Everything To Prove

CARSON WAS TOO TIRED TO EAT after the dive class at the university adjourned late Sunday afternoon. He’d thought the class would’ve been an easy teach and scoffed at the dean’s suggestion that he reschedule it for a time when he was “feeling better.” All he had to do was show some slides and film clips on the AV equipment, talk a while, answer questions, draw some stuff on the blackboard. The students in the class were all experienced. There would be no need for long explanations or simple kid talk. But in retrospect, teaching beginners would have been a helluva lot easier. The way the divers had studied him had put him off. It was as if they were looking for cracks in his armor. Waiting for him to collapse onto the floor. And then, not an hour before the class finally ended, he’d given them what they’d been waiting for. He stumbled into a desk and all fourteen experienced, young and physically fit divers had leaped to their feet as if to catch him before he fell.

Ironic, that he’d been scheduled to teach this class long before his accident, but it was his experience with being rescued that had been the source of multiple questions from the divers, who all feared the same fate. He told them what he could, but mostly he was relating facts that he’d been told by Trig, who’d made the actual rescue. He personally had little recollection of anything at all after the cable had tightened around him and dragged him into the wreckage.