The Wall: Chronicle of a Scuba Trial

July 14, 1996. . .

He is inside of her, inseparable, part of her. This boy and girl, this man and woman, culminate a torrent of physical emotion in one moment of shaking ecstasy. Afterwards they lay touching for several minutes, first he on top, then side by side. She begins sobbing, softly.

"What's the matter?"

"Oh, nothing Jon. I guess I'm just happy."

"Having a nice vacation?"

"I have something to tell you."

"What?" he says, reflexively.

"Jon, before we left, I went to the see the doctor."

"The psychiatrist, Dr. Marcus?"

"No, a gynecologist."

"What is it? What's the matter?"

"I'm pregnant, honey."

He is startled. He gets up and turns on the light, looks at her. Her naked body shows no hint of what is to come.

"I thought you were using the pill?"

"I was. I am. I may have skipped a day, I don't know. But it's confirmed."

"What are you going to do?"

"Jon, he's our child."

"He?"

"No, I didn't mean he. Could be a she. Too early to tell."

"You're not planning on having it, are you?"

"What do you mean?" The softness of her voice has changed into a slight irritation.

"Look, Jennie, this is serious, ---."

"John, I'm pregnant. It's my child, it's our child, of course I'm going to have it."

"No, of course, of course, it's just that ---"

"We should get married," she says matter-of-factly.

There is silence. John puts on his underwear and goes to the window. Outside he can see a slice of seven mile beach, and in the distance the lights of a cruise ship. Tomorrow morning they are diving the north wall, followed by Stingray City. They chose Grand Cayman in part so they could do these two special dives, they had heard so much about them. In six weeks they return to school and in a little over a year he will enter law school.

"Look, Jennie, this is wonderful." His inflection is flat, confused.

"I can't believe you're not happy about this. I didn't plan it, but don't you see it was meant to be? Oh, tell me once more you love me."

"Do your parents know?"

"No. I haven't told anyone until you."

"When are you due?"

"I'm only six weeks along."

"And school?"

"I'm going back. We can stay in your apartment or move into a larger one. I'm sure my parents will help out. I don't plan to drop out. John, I want to get married. We can do it this September. I've got it all figured --"

"Wait a minute! Just wait a minute, Jennie. Let's talk about this."

She gets up and puts on her robe, then walks to where he is standing. She puts her arms around him but he gently pushes her away.

"What's the matter? What is it?"

"Jennie, I'm not ready to get married. That's what's the matter."

"Why? You still love me, don't you?" The question is asked half-rhetorically, with the confidence that his answer must be yes.

"Of course I love you!" His tone is too harsh.

"Then what?"

"I'm just not ready right now, that's all."

She laughs a nervous little laugh. "I don't mean now, right now, silly."

"Can't we wait?"

"Jon, I'm not having this baby out of wedlock. Is that what you're suggesting." He was suggesting more than that, but her tone makes him scale back his response.

"No, of course not."

"Then what?"

"What what?"

"What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know. I'm just not ready to get married now. Or in September, either. Let's think about this."

"Think about what? What's to think about? We've been living together over a year now."

"Oh, boy," he says, an expression of exasperation, consternation.

"Fine, no problem, then I'm not ready to have the baby."

"What do you mean? You'll get an abortion?"

"Sure. No problem. I'll arrange it when we get back to New York. They're still doing them, you know. It's legal, don't worry. I'm early, so it should a simple procedure. I'll talk to my OB."

"Good. I think that's the best idea."

She pauses. There is silence for a minute. He is thinking, she is thinking. Then in a raised, vaguely feminine and creepy voice, with language he has not heard from her before:

"You bastard! You goddamn bastard. You would let me get an abortion instead of marrying me, wouldn't you?"

He is stunned and does not respond, but stares at her.

"What kind of bastard are you? You fuck me and then tell me to get an abortion? He's YOUR child!, goddamn you! You think I'm sleeping with someone else? Is that what you think?"

"Jennie, I'm sorry, I didn't mean ---"

"Get out of my way." Naked except for her half-open robe, she lunges for the door. Before she can release the dead bolt he has her by the waist and pulls her back to bed. He has to throw her on the bed to keep her in the room. She is now sobbing uncontrollably.

"Jennie, please listen to me. I love you, I'm just not ready to get married! Can't you understand? You can love someone without wanting to get married right away. I'm going to law school, I didn't plan on having a wife and child at this point in my life. Can't you understand?"

She is not listening. Her crying prevents any communication.

"Oh my god, Jennie, what is wrong with you? Just a few minutes ago we were making love and everything was wonderful. Jennie, please..."

There are no more questions, no more answers. Five minutes pass without any words between them. He continuously strokes her hair and the sobbing becomes less intense, then stops. In her usual voice but with an impossibly rational tone she says:

"I'm sorry, Jon, I got too emotional. You're right. I shouldn't expect you to just stop everything and get married."

"Jennie, please don't--"

"No, I mean it. I shouldn't have sprung this on you, just like this, on our vacation. I was going to just tell you about the baby and not even mention marriage, but it's what I wanted and couldn't hold back. I thought you'd suggest it first but I didn't even give you a chance. I'm sorry to be so pushy. It was stupid of me."

"Jennie, please don't act---"

"Forgive me."

"No, Jennie, forgive me. I was being an asshole. Look, let's go diving tomorrow, finish the vacation, and talk about it when we get home. We're both very tired. We're not going to decide anything right now. You're pregnant and that's wonderful."

"Okay."

"This is too important to make a lifetime decision in 20 minutes. When we get back to New York, away from this distraction [he points to the beach outside], we can decide what's best to do. How's that, honey? Doesn't that make sense?"

"Yea, that's a good idea. Gee, I've been such a jerk, haven't I?"

"Not at all." He brings her to him and they kiss passionately. It is the kiss of two people who see something neither has seen before, and who no longer trust each other.

. . .And the Present

If Jennie Knowlton had been ultra famous, say a rock star or a princess, conspiracy theories would abound. Their proponents would fall into one of two broad groups.

Members of one conspiracy-theory group would believe she was killed, by her boyfriend or a shark or an encounter with the Cayman Islands tourist submarine. Adherents would be certain that the other nine divers, the four Ocean Realm employees on the two boats, Ocean Realm resort's manager, the Cayman authorities, and practically everyone else on the island is hiding the facts, the body and the truth in order to protect the tourist economy. And none of this would be conjecture, for they would show all manner of evidence to prove her death was murder or mayhem. Their web site would be Jennie-killed.com.

The other group would swear she is still alive. Here the coverup would include only Jennie and a few others who know her disappearance is all a ruse, that she has changed her name and her hair and her passport, and is alive and well in Montana or Argentina or even Cayman Brac, one of Grand Cayman's sister islands. This group of theorists would not be certain why she has done this, but they would explain it has happened once before and then effortlessly link Jennie to that famous aviatrix from the 1930s. A small branch of this group would even swear that, Dirk-Pitt-like, she maneuvered herself from the bottom of the ocean back to her hotel room without anyone noticing. After her all, she carried her own air supply, did she not? You would read about all this on Jennie-alive.com.

But she was not wildly famous, there are no conspiracy theories, and the only people who know or care she is gone are her family and those closely involved with what happened on that sunny day. And so at the bottom of one section of the North Wall, off Grand Cayman Island, lies the skeleton of a once young and beautiful woman. The pressure on her bones is 1.5 tons per square inch, compressing them to maximum density. Over her torso rest a non-biodegradable buoyancy control vest, wet suit top and bathing suit. The fish of the sea have no interest in these synthetic objects.

Surrounding her slim pelvis is a webbed belt and its metal buckle. Attached to the belt are four 4-pound weights. And tucked away inside the pockets of the skeleton's vest are an additional 8 pounds of lead weight.

Jennie Knowlton suffers no more.