The Year I Almost Drowned

Chapter 4

Jesse was on my mind. I wanted to know how it went with his dad but I had to be patient, to give him time. He needed some space. I kept checking the time on my phone. It was a little after six o’clock, and I still hadn’t heard from him. I hoped that everything had gone well. I could never truly relate to what Jesse was going through.

I held the porcelain tea pot by its handle and poured Nana’s hot tea into a cup. Her tea was perfect: lots of sugar and evaporated milk. I carried the cup and walked outside to the front porch. It was starting to get dark out and was a little warmer than it had been. I sat down next to Nana on the swing and we swayed gently, rocking back and forth and back and forth again. Nana didn’t say anything. Instead, we just sat on the swing, moving, listening to a myriad of pleasant sounds: the rustling of trees blowing from the gentle breeze and a gaggle of geese migrating south for winter. She wrapped her arms around me and nudged me closer to her. Being wrapped in her arms made me feel safe.

“I have a favor to ask of you,” she finally said, interrupting the silence.

“Sure.” She could ask me anything and I’d give it to her without question.

“Did you know your grandfather is an Elvis fan?”

“Yes.” There were more songs from Elvis in the jukebox than any other musician. When he chose a song to play, it was always an Elvis tune.

“He’s never been to Graceland, you know.” I gave her a confused look. “It’s Elvis’ home, honey,” she said, and I nodded my head in understanding. She continued, “He has always wanted to go.”

“Where is it?”

“In Memphis, Tennessee,” she answered and then paused for a minute. “Would you like to go with him? You know, on a road trip?”

“Me.” I pointed to myself, my eyes widened in surprise. “Wouldn’t he rather go with you?”

“He and I have spent oodles of time together. This could be a special trip, just the two of you, before you leave for college.” She formed an encouraging smile.

“Sure,” I answered.

She gently squeezed me and then said, “Thank you, Finn. Y’all should go within the next month. He really needs to do this.”

I wondered what she meant by that last statement. I wanted to ask her why he needed to do it, what was the urgency, but Jesse’s car pulled up before I could say anything else to her.

“That’s Jesse. I’ll leave you two alone to talk,” she said, letting go of me as she got up off the swing. I watched her go back inside the house and then looked over at Jesse who was walking up the porch steps.

He plopped down next to me. “Hey.” He sounded exhausted.

“How did it go?” I asked.

“It was okay,” he said seriously and with a thoughtful expression.

“He’s lucky to have you.” I grabbed a hold of his hand and laced my fingers in his.

“I don’t know how much I can help.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “This is something he’ll have to do on his own.” His forehead wrinkled with worry.

“But you’ll be there to support him.”

“I will, but he’ll have to live with wanting to have a drink everyday, and I can’t always be there to make sure he doesn’t.”

“You have to see that your dad wants to stay sober as much as you want him to,” I pleaded.

“You didn’t grow up with him. I’ve spent the last ten years taking care of him; I can’t allow myself to be optimistic. It’ll hurt too much if he does start drinking again.” He stood up and placed his hands on the porch rail and gazed at the star-filled sky.

I got off the swing and moved next to him. “Have faith in him, Jesse,” I said, placing my hand on his.

He turned to look down at me. “You’re really a good person, Finn. I wish I had half your heart.” He touched my face softly and slightly smiled. I blushed and then looked down. He put his hand to my chin and raised my head up. “I really love you, Finley Hemmings.”

***

I had no idea what to pack for a trip to Graceland, so I put everything I thought I should into one suitcase: jeans; flip flops; tennis shoes; shorts; a gamut of items from my lackluster wardrobe. I closed the suitcase and carried it with me downstairs. As I took it outside with me to place in Grandpa’s truck, Nana drove into the driveway in a silver Chevrolet Camaro convertible. The top was down and the radio was blasting oldie tunes. The wind had messed up her short hair. Her cheeks were sun kissed. Driving closely behind her was Jesse, who parked his car right beside the convertible.

I let go of the suitcase, dropping it on the porch, and stalked over to the car. The leaves crushed against my feet, crackling as I made each step. The front yard was inundated with fallen leaves. The trees were completely bare–winter was on its way.

I looked at them both and then at the car in absolute disbelief. “Nana, did you buy a new car?” I asked.

She stepped out of the car and said, “Lord no, honey. I rented this for you and your grandfather. Y’all need to ride in style since you’re going to Graceland. That old truck of his wouldn’t get y’all past Knoxville.” She clicked a button and opened the trunk. “You can put your suitcase in there.” She pointed.

“It’s really nice, Finn” Jesse said, while I continued to stare at the car.

The screen door opened, and my grandfather walked out. “What the devil is that?” he asked in a huff.

“That,” Nana said, approaching him, “is the car you and Finn are driving to Memphis.”

He scowled. “We don’t need a car. I’ve got a truck.”

“Your truck is as old as Methuselah, Charlie,” she said.

“Jesse, you knew about this?” he asked.

Jesse nodded confidently, smirking. He and Nana winked at each other. “Someone had to give her a ride to the car rental place,” he said.

“Humph. It’s a bit showy for a trip to Memphis,” my grandfather said.

“Nope, not at all,” she said, refusing to budge. She touched his face lovingly, like she was taming a lion or a beast.

He pursed his lips and turned to look at the car for a moment. “Well,” he paused, “I guess we can drive it.” He was relenting. She had the magic touch. With anyone else, he was an old curmudgeon. With her, he was soft as a cotton-filled pillow.

“Y’all put your suitcases in the trunk. I’m going inside to get the food I packed for your trip.” She opened the screen door.

Jesse carried our suitcases to the car and put them in the spacious trunk. I moved toward the front of the car and opened the driver’s side door, touching the soft, beige, leathery seat. The dashboard had tortoise shell wood paneling with a six disc CD player. “This is so nice,” I said, still touching the seat. I watched my grandfather as he ran his large fingers across the leathery passenger seat. He caught me staring at him and stopped.

“What?” he said.

I arched my eyebrows. “Nothing.”

“I bet it eats a lot of gas.”

“Not as much as your truck,” I replied.

“Humph,” he grumbled.

Nana came out of the house carrying an army green cooler in her hand. Jesse ran up the porch steps and took it from her.

“What do you have in here?” Jesse asked.

“Enough food to keep them well fed. Y’all better get a move on,” she said, motioning to us. “Finn, thank you for doing this.”

“It’ll be fun,” I said and she reached over to hug me.

My grandfather looked at me and said, “Guess you’re driving this thing.”

“Yep. You drive crazy,” I said. “It’s a great day to drive in a convertible.” For once it wasn’t that cold outside. The sun was shining brightly and the air was pleasantly cool.

“Charlie, don’t forget to wear your hat. You’ll get as red as a strawberry,” Nana warned.

He picked up his green John Deere baseball cap from his lap and placed it on his head, covering his stark white hair. “Now I’m covered,” he said and smiled at her. She kissed him on the lips.

“Call me when you get to a stopping point,” she said to us both.

“Have fun,” Jesse said to me. He leaned down and kissed me quickly. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“Me, too. I’ll call you later.” I started the ignition, the even and smooth humming sound of the engine was music to my ears. It was going to be a lot better to drive than Grandpa’s old beat up truck. We waved goodbye to Nana and Jesse and set off on our journey.

***

Highway 40 was one of the worst roads I had ever driven on. It was far worse than driving the crazy winding mountainous roads to my grandparents’ house. There were two lanes: one adjacent to a concrete wall divider with semi-trucks coming at you in the opposite direction going a million miles per hour; the other lane was next to a rocky, mountainous wall and was filled with semi-trucks driving quickly, taking up more than their fair share of the road. I felt suffocated, a little claustrophobic–surrounded by a plethora of trucks. My first instinct was to slow down.

My grandfather noticed the car moving at a much slower pace and hollered, “Speed up!”

I guess those were supposed to be his words of encouragement for me. I didn’t feel comforted. I panicked. My palms were clammy, dampening the steering wheel as I gripped even tighter. My heart began to beat quickly. The trucks coming at me from both sides made me feel closed in.

“Finn, put your foot on the accelerator!” he barked.

“The trucks are everywhere,” I said, breathing between each word. It was as if I had very little air, like I was drowning in a shallow puddle of water.

“All the more reason to speed up.”

I applied slight pressure to the accelerator and tried to ignore the numerous semi-trucks that passed by me on both sides–from the other side of the highway, to the lane next to me. I drove looking forward–creating my own tunnel vision, my body was pressed close to the steering wheel. I counted silently in my head, thinking that if I focused on counting from one to ten, it’d get my mind off of the fact that I could be crushed by a truck at any moment. My grandfather messed with the radio and found an oldies station. He turned the volume up, Elvis’ A Little Less Conversation played.

“Providence,” he said and chuckled. I didn’t respond, I was too busy looking straight ahead, trying to remain calm. “They’re playing Elvis, think that’s a sign?” He nudged me. I still kept quiet. “Are you gonna sit there like a bump on a log the entire trip? If so, drive me back home now.”

“Grandpa, I’m trying to drive with all these trucks on the road,” I whined.

He smacked his lips and said, “If you’d loosen up and quit thinking about it, you wouldn’t be so bothered by them.”

Then he did something completely out of character–he started singing, very poorly and out of tune. I couldn’t help but laugh at the odd spectacle he was making of himself.

***

We stopped at a rest area outside of Nashville to eat lunch and stretch our legs from the five hours of driving. Grandpa called Nana to let her know we were okay, that we had made it that far without any problems. We were more than halfway to Memphis and the worst part of the interstate was behind us. I lugged the heavy cooler to a nearby picnic table and waited for my grandfather to get off the phone. He came over to me and sat across from me. I handed him a juice box and a sandwich wrapped in parchment paper.

He unwrapped the sandwich and grinned. “Pimento cheese.”

“Nothing’s better than Nana’s pimento cheese sandwiches,” I said. I took a huge bite and swallowed it–feeling instantly satisfied. The creamy, delicious contrast of pimentos and cheddar cheese lingered in my mouth.

We sat there and ate quietly, listening to the sounds of dogs barking, cars passing by, people talking, and children shouting. The sun shined directly on us, which felt good in the cooler, autumn air. There wasn’t a cloud in the blue sky.

“Looks like we’ll be in Memphis in about four hours.” He pointed to the city of Memphis on the map. I nodded an “okay” to him. He continued, “Your Nana made reservations for us at The Holiday Inn. Do you want me to take over driving?”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll let you know if I get tired,” I replied. He was enjoying the scenery, and I would have felt bad if he lost out on the chance to see everything. This trip was about him. Driving for a few more hours wasn’t going to kill me.

He pushed his cap further down on his head and sipped on the juice box straw. “I’ve wanted to go to Graceland for a long time.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “I’ve been an Elvis fan since I was a teenager.”

“Why didn’t you and Nana ever go?”

He leaned back, folded his arms and inhaled a long, deep breath. “Well, life got in the way.” He looked at me and read my confused expression. “What I mean is, with everything that happened with your dad and then running the diner, there was never time.”

“I’m glad you finally have the time,” I said earnestly. My life wasn’t the only one impacted by my dad’s illness. Theirs was affected in more ways than I’ll ever know. They had to sacrifice so much.

“I am, too. Lilly never had an interest in going... she’s a Beetles fan.” He made a disgusted face and then laughed. “Don’t know why. She’s always walked to her own beat, though. That was one of the first things I decided I liked about her.”

“I bet she was beautiful. She still is.”

“Not just beautiful, but different. I dated other girls, but she was the only one who made me want to be a better person. She challenged me. That’s what love is. If you find a mate who makes you a better version of yourself, then you’ve got yourself a keeper.” He took another sip on his straw, slurping the last of the juice. He shook the juice box, realizing it was empty, and pulled another one out of the cooler. “Course you don’t want to hear about love from an old coot like me.”

“I don’t mind.”

“In that case, let me tell you about my first date with your Nana,” he began.

Ten minutes later, I had learned about their disastrous first date. How Nana had told him at the end of their date that she hated him and to get lost. How he had sworn he’d never take her out again, that she was more trouble than necessary. It definitely was not love at first sight. He said that they kept bumping into each other in town and one thing led to another, they went on another date and from there a romance had blossomed.

We finished our lunch and set out for the rest of our journey–driving on highway 40 toward the city of Memphis with the convertible top open, blaring oldies tunes and embracing the beautiful sunny day.

***

It was night time when we reached The Holiday Inn, which was tucked away on a side street right off of the interstate. It looked new, like it had been built recently. I pulled the car up to a parking spot closest to the front entrance. I hit the button to put the top on the car up and then we grabbed our suitcases.

The hotel smelled brand new, like a fresh coat of paint and newly installed carpet. The floors were squeaky clean and recently polished. The woman at the front desk greeted us with a warm, pleasant smile and said, “Welcome to The Holiday Inn. How can I help y’all?” Her accent was slow and drawn out, a little different than the people from Graceville.

“We’re checking in. I’m Charlie Hemmings.”

The woman gazed at the computer screen and typed in some information. She looked back at us and said, “Yes, Mr. Hemmings, we have you in room 212. Here’s your key.” She handed him a plastic key the shape of a credit card. “There’s a continental breakfast from 8 a.m. to 11 a.m. And a swimming pool and work out room. Can I help you with anything else? Recommend a place to eat?” she eagerly asked. She had a sweet, peach shaped face that was smooth and free of any wrinkles.

“No, thank you,” he said.

“A recommendation for a place to eat would help,” I said to him.

She looked anxious to please and interjected, “Bo’s BBQ is the best place to eat in Memphis.”

“Barbeque sounds good,” I said.

“It’s the best in town,” she said enthusiastically. “Here, I’ll give you directions.” She held a pen in her hand and wrote down the directions. She handed me the piece of paper.

“Thank you,” I said, taking it and placing it securely in my purse. My grandfather wrapped his hand around his luggage handle and wheeled it to the elevator. I picked my suitcase up off the floor and followed him.

Our room was bigger than I thought it would be–complete with a separate living area which had a sofa and wide screen television. There were two queen-sized beds, a table and two chairs. The bathroom was spacious and had a large vanity sink covered in black granite. The floors were cream-colored and shiny. All of the amenities sparkled.

This was my first time ever staying in a hotel. My mother and I never went on any overnight trips while I was growing up. Staying in a hotel made it truly feel like a trip–away from home, on the move, and in a foreign place. Even if that foreign place was Memphis, Tennessee. In one short day, I had seen two other states that I had never been to before.

“This is a nice room.” I touched the soft, plush white duvet comforter. Two small chocolate mints were nestled close to a burgundy throw pillow on the bed. I picked one up, unwrapped it and popped the entire piece in my mouth. “Want one?” I asked him. He nodded yes, and I threw him the other one.

He caught it with one hand. He bit into his, chewed and swallowed. He arched his eyebrows. “I’m sure your Nana wasn’t concerned about the cost. It is nice,” he said while looking around the immaculate room.

“Do you want to go get some dinner?” I was famished. The drive had taken longer than nine hours and eating the snack foods Nana had packed us didn’t fill me up.

“Sounds good. Let me call your Nana first.”

While he was on the phone with Nana, I texted Jesse telling him about the drive up there. Jesse immediately sent me back a text message.

“I miss you already. Glad you’re having fun. Love you.”

***

The parking lot of Bo’s BBQ was full of cars. A long line of people waited from the entrance to the side of the restaurant. It was a hole in the wall, older than dirt, but that didn’t deter the customers. The smell of smoky meat permeating the air was so mouth watering I wouldn’t have cared if we had to eat sitting on top of garbage cans. Loud country music played through the speakers. A waitress took our order while we waited in line, telling us that when we got a table, our food would be ready. They had a systematic routine and were obviously used to having a full house each and every night.

We both ordered the Memphis specialty: smoked pork cooked over hickory wood and covered in a dry rub full of aromatic spices. When we were seated, our food was in front of us in a matter of seconds. We both had macaroni and cheese and baked beans, along with sweet tea to accompany our pork. The pork was tender and juicy. The sauce was distinctive– full of tomatoes and vinegar. A sweet and tangy mix.

“Since they put that bike trail near town, Lilly’s has been real busy, almost like this,” he said.

I wiped the barbeque sauce off of my mouth and finished chewing. “It has,” I agreed.

“Last month was the most I’ve earned in profits in years,” his voice trailed, and he turned his head looking around at the filled tables and the hustle and bustle of waitresses and waiters walking with trays full of food. “And your Nana’s pies are selling out faster than they used to.”

“I noticed she’s been baking a lot more, and my tips have increased.”

“The town is going through a re-vamp. I was real worried it was going to die. There was a time about five years ago, when businesses were closing and people were moving out. But that’s all changed. It’s becoming a destination for folks,” he said. “This hit the spot.” He pointed to his empty plate.

I took my last bite of food and smiled. “It was good.” I patted myself on the back. “Aren’t you glad I suggested we eat here?”

“You’re not as dumb as you look,” he joked.

I glared at him in a teasing manner. “We come from the same genetic pool.”

“I’m well aware of that and am real glad of that, too.”

My scowl became a smile. “Me, too. Thanks for letting me tag along on your trip.”

“Who else could I go with?”

I shrugged.

“No, I mean it. Who else would’ve come on a road trip with me?” he said teasingly.

We paid our bill and drove back to the hotel, ready to rest for the night before our big adventure to Graceland.