Tim and Rhonda loved to go scuba diving. They had explored caves in the Cayman Islands, Indonesia and Baja. The underwater world drew them to its silent depths with a pull like the invisible ocean currents that carry orcas to the Canadian coast.

 

They had invested in premier equipment over the years, Nova fins and frameless masks. The sport had become more than a shared interest. It had mushroomed to a passion.

 

One time Rhonda was diving with a less experienced diver, while Tim was on the boat with a group of friends enjoying the cerulean water.

 

Tim began to expect his wife to appear on the surface, and watched for the break in the water as she pulled off her snorkel and threw back the whip of her wet hair. But none came. The clock said that her tanks were more empty than full and anxiety was filling the space in his own lungs.

 

Within a few interminable minutes Tim saw Rhonda and her partner, behind a looming boulder. He swam to them and motioned feverishly to them to follow. He pulled them both to the door of the cave and tugged them to the surface. 

 

The friends on the boat caught the sense of urgency and helped lift the two exhausted divers into the boat. 

 

"What happened?" Tim's voice was laced with fear and anger that his wife had been reckless.

 

Rhonda was groggy, and slumped into his arms. Tim would have to wait for an explanation. That night, after food and water, Rhonda told the story of how they had been lured by a school of fish deeper into the cave and had lost their bearings. The meter on the tank said that they had plenty of time, and they kept exploring. But they were becoming confused, and neither of them knew the way back. Tim had put away Rhonda's tank and seen the malfunctioning meter. It misled them. He held her tightly and swung up a prayer of thanks that she was safe.

 

Years later, Tim and Rhonda were more consumed by jobs and children than diving. His work week seeped into the evenings and weekends, and she was involved in the many aspects of their three children's lives. She had forgotten to wait for his homecoming each night, because it was so erratic. They got sloppy about knowing where each other was, and whether they were safe. 

 

Tim was spending his best hours with a female coworker, going out to lunch, and feeling successful about their shared projects. He enjoyed their time together. 

 

Then one Saturday when Rhonda was straightening the garage, she unearthed their scuba equipment. Holding the tank that had once deceived her into lingering within the darkness of the cave, her memories rose to the surface. Wrapped around the images came a piercing message.

 

Startled, Rhonda felt a rushing sense of urgency. How had she not noticed? Tim was gone more than he was home, and seemed lured into a relationship with a coworker. Who was she? 

 

Rhonda leaped into her car and sped to Tim's office. Her heart raced as she heard the pieces that she had dismissed click together. Taking two steps at a time Rhonda flung through the door to see her husband sitting on the couch with his arm around a woman she did not know. 

 

Tim leaped to his feet and the other woman yanked at her skirt.

 

"Rhonda, what are you doing here?" he stammered.