The Enchanted Life of Adam Hope - By Rhonda Riley Page 0,140
to calm me. His feet hit the cave surface in a small jolt and a sprinkle of sparkling flint. He stood on the roof of the cave, upside down, balanced between gravity, the water’s pressure, and our own natural buoyancy. From his arms, I looked up into his face side-lit by the light beaming from below us. At his feet, beyond the roof of the cave, was the surface of the earth. Had the earth’s skin been transparent, I would have been able to see past his feet to tree roots and, beyond them, the sky.
He spat his air hose out and smiled at me, a smile that cut through my fear. He opened his mouth and I reached out and put his mouthpiece back for him. He walked us, holding me in his arms around the ceiling of the cave, our shadows changing as we moved. Flecks dislodged by his feet drifted between us, tiny silvery flashes. We were, for a few moments, lovers in some alien airless underground world. All I could see were his eyes, almost black in the shadows, and the changing background of the cave, otherworldly umbers, golds, grays, and whites. I forgot my breath, my panic.
Then he knelt and loosened his arms as if to let go of me. I shook my head and he pulled his arm away to point to our belts on the cave floor. Slowly, he lowered me to the roof and I tilted there, propped against my tank, my legs sticking out awkwardly. The moment he let go of me, my breath lurched in my chest again. I sucked deeply on the oxygen, trying to breathe evenly, but the fear in my diaphragm hardened as I watched him return to the floor and put his belt on then, swim, light in hand, to bring me mine.
He pointed toward the dark end of the cave to another vein that led farther, deeper into the earth’s body. I pointed to the surface.
He nodded his head in agreement, but held his hand up asking me to wait. Then he cupped his right ear and cocked his head sideways as if listening. His forehead wrinkled above his mask as his eyebrows shot up in an exaggerated question.
I shook my head. I didn’t hear a thing except the jagged rhythm of my own breathing.
Patiently, he repeated the same gesture. Except this time, as he held his ear with one hand, he held his other hand out like a choir director, sweeping it in a slow, steady rhythm up and down. Clearly, what he wanted me to hear rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm.
I concentrated on softening my breath and listening while I kept myself upright with as little motion as possible.
Still, nothing. I shook my head again.
Adam took my hand and flattened my palm against his chest. I felt his voice reverberate gently through my fingers and up my arm. His other hand rose and fell again. Gradually, I realized that the modulation of his voice matched the up-and-down movements of his hand. His eyes brightened with a question once more as his hand circled to include the whole cave. Then he tapped me on my breastbone.
I felt his voice, but nothing beyond that. I shook my head so emphatically that I suddenly had to use both arms to balance myself in the water. My heart pounded with frustration.
Then I saw the water move between us. From his chest outward, the water seemed to ripple in tiny bubbles. We stared down at his chest. The size of the ripples varied. The variation, I realized, matched the rhythm of the thing Adam wanted me to hear.
Then he opened his arms as if to say “See?” His eyes crinkled into a smile. Before his chest, the water seemed to change again, shimmering. For a moment, I thought he had changed the color of the water, and then I realized what was happening. His voice had loosened little sparkles of sand from the roof of the cave and they were raining down on us.
He beamed. The silt thickened. Too thick. My panic returned. I grabbed his arm.
Adam startled, his face suddenly changed. He swiveled, glancing around the cave in alarm. He jabbed his finger, pointing to the surface as he guided my hand to his belt.
Yes! I nodded. The beam of light danced crazily as we swam through the thick glitter of silt. Adam followed the guide rope, pulling us into the swift exiting current.