’t allow Haze out of his sight, of that much he was sure. He needed to keep an eye on him, to make sure Haze was safe, but how was he going to manage that? Especially since Haze was actively working to keep a distance between them.

Maybe he could follow the blue-eyed boy around? Spy on him from a distance?

It seemed ridiculous to Blake and yet infinitely preferable to any option that involved actually having to speak to him.

Just then the room was filled with the sounds of movement, as everyone got to their feet and started to drag their chairs back to wherever they had got them from.

Blake realised that he must’ve tuned out again and he felt a pang of alarm run through him as he watched Haze carry a chair through to the backroom.

What if the blue-eyed boy left before he could catch up to him?

Blake quickly got to his feet, but was stopped by Jill.

“Could you stay behind a second Blake?”

For a moment he thought about telling her ‘no’, but he knew he couldn’t do that.

“See ya tomorrow Blake,” Nats said, patting him on the shoulder as she left.

The others waved goodbye too. All except Haze of course. Haze had never returned from the backroom. He must have slipped out the back exit.

Blake bounced on his toes, anxious to follow after Haze, but wary of getting Jill off-side by leaving.

“Listen mate,” she began after everyone left the room. “Ya did good today, which is why I ain’t gonna punish ya for the way that ya acted on the boat. But. I gotta have confidence in my crew mate. I gotta know that you’ll do as I say next time. No arguin’.”

Blake felt his shoulders hunch as he mutely studied the floor. He felt embarrassed at the thought of having shouted at her earlier that day.

“Ya got lucky this time and it came good, maybe ya even saved Haze from ... from god know’s what. But if everyone was followin’ the rules – him included – this wouldn’t have happened. Next time I tell ya somethin’ ya gotta listen and do as I say okay?”

Blake had no intention of arguing with her no matter what she said. He just wanted this to be over, so he nodded his head vigorously.

“Yeah ... I’m really sorry Jill. Just got caught up in the moment.” He glanced up to give her as sincere a look as he could muster.

It seemed to work, since she smiled in response and patted him on the shoulder.

“Alright well you take care okay?”

“Sure.”

He began to back away, relieved that the conversation was finally over, but then Jill was speaking to him again.

“Oh ... I got ya rostered on tomorrow too, but ya probably won’t be diving, so ... er ... ya want the day off or do ya need the money? Weather’s gettin’ worse. Cyclone might shut us down for a week or more ... so if ya want the work I can always put ya in the shop or get ya to ...”

“I’ll come tomorrow and we can talk about it then,” he interrupted, trying not to sound too impatient with her rambling.

“Sure,” she said, nodding slowly. “Well, goodnight Blake, rest up okay?”

“Thanks. See you tomorrow.”

The moment she turned away, Blake made a dash for the doorway. He bounded down the stairs of the shop and came to a halt on the footpath, glancing left and then right, an anxious feeling rising in his chest.

There was no sign of Haze, nor was there any sign of his ute either. At least, not in the shop’s small car park on this side of the mall. So he dashed up the footpath to the back of the building, passing the skip bins and some bushes as he navigated his way around to the main car park on the other side. It was getting harder to see in the evening light and he stumbled a bit on the rocks and sand as he went, but he didn’t pause for a moment.

On reaching the main car park, he quickly scanned the cars and was enormously relieved to spot Haze’s ute. It was parked neatly between two cars near the supermarket exit and it was empty.

Blake worried about that for a moment. Perhaps Haze had left his car here and walked home? But he quickly shook these thoughts from his head. They were paranoid and silly. Why would Haze have done something like that? It made no sense. Haze would at least drive himself home in his own car. He had to be around here somewhere.

Having decided this, Blake took a moment to relax a bit and to catch his breath. Even in the dwindling evening light the muggy summer heat was oppressive and the short sprint had left him puffed and sweaty.

What he needed now was a plan.

Still unable to fathom having to actually speak to Haze, Blake decided to keep an eye on the vehicle from a distance, instead. Preferably, from the comfort of the air-conditioned shopping centre, he figured.

He made his way over, intent on finding a vantage point from where he could keep watch. However, he was only a few metres away from the supermarket when all of a sudden, there was Haze, leaving the supermarket with a bag of shopping.

He was still wearing what now appeared to be a rather mangy looking uniform, crumpled and dirty, but he’d ditched the shop’s trademark cap, his messy locks now chaotic and free. He appeared to be lost in thought, withdrawn, but not in his usual introverted way. This was different. He seemed sad more than anything else.

Blake froze and then, half-a-second later, he watched as Haze did exactly the same.

It crossed Blake’s mind to make a run for it or to find a place to hide, but his feet wouldn’t move. He was in plain sight in the middle of the footpath anyway and there was no mistaking that Haze had already seen him.

Haze had a look on his face that suggested he might have been thinking the same thing. It was certainly not welcoming and in made Blake gulp, nervously.

After what seemed like forever, Haze ducked his head and then continued to walk towards Blake as he had been doing, albeit, without looking up from the pavement.

For a moment, Blake thought he was going to ignore him and walk straight past, but he didn’t. Haze walked right up to him and then stopped a few paces away, intent on studying the footpath at his feet.

“Hey,” he mumbled, his blue eyes darting up and down, but never lingering on Blake for more than half a second. He was clearly ill at ease.

“Hi,” Blake responded, equally uncomfortable and struggling to make eye contact himself.

There was a long and excruciatingly awkward pause, during which neither of them spoke.

“Listen-”

“So-”

They spoke at once and then both stopped.

“You go-”

“Wha-”

They stopped again.

Blake recalled the first proper conversation he’d ever had with Haze starting out just like this. That afternoon, on the jetty, hosing down the boat together after Blake’s first day of diving. Except this time there was no amused chuckle from Haze to break the ice, only further awkward silence from them both.

It saddened Blake to think about this. So much had happened since that day and yet somehow here they were, still acting like strangers. Despite all the obsessing and worrying and effort Blake had put into getting closer to the boy with the maddening blue eyes he had somehow managed to make no progress, no progress at all. Yet another failure to add to the list of his failures.

“Listen...” said Haze, breaking the silence after what had seemed like forever. “Thanks for ...”, but then he seemed to peter out mid sentence, as if he’d changed his mind or forgotten what he was about to say.

“Yeah,” Blake responded, eager to fill the gap and unable to think of anything else to add.

“I ... er ...”

“Sure.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Did this tongue-tied overlay of mutterings count as a conversation? Even by their standards?

There was another awkward silence before finally Haze spoke up again.

“I gotta go,” he said, making a sudden move towards his car.

The sight of Haze leaving sent a renewed rush of anxiety through Blake, a flutter in his chest that seemed to amplify with each step putting distance between them. It wasn’t that Blake wanted this unpleasant, uncomfortable encounter to continue. He wanted it to end just as much as Haze obviously did too, but he couldn’t allow that to happen. He couldn’t let Haze go off alone. He had to keep an eye on him, somehow. That meant staying close by.

“Don’t go!” he exclaimed, a little louder and more urgently than he’d meant to.

Haze stopped walking, but he didn’t turn around.

“I ... I really have to ...” he started to say over his shoulder, but Blake interrupted him.

“You can’t be alone,” he declared adamantly, wincing upon the replay of those words in his head. He was sounding crazy again. “I mean I can’t be alone.”

Haze turned around, his brow furrowed. He still wasn’t quite making eye contact though.

“I mean ...” Blake floundered, his mind desperately grasping for an idea. “I’m ... I’m feeling sick,” he finally said, grimacing to himself.

Sick?

Haze’s face quickly softened and then grew concerned.

“Ya gettin’ the signs Burt talked about?” he asked, sounding a little more animated for the first time.

“No ... I mean ... Yes! Well ... I mean, I ... don’t know.”

Haze’s face seemed to harden into a scowl in response to that.

“I mean, I’m not sure! I just ... I don’t think I should be alone ... right now ... for a while,” Blake managed to stumble, doing his best to look sincere. He felt horribly ashamed and guilty for lying to Haze, but he was unable to come up with any other plan to keep him around. Caught on the spot like this anyway.

Haze shifted about uncomfortably. He seemed to be weighing up something, as if extremely reluctant to talk about it.

“Look ... if ... if this is about ...” he began, but Blake didn’t even give him a chance to go anywhere with that sentence.

“It’s not! It’s not about that!” he blurted out, instinct demanding that he shut down that line of conversation immediately. “Let’s just forget about that ...”

Forget about what, he then wondered to himself? What was Haze about to say anyway? What were they now forgetting about? The meeting? The dive? The failed rescue? The no-longer-girlfriend? The drunken night at the bar? Or worse ... the kiss?

Blake didn’t even know, but that didn’t matter. The discomfort he’d felt and could see mirrored in Haze’s body language seemed reason enough to stop that conversation. At any rate, the real reason Blake wanted to stay with Haze had to do with what he had surmised after snooping through Haze’s diving gear. Whatever else the blue-eyed boy was about to say, it couldn’t have be about that.

“It’s not about anything, I just ... don’t feel that great ... and ... I don’t want to be alone ... just in case.”

There was another long and awkward pause.

“Okay,” Haze finally responded, in a neutral, almost disinterested tone of voice.

The mask was back.

“Come on then.”

He walked the short distance to his ute, unlocking the nearer passenger-side door before making his way around to the driver’s side.

Blake got into the car and sat rigid in the passenger seat, intent on facing the front windscreen at all times, but unable to resist the odd sideways glance at Haze, now and then. Neither of them spoke as the other boy got into the car and started the engine. But then Haze was suddenly leaning over towards the passenger side of the ute and Blake, catching the movement out of the corner of his eye, instinctively recoiled, knocking his head against window.

He wasn’t sure why he had jumped like that. It had just felt like Haze was intruding on his space all of a sudden, which made him feel ... the need to back away. The collision hadn’t hurt exactly. It was just loud, stopping Haze in his tracks.

The blue-eyed boy gave him an odd look for a moment, but then he dropped his gaze to Blake’s feet, depositing the bag of shopping there, before returning his hands to the steering wheel.

Blake cringed, embarrassed by what an idiot he was yet again proving himself to be in front of Haze.

Neither of them spoke at any time during the drive to the resort, not that Haze had ever been very talkative when he was driving. Not a word had been spoken between them the last time Blake was sitting in this seat either, he recalled.

When the ute finally pulled into the rear car park of the resort, Blake was feeling thankful that the awkward trip was over, but things proved no less uncomfortable between them after that.

Haze grabbed the shopping bag and got out of the ute without saying a word, seemingly indifferent to whether Blake followed him or not. He made his way over to a familiar building, the resort’s dining hall.

Blake nervously undid his seatbelt, opening the door and then closing it again behind himself. He waited there for a moment, but then he figured that Haze wasn’t coming out again anytime soon, so he would have to follow.

Inside, the resort’s dining hall appeared to be in considerably better shape, compared to the last time Blake had seen it. In fact, as he cautiously made his way further inside, it became apparent to him that everything seemed as good as new.

There were a dozen or more tables evenly spaced around the room, each with ten or so chairs. Every table was the same, draped in a white table cloth and adorned with an assortment of green and red tinsel, Christmas crackers and other decorations.

The Christmas tree at the centre of the room was fixed somehow too, its branches and decorations replaced or mended.

Running along the nearest wall was another long table piled high with glassware, crockery and utensils. Not a broken piece of glass or plate could be seen. The floor was swept clean and even the lights were fixed.

Blake wandered further into the room, marvelling at the sights around him. How had Haze managed to do all this in just a few days? He must have had time for nothing else.

The boy in question was standing still a short way inside, surveying the room as if from a trance-like state of mind. His hands were in the pockets of his board shorts, the shopping bag on the floor at his feet.

Timidly, Blake drew alongside, trying to glance at Haze’s face without being caught. He needn’t have worried though. Haze was in his own world. He didn’t even seem to notice Blake was there. He was ‘lost’ again, that terrible sad and lonely look to his face. There seemed to be a dullness about him, but one that went well beyond his usual detached and introverted expressions. This was real Haze, not a mask. The look of a young man who was hurting, bad.

The sight made Blake’s heart ache too, as if he could feel that sadness resonating within himself.

“It’s perfect,” he said softly, desperate to say something that would take away that pain.

Haze’s vacant eyes dropped a bit and then his expression furrowed, as if he were contemplating something. For a moment Blake thought he was going to ignore the comment, but then he spoke in a soft, croaky voice.

“Not perfect. I forgot somethin’.”

He paused for a while without elaborating further, but before Blake could summon up the courage to say something else, Haze had bent over to pick up the bag at his feet. He peeled back the plastic to reveal packets of white candles, flat circular candles each sitting in a metal basin.

He broke one of packets open and made his way over to the nearest table. He then set about placing one candle in each of the Christmas-styled candle holders. There were several types, Blake noted. Snowmen with hollowed bellies, reindeer with empty sleighs, Santas with open bags. Haze put a candle in each one and then moved to the next table.

Blake didn’t quite know what to do with himself, so he just stood there and watched Haze go about this task. It occurred to him to offer to help, but Haze seemed intently focused on the activity, lost in his own world. Blake felt it would somehow be intruding to disturb him and so he just waited patiently.

After Haze had made his way around the whole room and then back again, he placed the extra candles on the table with the dinnerware and then scrunched up the plastic, tossing it into the nearby bin. He then returned to his previous standing spot, although a little further way from Blake than before.

“I really wanted to finish that yesterday,” he said, almost as if to himself. “But I didn’t finish in time.”

“Well ... now it’s perfect then,” Blake said, watching Haze carefully for any insight on what the other boy was thinking.

Haze’s expression darkened and then he snorted.

“Hmph. I’m sure somethin’ will be wrong with it,” he muttered. “There usually is.”

Blake wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean, although the image of Mrs Herrington immediately sprung to mind. He was dying to ask, to prod Haze for further information, but he didn’t. As much as he wanted to know everything about the other boy, he didn’t want to take the conversation in any direction that might be upsetting. At least not tonight. Right now, Haze needed to get out of this dark place that he was in. He did not need to get dragged down further.

“So ... what’s next then?” Blake asked, trying to inject a note of merriment he wasn’t actually feeling into his voice.

Haze still didn’t look his way though, he just seemed to stare into nothing. After a long moment’s contemplation he spoke in a soft and terribly small voice.

“I have absolutely no idea.”

The emotion conveyed so much more than the words. Blake didn’t get the feeling Haze was talking about what to do next that evening. It sounded more as though he were answering the question of life itself.

Blake found himself walking over to Haze, wanting to reach out to him, to comfort him, but then stopping short a few paces away. Though Haze still wasn’t looking his way, Blake felt that impenetrable wall between them again and he just couldn’t bring himself to breach it. At least not physically.

“Well ... um ... I haven’t eaten ... so ...” but then he stopped as he realised that he sounded like he was asking Haze out to dinner or something. “I mean ... I’m just hungry is all ... like maybe we could grab something to eat ... like not at a restaurant or anything ... just ... errr ... maybe?”

He squirmed on the spot as the question was left hanging between them. Haze’s lengthy silence was proving devastating to Blake’s nerves.

“Sometimes I get somethin’ from the kitchen, like fish and chips,” he said and for the first time Blake saw him glance his way although it was only for a moment. “We can eat it on the beach ... um ... if ya don’t want to eat at the bistro.”

Blake could feel the awkward tension between them building again, but it seemed benign compared to the horrible sadness and pain that had been there before, so he didn’t mind so much this time.

“I-I um ... that sounds great,” he said, trying hard to ignore the voice in his head that muttered mutinously about the fat content of ‘fish and chips’. He could manage one meal. He had to stick with Haze. That was more important.

However, Haze seemed to notice the indecision flashing across his face.

“Unless ya feelin too sick?” he said, hurriedly backing away from his offer as if embarrassed.

“No!” Blake rushed to say. “I’m not feeling sick at all!”

Then he remembered his excuse for hanging around Haze.

“In the tummy! Not sick like that ... at all, in that way. But maybe still from the diving ... sick that way ... but only maybe ...” he trailed off, embarrassed at how ridiculous he was sounding. “Erm ... so lead the way.”

Haze nodded, appearing grateful for something to do. “Come on then,” he said, making for a double door at the far end of the room.

Blake followed, pushing past the white, double-hinged doors, which swung open to reveal a kitchen bustling with movement and sound. A couple of the staff in chef aprons waved at Haze and shouted something over the din. They didn’t seem surprised to see him and were otherwise intent on doing their jobs.

Blake tired to remain inconspicuous, keeping out of the way as Haze lifted a metal basket out of the deep-fryer and hung it up to drain. He then made his way over to the freezer, collecting various bits and pieces and tossing them into another metal basket. He shouted something at the staff and then placed the already cooked items into a nearby cardboard box, grabbing a few condiments and other things to put into a bag on his way out.

A short while later, Blake found himself walking half a pace behind Haze as they crossed the front lawn of the resort, making their way towards the water. The sun had only just set and there was a blaze of orange and red still visible above the horizon of the ocean, even though the sky above was now dark.

The manicured green lawns abruptly stopped at the boundary of the resort, giving way to stony red sand, scraggly grey grass and bushes. These too eventually disappeared, blending with the sand, first orange to yellow and then to white as finally they reached the beach.

There was only just enough light by that stage to see the sand beneath them and the sea was already a dark, shapeless expanse. The night was still, but being so close to the water, Blake could feel a gentle breeze on his skin, wonderfully refreshing in the muggy summer air. The evening was calm and quiet, the silence punctuated only by the intermittent crash of tiny waves on the beach and the occasional noise from the resort, drifting ever so faintly over the dunes.

After a while, Haze abruptly stopped walking, having apparently found a place to eat. He swept an area of sand flat with his bare feet and then dropped to the ground, sitting cross-legged, before placing the carton of food and the plastic bag besides him.

Blake dithered awkwardly about where to sit for a moment, not sure if he should sit next to Haze or facing him. On the right or the left? Towards the ocean or the resort? How close?

He knew it probably wouldn’t matter soon. It was getting too dark to see anything. However, he still held back until finally he took his cue from the way Haze was laying out the food. He kicked off his flip-flops and sat down on the sand just to the other boy’s left.

Blake was thankful for the darkness. It helped him to hide the awkward tension coursing through his body. It also helped him to avoid thinking about how unhealthy the food was.

Gratefully, he accepted a greasy piece of something from Haze, holding it steady while the other boy squeezed some lemon juice over it. Blake hadn’t realised how hungry he was until after that first bite. The food tasted surprisingly good and he quickly devoured the salty, greasy morsel before digging around in the box for more.

He happened to glance over to Haze at that point and could just make out his bemused expression in the dimming light.

“What?” he asked, feeling anxious and self-conscious under the other boy’s scrutiny.

“Hungry huh?”

Blake could just make out Haze’s eyes. They twinkled ever so faintly, as the now dark pools caught and reflected the dying rays of light.

“Y-Yeah ...” he laughed nervously, again grateful for the darkness, praying it would conceal his reddening cheeks. “I missed lunch on the ... um ... boat ...”

He trailed off, unwilling to bring up the circumstances surrounding lunch that day. The truth was he probably could’ve eaten on the boat, but he had been too busy acting like a wimp, convinced he was suffering from decompression sickness.

“Yeah ... me too ...” said Haze, as a change of expression ran across his face. He seemed to become more thoughtful and melancholy again, although it was getting harder and harder to tell in the darkening evening light.

Blake kicked himself mentally for taking the conversation down that path, for dragging Haze right back down again, just after he’d finally shown some good humour.

“Pretty handy being able to grab food like that,” he ventured, aiming for a change of topic. “You must eat like a king.”

It seemed to work. Haze appeared to snap out of whatever dark thoughts he was thinking about and his expression brightened. Perhaps the food was helping to lift his mood? Its warmth and nourishment had certainly helped to calm the anxious knot in Blake’s stomach.

“Yeah well ... I don’t do it all the time,” he said, before reaching to grab a handful of chips.

“Even some of the time must be awesome, not having to cook.”

“I used to be a cook there actually.”

“At the resort?”

“Uh-huh.”

“So you can cook huh?”

Haze made a scoffing sound, but he sounded amused rather than bitter.

“I mostly manned the deep fryer and waited tables.”

“After school and stuff?”

“No. Just holidays. I went to boarding school.”

“Oh ... well ... it must have been great to come back here every summer?”

Haze wiped his hands on his board shorts, brushing off the salt and grease before reaching for the can of soft drink.

“Yeah ... I guess ... I hated school. Always hangin’ to get back to the water.”

“For diving?”

“Yeah ... well ... when I was old enough. Before that the beach, boats, snorkellin’ ... whatever. I always loved the sea.”

“When did you get your diving licence?”

“Fifteen, but before that, even when we were too young for our licence, I would go with ...” he paused then, his face darkening once more. “With Patty ... and her uncle ...”

“Sounds like a great way to spend the summer,” said Blake, trying to salvage the conversation.

But it was too late. Haze had withdrawn again.

“Yeah,” he muttered, shifting his attention back to the food.

Blake left that topic there, taking the opportunity to eat some more chips while he tried to think of something else to say. Haze didn’t seem to be very talkative, so Blake was surprised when he spoke up of his own accord, a short while later.

“Blake?” he ventured in a soft uncertain sounding voice.

Blake felt that familiar shiver of nervous excitement course through him.

“Yeah?” he responded, trying to study Haze’s expression, but finding that impossible this time around.

The night was truly upon them now and it had grown so dark that Haze was just a black shadow, barely distinguishable from all the other dark shapes on the beach. Blake wasn’t even sure which direction the other boy was facing.

“Can I ask ya somethin’?”

Blake swallowed, inaudibly. “Yeah.”

“Why are ya here?”

A sinking sensation spread through his body as Blake worried about the meaning behind such a question.

What was Haze getting at? Had he figured out Blake was only pretending to be sick? Did he think he was acting weird or crazy? Was he wary now, about being left alone together after ... the kiss?

Without the ability to read the other boy’s body language or facial expressions, Blake had only the tone of Haze’s voice to go by. He sounded uncertain, hesitant and kind of sad, but genuine. He didn’t sound accusatory.

But what did all that mean?

Blake decided to play it safe.

“I ... I wasn’t feeling well ... still maybe not ... um ... and I just wanted-”

“I didn’t mean that,” Haze interrupted, not forcefully or angrily. If anything he sounded ponderous, almost philosophical.

“I mean why are ya here. In Kulibari Bay?”

Blake found himself caught off guard by the question. It certainly hadn’t occurred to him that Haze might be asking such a thing.

“Well err ... to be a ... um ... dive master, of course,” he fumbled, struggling to come up with an answer on the spot.

He heard Haze shifting about on the sand besides him, but he couldn’t see what he was doing.

“Yeah, but why?” Haze asked, his voice now coming from further away and lower down.

“I ... I dunno,” Blake responded, honestly.

He figured that Haze was lying down now and so he decided to do the same. He leaned back until his head was resting on the sand and then stared up at the stars in the sky.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean?”

Haze didn’t respond immediately and in the darkness Blake was unable to ascertain what he might be thinking.

“Mum tells me ya come from a ritzy part of Sydney,” he said eventually, in a soft voice. “Fancy school. Fancy university. Good job as a lawyer ...”

“Oh ...” Blake muttered, understanding the question now, but not entirely sure as to how he should answer it.

Officially he was on a ‘career break’. A year without pay. Something that the firm he’d worked for, like most of the large Sydney law firms, offered as a way of trying to retain staff who were going through some midlife crisis.

Of course he was too young for a midlife crisis, being only a few years out from law school. In fact he wasn’t really eligible for a career break under the firm’s employment terms and nor did he ask for one in any event. He had walked into the office that day meaning to resign forever, but the partners had made such a fuss about ‘throwing away his future’ that he’d ended up agreeing to this instead.

It was a good deal, he could choose to come back at anytime in the next 12 months and get his old job back, but there was no obligation to, no commitment. This was good because deep down he knew he didn’t want to go back to being a lawyer in a big city firm. It was killing him.

Nearly had killed him, he reminded himself bitterly.

“I’m on an extended working holiday ...” he started to say, but then he stopped.

That wasn’t really the full truth and hadn’t he decided that he needed to be more open and honest with Haze? How could he expect the other boy to confide in him, to be open in return when he was always hiding things?

“Actually, to tell you the truth, I just quit one day. I ... didn’t want to be a lawyer.”

“Couldn’t ya do somethin’ else in Sydney?” Haze asked after a brief pause.

“Yeah ... I guess ... I just ... I wanted to do diving.”

“Diving is huge in Sydney.”

“Yeah ... but no reefs, nothing like this,” Blake argued, but it sounded unconvincing even to his own ears.

“I guess,” came the flat reply.

Blake could hear the unsatisfied tone in Haze’s voice, even without being able to see him through the darkness.

“I suppose ... there’s more to it than that ...” he ventured, trying to ignore the part of his mind that was shouting at him not to take the conversation in this direction.

Was this really a good idea? Haze most likely thought he was crazy already. And perverted and a wimp and fuck knows what else. Did he really have to add this to the list?

“Ya don’t have to say if ya don’t want,” Haze offered, softly, apparently sensing the hesitation.

Blake considered taking the out, changing to a safer topic and talking about something else, something that didn’t make him feel so vulnerable. But then another thought occurred to him. Maybe this is was a way he could broach with Haze the topic he’d been trying to get to all afternoon?

He recalled Nats telling him how he needed to talk about himself more, to share more with others so that they would feel inclined to share their stories in return. This was one of those opportunities, he was sure of it. To say nothing would be to waste it.

He took a deep breath and steeled his nerves, grateful for the comforting veil of darkness. Without a moon in the sky and with only the faintest star light above them, he could not see Haze at all now. The darkness and the quiet were reassuring somehow, like hiding under the covers of his bed. He felt emboldened, encouraged to say more.

“Well ... I ... I was in a really ... bad space ... not so long ago,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Unhappy, but not like ... you know ... just sad or something, this was unhappy until it hurt. Unhappy all the time. A hopeless, desperate kinda unhappy.”

He took another breath and then swallowed, sensing the poisonous feelings arise within, as he recalled those last few months in Sydney.

“Nothing was fun anymore, even my favourite things to do. No one ... got me and ... I didn’t want anyone around anyway. Had lost most my friends ... stopped talking to my family ... I was all alone and ...” he choked a bit, unable to suppress the involuntary sob from catching in his throat.

“And the ... thoughts ... I would think ... all the time. They were so bad ... so bad they hurt. It hurt all the time.”

He paused for a moment, trying to control the shallow, shuddering breaths he was now taking. The memories and the emotions they evoked were so powerful, even after all this time. It was like a panic attack, but different. That same ‘overwhelmed’ feeling, but this time because of the sadness and pain, rather than from fear or panic.

Haze didn’t say anything and as to why that was, Blake could only guess. Maybe he was freaking out? Maybe he was backing away or getting ready to ridicule or to laugh or to run? Maybe he was just waiting ... giving Blake the chance to finish first, before letting fly with the condemnation?

After a moment Blake could feel the emotions receded a little, but only just below the surface. They seemed to hover there, barely suppressed, waiting to get out again, to overwhelm him again.

Blake gave himself a few more seconds to stabilise, grateful for the cover of complete darkness. He could hide here in the dark, try to forget that Haze was right there next to him. If Haze had been looking at him now, he doubted he could have continued, certainly not as far as this. He couldn’t believe he was about to talk about this. With someone other than his doctor. For the first time.

“One day ...” he chocked, swallowing to clear his now croaky voice. “One day, everything was so bad and hurt so much I just ... wanted it to stop ... so ... I ... did something ... something stupid. Ended up in the hospital. I ... I nearly ...” he gulped again and could only bring himself to whisper the next bit.

“I nearly died.”

There. That was it. He had said it.

And he could not recall ever having felt this vulnerable in his entire life.

Anxiously he waited for some response from Haze.

A gasp or an exclamation? A word or a statement? Even a jeer perhaps? A laugh even?

Something.

But there was only silence.

Endless silence.

Plenty of time for Blake’s mind to conjure up all sorts of horrible possibilities. Images of Haze and notions of what he might be thinking that were so terrifying they made Blake feel nauseous with fear and anxiety.

But then he was startled by some movement near his arm. For a brief moment he thought something was crawling over him, but then he felt the warm flesh against his upper arm and realised that it must be Haze. The hand trailed lower, feeling its way down until finally it took hold of Blake’s hand and gave it the softest, gentlest squeeze.

Blake choked and sobbed then, he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t even sure why. Maybe from relief or maybe he just couldn’t hold it back anymore? He felt a trickle of tears leak from his eyes and roll down his cheeks, falling to the sand as he took shuddering, shallow breaths.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the familiar feelings of shame and self-loathing now joining the mix of profound sadness, of loss and grief.

“Shhh,” Haze whispered back and Blake clutched his hand even harder.

That is how it was between them for the next few minutes. Blake trying desperately to pull himself together, muttering apologies involuntarily, while Haze tried to hush him all the while, occasionally squeezing his hand.

Eventually, Blake calmed himself enough to manage to talk again, to finish the story.

“Anyway,” he sniffed, trying to put a bit of mirth into his voice, although it ended up sounding hollow. “The ... er ... doctor ...”

He couldn’t quite bring himself to say ‘psychiatrist’.

“He ... we ... talked about it ... had been talking about it for a while and ... well ... I ... just left ... and came here.”

There was another pause while he thought about what he was trying to say.

“You see ... that life ... my old life. Sydney. Being a lawyer. The people I knew. My family. My home. All of it ... it was ... sick ... it was a bad life.”

He felt his voice firm a little as he moved away from those dark memories.

“And so ... I needed to start again. A new life. I needed to start a new life and it had to be somewhere ... new. Completely different. So that’s... that’s why I came here.”

With the story finally over a strange sort of calm descended upon Blake.

He was still shaking from the intensity of the emotions he was feeling and he was still too terrified even to dare to wonder what Haze might be thinking. He was also hovering just below the line of a panic attack, or perhaps it was a complete mental breakdown, just barely contained.

And yet there was also this strange sense of calm. Catharsis perhaps? Or perhaps it was release? As if he were sightly lighter somehow, more so than just a moment ago.

“Blake?”

Haze was no longer speaking softly, he was whispering and his voice sounded thick too.

“Yeah?” Blake whispered back, not entirely sure why they were whispering, but certain that Haze wanted it this way.

“I ... I did somethin’ stupid today too,” came the hoarse and hesitant whisper, only barely audible despite the near silence of the night.

“Yeah ... I know ...” Blake whispered back.

He wondered then, whether that wasn’t the right thing to say. Whether he should have asked for Haze to explain further, instead.

After all, the truth was that he didn’t really know what Haze had done. Not really. All he knew was that a paperclip had somehow gotten lodged in Haze’s spare breathing regulator, peeling back the valve less than half-a-millimetre, just big enough to leak air at a rate that would not be visible to a buddy.

The divers with Haze, the Italian girls, had all aborted the dive at about the same time. Less than halfway through, according to the logs on their dive computers. Two of the girls had nearly full tanks of air when they got back to the boat. Blake had checked all of their tanks at the shop that afternoon. But one of the girls had almost no air left. She had only just made it back to the boat, despite cutting the dive short by fifteen or twenty minutes. That was the girl who had been wearing Haze’s gear.

Two people breathing from Haze’s tank would never have made it back at all. Not even one person could have made it back, had the dive not been cut short.

Blake could guess what this all meant, but he didn’t really know what Haze had been thinking.

However, he somehow knew for sure that to force Haze to say more out loud was unnecessary.

“I know,” he repeated again, giving Haze’s hand a gentle squeeze back.

“I didn’t mean to,” Haze whispered after another moment’s pause and it sounded to Blake as if he were snivelling a bit himself now too. Although he couldn’t be sure, not with the way Haze was whispering so softly. Not in the total darkness.

“Yeah. I know.”

“I ... didn’t really think it through,” Haze added, still whispering.

“I know. Neither did I,” Blake told him.

There was another drawn out silence, the two of them, laying there on the sand, in the dark, holding hands and staring at the stars in the sky.

“Blake?” came the whisper again, thick with emotion, hesitant and so very, very small.

“Yeah?”

“Everything is fucked ... and ... I don’t know what to do to fix it.”

Blake felt that terrible aching in his heart, that longing to reach out to Haze and to comfort him.

But unlike every other time he had felt this feeling, this time Blake decided to act upon it.

He shifted himself closer, unable to see what he was doing, but able to roughly judge where Haze was from the hand he was holding onto. He then reached over with his other arm and took hold of Haze’s hand in both of his own. Next he freed the first hand and snaked his arm around Haze’s neck.

He wasn’t sure what the other boy was thinking, but he could feel him lift his head obligingly. With one arm now curled around Haze’s neck and shoulders and the other holding onto his hand, Blake did his best to comfort his friend, despite the slightly awkward angle.

“Things will get better Haze,” he whispered, near to where he estimated the blue-eyed boy’s ear would be.

He could feel Haze trembling against his arm.

“How could ya know that?” Haze whispered back, an almost childish stubbornness to his voice.

“Cause I’ve been there. It gets better. You just gotta make sure you’ll be around for when it does.”

Blake wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but it was the last time that they spoke for a very long while. Until the moon had risen and they had made their way silently back to the resort.

Perhaps the truce that had somehow allowed this moment of intimacy had expired? Or perhaps they had simply progressed as far as they could in just one night? Without the darkness Blake felt certain he would not have been able to have this conversation at all. Perhaps the moonlight broke the spell?

Whatever the reason, a not uncomfortable silence descended upon them and for a long while they just lay there, the silence broken only by the occasional crash of waves on the sand.