Even now, working in the E.R., Ray still couldn’t even begin to understand how a parent could hit a child. Not a spanking or disciplining, but when they hit you. When you’re on the ground, hiding inside that shoebox of a closet, and then he finds you. Your legs begin to kick and arms start to flail away like you’re suddenly drowning, and you never learned how to swim; thrown into the deep end of the pool, everyone just watching, including God, all of them ignoring the thrashing waves and cries for help. Jesus, you really wanted to learn how to swim.

When Daniel Miller hit his son, it was more than just blood and tears that left Ray’s body. What also flowed out were the tiny bits of life, treasures that most young boys seem to possess, but most never realizing until later in life. During those years with his father, it was his son’s own sense of adventure and wonder, along with his hopes and dreams; it was all of these precious gifts that managed to slowly seep their way out of the boy, like a hole the size of a pinhead at the bottom of a styrofoam cup.

And seldom were there any witnesses at the scene of the crime. Most of the time, Ray’s mother and three younger sisters weren’t even there. But his bruises could speak, as well as the scars. And whenever the family returned, Ray knew that he could race to the door as he stripped off his clothes, allowing the bruises and cuts to finally speak, as he introduced them to the world.

But instead, he chose to bury the evidence under layers of clothing. Keep it all covered up, he told himself, and they’ll never suspect a thing. It was all worth it, he knew, because when he saw his parents together, he could swear that Elizabeth and Daniel Miller acted more like a couple of teenagers than anything else, their arms wrapped around each other as they shared the couch with Ray’s younger sisters.

Ray would lay on the floor beside them, his face usually buried in a book. He would do his best to focus on the words, despite the laughter which filled the room, usually a by-product of the rest of the family as they listened to their favorite radio show. Most days he never questioned his own silence; because of all the happy moments around him that were far too common, he never had to try and rationalize for very long, always certain that he’d made the right decision.

God, they look so happy, he would tell himself. They are so happy. Who was he to try and take that all away from them? They were just bruises. Still, there were some mornings when he would wake up, barely able to move, half his body seemingly swelled up to twice its normal size. But Daniel Miller would never touch his son’s head or face. And as he grew older, there were times when Ray would actually see it as some kind of twisted courtesy. Thanks, dad, how thoughtful of you.

But much to the young boy’s delight, all of his little secrets: the bruises, cuts, and soreness, would always disappear. Ray could even recall a handful of times when, as a child, it would take several weeks for his tiny secrets to reappear, on his arms, legs, and torso; just minutes after Daniel Miller would walk into the room, usually unexpectedly, but always drunk. And mad as hell.

It had been thirteen years ago, during his last year of residency. They had known each other for three years, and been a couple for almost as long, when he knocked on her door that afternoon. The holidays were fast approaching as the city was being blanketed with snow, the start of a terrific blizzard, the kind people remember for years at the mere mention of “Remember that one storm. . . ?” It was Friday and they’d agreed on dinner later that night. He was several hours early and she wasn’t ready for even a pizza delivery, much less a night on the town.

But when she saw his suitcase in the hallway behind him and his feeble attempt to even hide it, she knew without a shred of doubt that their weekend would be one to remember. And when he told her to pack a bathing suit, she jumped into his arms, the both of them nearly crashing to the floor as she wrapped both legs around him. She was ready in twenty minutes flat. Two hours later and the two of them were airborne, soaring out of JFK, just in time as the storm hit full force. Thousands of travelers found themselves stranded, countless dreams dashed all along the eastern seaboard, as Ray and Tricia kicked up their feet, toasting their luck with champagne at thirty thousand feet.

It was only four days, Tricia knew, nothing more than an extended weekend, but it was Jamaica and everything had been perfect: their suite with its ocean view, the food, the weather, even the colorful drinks and their tiny umbrellas. There wasn’t much in this world, Ray thought, that a few days in a tropical island paradise couldn’t fix or mend, if one only had the means of getting there.

On Sunday, shortly after daybreak, he and Tricia had gone scuba diving. He remembered that she had been quiet as the boat made its way out and he asked her if everything was okay. She just smiled, perhaps not hearing the question over the motor and salty wind. Ray decided not to ask again, convinced she would speak up if anything was bothering her. Tricia never had a problem speaking her mind and that was just one of her many qualities which Ray admired. He had never been one to take to timid or shy women, or even people, for that matter. Life was too short to live like that, he thought.

They had been out late the previous night, and maybe the dive wasn’t such a good idea, but it was too late to start thinking like that. They had hiked a couple miles from the hotel shortly after dusk, before discovering a secluded beach overlooking a cove, not another soul in sight. Ray proceeded to build a small fire, wondering as he scooped up some kindling, if this isolated beach was his own discovery before finally laughing aloud at the thought. They sat on a blanket, sharing a nice bottle of wine before Ray revealed the rest of their meal that was hidden away in a picnic basket.

He surprised her with lobster, caviar, bread, and two different cheeses that she had never had before in her life. It had all been ordered from room service, just a phone call and a few minutes of his time but she was still impressed. It was the thought, the planning, the attention to detail, and Tricia thought hard between bites, of when the last time anyone had even come remotely close to what Ray had done. But that’s been our whole relationship, she thought, and at that moment a million dollars wouldn’t have been enough to wipe the smile from her face. After their meal, they laid back and stared up at the stars as they held each other. They talked about life and dreams and future and all the other things that young couples in love tend to speak of, especially after a nice bottle of wine. And when their stomachs were no longer full, they joined hands and waded off into the gentle surf.

The ocean was perfect, the night unable to cool the shimmering water as they allowed the warmness to wash over them. Nature wasted little time, and in minutes, their clothes were strewn about along the shoreline, just out of reach of the soft waves that intermittently rolled in to lick the white sand. They stayed several yards offshore, standing in the waist high water as they made love, their newly-tanned skin intertwined, meshing together, melting completely into the other as her arms and legs took him in completely. And when his legs felt ready to give in, he found himself struggling towards shore, knees churning desperately, breaking the surface with each stride.

She refused to let go and the two of them finally tumbled hard onto the wet sand, laughing the entire time, unable to move for several seconds until a wave rushed in unexpectedly, stinging Ray’s eyes. He took her in his arms again before rolling themselves inland just a bit, their feet still tickling the ocean as she made her way on top, taking him in once more. Above them, the night sky was bright enough to light their way as the nearby fire slowly began to die, as Tricia’s bra drifted out to sea.

They eventually made it back to their room, the stars still bright, never once checking their watches, deciding that for once in their lives, time didn’t apply to either one of them. They quickly lost their clothes again, stepping into the shower as they proceeded to wash away the salt, sand, and ocean. They went to bed exhausted, holding each other as the ocean blew its way in through an open window, waving her wand, the moon and stars in on the magic, as another spell was cast. Minutes later the young couple awoke, and without saying a word, they began to make love again.

“Where the hell were you?” Tricia turned the question over and over again in her mind. She had woken up that morning just after dawn, only to find that Ray had completely disappeared. After half an hour, she finally convinced herself to get out of bed. She dressed quickly, throwing on a baseball hat, an oversized t-shirt, and grey sweatpants, before immediately convincing herself that she looked and felt absolutely ridiculous. She went downstairs, walking the hotel grounds for nearly half an hour, including a stop at the restaurant, but she was unable to find even a single trace of him, almost as if he had never existed. She finally returned to their room, getting out of her clothes and returning to bed as though nothing had happened.

When the key finally turned in the lock an hour later, she finally closed her eyes, feigning sleep as he slipped quietly into bed. He said nothing as he gently took her in his arms. And for a moment she was just happy, knowing that he was back, exactly where he belonged. He nuzzled up against her, his chin into her neck, his wet hair beginning to cascade down her shoulder and back. Where the hell were you, Ray? The question was spinning now, furiously, with no answer in sight. For as long as she had known him, he’d never been a morning person, much less a jogger or swimmer. And if he were to start, she doubted that he would do it here, especially after only a few hours of sleep.

But why was his hair wet? Maybe he had taken a walk. But if he was gone that long, what could he have been thinking about the whole time? Maybe he regretted the entire trip. Everything. Stop it, right now. This is nuts. You’re being paranoid. Delusional. She did everything she could not to scream. She managed to keep her head still, her lips slightly parted, and her eyes wide open, as she finally began to breathe again. She established her rhythm, or at least what she thought it would be, if she could step outside of herself to watch. Her mind and thoughts continued whirling about, unable to find sleep again. An hour later, Ray squeezed her tight upon waking, Tricia’s controlled breathing never faltering for even a second.

The day was beautiful, she thought, maybe even perfect, as the Captain, a local, dropped the anchor. She watched it sink to the bottom, cutting through the turquoise blue water before tossing up a small cloud of sand some thirty feet below. Five minutes later their gear was on, Ray and Tricia the only passengers on board, as the Captain gave them an enthusiastic thumbs up. “Good luck,” he said, and just then, for a split second, she could swear that she saw the Captain winking at Ray. “Ready, mon?” Ray and Tricia smiled, joining hands as they fell over backwards, the sun blistering high in the sky, the last thing they saw as the warm water swallowed them up.

A friend had told him that scuba diving was the closest thing to flying, and after the completion of Ray’s first open water dive several years earlier, he completely agreed. Flying for sure, but he also couldn’t help but wonder if this was what outer space felt like to an astronaut. Divers often spoke of the utter peace and solitude that the ocean could bring, and as he and Tricia floated down into the crystal blue, he closed his eyes for several seconds, imagining that he had somehow left the world from Cape Canaveral, just another astronaut on a routine mission.

When Ray came back to earth, as his eyes flickered open, he was immediately greeted by a large school of tropical fish. He and Tricia kicked ahead, entering the kaleidoscope, almost a surreal dream as the sun continued to reach out to them from above the surface, lighting up the live rainbow that began to hypnotize them both. The wall of shimmering, brilliant colors began to fall apart, dissolving brick by tiny brick as the school of fish began to disperse, taking off in every direction as Ray took Tricia’s hand, leading her towards their ultimate destination.

He was nervous, wondering if his palms were actually beginning to sweat. Almost from the very first moment that he laid eyes on her, he knew what he wanted for the both of them. This, he thought, had to be a moment of truth or a defining moment of some kind. Something. And he wondered what else life would have in store for them.

He continued to kick, with Tricia by his side, as they drifted off towards what was to be their own moment. He was curious, trying to figure out whether she had any idea what the next few minutes had in store for them, and what it could mean. They were in Jamaica for only one reason: he just didn’t know what to say about the whole thing or how to say it. So after a few weeks of rehearsing, rewinding, and replaying the same scene over and over again, he’d decided that maybe he could find his answer without having to even ask at all; that she could give her answer, good or bad, without having to utter even a single word. And maybe on the way back to the surface, the extra couple of minutes would give her a chance to mull it over, and give her enough time to choose the right answer. The best for Tricia is all that he ever wanted, not just for her but for the both of them.

They flew lower, making their way to a large reef. He took her hand, maybe wishing now that he really could talk. They moved along slowly, Ray pointing out a variety of sea life, including a colorful shell. He picked it up carefully, studying it for a moment before handing it to Tricia. She took it in her hands, her fingers beginning to explore, taking in its unique textures before returning it to Ray. He gave it right back to her. She looked confused for a moment, but took the shell once again, as Ray took both of Tricia’s hands as she grasped the shell. He looked into her eyes, curiosity peering back out at him as he uttered a silent prayer. He began to vigorously shake her hands as she held the shell.

The ocean began working its magic once again, as a foreign object escaped the inside of the shell. Tricia blinked in disbelief, convinced she’d already taken in too much sun today, as a shiny, shimmering something fluttered its way down through the blue-green water. Her eyes followed it, unable to turn away as Ray released her hands. He snatched up the tiny object, just before it had a chance to reach the ocean floor. He kept it tucked away, fist clenched, guarding his treasure as Tricia’s eyes began to grow. Suddenly, a rapid stream of air bubbles escaped from her regulator, as her breath suddenly became labored, growing more difficult with each passing second. Ray took her by the arm, just before he began to lead her back to the surface. They ascended slowly but deliberately, Ray telling himself the entire time that he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life.

Thirty feet later they shattered the blue calm. She removed her mask and regulator, taking a deep breath before throwing her arms around him, almost sinking the both of them as she screamed out the answer to his question. “Yes! Yes, yes, yes!”  He reached for her hand and finally slipped the ring on her finger. It was small, less than a carat, and she had to squint hard, fighting the glare until she was finally able to spot it against her skin. None of that mattered though, because she knew it was the very best that Ray could do. And up to that very moment, as Tricia cried while treading water off the Jamaican shore, she knew that his best had always been enough.