At any moment, I expected to be discussing her favorite baby names.
"Zack, do you like it in the water?"
"I'm a marine biologist. I'm always working in oceans and—"
"No, Zack, I meant sex." She rehooked her top and stood, taking my hand. "I've never done it with a dead guy. Come on."
God, I love South Beach …
Hand in hand, we walked into the water, the thought of what lay ahead pumping blood to my already alerted groin.
We hurried through the shallows, our feet splashing one another, my heart pounding—
— my chest suddenly hurting, my vision impaired by purple spots. The blood rushed from my face as we waded into hip-deep water.
Not now …
My flesh tingled then burned, as if stung by a thousand jellyfish. I let go of Leesa's hand and stumbled blindly back to shore, the world spinning in my head. Collapsing to my knees in the wet sand, I fought to gasp a breath.
Leesa looked at me, perplexed. "Come on, the water's perfect!"
I tried to answer, but couldn't speak, unable to stop hyperventilating. A cold sweat broke out all over my body, my vision still impaired.
This wasn't a migraine, it was something else …
I was afraid.
Leesa moved closer, undoing the clasp on her top. "Zachary. Zach-ar-y!" The vixen smiled as she lifted her bikini, flashing the twins at me.
Torture… God's torturing me—
"Come on, hero, I'm horny."
The blind spots faded, the pain and cold sweat mercifully subsiding. Feeling embarrassed, I stood, wiping perspiration from my face. "Sorry."
"What happened?"
"Low blood sugar, I guess." I sucked in a few more breaths, my limbs still trembling. "Okay, I'm coming."
"Not yet, I hope." She grabbed my hand, leading me back out.
I took two strides, and was suddenly blinded by subliminal images, flashing across my mind's eye.
Dark water. Heavy fog. Salmon everywhere. Jumping. Panicking. A presence… circling below! Left ankle, seized with pain. Dragged underwater… can't breathe!
"Can't… breathe."
"Zack?"
"Can't breathe!" Freaking out, I turned and fled, still clutching Leesa's hand as I dragged my once sure-thing face-first through the shallows and halfway up the beach before releasing her to vomit.
"I never felt anything like this before. You gotta help me, Doc. I'm a marine biologist, I can't be afraid of the water!"
The psychiatrist was a big man, probably a former football player, an offensive guard, I guessed. A plaque on one wall indicated he'd been in the air force.
"And you've only experienced this hydrophobia since the Sargasso Sea incident?"
"Yes."
"Zachary, phobias are created in the subconscious mind. It may eventually pass, or you might have to learn to live with it."
"Live with it? To hell with that! I can't live with not being able to go near the sea. How do you expect me to work?"
"You may have to find yourself a new line of work."
I paced his office like a madman. "You don't know what you're saying. I've spent my whole life busting my hump to get where I am, no way I'm gonna just walk away from my career."
"Stay calm and sit down. Now tell me more about these dreams."
"They're nightmares, only far more intense, and always a version of the same dream. I'm underwater when I hear these sounds, the same growling sounds I heard in the Sargasso. It's like they're whispering into my brain, and somehow I just know I'm going to die."
"And then you wake up screaming?"
"I wake up, and my eyes are wide open, only I can't speak or move. It's like part of me is still stuck in the nightmare. But the worst thing, Doc, the very worst thing is that I feel this terrible presence in the room with me. I can feel it. I can hear the echo of its whispers still growling in my head. My skin tingles from it, and my fear… it's so intense that I just have to get out of there."
Dr. Baydo made a few notes, then continued. "Have you ever experienced episodes like these before?"
"No. At least none I can remember."
"But you're not sure?"
"Well, when I was younger, there was a time when I was sleepwalking a lot. It got so bad, my grandmother had to add a dead bolt to her front door."
"Your grandmother?"
"My mom's mother. We moved in with her right after my parents' divorced."
"I see. Out of curiosity, what do you do for fun?"
"Fun? I don't know. Why?"
"You seem wound pretty tight."
"I almost leaped to my death last night, then tossed my cookies in front of a girl that I'd have given my right arm for. Wouldn't that stress you out?"
"I'm sensing something deeper. Let's talk more about your childhood. You said you never got along with your father?"
"I said he enjoyed pushing my buttons. Look, I know it's a Freudian thing with you guys, but do we have to talk about my childhood? What happened in the Sargasso has nothing to do with my father. That was seventeen years ago. I'm a totally different person."
"Maybe. But everyone handles trauma in different ways. Some people repress or block out painful childhood memories that affect us subconsciously on a daily basis throughout our adult years. The near- death experience you suffered in the Sargasso Sea could have forced these childhood memories back to the surface."
"So what do I do now?"
"Discussing your past can often help resolve these conflicts. Do you still feel hatred toward your father?"
"Hatred? Not hatred. More like disappointment. Angus wasn't much of a father. He never let up on me… never. Always badgering, teasing. Scared the shit out of me when he was drunk. And always playing his stupid mind games. I remember one time, when I was six, my mother bought me one of those Rubik's Cubes. I must have worked that damn puzzle all day and night until I was able to master it. I remember running to my father, you know, looking for his approval. You'd think he'd be slightly impressed, maybe offer me a pat on the head. Not ball-buster Angus. First he accused me of cheating, then he challenged me to a Rubik's Cube duel. Now I knew I had him. Well, I worked that puzzle like a demon, rearranging the colored panels in their proper order in only seventeen minutes, a personal record. To my amazement, it took Angus only four minutes to finish, it just blew me away. For the next several weeks he'd berate me about it, making me feel inferior, until finally I figured out how the drunken bastard did it."
"How did he do it?"
"He cheated, of course. Never moved a block, he merely peeled away the stickers and restuck them in order."
Dr. Baydo grinned.
"You think that's funny?"
"You have to admit, he's resourceful."
"Try having him as your father."
"There's no excuse for his behavior, but let's try looking at things from Angus's perspective. Here's a man who never finished high school, trying to keep pace with his precocious six-year-old son, a boy genius in the making."
"He never saw me that way. I was nothing more than his runt. And being clever doesn't justify his constant drunkenness, or his cheating on my mother."
"He committed adultery?"
"Only every chance he got. Live for the moment, deal with the consequences later, that was my father."
"You caught him doing this?"
"Several times, including …" I paused, realizing I'd stepped in it again.
"Go on."
"Forget it."