When diving with a buddy, or one’s hard-ass father, there’s a checklist. How’s your buddy’s physical and mental sharpness? How’s your own? What’s the navigation plan? The depth expectation? Do we know our hand signals? Is air flowing? Are the cylinders secure? Jay alarm-clocked himself before dawn—his own Sleepers, arise!—to drill the checklist into his brain and consult local tide tables, so he might enter the water between ebb and flood.
