The Year I Almost Drowned

Chapter 3

I pulled the cobalt blue dress over my head and grabbed my brown leather belt, wrapping it around my waist, inserting it into the last loop. I zipped up Meg’s brown leather boots, sprayed my hair with hair spray once more, and applied my light pink lip gloss to my lips. The dress probably wasn’t the smartest thing to wear in cold weather, but I wanted to look nice for Jesse. I reached for my coat and turned off the light before I left my room to head downstairs.

Jesse was sitting on the couch talking to my grandparents. He was dressed in dark denim jeans, a black t-shirt and a charcoal-colored Henley sweater and looked like one of those models from a J.Crew catalogue. With his dark wavy hair, sea blue eyes and olive complexion, Jesse was absolutely beautiful. I know it’s strange to describe a boy as being pretty, but that’s what Jesse was. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.

“You look beautiful, Finn.” He stood up, his grin broad.

“Thanks.” I fidgeted and bit on a loose hang nail. This was the first real date I’d ever had with Jesse. It’s how I imagined a girl feels on the night of her prom. Jesse and I had gone to plenty of fast food restaurants, movies, and other places on dates, but we never went anywhere that I had to dress up. It made me feel grown up.

“Y’all have fun,” Nana said.

“And be careful,” Grandpa added. “You’ve got a long drive.” Greenville was the closest city to Graceville, but it was still forty-five minutes away.

We closed the door behind us and got into Jesse’s car. It smelled like fresh lavender and was immaculate, the cleanest I’d ever seen it. He turned the ignition. I could smell his cologne. It was sweet and musky. “Your car is so clean,” I said, running my fingers across the armrest. Not a speck of dust was on it.

“I cleaned it. For our date.” He gave me a warm smile.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Nope,” he said smugly.

“Fine.” I folded my arms against my chest and pouted. “I can’t wait to do this to you on your birthday.” I glared at him and shook my head.

He arched his eyebrow. “Well, you’ll have to wait a couple of months.”

“Just you wait,” I threatened.

“I’m shaking,” he said sarcastically.

“You should be, old man,” I joked. Jesse was only a year older than me, but I still liked to call him old.

***

The restaurant, Via Dell ‘amore, was situated next to the river that flowed through Greenville’s downtown. It sat atop large, granite rocks with 180 degree views of the flowing river and a gushing waterfall that gracefully ebbed its way into the river. The area was surrounded by plants and trees, with oak benches and natural stone seating. The park was full of people who had come to enjoy the naturally beautiful scenery and take snap shots to capture memories of their visit. It was dusk; the sun was setting on the horizon. The sweet smell of tea olive shrubs filled the night air. Faint lights lit up the cobble stone sidewalks.

We entered the restaurant. The interior was rustically chic with large wooden beams crisscrossing the high vaulted ceiling and accents of natural stone walls and floors that were a dark cherry wood. A soothing jazz band played. A man wearing a dark blue suit greeted us at the front entrance.

“May I help you?” he asked.

“We have reservations for Quinn,” Jesse said.

The man looked through his reservation book and then nodded. “Yes, Mr. Quinn, we have your table ready. May I take your coat, Miss?” he asked me.

I handed my navy blue pea coat to him. He carefully held onto it and took it to another room. He came back empty handed and said, “Please follow me this way.”

He escorted us to the far end of the restaurant. The mood was intimate; the lighting was dim. There were other couples speaking in whispered tones. The atmosphere was romantic. This was the type of restaurant couples went to for proposals. “Will this suit you?” he asked us, pointing to the table that sat against a large window overlooking the waterfall.

Jesse looked at me for my approval. “Yes.” Of course it suited me; it was perfect.

The man pulled my chair out, indicating for me to sit down. I sat on the soft light gray velvet chair and he pushed me toward the table. “Your waiter will be here shortly,” he added and left us alone.

I looked around, taking in every detail of the restaurant. Wrought iron chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Each table was adorned in white tablecloths. Our table had a small vase with red roses. Several pieces of silver ware were laid out before me: a small fork, medium-sized fork, a third, bigger fork, a spoon and knife. I didn’t know what the small fork was for.

“This is really nice, Jesse,” I said, continuing to look around in every direction.

His lips curled upward in a smile. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Like it. I love it.”

He held my hand and rubbed it gently. “Happy birthday, Finn.”

A waiter dressed in a black pair of pants and white button up shirt approached our table. He told us the specials and handed us our menus. The menu was unique–two pieces of wood bound together by wire. Inside were two pieces of antiqued paper. I perused the menu–the prices were insane. Everything was twenty dollars or more. I wondered how Jesse was going to afford this. I knew working one day a week did not pay him enough to afford this extravagance.

“Order anything you want,” he said, watching me as I read the menu.

I frowned. “Everything’s expensive.”

“Finn, just get what you want. I want you to have a good time.” I stared back at the menu, my lips twisted to the side, my forehead creased. “Really, Finn. I’ve got it taken care of,” he said. His light blue eyes looked into mine.

“Okay,” I agreed. “I will. Promise.”

“Good.” He breathed a sigh of relief and took a sip of water.

“When did you plan this?” I asked. It had to have taken some planning. This was not the type of restaurant anyone could just walk into, that was obvious from the required reservations.

“A few weeks ago.”

“It’s very romantic,” I whispered.

He laughed and the loud boisterous pleasing sound was heard throughout the quiet restaurant. A few other couples sitting at nearby tables glanced at us and then looked away, going back to their quiet conversations.

“I miss you,” he admitted. “I hate not seeing you all the time.”

“Me, too.” I held onto his hand, it was dry and callused. “Where’s this from?” I rubbed a large, lumpy blister.

“School.” He let go of my hands. “Tying knots, the work outs, carrying a hose with so much water pressure your arm wants to fall off by the end of the day, you name it. Any of it could’ve given it to me.”

“It sounds tough.” I frowned.

“It has to be. You know when we started school, there were forty people in the class. We’re down to ten. Ten, Finn. They have to make things tough on us. It’ll be a lot harder once I’m a firefighter.” He took a sip of water again and looked at our waiter who had just arrived.

“Are you ready to order?” the waiter asked.

“Finn?” Jesse said, indicating for me to go first. He was such a gentleman. Jesse and I both ordered the filet mignon.

“You’re such a gentleman. Who’d you learn all the chivalrous peculiarities from?” I asked.

He snickered. “Chivalrous peculiarities,” he mimicked. “You and your vocabulary.” He took a deep breath. “My mom and Charlie–they taught me how to be a gentleman.”

“My grandfather?”

“Yeah. When we were in boy scouts together, he’d give me some pointers. Then, when I started working for him, he really let me have it with the advice. I’m glad, though.”

“And your mom?” He didn’t talk about her a lot, but when he did I could tell how much he missed her, how much she must have meant to him.

“She made me open her door when we’d go out. You know, things like that. It just stuck.”

“I bet she was a terrific mom.”

He nodded and said, “She was. She was more than terrific, she was perfect. Mom was the type that brought cupcakes to school for holiday parties and all the other kids envied me because they wanted her to be their mom. I really miss her.” He had a pensive expression and then he slightly smiled. “You remind me of her.”

“Me?” I pointed to myself.

“Yeah. You see the good in everyone just like she did.”

That was one of the sweetest compliments Jesse had ever given me. I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I didn’t. He stared out the window and moved his head in a circular motion and a cracking sound came out. “Ouch, that didn’t sound very good.”

“I’m just sore. We had to repeat workouts ten times the other day because Stench messed up. Poor guy, he always gets yelled at by one of the instructors. I feel sorry for him.”

“Me, too, and I don’t even know him. Why is his name Stench?” I asked curiously.

“We all have nicknames. I’m Blaze,” he said, and I rolled my eyes. He continued, “Noah, he’s Flash, because he’s so quick. Steve Dombrowski is Stench because, well, he stinks.”

“That’s mean.”

He shook his head. “Nah, he doesn’t care. The guy reeks of garlic. It’s all he eats. I think he eats more of it now that he’s inherited the name.”

“It still sounds mean.”

“Did you register for classes?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah. I did it yesterday. I’ll have a full load.”

“I bet you’re excited.”

“Yeah,” I said with a slight lilt in my voice, which was a dead giveaway that I was lying. I wasn’t as excited as most people are when they’re about to start school. I just worried that going away to school meant things between Jesse and me were going to change. How could we date when I was going to be so far away? How was that going to work? It was difficult enough not seeing each other that much now, but once I moved, we wouldn’t see each other for months.

His forehead creased. “Really?” he said incredulously.

“Yes.”

“Well, you should be. That’s a good school and you’re getting it all paid for.”

“I thought you never heard of it,” I teased.

“I’ve done my research.”

I folded my arms against my chest. “Is this what you do when I’m not around?”

“I wish,” he said. “Nope. Most of the time, I’m studying chapters and chapters of stuff for school. We usually have a test on five chapters at a time.”

The waiter brought the food and placed my plate in front of me and then Jesse’s dish in front of him. The steak looked juicy and tender. A serving of whipped buttery mashed potatoes sat on the plate next to it. I grabbed the large fork and knife and began to cut small pieces. I hoped I was using the right fork but it didn’t make sense to use a small fork for a big slab of meat.

“What’s the small fork for anyway?” I asked.

“It’s the dessert fork. The one in the middle is the salad fork. You’re eating with the right fork.” He cut a piece of steak, put it on his fork and placed it in his mouth.

I looked at him with a stunned expression as he chewed his food. “How do you know this?” Jesse surprised me sometimes.

“My mom,” he answered and took another bite.

“Oh,” I whispered. “She taught you a lot.”

“She knew just about everything.”

I wished I had known her because a huge part of Jesse and all the beautiful things I loved about him had to be gifts from her.

He sat quietly for a minute with a thoughtful expression. “I’m picking my dad up from rehab tomorrow.”

His dad had finally agreed to go to rehab for his alcohol addiction. Jesse lost his mom when he was ten after she was killed by a drunk driver, and since that time, he’d essentially been raising his father. It’s ironic that his father was an alcoholic since that was what killed his mother, but Hank had a serious weakness for drinking and couldn’t seem to stop even though it affected Jesse in so many ways. Jesse never had the opportunity to experience a real childhood after his mother died. He spent his days cleaning the house, cooking dinner, putting his dad to bed and then when he was old enough to drive, picking him up at bars in the middle of the night. Jesse sacrificed so much, while his dad gave up little in return. I was glad his dad finally agreed to get help for his addiction. Jesse didn’t say much, about why his dad had a sudden change of heart, only that they had a major argument and that he told him he wasn’t going to enable him anymore. It was an epoch for Jesse. He said he did it because of me, because I’m the one that made him see that he wasn’t living his life, that he was giving it up for his dad. I can’t take that kind of credit; Jesse had reached his point and finally had decided enough was enough.

“Do you want me to go with you?” I asked.

“No. It’s better I do this on my own,” he answered and then gave me an appreciative smile.

***

We sat inside Jesse’s car in my grandparents’ driveway. It was late, close to midnight. One light shined on the front porch. Jesse’s car was turned off, but it still felt warm inside. He had music playing from his CD player. Nina Simone’s seductive deep voice sang lyrics about loving and being loved. We sat facing each other. I could still smell the lavender and Jesse’s musky cologne.

“I had a good time. This was the best birthday present,” I said. My fingers weaved into his.

“Happy birthday, Finn.” He leaned forward to kiss me. It was gentle, Jesse’s lips barely grazed mine. Our foreheads touched and I could hear him taking soft breaths. He placed his thumb on my jaw line and caressed it.

“It’s all going by so fast. I’ll be gone soon,” I fretted.

“I know.” He ran his fingers through my hair.

“What are we going to do?”

“You won’t be that far away, Finn. Quit worrying. You should be excited about starting college.” He leaned forward and kissed me again. “Nothing’s going to change.”

“It’s far away, though.”

“It’s not that far, Finn. It’s not like you’re going to school in Alaska.”

“But,” I started. What I really wanted to ask him was how are we supposed to keep dating with me in another state and you working? But I didn’t. I let my heart and hormones take over.

My breath became heavier. My heart beat faster. I took a deep breath and leaned in to kiss him. And I kissed him. My hands ran through his soft wavy hair, to his strong muscular back, and down to his firm waist.

“Finn,” he said breathlessly.

“Yes,” I said, kissing his neck, his jaw, his lips. My hands rubbed his smooth chest, his rock hard stomach, and squeezed his muscular thighs.

“Your grandparents are right inside you know,” he said.

“So.” I continued to kiss him.

“If you keep doing what you’re doing, I won’t want to stop,” he said and took a deep uneven breath. “And this dress of yours...” he touched my shoulder and ran his fingers to the top of my chest, “is turning me on.”

I stopped kissing him and stared directly into his eyes. My face felt warm. His hair was disheveled. I could see his chest heaving back and forth from each solid, heavy breath he took. We always got to this point–a place where if we continued, we would cross that imaginary line. But I always pulled away and he didn’t pressure me. He said we would have sex on my terms–when I was ready. He wanted me to be one hundred percent sure. It would be our first time, not only together, but our first time ever. I really wanted to kiss him again and let it continue, but I knew it wasn’t the right place or the right time. I just wondered when that time would come.