In this case, "P" is for Palau. And Pot (yes that kind) and Panic. And Panties. And Prayer. Stick around.
Momma broke her leg the Boxing Day before New Year's Eve that year. A nasty break, a heel impacted on a piece of stone jutting out from the water like a wayward splinter from the skin. As soon as we moved her into the shallow sunny water to prevent shock, we knew it was bad. Could SEE it was bad. But she just clenched her teeth as we floated her through the tunnel out and through the ride home balanced on the kayak balanced on Sam's boat balanced on the bumpy waves and through the uncomfortable poking and prodding in the hospital later and said, "Y'all...y'all keep diving I'll be fine. Really, I'll be fine." And because she was Momma and I was I, we kept diving. She'd be fine, really. She'd be fine.
We is Ain and me. Auntie Em's eldest son. He used to do magic for me when I was little and would become exasperated with me when I cried because he wouldn't do the trick until I fell asleep, he had his own business after all, and I was just a little girl. Now he does bigger and BETTER things. Bigger and better computer things that let him have his own planes and motorcycles and go roaring around countries and countries but mostly he's just Ain to me.
And I still am that little girl to him, I think. Or at least I was then, still, in 1998. A novice diver, I had the dangerous habit of inflating my BCD until I shot to the top like a cork. Pffft....POP! And Ain would grab my leg from 15 feet where he hung safely in the zone until I deflated my BCD and acknowledged that No, I shouldn't be imitating champagne corks regardless of how shallow the dive had been. Yes, I knew I was putting myself in danger, and him too, potentially. No, I wouldn't do it again. All spoken in looks and hand gestures. I guess you can do that with someone you've known since before you were born.
That kind of familiarity between us made him an excellent dive partner. When I dove with Momma I was clearly the child and she the parent as she always had to dive precisely 5 feet above and 12 feet back so I was ALWAYS NEVERENDINGLY UNFAILINGLY in her line of vision. I remember her hurried words after I trailed her one dive, "Just let me be in the back, okay? I can't relax if I can't see you." and I just nodded, because there's just no arguing with her, Momma. But Ain, he just let me be. Above, below, behind or in front, he was always just there, somehow, and I was thankful for that. Except for one time, but that's a tale for another time.
We dove every day that holiday after Boxing Day. Two sometimes three dives a day. Day after day after day whiled away under the intoxicatingly blue waters that Palau provides her patrons. We stayed close to the main island at first, wanting to be within an hour's notice for Momma. Our invisible rubber bands snapped after three days - the hospital had decided to medivac her to the Philippines, where they would be able to operate on her leg properly. Being the gracious hostess that she was, Momma of course insisted that we stay put and finish out the rest of the scheduled dives. Reassured by Dad that I would not be able to go and that I would indeed be staying in Palau, with Ain, I relented.
Not only did I relent at this point, but I threw myself into my diving, occupying my thoughts with down times, surface times, lunch orders and transportation instead of Momma's leg. Anything that would dull the thud of her heel coming into contact with that rock that resonated through my mind whenever there was silence, which if you hung around with Ain and Dad was often.
Fortunately for me there was a 2nd group (a HUGE group) of divers out of California who were just as interested in doing some of the more difficult dives as we were. All by themselves they took up nearly two boats. They were 18. With 10 on one boat and 8 on the other, there was just enough room for me and Ain to squeeze into the huge extended family.
It was as a part of this family that the idea to dive Peleliu came about. We had just surfaced from Blue Corner, one of the island's premier don't-leave the-island-until-you-see-this-and-if-you-do-leave-without-doing-it-you-better-come-back-dives and were doing the small cliff jump (only about 15 feet, only) for the adrenaline rush that would give us the perfect end to the perfect day. The 24 of us sat sprinkled between the boats and the cliff and the water wondering what could possibly be more beautiful than Blue Corner. "Peleliu" someone piped up. And it was decided right then and there that if there was a place that could offer us more perfection than Blue Corner that we would dive it. The very next day.
Giddy and pinging with excitement we jumped out of Vanessa (Momma's station wagon) and ran in the house to tell Dad. "Peleliu!" I was breathless "We're going to dive Peleliu tomorrow." "Hmm, sounds fun" he replied, but I could tell by his voice that he wasn't so sure if it was a good idea.
To be continued.