The Summer I Learned to Dive

Chapter 7

When I got back to my grandparents house, I had no energy left in me to do anything. I took a hot shower and crashed on the bed, not waking up until the next morning. My body was telling me to stay in bed. My mind made me get up and face another day of grueling work. I couldn’t quit, no matter how much my body wanted me to. I needed to try this, to see what it was like to have a job. I hobbled on my feet and quickly got dressed. My grandparents were talking in the kitchen.

“Bless your heart. Finn, how are your feet?” Nana asked watching me hobble.

“Sore, but I’ll be okay,” I said seeing my grandfather smirk.

“I went out and got you a pair of shoes last night. I could see I wasn’t going to wake you and knew you couldn’t last another day in those awful shoes of yours.” She stared at my feet and shook her head slightly.

“Thank you. What do I owe you?” I asked.

“Nonsense. They didn’t cost much,” she said.

“Please, let me pay you for them. I’m already infringing by staying here,” I said.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said and kissed me on the head. She left the room and came back with the tennis shoes. They weren’t pretty, that’s for sure. Stark white with some type of orthopedic element, they belonged on an old person or a nurse, not an eighteen year old girl. I already had a difficult time with boys. Wearing these shoes would only make that problem worse.

“Thank you,” I said taking them. The last thing I wanted to do was appear unappreciative. I sat down and put them on. They were bulky but comfortable. The soles felt spongy, as if my feet were on top of marshmallows.

“I know they’re not pretty, but your feet will thank me,” she said. “The first year I worked at the diner, that’s all I wore and I was awfully glad I did,” she added.

“How come you don’t work there now?” I asked.

“Oh, I work there from time to time. I still make the pies, though,” she said and laughed quietly.

“We don’t have time for small talk. Love you,” my grandfather said standing up and kissed her quickly. He motioned for me to follow him. I stood in my new shoes, feeling like I was walking on air. Nana was a lifesaver; the shoes would get me through a treacherous day of standing on my feet for hours.

“Nana, they’re great! Thanks,” I said and hugged her before walking out the front door. My grandfather sat in his truck, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel staring at me impatiently.

“They must fit alright,” he said.

“Yes. They’re very comfortable,” I said smiling, looking down at them, stretching my feet, moving them in circles.

“Good,” he replied and said nothing more the entire ride to work.

***

I walked into the office to put my purse in a locker. Jesse walked in and stood beside me opening his locker. He closed the door and then looked at me. I attempted to smile at him. “New shoes?” he asked staring at my feet.

“Yes,” I said.

“You won’t get blisters. Those are orthopedic shoes. They’re made for old people with major foot problems,” he said.

“That’s what I thought they were for. I feel like I’m walking on sponges,” I said moving my feet up and down, feeling absurd once I did.

“Did Lilly get those for you?” he asked.

“Yes. How’d you know?”

“She bought me a pair like those when I first started here.” He pointed to his shoes, which looked like mine, only they were black. “She takes care of everyone like that,” he added. I was about to say something but he left before I could.

***

The next few days flew by quickly. The work didn’t get any easier. I still had a hard time with the diner lingo and gave my orders literally which frustrated both my grandfather and Jesse. Calling eggs “Adam and Eve” rather than eggs didn’t make sense to me. It takes more effort. But they insisted that I learn the crazy phrases. Meg and Hannah created a study guide for me. For once, I was not motivated to study and was too exhausted to do so by the time I got home anyway. My day at the diner ended around 4 o’clock every afternoon. By that time, all I wanted to do was take a hot shower and lay on the couch. Nana encouraged me to go out, to be with people my own age, but I wasn’t good at making friends. I didn’t know how. I had lost that ability a long time ago and didn’t know how to gain it back.

I’d had one girl friend in my life—Chloe Saunders. Throughout elementary school, we were inseparable. I met her the first day of school my first grade year. She was the only other kid reading a book during recess. Together, we sat under our special tree reading our favorite stories while the other kids chased each other and played on the jungle gym equipment. We were a pair. Most of the kids thought of us as social lepers or circus oddities. We were the “brainiacs,” the nerds, the smartest and brightest kids in the class and that intimidated them all. Chloe and I didn’t notice, nor did we care. We had each other.

The year I started sixth grade, it all changed. Chloe was moving away to Kansas. Her dad was offered a job and she had to leave. I begged her to stay. I didn’t want her to go. I knew it wouldn’t be the same without her. She was the only person I felt a connection with and I didn’t want to lose that.

That year was one of my worst years in school. I didn’t deal well with Chloe’s absence. Middle school was a different animal. There was so much emphasis on popularity. Intelligence was seen as a stigma rather than a gift. I immersed myself in more books, forgetting about the others. It was hard to find anyone that I felt comfortable with, that I could be myself with. It was one of the loneliest times in my life.

But things slowly improved. I met other students with similar interests but they never quite filled that gap, that hole that Chloe had left behind. I was never able to develop the same type of friendship with them that I had with her. They were just people that I knew, that I had a few things in common with. It wasn’t the same.

Chloe and I kept in touch after she moved, but time and distance changed things. She came back to Florida to stay with her grandparents the summer of our ninth grade year. She had changed and we found that we didn’t have much to talk about. She didn’t care about reading anymore. All she wanted to do was go to the mall and flirt with boys. She put more importance on things that I thought were superficial. She was only concerned about her appearance.

After relentlessly asking me, I reluctantly went to the mall with her one day. That’s all she had talked about the moment she came over to see me. Going to the mall to check out boys sounded like a complete waste of time to me.

We had been at the mall for barely an hour when she met a boy. He asked her to go see a movie which was something I was not interested in doing. I told her I didn’t want to go. She tried persuading me to go with her but in the end she went to the movies with him instead, leaving me alone. It stung me to the core. I cried in the department store bathroom, feeling deserted and alone. I ended up calling my mom to come pick me up, crying the entire ride home. My mother tried to console me, telling me that people change and that I would find other friends who were like me. The part I was most upset about was that I felt Chloe had turned into a vacuous drone. She had given up her uniqueness only to fit in.

She called me later that week to say goodbye before she left to go back to Kansas. She never apologized for leaving me. Instead, she berated me for being so serious. “You’re never going to get a boyfriend if you keep this up,” she said.

“Maybe I don’t care about that,” I replied sorely.

She scoffed, “Well, your high school years will suck then.”

That cut deep. “That’s fine by me,” I said defensively.

She sighed and said, “I’m just trying to help you be cool, Finn.”

“I’d rather be me, thank you,” I replied indignantly, hurt beyond repair. The conversation lagged and was awkward. She promised to keep in touch but I knew it was what people said to each other, that it was a broken promise. I said goodbye to her knowing it would be the last time I would ever speak to her.

***

Meg whispered in my ear, “Ugh, you get this table okay, Finn.” She rolled her eyes.

“Okay,” I said deciding not to press the issue.

Two boys and one girl sat down in one of the booths. They chatted loudly which caused some of the other customers to stare at them. And the fact that they were dressed in expensive clothing and looked like models made them an obvious attraction to the Graceville locals. I could tell by the way they handled themselves that they were rich. The girl hovered over the boy with brown hair. She couldn’t keep her hands off of him.

“Blake, we have a new waitress to admire,” the blonde boy said. His muscular skin had a bronze tint. His friend looked up at me. The girl glared at me.

“What would you like to order?” I asked.

“I’m Dylan.” The blonde said. He smiled at me; his teeth were perfect and were bright white, almost artificial looking. I wondered if they would glow in the dark.

“Hi,” I said.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Finn,” I said. I could feel my cheeks turning red. What an inopportune time for it to happen.

“Nice to meet you, Finn. I’ll have a hamburger, fries and a Coke,” he said. His friend ordered the same and the girl ordered a small salad. Nothing irritates me more than when a thin girl eats like a rabbit. I walked behind the counter and called out the order through the window to Jesse. “One rabbit food in the alley. Two cows, drag them through the garden with 2 orders of frog sticks!” I hollered. Jesse nodded coherently. To anyone else listening it would sound like I was an alien speaking. The diner lingo was starting to become second nature to me.

“Thanks, Finn. I did not want to deal with him today,” Meg whispered to me inconspicuously staring at them and then back at me.

“It’s fine,” I said.

“It’s just hard to see Blake with another girl. Did you see the way she was hanging all over him? It’s disgusting,” Meg said rolling her eyes.

“Was he your boyfriend?” I asked.

“He was only the love of my life, Finn. We dated for an entire year. I gave my heart to him and now look at him, over there with that girl.” She sounded frustrated and hurt.

“I’m sorry,” I said. I tried to understand where she was coming from but it was hard for me to relate. I had never had a boyfriend. I’d only come close—once.

***

Trace Johnson was the closest contact I’ve ever had with a boy and the only person I’ve ever gone on a date with. We were in several classes together my junior year. He wasn’t very talkative, he mostly kept to himself. He had a nervous, quiet voice, as if he was questioning himself when he spoke. We were lab partners in chemistry class. I liked having him as a partner because he was smart and easy to work with. We were a perfect team and worked together seamlessly. When he asked me to go to a laser show with him I was surprised.

“Finn, there is a laser show this weekend at the science center,” he said quietly.

“Oh. I hadn’t heard,” I said looking through the microscope examining the slide.

“I have two tickets,” he said.

“Okay,” I barely uttered. I was more concerned with my slide and had almost tuned him out.

He cleared his throat. “Do you want to go?” he asked. He nearly tipped over the beakers in front of him.

I quickly caught them and looked at him. “Sure.” I shrugged.

He quickly smiled. “I’ll be at your house at seven then.”

“Okay,” I instantly went back to my work thinking nothing of it.

Trace’s mom drove us to the laser show. He hadn’t gotten his driver’s license yet. His mother was friendly, though, so I didn’t feel awkward riding in the car with both of them. My mother had insisted that she meet him before we went out together. I told her it wasn’t a date but she wouldn’t budge. She told me under no circumstances would she allow me to go out with him until she had met him. I think she wanted to appraise him, to see if he was good enough for me. He was the first boy I would be bringing home. I never looked at Trace in a romantic way. I never thought about any of the boys at school like that. Trace wasn’t ugly. It’s just, he was Trace, my science partner, my sort-of friend. Some of the girls in our class thought he was cute with his longer shaggy brown hair and doe brown eyes. He had a sweet face, the kind anyone could trust. He didn’t give much thought to what he wore. Usually it was a t-shirt, mostly an homage to a hard rock band from the 1980’s, and jeans. It was ironic. He was a science nerd but loved hard rock bands. Trace wasn’t the most social guy either and my mother didn’t like that. When he came to pick me up, he walked inside my house and uttered about five words through the entire conversation. My mother tried to ask him questions, but he clammed up from nervousness. I had hoped that my mom would have cooled off and see that he was struggling. Instead she pressed further, trying to force him to talk. It only made things worse. By the time we left for the show, I knew she hated him.

The laser show was fun. I enjoyed listening to Trace’s favorite band Led Zeppelin while watching an array of different colored lasers zig and zag to the music, dancing on the screen and amazing everyone in the audience. But I think I mostly enjoyed myself because I was out on a date and for the first time, I wasn’t nervous around a boy. Maybe it was because I knew Trace? We didn’t talk much that night, but during the show, he grabbed my hand and held it until his mom picked us up after the show. His hand was cold and sweaty, but I didn’t care. It was the first time I had ever gotten that close with a boy and I liked it. I was beginning to see Trace in a new light. That evening, I saw Trace as someone I could get to know better, someone that could potentially be my boyfriend.

When I got home from the show, my mother was relentless in her insults. She said that he was weird and that I could do better. She made me feel like I was too good for him. Against my better judgment, I didn’t go on anymore dates with Trace after that even though I had fun with him. He stopped asking me after a few rejections and began dating Amy Thompkins a few weeks later. He never asked me to go out with him again. There were times, when we worked on our labs in science class, that I wondered what it would have been like to go on more dates with him. I wondered what it would have been like to hold his hand again, to kiss him, to be his girlfriend. I regretted not listening to my heart and instead following the advice of my mother. Now I think that maybe he was too good for me.

***

I went back to Dylan’s table and delivered their meals. The girl glared at me again. “This salad has dressing on it,” she said loudly. “I didn’t want dressing,” she pushed the plate away and pouted.

“Relax, Becca. She can bring a new one out,” Blake said. “Right?” he asked me.

I nodded, “Sure.” I tried to keep my composure, but her whole demeanor was really annoying.

“I don’t understand why some people can’t understand simple English,” she said. “I want a salad without dressing,” she said, staring at me while speaking slowly, an octave higher.

“She doesn’t have ESP, Becca. You didn’t ask for no dressing to begin with,” Dylan offered. He smiled at me. I was grateful for his help but irritated that she could be so rude.

She rolled her eyes, “Whatever,” she said. “I’m not eating it.”

I walked away trying to contain my anger and yelled out the order emphasizing no dressing.

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Meg said looking at her. “She looks finicky.”

I looked at the table and caught Dylan’s eye. He smiled at me, and I immediately turned my face in another direction.

“Dylan’s checking you out,” Meg said.

“No he’s not,” I said blushing.

“Be careful with that one. He’s a player,” she said before she walked away to check on a customer.

I didn’t know what she meant by that. I looked at him again and saw him looking disinterested in what Becca was saying. It was probably something petty or superficial. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw me looking at him. He rolled his eyes at her and I laughed. I turned around to face the counter. Jesse had been watching me. He pushed the plate toward me with more force than usual.

“Here’s your order. Next time pay attention so it doesn’t get cold,” he said annoyed.

“It’s salad, Jesse,” I said sarcastically. “Next time just throw it at me why don’t you.” I glowered at him.

“Maybe you should do your job instead of flirting with the customers,” he said. I grabbed the plate in a huff and delivered it to Becca.