The Year I Almost Drowned

by McCrimmon, Shannon

  He turned on his signal and looked to his right, giving the driver next to us a look that read “let me over or else.” The driver immediately complied and allowed us get in front of him. It took more than twenty more minutes to reach the exit, which had only been a quarter of a mile away. We rode down the US-441 Scenic Parkway, passing through towns like Sevierville and Gatlinburg before we reached the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Most of the leaves had fallen off of the trees. My grandfather stopped the car so we could stretch and trade places driving. He handed me the keys and we stood side-by-side staring at the beautiful view of mountain upon mountain. I took the camera out of my purse and held it up to us to take a photo.

  “Hang on. I gotta get something.” He wandered to the car and grabbed something from the back seat. “Can’t take a photo without these.” He smiled and put the Elvis inspired sunglasses on his face.

  “That’s a good look.” I took the camera and held it far away from us, taking several photos trying to capture our moment in front of the Great Smokey Mountains.

  “Let’s get home.”

  We continued to drive off the beaten path on winding, mountainous roads until we reached Highway 40 again. For some reason, I didn’t react like I had when I drove on it the first part of the trip. I was too busy thinking about getting home, that I didn’t have time to dwell.

  We arrived at my grandparents’ house just as the sun was beginning to set. Jesse’s car was parked off to the side of their front yard. He and Nana were talking on the front porch. Something was wrong. I could sense it. Jesse didn’t smile–he looked stressed. Nana was frowning. I wondered what had happened and knew whatever it was, it was serious. The sullen expression on his face said it all.

  Chapter 6

  The mood was solemn. A breadth of seriousness hung loosely in the air. My grandfather and I walked up the porch steps carrying our suitcases. Nana was relieved to see us. She kissed my grandfather on the cheek and then reached over to hug me. “I’m so glad y’all are home,” she said, her soft cheek brushed against mine.

  “We are, too. We had fun, though, didn’t we, Finn?” My grandfather said to me. I nodded a faint “yes” while glancing at Jesse. His expression was grim.

  Nana took my suitcase out of my hand and said, “I’ll get that for you. You two talk. I’d like to spend some time alone with my husband.” She wrapped her arm in his, and they went inside the house.

  As soon as the door closed, I faced Jesse and asked, “What’s wrong?”

  His expression was pained. He shook his head slightly. “My dad has had a relapse.”

  I wrapped my arms around him. “Oh Jesse, I’m so sorry.”

  He released my hold and motioned for me to sit down next to him on the swing. We sat down side-by-side. I didn’t say anything. I let him dictate the mood and the flow of the conversation.

  “It was really bad, Finn,” his voice was strained. “He got fired from his job. I had no idea; he didn’t say anything to me.” His voice was low and his hands were clenched into tight fists. “I suspect he’s been drinking again for a while. I think that’s why he got fired.”

  “You couldn’t have done anything even if you had known.” He sprang up and faced me. I got up, standing inches away from him–the swing still rocking slightly back and forth.

  “He couldn’t handle it. Like always,” he said with exasperation. “He went to You Bowl Me Over early this morning and started drinking.” He sighed heavily. “It was one of the worst drinking binges he’s ever been on. He went to his boss’ house early tonight to tell him off for firing him. The cops told me he was standing outside his house shouting, cursing, throwing things. He threw rocks in his window,” his tone abhorrent. “The guy’s daughter was there. She could’ve gotten really hurt. And then he took a hammer to his car.”

  I was flabbergasted. I never expected Hank to act so violently. Jesse was heartbroken. It was the saddest I had ever seen him, and it hurt me so much to see him like that.

  “His daughter stepped on the glass from the broken window and was cut up pretty bad. She had to get stitches, poor little thing. She was probably scared out of her wits.” Jesse shook his head in disgust. He sat back down on the swing.

  I sat next to him. “I’m sorry,” I said, which didn’t feel like it was enough to say. I wanted to comfort him, to console him.

  “I’m done. I’m so done.” He put his face into his hands and sighed heavily. I gently rubbed his back, unsure of what to say, of what to do.

  “Where is he now?”

  He exhaled a long, deep drawn out breath. “The police came and hauled him off. He can sleep in jail a couple of nights, I don’t care,” he said acerbically.

  “What can I do?” I wanted to do something. Listening to him didn’t feel like enough.

  “There’s nothing anyone can do, Finn. I don’t care anymore. I’m done worrying about him.” He sounded so angry, so resentful. I knew he meant it. His dad had disappointed him and even though he said he thought his dad may start to drink again, a large part of him must not have believed it would happen, that this time would be different. I knew what it meant to have a loved one let you down–to rip you to the core and make you believe you can never have expectations of them ever again.

  ***

  The police called him the next day, telling him that his father was free to be released. I told him I wanted to go with him. I didn’t want him to be alone. We had trust in our relationship. He didn’t mind me seeing that ugly part of his life.

  On the ride to the station, Jesse tried to make small talk by asking me about my trip to Graceland. I gave him every detail, hoping it would elevate the mood and ease the tension. He even laughed a little when I told him about Grandpa’s hotel choice.

  “That sounds like Charlie.” He chuckled.

  “I thought I had bed bugs or lice for sure. My hair and skin itched for hours that night,” I said and he laughed loudly. I loved Jesse’s laugh. It was beautiful, loud and deep, from the bottom of his sternum to the top of his vocal chords.

  The police station was a few buildings down from Lilly’s Diner. We sat outside in his car for several minutes. Jesse looked like he was in deep thought, as if he was questioning everything that flowed through his mind.

  “I don’t want to see him, Finn,” he confessed.

  “I can understand that.” His father had not only let himself down, he had let Jesse down, even more.

  “I’m taking him home, and then I’m through. I can’t be around him anymore.” He opened his car door.

  I had never been inside the station, there was never a reason to. It was a cramped space with paneled walls and faded upholstered furniture reminiscent of some bad 1970’s television show. An older woman named Ruby Jean Brown greeted us at the front desk. She had poorly dyed short red hair that was more orange than red. She wore excessive make up with sharp, contrasting bright colors. Her eyelids were completely adorned in blue eye shadow; her eyebrows penciled in. Her lips were the brightest shade of red. Ruby was a regular at the diner. I had waited on her several times– she was a poor tipper and not easy to please. No one ever wanted to wait on her. Her personality was well suited for the police station. She could scare any hardened criminal with her outward appearance and the constant glares she gave everyone.

  “Yes? Can I help you?” she asked. Ruby’s voice was deep and raspy and sounded like she had smoked cigarettes since she was old enough to walk. She knew why we were there, but still insisted on asking us what our business was.

  “We’re here to pick up Hank Quinn,” Jesse said.

  She pursed her lips and glared at us both. “He caused quite a stir last night.”

  She infuriated me; stating the obvious. Jesse ignored her and continued, “I’m here to take him home.”

  She added more fuel to th
e fire. “He was sauced up. They thought about throwing him in the shower.”

  I never cared for Ruby, but at that moment I really hated her. I contemplated doing awful things to her food the next time she came into the diner. Jesse, the gentleman that he was, ignored her abrasive behavior. He stared at her and uttered politely, “I’m sorry about that. If we could just get him home now.”

  She scowled at him and then shouted, “Cookie, Quinn’s boy is here for him!”

  Cookie shuffled over to us from the adjacent room. “Hey Finn, Jesse,” he said in typical Cookie fashion. I was happy to see him. His friendly face was a relief next to Ruby’s pit bull demeanor.

  “Cookie, I’m here to get my dad,” Jesse said. His hand found mine, and I held onto it securely, letting him know I was right there and wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Let me go get him. Today’s a huge improvement over yesterday,” Cookie said. He muddled slowly, opening a huge door. The door slammed shut behind him, making a loud thwack that startled me and caused me to foolishly jump.

  “It’s just a door, young lady,” Ruby said in a patronizing tone, looking up from her phone. She had been texting. Who I don’t know, but it unnerved me.

  Jesse squeezed my hand a little, helping me refrain from telling her off. I kept quiet. We moved away from her desk and stood against the wall, waiting. There were a few places to sit, but Jesse was too tense to sit for any period of time.

  Cookie held onto Hank, holding his arm securely, as well as a small, thin man like Cookie was able. Hank was pale. He had dark circles underneath his eyes and looked as if all the life had been sucked out of him. His shirt was a little torn and was wet from perspiration. He still looked and smelled like he was intoxicated.

  “Jesse,” Hank slurred. He couldn’t stand straight without help from Cookie.

  Ruby looked at him and held onto her nose. “He still smells like he’s drunk as a skunk.” She folded her arms and gave us that “I told you so,” expression.

  “That doesn’t help.” I gave her a dirty look. I wanted to say more, but Jesse nudged me to stop.

  “Glad y’all er here,” Hank slurred again. He reeked of alcohol, like he was doused in every bottle of booze imaginable. He was an awful, sweaty mess.

  “What does he need to sign?” Jesse asked Cookie, ignoring Hank.

  “Just this form here.” Cookie pointed and handed Hank a pen. Hank scribbled a few letters and dropped the pen to the ground. He tried to pick it up and almost tumbled over.

  “Whoa,” he stammered. Cookie held onto him, keeping him from tipping forward. Hank peered in my direction. His eyes were glazed and heavily dilated.

  I didn’t look at him long, I didn’t want to. I was too embarrassed for Jesse.

  “We tried giving him a strong cup of coffee but it didn’t seem to help much. That’s the most drunk I’ve ever seen anyone. He’ll have a bad hangover,” Cookie said and scratched his chin. He stared at Hank in wonder as if he were some puzzle he couldn’t figure out.

  Jesse squeezed the back of his neck and said “Thank you” to Cookie. He grabbed his father’s arm forcing him to walk with him out the door. I followed behind them, not saying a word.

  Jesse opened the back door and barked to Hank, “You can sit in the back.”

  He sat Hank down, using more force than necessary. Hank fell over on his side and mumbled things that didn’t make any sense. Jesse slammed the car door. Hard. He walked over to the passenger’s side, unlocked my door and opened it for me. I sat down. Hank’s stench permeated the entire car. I rolled down the window, to let some fresh air in and was instantly chilled. It was a bitter cold day.

  Jesse got into the car, turning the ignition. He turned on the heat and blew all of the vents in my direction. “Roll your window up, Finn. I’ll roll mine down,” his voice was strained. He was trying so hard to keep it together. I don’t know how he was able to maintain his composure. I rolled mine up and rubbed my hands together in front of one of the vents.

  Hank continued to talk in the back seat saying incoherent things. Jesse turned the volume up on his radio, loud enough that Hank’s voice was blocked out from the front of the car. We both still knew he was there though; there was no way to forget about his looming presence. Things were quiet until we reached Jesse’s place. He pulled in front of his trailer and kept the car running.

  “I won’t be long,” he said to me and rubbed my hand slightly. I could see the pain in his eyes. Jesse opened the car door and said in an annoyed, impatient tone, “Come on.” He yanked Hank out of the back of the car and jerked him upright, dragging him inside their home.

  I sat in his car for several minutes. It still smelled like a brewery. I wondered what was going on inside–what Jesse was saying to him. It angered me that he had to deal with this. No one should. Whatever decent thoughts I had of his father were long gone. I wanted to see the good in him and believe that he could overcome his addiction, but the rose-colored glasses were gone.

  Jesse came outside carrying a large black duffle bag. He placed it in his trunk, closed it and sat down in the driver’s seat next to me. He laid his head against the headrest and sat there for a minute without saying anything. “Sorry you had to see all that,” he finally said. His voice was even and steady. For what he had just gone through, he was remarkably calm.

  “I’m sorry you had to deal with it.”

  He took a deep breath and said, “I’m glad it’s over. I’m through with him.” He took another breath. “I’m staying with Matt for a while.”

  “That’s probably best.”

  Hank opened the front door and shouted, “You can’t leave me, Jesse!”

  Jesse put the car in reverse, never looking back at him.

  ***

  My grandparents’ were up waiting for me, sitting in their living room. Nana was drinking a cup of hot tea; my grandfather was reading the paper. They had a fire going. The room felt warm and welcoming. It was a reprieve to the horrible day. My grandfather stopped reading the paper and Nana put her cup down on the coffee table when I came inside. I could sense they wanted me to tell them what had happened with Jesse’s dad. I sat down across from them.

  “How’s Jesse?” Nana asked.

  “Holding up, I guess.” I bit on my bottom lip. He was a mixture of emotions: disappointed, angry, hurt beyond repair, but I didn’t disclose that.

  Nana frowned. “I hate this for him.”

  My grandfather scowled. “Hank has never been a father to that boy.” It was the first time I had ever heard him express any opinion about Jesse’s dad. “His mama was a good person, just like Jesse is. When she died, Hank just gave up. He’s a weak man.”

  “Jesse’s been taking care of him since he was ten years old. No child should ever have to do that. He had to be an adult while he was still so little,” Nana said.

  “Hank seemed liked such a gentle man. I was wrong,” I said, referring to his violent tirade at his boss’ house.

  “When you judge someone to be one way and then see their true colors, it’ll always surprise you. Since Jesse’s mama died, Hank’s numbed his pain by drinking. He doesn’t know how to cope and if you can’t cope with life’s disappointments, you’re in serious trouble,” my grandfather said and picked his newspaper back up and began reading again.

  A minute or so passed until my Nana said with a forlorn expression, “I just hate this for Jesse. I know he’s hurting.”

  My grandfather put his newspaper back down on his lap. “That’s one of the strongest young men I’ve ever met. He’ll survive this.” He looked directly at me and said, “What you’ve got Finn, is a man, a real man, not some pansy-assed nineteen-year old who’s still wet behind the ears. He’ll get through this just fine. There’s no need to worry about him.”

  Chapter 7

 
A soft melody played on the jukebox. No one was in the diner except my grandfather and me. Meg and Hannah had left. I sat on a bar stool–drinking a cup of coffee–reading a book–as I waited for my grandfather to finish balancing the books in his office. There was a subtle knock on the door, a quiet tapping sound. I turned around and saw Cookie and Everett standing at the door. I got up and unlocked the door for them.

  “Hey Finn,” Cookie said. “Is Charlie in his office?”

  “Yes,” I answered.

  Cookie shuffled to the back.

  “Hi,” I said to Everett. I locked the door behind him.

  “Hi.” He looked around and then said, “Sorry we’re bothering you when you’re closed.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Cookie comes here a lot after hours.” I walked back to the counter and sat down. He stood next to me. “Do you want a cup of coffee?” I asked.

  “Okay,” he said. “Thanks.”

  I got up and poured the last of the coffee into a white Lilly’s Diner mug. “Cream and sugar?”

  “Just black.” I made a grossed out face. “What?” he asked, noticing my expression.

  “I don’t know how you can drink it like that.”

  He laughed. “When I was overseas, I didn’t have any other choice. Cream and sugar are luxuries.”

  “Oh.” I handed him the cup and sat back down. He sat next to me. I opened up my book and started to read, but I could feel him staring at me. I looked up from my book and in his direction and then back at my book. It was hard to read while he just sat there staring at me.

  He took a sip of his coffee. “Sorry I had to give you a ticket.”

  “You didn’t have to give me a ticket, you chose to,” I corrected him, still looking at my book.

  “That’s the problem with this town. Every other cop just lets everyone else get by with things.”