I looked at him and wiped my eyes. “3100 Tifton Drive.” I don’t know why I told him. Maybe it was his trusting face?
“I know where that is. Follow our car, we’ll get you there,” he offered.
“That’s okay.” I didn’t want to accept any favors from him.
He sighed. “There’s no sense in you driving around getting lost, just follow me.”
“I’m fine, really,” I lied. I knew my face was blemished. Every time I cried, that happened, and I hated my alabaster skin for it.
“Are we really going to do this all day?” His caramel eyes peered into mine.
I averted my eyes from his, annoyed, but knew that he had a point. He wasn’t going to relent. We’d be there all day arguing about this.
“Fine.”
“Good.” His lips turned upward. “Just follow me.” He stood up and got back into the car. I followed the police car for a few miles, making a couple of turns here and there and before I knew it, we had arrived at the The Rotary Club of Graceville. I turned the car off and got out carrying Nana’s pie in my hands. I looked over at him. He rolled down his window.
“Thank you.”
“No problem. Can you find your way back?” he asked.
“I’ll have someone give me directions.”
He shook his head and said, “Tell me where you’re headed. I’m from here and know most of the roads like the back of my hand.”
I told him my father’s address. He pulled a note pad out of his pocket and wrote down explicit directions, along with a thorough diagram of signs and things to look out for. He was being helpful and it made it really hard to dislike him. I studied the directions he gave me and gave him an appreciative smile. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said and rolled up his window.
***
I found my dad’s house without any complication. The directions the police officer had given me were incredibly thorough. Dad was pacing back and forth, while smoking his pipe. Jack, his yellow lab, ran toward my car, his tail wagging. I opened my door and was jumped on immediately.
“Jack, down,” Dad ordered.
“Hey, Dad,” I said. I reached over to hug him. He smelled like chestnuts and cherries from his pipe tobacco.
He frowned and looked at his watch. “I was getting worried.”
“I’m sorry. I should’ve called. I had to deliver a pie for Nana and I got lost,” I said, purposely leaving out the part about the ticket. I didn’t think he needed to hear that detail. It would just make him worry and really, I was embarrassed about the entire incident and wanted to put it behind me.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here. Next time call.”
I nodded. “I will. Are you ready to go?”
“Hang on,” he said and went inside his house. He came out holding a large square shaped item wrapped in brown parchment paper. “Your birthday present.” He patted it and moved toward the car. “Open the trunk.”
I suspected what it was, but wasn’t going to spoil his fun. Dad was an artist, a very talented artist, and what he had put in my trunk strongly resembled the shape of one of his painted canvases.
“Let me put Jack inside,” he said, as Jack trailed behind him.
He came back out, opened the passenger door and sat down next to me. He held a thermos in one hand and tapped his fingers against the door with his other hand.
The strong smell of freshly brewed coffee filled my car. “Nana has coffee, Dad.”
“I know, but I like mine better. Hers is too sweet.” He took a sip of his coffee and looked around the car. “Do you like driving it?”
“Yeah. It’s better than Grandpa and Nana’s trucks.”
He chuckled quietly. “I’m glad you can get some use out of it since it was just sitting all those years,” his voice trailed off. I looked down at his twitching hand. At times it would subtly shake–a side effect from his medication for treatment of bipolar disorder.
It took years for anyone to figure out what was wrong with him, why his behavior was so inconsistent–flip flopping from extremely happy to beyond depressed. By the time I was two years old, my dad’s behavior had become so erratic that everyone thought he was addicted to drugs. He’d spent all my parents’ money and was even arrested for drunk driving. My grandparents had to bail him out of jail. My mother didn’t know what was wrong with him, why he had these moments where he was on top of the world, full of so much energy–to times when he was so depressed he couldn’t get himself out of bed. It wasn’t him. She said he wasn’t the man she had fallen in love with. He had become a stranger to her.
And then he left, in the middle of the day, while Mom was at work and I slept peacefully in my crib in my room. He left me all alone in the house, at the helpless age of two. My mom doesn’t know how long I lay in that crib. She said that when she came home, I was screaming at the top of my lungs and crying out for him. It was like I knew he was gone. How a two year old can be that intuitive is beyond me. I don’t remember any of this. My dad told me he kissed me goodbye when he left. But I don’t recall that, either. He said that he got in his car and drove straight to Atlantic City where he gambled the rest of my parents’ money away.
I don’t know what else happened, where else he went, what else he did. He hasn’t told me, and I thought it was better not to ask. I know it’s not a pretty story and is probably filled with too much heartache for me to hear and for him to tell. Some things are better not known. Some things are better not repeated. In this case, I’d rather focus on him being healthy, on knowing who he is now rather than all of the mistakes he made in the past.
My grandparents suspected that when he left, he just died from a drug overdose and was laying on the side of a road somewhere. I can’t imagine what they must have gone through thinking that. They lost their son and had no idea where he was and if he was alive. When my dad left, my mom simply gave up. She chose to run away from it all–to Tampa, Florida, a place far enough away from Graceville, South Carolina so we could start over. She never looked back.
That’s when the lies started. From that point on, I grew up believing that my father had died in a car accident and that my grandparents, his parents, didn’t want anything to do with me. That’s what my mom wanted me to believe. But they had been trying to contact me for years, and she just shut them out. My mother said she was trying to protect me, but her sheltering of me nearly smothered me. It took sixteen years for me to discover the truth, for the secrets to unfold. On the night of my graduation, I found a stack of letters from my grandparents hidden in my mother’s closet. That’s when everything changed–when I got on a bus in the middle of the night from Tampa, Florida, to Graceville, South Carolina, seeking the truth. Before I found those letters, I was stuck to my plan: go to college, become a doctor, get married, and have kids. But going to Graceville this past summer made me view things differently. For once I saw that I couldn’t plan everything in my life because life has other plans for me.
It was going to be a good birthday; it had to be, despite the ticket, getting lost, and having a near breakdown. I wanted this birthday to be epic. It was going to be the first time I’d be celebrating my birthday with my dad and grandparents, and I wanted it to be memorable.
Chapter 2
I dropped my dad off at my grandparents’ house and drove to Lilly’s Diner, my grandfather’s restaurant. I had worked there as a waitress for over five months and I loved everything about it–the food, the people who worked there, the customers, and the fast pace of it all. It was the first job I’d ever had and after my horrible first day, I would have never thought I’d still be working there months later. Working at the diner had become as natural as breathing.
The roads were jammed with carloads of people who had flocked to Graceville to see the changing leaves. The area was beaut
iful this time of year. Tourists from surrounding towns and nearby border states came to town to see the colorful show that nature put on during fall. Business at the diner was even busier than it had been the year before which made my grandfather happy. He thrived on its success.
The last of the customers exited the diner. It was closing time. The red awnings flapped in the wind. Lilly’s Diner was freshly painted on the large glass window in perfect red script. Inside, it smelled like heaven: fried chicken, bacon, and maple syrup. Hannah and Meg danced and sang along to an old song that played on the juke box as they wiped the red shiny tufted booths and cleaned the glittery cobalt blue bar stools. The diner was reminiscent of something from the past with its brightly painted turquoise walls and vintage signs hung sporadically throughout.
“It’s the birthday girl!” Meg squealed, dropping the wet rag from her hand and running over to me. “I can’t wait to do your hair!” She was giddy. Cutting my hair was what she had wanted to do for a very long time. She had begged me for months. Meg’s hair had recently been cut into a cute, short pixie style and bleached a very light blonde. It looked good on her. “I’ve been looking through magazines and have found the perfect style for you.”
“Just don’t do anything crazy,” I warned.
She scoffed, “Finn, please, just trust me, okay?”
Hannah’s long dark brown hair was pulled up into a neat, chic bun. The pink waitress uniform hung loosely against her waif-like figure. Hannah was the type that could eat whatever she wanted and still weigh next to nothing. And, she was stunningly beautiful. “It’s all she’s been talking about today,” she said with exasperation. “So, how’s your birthday been so far, Finn?”
Meg and Hannah were sisters, but that’s where the similarities stopped. They were opposites in all aspects: looks, tastes, and behavior. While Meg was a fashionista and into the latest styles and eager to tell you exactly what was on her mind, Hannah tended to stick to classic fashion ensembles and was typically more reserved.
“Great,” I lied.
“What’s with all the racket?” my grandfather shouted from the kitchen. He came out to greet me in the dining area. Each step he made was loud and thunderous. My grandfather was enormous, not fat, but tall and big, and intimidating if you didn’t know him.
“Hi, Grandpa,” I said.
He smiled. “Thought it was your day off.”
“It is. I’m going out with Meg and Hannah for a while. Meg is going to do my hair.”
He touched his stark white hair and said facetiously, “I could use a new do. Can you do something with this Meg?”
“Yeah. I work on old people’s hair all the time in school,” Meg answered with a dead panned expression.
Hannah and I both snickered. He pursed his lips and sighed through his nose. “Y’all almost through cleaning?” he asked them.
“Just about,” they both said simultaneously.
“Jinx,” Hannah said and hit Meg’s arm.
“Ow.” Meg grimaced.
“Silly girls,” my grandfather said, shaking his head. He glanced at Jesse, who had just entered the room. Jesse worked at the diner only on Saturdays, since he was in firefighting school five days a week. I missed seeing him all the time. With his hectic schedule, we didn’t get to see each other that often. “Finally, another man. Jesse, three girls are too much for one man to handle.”
Jesse replied with a smile and then whispered in my ear, “There’s something for you in your locker.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“Go find out,” he said.
We had been officially dating a few months, since the middle of summer, and his presence alone could still make me feel like it was our first date. Jesse was the first guy I had ever dated, ever fallen in love with for that matter, and when I was around him, my breathing increased and my heart beat a little faster. He held onto my hand and walked with me to my grandfather’s office.
My grandfather’s office had probably once been a storage closet. There were a few lockers, a chair, a desk and a computer and that was it. The computer had been my Nana’s idea. Had it been up to my frugal, technologically challenged grandfather, he would have continued to do his book keeping using an adding machine.
I opened my locker door and saw a small box wrapped in white paper topped with a pink ribbon. I picked it up and took it out.
“Open it,” he urged.
I gently unwrapped the paper, doing my best not to rip it. I wanted to save it and put in my Jesse box–an old shoe box full of anything that reminded me of him. I had started to collect things when I fell in love with him, which was almost immediately. I even had an empty can of Coke in my box. It was the first Coke he’d ever bought me, and I couldn’t get rid of it. I folded the paper into a nice, neat square and opened the box. Inside were two cream colored knitted mittens.
“They’re beautiful.” I put them on my hands. They were soft and warm. “Thank you.” I rubbed them against my face. The soft thread felt like silk against my skin.
He shrugged. “You’ve been complaining about your hands being cold. Now they’ll be warm. This isn’t your birthday present, Finn. You’ll get that tomorrow night.” He pulled me closer to him and then kissed me.
He tasted good, like vanilla wafers and chocolate milk. I could have kissed him for hours. I loved kissing Jesse Quinn.
“Get a room!” Meg shouted, interrupting us.
I abruptly pulled myself away from him. My face was warm and flushed. “Meg,” I growled.
“What? Like I haven’t seen it before. I’m just saying, all this kissing you guys are doing is gonna make me sick,” she said.
“Then quit watching,” Jesse quipped and leaned in to kiss me again. This kiss was long and hard, way deeper. It left me feeling flustered and dizzy when he pulled away from me.
Meg took her purse out of her locker. She made a disgusted face and then heaved forward, making gagging sounds. “I’m gonna puke.” She tilted her head and puckered her lips. “You okay, Finn?” She placed her palm on my forehead.
I flicked it away in annoyance. “Cut it out. I’m fine.”
She laughed and said, “Let’s go. I’ve got a masterpiece to create.” She wrapped her fingers around my arm. I took the folded wrapped paper out of my locker and placed it in my free hand, giving Jesse a desperate look as I followed her lead.
***
Meg and Hannah’s bathroom was a confined, cramped space with Pepto Bismol pink tiles. Meg’s make-up and hair products took up all the room on the solid white counter. She forced me to sit on an uncomfortable folding chair facing the ugly tiled wall. She said that I might peek at my reflection in the mirror, and the only way to keep me from doing this was for me to face the other direction. The only thing I could see were pieces of my red hair falling to the pink tiled floor.
I gulped nervously. “Meg, how much hair are you cutting off?”
She sighed. “All of it, Finn. I’m going to cut it just like mine,” she said sarcastically.
“That’s really funny, Meg,” I huffed.
“Just be quiet and let me work my magic.” She forcefully grabbed a hold of my head and continued to clip away.
Strands of my hair continued to fall to the floor, and I wondered how different she was going to make me look. I’d had long hair since I was a little girl. I could already feel the weight of the hair being lifted; it was definitely shorter. She stopped cutting and turned the blow dryer on. Warm air blew on the surface of my head. Meg combed through my hair methodically, drying each section while she brushed it. The low, dull hum coming from the blow dryer was making me sleepy. She doused my head with lots of hair spray and evaluated me one more time.
Her eyes squinted, her lips puckered. “There. All done,” she said confidently. “You can look now, Finn.”
I stood up and turned to face the mirror. Several inches of my hair were gone–she had cut it into a cute, shoulder-length layered bob. I touched my hair; it was bouncy and soft.
“Meg, I love it!”
“I knew you would.”
I touched my hair again, ignoring her smug comment. Hannah stood at the doorway appraising me and said, “It looks good, Finn.”
I faced Meg. “Thanks. I really like it.”
“Good. Now sit back down so I can do your make up. It’s your birthday and you need to look gorgeous so Jesse won’t want to stop kissing you.” She grinned mischievously. I blushed. “Oh, now you’re all shy about it. Whatever,” she grumbled. “I’ve seen you guys kiss and you definitely don’t want him to stop. I wouldn’t if I were you, either.” She winked at me.
***
Meg loaned me a pair of her tight fitting skinny jeans. I poured myself into them and borrowed a pair of her dark brown leather boots to wear over the jeans. I wore a jade green fitted cowl neck sweater that hit me at my waist. With my new hair cut and trendy outfit, I felt really pretty–I guess like anyone should on their birthday for their last teenage year of their life.
We were all dressed up, ready for a night on the town, only we weren’t really going anywhere. The plan was to go to my grandparents’ for cake and ice cream and then go to Matt’s house, Hannah’s boyfriend and Jesse’s cousin, for a bonfire. Even though it didn’t sound like much in terms of celebrating, it would be better than my eighteenth birthday by a long haul. That was just another unmemorable day where my mother and I shared a slice of grocery store cake with no friends to help celebrate and no other family in attendance. It was like every other birthday, quiet and uneventful. I told myself I didn’t ever want to have another birthday like any of those again.
The décor in my grandparents’ dining room was inundated in all things pink: pink streamers; pink balloons; a large pink Happy Birthday banner hung on the wall. There was lots and lots of food–more than enough food to feed an army. Everyone was gathered around the table singing the lyrics to Happy Birthday while I stood there awkwardly turning three shades of red because all the attention was on me. I blew out the candles on the cake and everyone cheered in ceremonial fashion.
The Year I Almost Drowned Page 2
