The Year I Almost Drowned

by McCrimmon, Shannon

  “Jesse,” I said. “Please,” I begged. “I would never blame you. You have to know that.”

  “Go home and get some rest, Finn. You need it.” He moved his arm so that I was no longer touching it and stared in the opposite direction.

  He truly believed I would blame him for his father’s actions. Never, ever, would I consider doing that. He had to know that. “But,” I started.

  “Goodnight, Finn,” he cut me off.

  I got up from the chair and headed toward the door. I took one last look at him, lying helplessly on that bed, in excruciating pain, both physically and mentally. My heart felt the weight of heaviness, and I wondered if I had lost Jesse Quinn for good.

  Chapter 23

  I slept and slept and slept. Several hours. Almost a full day. My eyelids felt heavy. It was as if a brick had been dropped on my chest, like my muscles became an elastic rubber band and had been stretched beyond their capacity. I slowly got up, with a lot of effort, and shuffled my way through my room toward the door. Now I knew how old people felt.

  As I navigated through the dark room, I hit my big toe on the corner of my desk. “Ow!” I whined.

  I could hear crickets chirping outside. Nana’s voice carried all the way upstairs. Every sound from downstairs bounced off of the walls and found its way dead center into my room. I opened the creaking door, letting the light from the hallway in, and headed down the stairs.

  “There’s Sleeping Beauty,” Nana said to me as I slogged toward her. “For someone who just slept twenty-four hours, you sure look beat.”

  I yawned. “I am.” I sat down next to her on the couch and nuzzled as close as I could get to her. She smelled like strawberries. “Who were you talking to?”

  “My insurance rep.” She twisted her lips to the side. “He talks a lot. It’s hard to get a word in edge-wise.”

  “What’d he say?” I lay my head on her shoulder and stared at the teal green wall–Nana’s latest endeavor. Before it was teal green, it was bright orange. The fact that she was painting the walls again was a good sign.

  “This and that,” she muttered. She ran her fingers through my unkempt, tangled hair, putting me in a trance like state.

  “Like...,” I murmured.

  “We’re going to be okay,” she answered.

  I lifted my head from her shoulder. “Meaning?”

  “I mean, I’ll get plenty of money from the insurance company. It’s pocket change, really. Your grandfather was the most frugal man I have ever known, but you knew that already,” she said, and I nodded in agreement. “Anyway, we had lots of money saved up, lots and lots, enough for me to live on and then some. Plus, we’ll get more when I rebuild the diner and then sell it and the property it’s on.”

  “To Mike Wyatt, right?” I knew. Somehow I just knew.

  “Probably,” her voice trailed. “I’m sure he’ll want to buy it once it’s rebuilt. We’d have a harder time selling it if we left the property bare.”

  We both sighed and propped our feet on top of the coffee table. We leaned back against the couch cushions and just sat there, saying nothing, thinking.

  She looked in my direction. “Something’s buggin’ you. I can tell. What is it?”

  “Nothing,” I lied.

  She looked at me incredulously.

  “Everything.” I sighed.

  She shifted her body and was now facing me sitting cross legged. For someone in their late sixties, Nana was incredibly flexible. “Like?” she probed.

  I sat up and turned to the side so I could look directly at her. “I miss Grandpa. I miss him so much, Nana. And I felt like I was close with him when I was running that diner,” I was speaking quickly without taking a breath, confessing every secret I’d had for a long time. “I really loved it, Nana. It just clicked and felt so natural. And now I have to go back to school and I’m not excited about it. It all feels wrong, like a piece of the puzzle is missing.”

  “And?” she pressed.

  “And.” I sighed. “I love Jesse,” I confessed. “And he thinks that I resent him because his dad started the fire.”

  “Do you?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I’m angry at Hank for drinking, but I don’t blame Jesse. I would never blame him.”

  “Have you told Jesse this, honey?”

  “I’ve tried but he won’t listen. He’s made up his mind.” I squinted and looked down at my hands, trying so hard to fight the tears. “I’m just so afraid to tell him how I feel because I don’t think he feels the same way. He’s the one who broke up with me,” I said.

  “Honey,” she said and brushed some loose strands of my hair out of my face and smiled at me. “He’s in love with you. Trust me.”

  I gave her a questioning look.

  She sighed through her nose. “He didn’t want to break things off with you. He did it because you needed time to figure out what you wanted.” She laid her hand on top of mine.

  “I don’t understand,” I said. “How do you know, Nana?”

  “We talk, you know that. And I’ve lived long enough to know things.” She leaned forward and looked at me seriously. “He knew you had doubts, and he was smart and mature enough to know to give you time to figure things out.” She pinched my chin and winked at me. “Tell him how you feel honey. When you know how you feel about someone, you shouldn’t let anything stop you from telling them.”

  “I’m scared,” I admitted.

  “Don’t be, Finn. In this case, you’ll just have to trust me,” she said. “If you can run a diner, you can tell the boy you love that you love him.”

  I gave what she said some thought and didn’t say anything for a while. Telling Jesse was going to be hard, but I knew I had to do it. I knew what I wanted. I just hoped that he still felt the same way about me, too.

  “Sometimes with men you have to show them. When my daddy told me I couldn’t marry your grandfather, I was dumb enough to relent. Your grandfather had just about given up on me. But then I got some sense in me and realized that I had to do what I wanted to do because it was my life.”

  “What’d you do?” I leaned toward her.

  “I made him a pie,” she said. “I know, it sounds silly.” She let out a soft chuckle. “But it worked. I brought him that pie I made and told him, ‘I’ll be making you plenty more of these pies. So you better get used to them because you’re stuck with me for good.’ It worked.” She smiled as she shrugged.

  “That’s sweet, Nana.”

  “Oh please, honey.” She waved her hand in the air, blowing off my compliment. “The point is, well, you get the point. You’re one of the sharper tools in the shed.”

  I decided to change the subject and said, “I’m going to miss the diner.”

  “Me, too, honey. It was a part of my life for fifty years. Fifty years. Can you imagine that?” Her expression was pensive.

  “No, but I know for the short amount of time it was a part of my life, I loved it. I loved working there, Nana. When you gave me the chance to run things, to do things on my own, it really showed me how passionate I was about it. Running that diner was a natural as breathing.” I lay back against the couch and stared up at the ceiling thinking about the fact that the last part of my grandfather was gone from my life for good. It was if he was truly gone, and I wasn’t ready to let go.

  “You were doing such a good job, too.”

  “I don’t know about that. I thought I was going to drown the first few days, but things got easier. It’s as if Grandpa’s spirit was in me. Does that make sense?” I asked.

  “Yes honey, it does. It makes perfect sense.” She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me closer to her.

  ***

  “Outside enjoying this nice summer’s day?” I asked my dad as I closed my car door
and approached him. He was bent over pulling cherry tomatoes from vegetable garden. “Those look juicy,” I said, standing beside him. They were plump and bright red.

  He stood up straight. “Have one,” he offered. I took it from him and plopped it in my mouth.

  “Good.” I smiled.

  “So what brings you out to my neck of the woods?”

  That was putting it literally. Dad’s cabin was surrounded by nothing but trees and then more trees. “Nothing. I just wanted to see you.”

  He smiled and placed a pile of tomatoes in my hands. “Let’s take these inside and sit down for a spell.”

  An array of brightly colored flowers bordered the base of his house. Dad had a green thumb, everything in his yard was alive and thriving–from the perfectly pruned trees and shrubs–to the flowers and potted plants. We passed my favorite sculpture–the one that he said was me when I was little. “You should make more sculptures,” I said.

  “I will. I’ve been too busy painting.” He smiled and opened the door for me as we walked inside.

  Everything about my father had changed–from his demeanor–to the way he lived. Never had I seen his house so full of light and air. Before, it was dark, musty, and stifling. But standing inside, seeing every window open, the gingham curtains pulled back, the smell of vanilla permeating the air, it made it feel real, it felt like it had life.

  “Coke?” he asked.

  “Sure,” I said and sat down on his floral couch. A painted canvas leaned against a pale pink throw pillow. I picked it up and stared at it. “When did you paint this one? It’s beautiful.” Trees were painted jade green with strokes of charcoal outlining each and every limb. Yellow daisies carpeted the grassy knoll, enveloping each formidable oak tree.

  “The other day.” He scratched the back of his head and squinted. “I wasn’t too sure about that one.”

  “No. I like it,” I said. “Especially the flowers.” I was tempted to trace my fingers on the texture of each and every flower petal, but I was afraid that I would harm the painting.

  “That’s going to the gallery,” he said. “Along with those.” He pointed to two bigger canvases that leaned against the wall. He brought me a glass of Coke and sat down in his leather chair. Jack curled up against his feet.

  I drank some of my Coke. My dad stared at me peculiarly. “What are you planning to do about school? I haven’t heard you talk much about it.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, mindful that I had started to fidget.

  “You left abruptly, right?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “And you haven’t been back since?”

  “No,” I answered.

  “It’s just,” he crossed his legs and shifted in his chair, “not once have you brought it up. I figure you would’ve at least chosen your classes by now.”

  I sighed.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “I’m fine,” I lied.

  “You’re not a good liar, Finn.”

  “I know.”

  “So, why the glum face?” he pressed.

  “It’s just, I’m not looking forward to going back to school,” I said and paused. “To tell you the truth, before the diner burned down, I was going to ask Nana if I could stay on and continue to run things. I enjoyed it that much,” I said. “But then things changed.” I frowned.

  “That’s a lot of sacrifice and takes a serious commitment,” he said. He picked up his pipe and lit it.

  The smell of pipe tobacco filled the air. I hadn’t smelled this tobacco before–it was a sweet mix of peaches and vanilla.

  “I knew what I would’ve given up, I mean with school and all. I didn’t have the desire to go back. I didn’t want to. Actually, Dad, I dreaded it,” I confessed. “I really, really loved running the diner. I even had plans to make some changes.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “What kind of changes?”

  I leaned forward and eagerly said, “I wanted to change the menu and serve healthier food like more soups, salads and sandwiches. That’s what people wanted. Well, that and Nana’s pies.”

  He sucked on his pipe. A ring of smoke rose above him. “Sounds like you put some thought into it.”

  “A lot,” I replied. “I planned to serve cakes, brownies and cookies, too.”

  “I thought you said people wanted healthy food,” he said with a skeptical expression.

  “They do. But for some reason, no one minds splurging on desserts and not everyone likes pie even though Nana’s pies are so popular.” I sat back against the couch cushion realizing that I had said that all in one breath.

  “You know what’s interesting?”

  “What?”

  “Your grandfather left me some money when he died.” He inhaled on his pipe again.

  “He did?”

  He nodded. “Quite a bit, too. Probably enough for you to start a business. Say a bakery/cafe perhaps?”

  I gave him a perplexed expression.

  “Your grandmother is having the diner rebuilt, right?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “And then she’s selling it?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Well, with the money I have, you could get what you need to start the business and get things you need like tables, chairs, inventory, and whatever else you need. There’d probably be enough left you could use to pay her rent for the first few months.” He stared at me, waiting for my wheels to stop spinning and for me to answer him.

  “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  “Yes,” he said calmly.

  “Dad, that’s too generous. I can’t take the money Grandpa left for you. It’s yours,” I said, feeling the pang in my heart, realizing my dream was almost within my grasp but I couldn’t grab it.

  “It’s yours, Finn. Let me give this to you.”

  “No,” I said. “I won’t have you doing it out of guilt.”

  “So I feel a little guilt. That doesn’t matter. I’m your father, and I wasn’t there for a large part of your life. I want to do this, Finn. Let me do this.” He put his pipe down and nervously tapped his fingers against the arm of the chair waiting for me to make one of the biggest decisions of my life. It was as if time had stopped and wouldn’t begin again until I answered him.

  “I can’t.” I exhaled. My eyes began to water, overcome by the emotion of it all.

  He quit tapping his fingers and said in a soft yet stern voice, “You can, Finn. Please tell me you will, because nothing would make me happier than to do this for you. Helping you take this leap of faith and live out your dream would make me the happiest man in the world.” He smiled earnestly. “Please.”

  “Okay. Okay!” I finally said. I was a blubbering mess. I jumped off of that couch and leapt over to him, hugging him as tight as I possibly could. What he had just given me was the most beautiful gift–hope and belief in me.

  “Let’s talk to Mom,” he said.

  ***

  Nana and I helped Sidney carry her several pieces of luggage to her unwashed BMW. Squashed bugs lay flat against her car’s windshield. Dried mud had found its way on her doors, her hood and bumper. “What is with all these bugs and mud? I’m going to have to have this car detailed when I get it back to New Hampshire,” she moaned. She picked up the last of the luggage and put it into her trunk. She slammed the trunk hard and then looked back at Nana and me.

  “Sidney, you come back anytime,” Nana said and hugged her. “I sure have enjoyed having you around.”

  “Lilly, I so wish I could stay instead of going back to New Hampshire with ‘the Bickersons’, my emo sister and crazy grandfather.” She sighed. “Being around you is like being around sunshine. You make me all warm and fuzzy.”

  Nana laughed. “Yo
u’re too much, Sidney,” she said. “I got some more peaches to pull. I’ll see you honey.” Nana picked up a large basket off the ground and carried it with her toward the peach tree.

  “Not one for goodbyes, huh,” Sidney said.

  “No. She’s said it too many times this year.”

  “We have to go back to school soon.” Sidney grimaced. “I actually have to study this year which sucks big time.”

  I laughed. I hadn’t told her yet that I planned to stay. I didn’t plan to until I talked with Nana. “Yeah. No more late night swimming adventures for you,” I said and she gave me an arguing look. “Okay, maybe one,” I relented.

  “I have to have at least one, Finn.”

  “Thanks for helping out at the diner. I really appreciate it.”

  “That’s what friends are for. Besides, I found a decent guy to date while I was here.” She gave a mischievous smirk and raised her eyebrows up and down. “And not a bad kisser, either, you know what I mean?”

  “Poor Tony and his broken heart.” I shook my head.

  “Please,” she scoffed. “We’re keeping in touch. Actually, I sorta like him,” she admitted and bit on her lip. She avoided making any eye contact with me and looked down at the ground, kicking her foot, going back and forth.

  “You like him,” I teased and laughed. “Sidney likes Tony,” I kidded again.

  “Whatever.” She glared at me and then giggled. “So I like him. Big deal.”

  “I’d say it’s a big deal. You like him,” I taunted her again.

  She smiled and then gave me a quick hug. “You better tell that dreamy boy of yours how you how you feel about him.”

  “I will. I promise,” I said. I just didn’t know when that time would come.

  “Good, because I know things, you know what I mean?” She sat down in her car and started the ignition. The low, quiet hum of the engine could barely be heard. She rolled her window down.