Read A CRY FROM THE DEEP Online
Authors: Unknown
By the time he reached his apartment on the Upper West side, he had convinced himself that he couldn’t find anyone better than Sean. With her, there’d be no ghosts in the marriage. No former husband or former lover still hanging around. And as one of his friends said—after breaking up with a girl who was still pining for her ex—
you can’t fight ghosts
.
Entering the kitchen, Catherine inhaled the aroma of coffee and went right for a cup. Alex was already there eating her cereal and Richard was reading the
New York Times
.
“Good morning,” she said, putting her cup of coffee on the table. She gave Alex a hug. “I see you’re wearing your new outfit.” They’d gone shopping the day before to Bloomingdale’s. After trying on what seemed like almost everything in her size, Alex had settled for a grey knit jumper with a matching purple and grey striped T-shirt.
“Uhuh.” Alex’s mouth was full of cereal.
“I’m beginning to think it was a huge mistake bringing you to New York. You’re on your way to becoming a fashion plate. I can see it all now. I’ll be taking you home kicking and screaming.”
Alex giggled. “No, you won’t. You’ll just have to take me shopping again and again before we leave.”
“Right, my little princess.” Catherine sat down across from Richard.
He regarded the coffee. “Since when are you drinking it black?”
“Since I decided to cut back on my sugar.” She smiled. “I need to be lean and mean.”
He took off his reading glasses. “You look just right to me.”
Alex shot a look at her mother and then back at her father.
Catherine said to Alex, “Go brush your teeth. You don’t want to be late for school.”
“Aw, just when it was getting interesting.”
Catherine arched her eyebrows.
“Okay, I’m going.” Alex stuck her tongue out before leaving the kitchen.
Richard chortled. “She’s going to make an interesting woman.”
“I hope I live to see the man who can manage her.”
“She’s not that different from you.”
“Ha.” She played with some crumbs on the tablecloth. “I’m pleased to announce I slept through the night without a bad dream.”
“Good for you. All that retraining has helped. You’re conquering your fears.”
“If you’d seen me yesterday, you wouldn’t be saying that. I passed out before I even got into the water. Maybe it was too much too soon.”
“Maybe,” he said, his forehead crinkling.
“Is that all you can say?”
He looked deeply into her eyes. “I got into trouble when I said too much the last time, remember?”
“Yeah.” She was surprised he acknowledged the time he’d gone too far. He had certainly mellowed. Even his blue eyes looked different now. She’d remembered them as piercing, but then again, whose wouldn’t be in the middle of a break-up? “I gave you a hard time before, didn’t I?”
“A little.”
They sat for a moment not saying anything. Catherine got up and put a slice of bread in the toaster. “So you think I slept well because I’m more confident?”
“That’s my opinion.”
“Then how do I explain yesterday’s failure?” She got a plate out of the cupboard.
“You ever hear of two steps forward, one step back? Progress isn’t a straight line.”
Catherine crooked her head. “As simple as that, huh?” She wasn’t convinced. She knew she needed to talk to someone other than Richard. Though he was a kinder version of his old self, he was still a shrink.
~~~
When Catherine walked into Lindsey’s apartment in Soho, she found it in chaos. Large painted canvases were stacked against the walls. Near the tall windows overlooking the street was a double futon that looked like it’d been left unkempt for weeks. A loud red and orange comforter lay askew, trailing on the cork floor, partly covering piles of popular magazines, art books, and some orange peels. The kitchen at the other end was just as cluttered, with the sink loaded with dirty dishes and the remnants of a quick lunch—two crusts of bread and an empty can of salmon—on the counter. In the midst of it all, Lindsey stood by a long table fastening a wood frame to a canvas.
“Thanks for making time,” said Catherine, taking off her jacket and hanging it on a hook by the door.
“No problem. Sorry about the mess.” Lindsey tucked a wisp of purple hair under her black paisley scarf. “You don’t mind if I work while we talk, huh? I’ve got to get these to the gallery by three. The guy’s a control freak and has a meltdown if I’m a minute late.”
Catherine admired a painting that was still on an easel. Lindsey had painted a female form in shadows—her face unclear—with thick brushstrokes in red, orange, gold, and sienna.
Lindsey looked over and said, “That one’s been a bitch. Maybe it’s the mood I’ve been in.”
“You always say that. And then you’re surprised when your work sells.”
“Guilty as charged.” Lindsey took the painting off the easel and stacked it with the others. All had hints of the female form and were largely painted in warm colors.
“I love your work. It’s vibrant, like you.”
“Keep it up. I need that right now.” Lindsey scanned her collection. “Aw, shit. As long as I get enough to pay the rent.” She glanced at Catherine. “I don’t think you came over to hear me whine.”
Catherine sat down on a stool by the windows. “You remember me telling you about those weird dreams?”
“Yeah,” said Lindsey, as she carried a painting to her work table. “That’s why I suggested you see Barbara.”
Catherine took a deep breath. “Well, what I didn’t tell you was that I started having them the first night I landed in New York. The day I bought a ring at the flea market.”
Lindsey looked up. “You think there’s some connection?”
“I don’t know. When I didn’t wear the ring the other night, I slept fine. No bad dreams.”
“Huh...that’s wild! Love that.”
Trust Lindsey to get excited about this.
“I feel like I’ve entered the fourth dimension.”
“What have I been telling you? There’s more to this life than we know.”
Catherine had always been a skeptic, but not Lindsey. She’d tried every psychic, séance holder, tarot card reader, numerologist, and astrologist she could find. “Okay,” said Catherine, “maybe there is more than I’ve acknowledged before, but I don’t know what to do about it.”
“I’m sure Richard had an opinion.”
Catherine exhaled sharply. “I didn’t tell him. I was afraid to. After I told him about my visions underwater, he said I was hallucinating.”
“He didn’t actually say that, did he?”
“That’s the world he lives in. He won’t entertain anything that can’t be explained through psychiatric jargon.”
Lindsey nodded. She leaned against the table, resting her palms on its surface. “I know this psychic in the village. She does past life regressions. If there is anyone trying to get through to you—”
“I don’t know,” said Catherine. “I’ve always had the feeling that people who go through that kind of analysis are searching for someone to blame for how they’ve screwed up. Like if they found out they were poor and hungry in a previous lifetime, it would explain why they overeat in this one.”
Lindsey found a small brush in her jar of brushes and uncovered a wet palette of paint. “She doesn’t just do past life. Look, I know I’m not going to convince you, but what do you have to lose by seeing her?”
“Money and time.” Catherine then remembered that Lindsey had found her a half-decent therapist
.
“Maybe it wouldn’t hurt. But I’ll do it on one condition. If nothing comes of it, you’ll stop torturing me with all this psychic mumbo jumbo.”
“Once a Catholic, always a Catholic.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That once the church gets their hands on you, you can’t think for yourself.”
“That’s not fair. You know I’m not religious anymore.”
“No? I’m not going to argue with you. If nothing else, she’ll confirm or reject what you’re suspecting.” Lindsey picked up some paint with her brush and added her signature to the canvas.
“It’s all too weird.”
“It’s only weird if you think it’s weird. There’s always a reason for what’s happening. You are exactly where you’re supposed to be.”
“Oh God, not all this new age shit again.”
Lindsey made a face. “You got a better answer?”
Daniel called her that evening to say the diving forecast for Wreck Valley couldn’t be better. He wanted her to be ready at six the following morning.
Although prepared to go out again, Catherine wasn’t prepared for Alex’s reaction. Catherine had forgotten she’d promised to take Alex shopping for a costume for her class play. Her daughter was on her bed wailing instead of settling down to sleep.
Catherine stroked Alex’s hair. “I promise I’ll take you the day after tomorrow.”
“Why can’t we go after your stupid diving?”
“Because I don’t know how long it’s going to take. And you know what the traffic is like in New York.”
“It’s not that busy,” said Alex.
“Whether it’s busy or not, I’ll probably be tired, and you know how cranky I get when I’m tired. You wouldn’t want to go shopping with me when I’m like that.”
“I don’t care. You don’t love me anymore.” Alex buried her head in the pillow and cried again, but this time, the cries sounded manufactured. She peeked out from her pillow to see if her mother was watching. Finding she was, she hid her head again and sobbed even harder.
Catherine bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Are you kidding me? Of course, I love you.” She caressed Alex’s back. “But I also know you understand the importance of practicing when something is hard to do. I’ve seen you go over and over your part for the school play until you know it backwards and forwards. You’re so good that way.”
Alex stopped her pretend crying and looked up.
“I need to practice too, so I can feel good about diving again.”
“Why can’t you go a different day?” Alex sat up, the pout on her face a mile long.
Catherine threw her hands up in the air. “I know. I know. I’m just as frustrated as you are, but it’s the weather. Tomorrow’s supposed to be great for diving.”
“Glad to hear that,” said Alex with a frown.
“I have no control over the weather,” said Catherine, “unless you know some fairies or witches I can call.”
Alex laughed. She then pursed her lips and said, “Okay, you can go. But you have to pinkie promise me you’ll take me shopping the day after tomorrow.”
“Pinkie promise,” said Catherine, hooking her pinkie with Alex’s and giving it a wiggle. “Now, what about that bedtime story?”
One bedtime story turned into two, but after surviving Alex’s wailing, Catherine didn’t mind.
Once Alex was asleep, Catherine packed her dive bag. There was a time when she believed the old saying that if you fall off a horse, best to get back on right away. That was when she was a lot younger and less informed about the dangers of trying something risky. The thought of going to the dive site so soon after she’d passed out on the boat made her anxious. She reminded herself,
two steps forward, one back
. Like Richard said, progress wasn’t a straight line.
~~~
This time, the boat ride to Wreck Valley was uneventful, and she jumped into the calm ocean with only a little trepidation. It didn’t take long for her to feel that awe once more, the awe of being part of something greater than she could imagine. She loved being in the deep, away from the noise of daily life, swimming like a dolphin, admiring the vegetation most of the planet never sees.
She was even relaxed enough to try out the camera she’d borrowed from Frank. She found some interesting angles of the USN
Algol
, a four hundred foot transport ship that had been sunk in the early nineties as part of the New Jersey Artificial Reef Program. Because of its size and the sea life it attracted, the rusty ship was popular with both recreational and technical divers. She also shot some close-ups of striped bass, cunners, and even one blue shark weaving in and out of the mussel and scallop covered wreck. She pointed out the shark to Daniel and together they watched as the great fish darted away.
Right after that, she took some photos of Daniel. The first two showed him gliding alongside the sunken ship. The ones afterward were of him hamming it up for the camera. She laughed at the faces he made. That was something Richard couldn’t do. He couldn’t act goofy. If he’d been more like Daniel, maybe they would’ve still been together. But Richard had always been stuffy and serious. But then again, there’d been the whole 9/11 fallout.