The Summer I Learned to Dive

Chapter 6

The sound of his loud voice startled me, waking me up suddenly. “Time to rise and shine,” he said a bit sardonically.

I yawned and turned back over closing my eyes. I thought I was having a nightmare.

“Suit yourself. I guess I was right,” he scoffed.

I immediately sat up and opened my eyes. It wasn’t a nightmare. “No, I’m coming. Give me a minute,” I said. I was determined to prove to him that I could do it.

“You have two minutes,” he ordered and left the room. I put on a pair of jeans and t-shirt, threw my hair in a pony tail and brushed my teeth. I heard the engine roar and ran down the stairs. “I’m coming!” I shouted frantically.

“Here’s a PB & J,” Nana said handing me a wrapped sandwich.

I grabbed it and ran out to the car, seeing my grandfather sitting in the driver’s seat. He placed his foot on the accelerator and revved the engine even more. Gravel flew and dirt filled the air. He looked at his watch and then back at me. It looked like he said, “Times a ticking,” but I couldn’t tell for sure—the car engine muffled out his voice, thankfully.

I rolled my eyes and opened the passenger door quickly sitting down. He reversed the car and we were off toward the diner. The sun had just risen. It was barely light outside. I yawned and took a bite of my sandwich.

“If you had gotten up earlier, you’d be eating a better breakfast,” he said watching me eat.

“This is fine,” I said. The last thing I wanted to do was let him think he was right.

“After a few hours of working, you’re going to wish you had eaten better,” he added. He wouldn’t leave well enough alone. I thought about replying but decided against it. He would always have the last word. We drove the rest of the way to the diner in silence.

We arrived at Lilly’s. I felt like I had stepped back in time. Red large letters spelling out Lilly’s Diner covered the front of the restaurant. A large vintage Lilly’s Diner sign stood on top of the roof and could be seen from a far distance. There were windows everywhere with red awnings hovering over them. The diner was painted an egg yolk yellow. I was amazed. I had never seen anything like this in Tampa, nothing authentic anyway. There were franchise diners, but they paled in comparison. They were a generic wannabe version of this. This was the real thing.

This made me think of the diners that I read about in books. The type of places where waitresses wore pink uniforms and peculiar hats, chewing gum and shouting orders to the cook in the kitchen. A place where you could order a milkshake and it wasn’t some processed version, but a real genuine milkshake made from ice cream.

He unlocked the door and turned on the lights. It smelled wonderful like chocolate chip cookies, French fries, and maple syrup. I couldn’t put a finger on the source of this pleasant aroma. It had to be a mixture of all three. No wonder people wanted to eat here.

The walls were painted a bright turquoise. Vintage signs adorned them. The inside of the diner was narrow, filled with red vinyl tufted booths and wooden tables on one side and a bar on the other. The bar stools were shiny cobalt blue; the counter a pale blue. Behind the bar was a pie case, coffee maker, a milkshake machine, and other things that I couldn’t recognize.

“Start the coffee and unwrap the pies,” he barked.

I touched one of the shiny blue barstools before walking behind the bar. A large window opened to the kitchen. I imagined myself standing behind the counter shouting orders to the kitchen saying to a customer, “What’ll it be?” I stopped daydreaming and turned around to face the enormous coffee pot.

It looked nothing like the coffee pot I had at home. For one thing, it was huge and another, I had no idea how much coffee to add for this size of a coffee pot. I estimated the amount and poured in the water. Who can screw up coffee, I thought. I opened the pie case and slowly unwrapped the pies. They looked delicious and perfect like images I saw in cooking magazines or cookbooks. The crusts were a near perfect golden brown. They smelled liked they looked, pleasant and mouth watering. If there was a pie heaven, this was it.

“What have you done?” he asked irritably.

“What?” I asked confused. I turned my head, looking at him. The coffee grounds overflowed into the pot.

“You’ve added too much coffee,” he said annoyed. He stood in front of the coffee pot and began to clean up the mess.

“I,” I began.

“This is how much you add,” he said slowly as if I were incapable of understanding him otherwise. He poured a measured amount of grounds into a filter.

“I’ve got it,” I said grabbing the filter, placing it back on top of the coffee pot.

“Let’s hope so. Mess it up again, it’s coming out of your paycheck. Coffee doesn’t grow on trees,” he said gruffly and walked back into the kitchen.

The front door opened. I looked up and saw two girls about my age dressed in pink waitress uniforms. One was blonde with a cute round face and a short stylish haircut. She had on bright colored lipstick and big hoop earrings.

“Hannah, look we’ve got someone new,” the blonde said. “What’s your name?” she asked walking toward me.

“Finn,” I said. “I’m Charlie’s granddaughter.”

She looked at me curiously and then at the brunette. “We didn’t know he had a granddaughter.”

“We’re reconnecting,” I said, purposely being vague, hoping that would keep her from asking more questions.

“Reconnecting. That sounds interesting. Have you been living abroad?” she asked. She moved closer to me, completely immersed.

“Something like that,” I said, pouring water into the coffee pot.

“I’m Meg. You’re adding too much water,” she said and stood next to me. “Always fill it up to here.” She pointed.

“Thanks. He just told me to do it and I wasn’t sure,” I replied.

She shrugged. “That’s Charlie for you.”

“We didn’t know you had a granddaughter, Charlie,” the brunette girl yelled toward the kitchen. “I’m Hannah. Meg’s older and much wiser sister,” she joked. I didn’t know if I should laugh or not. Meg rolled her eyes. Hannah was stunningly beautiful. Her long dark hair was pulled into a perfect ponytail, her face naturally tan.

“Nice to meet you,” I smiled.

She analyzed me. “You need a uniform, Finn. Come on, follow me. There’s an extra one in the back.”

I followed her and Meg into a very small room with a few lockers. She took a uniform out from a locker and handed it to me. “It was Joanna’s, but she quit. She got married and moved to the middle of nowhere,” she laughed to herself. “I don’t know what could be more remote than here, though,” she looked at me and I laughed. “You can put your pocketbook in one of these lockers.”

She stood more than a few inches over me and had to weigh less than I did. She could have been a model, with her beautiful olive complexion and silky brown hair. There was definitely a resemblance between her and Meg. But Meg was more funky, more stylish. Hannah was more traditional and conservative. Meg’s make up was a little more severe and less natural looking than Hannah’s. I became self conscious thinking of how I must have looked to them, like I had just rolled out of bed. My hair must have been a mess, still thrown up into a ponytail, my face a white shade of pale, without make up.

“We’ll give you some privacy while you put on your uniform. Just lock the door. Jesse will be here in a minute. You wouldn’t want him or your grandfather walking in on you,” Hannah smiled at me.

“I wouldn’t mind if Jesse walked in on me,” Meg joked before they left me alone.

I locked the door and took off my clothes. The uniform smelled like fabric softener. I looked at myself in the mirror. I felt like a pink lollipop. I straightened my collar and tried fixing my hair, combing it with my fingers, placing it back into a neater, cleaner pony tail. I tugged on the dress again. It was a little short and a bit snug on my cleavage. I unlocked the door and instantly bumped into Jesse.

“Sorry,” I said.

“No problem,” he responded and walked into the room, not making eye contact with me. I turned my head and watched him place his backpack into a locker. He shut the door and looked up, seeing me staring at him. “I didn’t think you’d back out,” he said.

“What?” I asked confused by his remark.

“You’re just like him,” he said and laughed quietly to himself.

I ignored him and immediately walked out to the front of the diner. I was nothing like Charlie. What did Jesse know? He had just met me.

Meg and Hannah were opening the blinds, letting the sunlight come in. I felt helpless and must have appeared that way. Hannah came over to me. “Have you ever worked in a restaurant before?”

“No,” I said.

“Just follow me around today. You’ll get the hang of it. You’ll be my shadow, okay,” she said and smiled encouragingly.

She was trying to be nice and I appreciated that. My grandfather would have left me to the wolves. “Thanks.” I smiled in return.

The first customer came in the restaurant. Hannah greeted him familiarly. “Same as always, Hank?”

He nodded and took off his cap, exposing a receding hair line. His head tanned, filled with brown freckles. He looked at me and winked. It took me by surprise which must have shown because he laughed. He smelled like a brewery. He sat down on one of the bar stools.

“Finn, this is Hank. Hank, this is Charlie’s granddaughter,” she said.

“Pleased to meet you.” He extended his hand. They were callused and rough. Years and years of hard work had definitely impacted them. His face was full of wrinkles, his skin tan and leathery.

“Finn, go fix him a cup of coffee, black. I’ll put your order in Hank,” she said and walked to the window. “Give me an Adam and Eve on a raft!” she yelled.

I looked at her confused. “That’s two poached eggs on toast,” Hannah said to me.

I shook my head as if to say I understood, but learning diner lingo would be as challenging as learning a foreign language. I poured the coffee and brought it to his table.

His hands shook a little as he held his cup, sipping the coffee slowly. I had filled the cup too high. Some of the coffee flowed out onto the counter. “Sorry,” he said looking down at it. He put the cup down and wiped the counter with a napkin.

“I’ll get it,” I said, grabbing a wet cloth, wiping up the mess.

A few more customers came in. I nervously looked around for Hannah. She was busy with another customer and motioned for me to seat them myself. I walked to the front door and greeted them.

“Hi, welcome to Lilly’s Diner,” I said and walked away, forgetting to tell them to follow me. I turned around and saw them bewildered standing by the front door.

“If you’ll just have a seat right here folks,” she said, coming to my rescue. I walked over to where she sat them and listened to her telling them about the day’s special.

“Thanks Hannah,” I whispered to her gratefully.

“I was new once. You’ll get the hang of it,” she said making me feel better, more secure.

The day was a long one. Being on my feet for that amount of time wore me out and hurt. It was a pain beyond anything I had ever experienced. My feet felt like they were on fire, like someone had poured lighter fluid on them and then struck a match. Waitressing was hard work. When the breakfast crowd left, the lunch crowd came in. I didn’t get a break. If the diner had been open for dinner, I know in all certainty that I would have never been able to last. I would have hobbled out the front door to die.

I sat down on one of the bar stools, taking off my shoes, seeing that the back of my heels were bleeding from newly formed blisters. I ached all over and would have to do this tomorrow and the next day and the next. I felt an enormous amount of dread.

“You need better shoes,” Hannah said looking at my feet. She sat down next to me. Meg sat down on the other side of me.

“They hurt,” I said squeezing my left foot, grimacing from the pain.

“It’s part of the job, Finn,” she said patting me on the back. “You’ll get used to it.”

“So Finn, what made you come to Graceville?” Meg asked.

“I wanted to get to know Charlie and Lilly,” I said.

“Charlie’s never mentioned you before.” She sucked on her straw, swallowing some of her Coke. “But that doesn’t mean anything. He tends to keep to himself a lot.”

“Well, we don’t really know each other. I haven’t seen him a long time,” I said regretting that I had admitted that much information.

“I know what you mean. I haven’t seen my grandparents in forever,” she said unfazed by my comment. “So, did you just graduate from high school?” she asked changing the subject. She moved closer to me, her elbows resting on the counter, her hand under her chin.

“Yes,” I said, unsure of how to continue making conversation. I can talk to anyone about books, but basic conversation was difficult for me. “Did you?” I asked her.

“Last year. I’m going to cosmetology school. Hannah is a year older than me. She’s in nursing school,” she took a sip of her Coke. “You’re hair color is amazing,” she touched my hair. “Is it natural?”

“Yes,” I was surprised by lack of boundaries. She didn’t have any problems with personal space.

“People pay big money to have that hair color,” she said. “It would look great in curls. You’ll have to let me curl it sometime,” she offered. I wasn’t good with this girl stuff. I had never curled my hair. I was fine letting it hang straight against my shoulders or up in a pony tail.

“That’s okay,” I said trying to smile.

“I insist,” she said.

“Thanks though,” I said trying to be nice.

“Suit yourself,” she said nonchalantly. She handed me containers of sugar and a bag filled with sugar. “Here, fill these up.” We began filling the sugar containers and refilling the ketchup bottles.

Hannah turned up the jukebox, playing Buddy Holly’s Peggy Sue. She and Meg danced around, singing as they swept and mopped the floor. I watched them having fun, doubtful of how to join in. I was amazed that they had that much energy after working all day.

“Lunch is served!” my grandfather hollered from the kitchen. I had forgotten how hungry I was. Hours of working on my feet and staying constantly busy had made those thoughts disappear. He made grilled cheese sandwiches and French fries for all of us. This was by no means a basic grilled cheese sandwich. It was filled with different cheeses, with a variety of pleasant flavors. Nana was right, my grandfather could cook.

I said very little during lunch. Meg and Hannah did most of the talking.

“Are you coming back tomorrow?” Meg asked.

I shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I?” I wondered if I had been that obvious.

“The first day’s always rough. It’ll get better,” she added.

Hannah scoffed. “You’re one to talk, Meg. You almost quit after the first day.” I looked quickly at Meg who was glaring at Hannah.

“Whatever. Like you weren’t the same,” she replied annoyed.

They kept talking, mostly arguing. But they weren’t really mad at each other. It was playful banter between siblings. My grandfather barely uttered a word the entire time. Jesse asked him a few questions about the diner and he’d answer him. But that was all he said. I tried to not stare at Jesse. He caught me looking in his direction a few times. I didn’t say much throughout lunch. I was like my grandfather in that sense, more the observer than participant. I took my plate and cup to the kitchen and put them in the dishwasher. My feet hurt immensely. It was difficult to walk, especially since I had taken my shoes off, only to discover that putting them back on would be even more painful.

“Your grandmother will know what to do with your feet. I’ll have her take you to get a better pair of shoes tonight,” my grandfather said. I was surprised by his generosity.

“Thank you,” I said.

A laconic man, he simply said “Yep” and walked away.