After four long hours of descent, the deep-water submersible Goby reoriented to glide along the ocean floor. I prepared for another lonely journey, with grief my only companion. 

    I clicked the LEDs on full. Their bleached glare pushed against sulfurous clouds. Gripping the stick, I leaned forward, straining to see. 

    “Mom?”

    I spun around. The hatch to the rear pod swiveled open, and Madeleine stepped through. 

    I gaped. “What are you doing here?” 

    Maddie climbed into the main cabin and secured the hatch behind her. “I wanted to see the worms in the vent. You always say how eerie it is down here…what’s wrong?” 

    “Maddie…” I glanced at the oxygen gauge and froze. 

    “Mom, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

    An emergency ascent was a simple sequence, yet my shaking hands barely managed it. The propellers churned, and a cloud of silt blotted out the view. The cloud dropped away, leaving a solid field of black. 

    Madeleine crept forward. “Mom, what is it?”

    “Maddie. Honey.” I swallowed. “How did you get on board?”

    “I wanted to go on a mission with you. Dr. Lehrer goes with you sometimes.”

    “But those times we plan for him to be here.” I couldn’t go on. “Honey, I have to contact the ship.” 

    She nodded, eyes wide. 

    I activated the radio. “Sailfish, this is Goby. Abandoning mission.” 

    The radio crackled. “Goby, say again?” 

    “Abandoning mission. Maddie’s on board. She’s here.” 

    A pause, then, “What’s your O2 status?” 

    The gauge glared at me accusingly. “Two-point-two cubic feet.” 

    Maddie whispered, “What’s happening, Mom?” 

    Before I could answer, a firmer voice took over. “Paula, this is Margaux. Did you start emergency ascent?” 

    “Full power.” 

    “Decrease oxygen flow to forty percent. That should keep you conscious.” 

    My voice broke. “It won’t last.” 

    “Use your supplemental tank for Maddie.” 

    Maddie crawled closer. “Mom, what’s wrong?” 

    I couldn’t look at her. I said into the mic, “We’ll talk later.” 

    Maddie sank down beside me. “I thought you always carry, you know, extra air.” 

    “We do. But the reserve only supports the number of people assigned to the mission.” My eyes burned. “If you’d come forward even an hour earlier.”

    “I wanted to be too deep for you to turn back. I wanted to watch you work.” 

    “Of course you did.” I rubbed my eyes, guilt settling over me like the weight of water between Goby and the surface. How often had I fled to these depths, revisiting Mac’s loss, leaving Maddie to deal with the burden of two absent parents? My self-absorption had driven her to this step. 

    Maddie’s voice roused me. “You said…the air won’t last?” 

    “Honey,” I said carefully, “I want you to put this mask on. That’s the best way to get oxygen to you when I cut the cabin mixture. After that, we must remain absolutely still. Even talking uses extra air.” 

    “Can’t you wear Dr. Lehrer’s mask?” 

    “His tank wasn’t loaded this mission. Now, I’m going to give you something to relax.” 

    “No!” 

    I gathered her into my arms. “We can’t argue. It raises your heart rate and burns more oxygen. A sedative will fix that.” 

    Her fingers dug into my uniform. “It’s my fault! I sneaked past Margaux during prep. Now we’re going to die!”

    I kissed her silken hair. “Baby, I’m the one to blame. I’ve made so many dives I stopped checking my gauge on the way down. I only monitor O2 once I hit bottom. That’s my bad habit and the reason we’re in trouble. Now, I’m gonna give you a pill. Then we’re going to sit very quietly while Goby takes us up, okay?” 

    She nodded against my chest. Love and hopelessness closed my throat. 

    She’s been curled up at my feet for the last two hours. I stroke her ear, admiring how her full lashes brush her smooth cheeks inside the oversized mask. I’m panting; I’ve been leaning the cabin mixture gradually so the shock won’t kill me. I’ve trimmed it below 35 percent–thinner than Everest. The dead zone, they call it, when you’re so oxygen-starved that you’re just waiting for your body to die. 

    What will Maddie’s life be like if she wakes on the surface without me? She’s already lost her father. How could she go on believing she caused my death? How could I have let myself become so crippled with grief that I failed my daughter this badly? 

    I jerk upright. The controls dance under my gaze, so I can no longer read them. My mind stutters like a fuel-starved engine. Head pounding, I gather my sleeping daughter into my arms. Fumbling for the knob, I tweak the mixture down again. It’s all I can do for Maddie now as we rise through the darkness. 

                                                                                              # 

    Air scrapes my throat like sandpaper. 

    “Mom?” 

    My eyes snap open. I’m inside the tiny clinic, where dappled reflections from the single porthole make an oval on the wall. Nearby, Margaux adjusts the oxygen feed, and Madeleine pierces me with her gaze. 

    “Maddie.” My voice is just breath. Sweet breath! 

    Maddie grips my hand. “You did it, Mom! You saved us.” 

    “No, baby,” I rasp. “You saved me.” 

    “What were you thinking, Paula?” Margaux snaps, furious with relief. “Leaning the mixture to 29 percent. Are you suicidal?” 

    “Just the opposite. I’ve never been more ready to live.” I smile through my tears. “Honey, I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you. I’ll do better–but you have to promise to talk to me. No more crazy stunts.”

    Maddie’s eyes fill as she nods. “We can still do things together, right?”

    “We will, Baby. From now on.”