The Year I Almost Drowned

Chapter 7

A soft melody played on the jukebox. No one was in the diner except my grandfather and me. Meg and Hannah had left. I sat on a bar stool–drinking a cup of coffee–reading a book–as I waited for my grandfather to finish balancing the books in his office. There was a subtle knock on the door, a quiet tapping sound. I turned around and saw Cookie and Everett standing at the door. I got up and unlocked the door for them.

“Hey Finn,” Cookie said. “Is Charlie in his office?”

“Yes,” I answered.

Cookie shuffled to the back.

“Hi,” I said to Everett. I locked the door behind him.

“Hi.” He looked around and then said, “Sorry we’re bothering you when you’re closed.”

“Don’t worry about it. Cookie comes here a lot after hours.” I walked back to the counter and sat down. He stood next to me. “Do you want a cup of coffee?” I asked.

“Okay,” he said. “Thanks.”

I got up and poured the last of the coffee into a white Lilly’s Diner mug. “Cream and sugar?”

“Just black.” I made a grossed out face. “What?” he asked, noticing my expression.

“I don’t know how you can drink it like that.”

He laughed. “When I was overseas, I didn’t have any other choice. Cream and sugar are luxuries.”

“Oh.” I handed him the cup and sat back down. He sat next to me. I opened up my book and started to read, but I could feel him staring at me. I looked up from my book and in his direction and then back at my book. It was hard to read while he just sat there staring at me.

He took a sip of his coffee. “Sorry I had to give you a ticket.”

“You didn’t have to give me a ticket, you chose to,” I corrected him, still looking at my book.

“That’s the problem with this town. Every other cop just lets everyone else get by with things.”

I averted my eyes from my book and stared directly at him. “You mean they don’t write people tickets for petty stuff.” I was being rude and even though he had been nice enough to give me directions, it still irked me that he wrote me that ticket.

He put his coffee mug down on the counter and tilted his head to the side. “You’re very feisty.”

I glared at him. “I’m feisty? Maybe I just don’t like getting a ticket.” He was really starting to annoy me.

“See. Feisty.” He picked the coffee mug up again and started to drink from it. I sighed heavily and tried to read my book. “Your hair is different.” I ignored him. “Did Meg cut it?”

“Yes,” I answered in an exasperated tone.

“I like it,” he said.

I didn’t acknowledge the compliment. I pulled the book closer to me and rested my elbow on the counter, my hand to my chin. “If you don’t mind, I need to finish my book,” I said, still not making eye contact with him.

“Carry on.” He stood up and walked to the juke box. He put two quarters in and played Cinnamon Girl by Neil Young. He bopped his head up and down. “This is a classic. When I was in Afghanistan, I had this buddy who was a huge Young fan. He’d play him all the time. Drove me crazy.”

“So why are you playing him then?” I was trying to ignore him but he just kept on talking, trying to engage me. It was unnerving.

He moved closer to me and sat down. His expression was reflective. “I guess because he died over there, and this makes me think of him.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. It was so incredibly sad. He talked about loss like it was an everyday occurrence. Maybe he had seen so much death that he was desensitized to it?

“I’m sorry.” And I meant it in more ways than one. Sorry that he had to see his friend die. Sorry that he was able to say it like it was something everyone had gone through. Not me. I hadn’t seen death. I grew up thinking my father was dead, but I didn’t see it happen. Experiencing it firsthand like Jesse and Everett had, that’s different. That strikes you down and changes you. No, that hadn’t happened to me and I dreaded the day when it would.

“Don’t be. This music... it’s a good memory of him,” he said and was quiet for a minute. “So, can we be friends, or are you going to hold this ticket against me for the rest of my life?”

“I guess so.” How could I say no? He was making it awfully difficult.

“You guess?” he said incredulously.

“Yes,” I relented.

He smiled and the lines around his caramel eyes creased. When I looked into them, I could see the difference in our age. He was older than me, but his eyes, they showed so much more life–pain, death, sorrow, all of it. I sensed that our gap in age was in all aspects of life.

“Good. Let’s start over. My name is Everett Bennett.” He extended his hand, and I couldn’t do anything but shake it. His grip was firm.

“I’m Finn Hemmings. But you already knew that.”

“No I didn’t. I thought you went by Finley. That’s what’s on your driver’s license.”

“I go by Finn,” I corrected him.

“Well, Finn, it’s nice to meet you.”

“You, too.” And like that, we became friends.

***

For some reason, I was really tired when I got home. Maybe the dark wintery days were getting to me. Winters in Florida equated to breezy sunny days that never required a heavy coat. Day after day of dark, cloudy skies were depressing. Some of the feelings of gloom could have been attributed to the fact that within a matter of weeks, I’d be moving to Georgia to start the next chapter in my life: college. And I would be doing that on my own.

We sat around the dinner table. Nana had made another “healthy” meal, which meant no salt, butter, grease, or flavor. Grandpa hated these types of meals, but he never told her. He’d eat them without muttering one complaint. And then I was the guilty one for allowing him to eat greasy, buttery, comfort food at the diner. Not that it was my choice in the matter. It would have been a losing battle anyway. When he wanted to do something, he just did it. No one could stand in his way.

“Finn, a girl named Sidney called. She said she’s your roommate at Harrison. Quite the perky, chatty thing,” Nana said.

“What’d she say?” I asked.

“She blathered on about a bunch of things. She said for you to call her. I wrote her name and number down next to the phone in the library.”

“I guess I better call her back.”

“You don’t sound too excited about it,” she said.

“I’m just tired,” I lied. It was too real. In a few weeks, I’d be gone. Away from it all. Away from them. Away from Jesse. I didn’t know how to feel about it. I didn’t want to face it.

“Jesse’s graduation is tomorrow.”

“Yes. Are you both still going with me?” I asked.

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

***

I called Sidney, my new roommate. She had a bubbly, high-pitched voice that squeaked every now and again.

“Hey, Finley.” Her accent was northeastern, which was a different sound than what I had been hearing for six months.

“Hi, Sidney. I go by Finn,” I said with an upbeat tone, trying not to sound like I was correcting her.

“Oh sorry,” she said and then gushed, “I can’t wait to meet you! I owe you so big you know.”

“For what?”

“Um, because you basically gave me my own room for one semester. All the other girls in the hall were so jealous. I just told them to kiss it, know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” I said, just for the sake of saying something.

“Anyway, I’ve got a microwave and refrigerator. You won’t need to bring those. I’ve pretty much got everything. I mean, you’ll need your own bedding and personal stuff, but other than that, it’s all here. I can’t wait to meet you! I mean it’s been great having my room to myself but it gets lonely, know what I mean?” she said.

She said all that in one breath. I felt worn out, and I hadn’t even met her yet. “I can imagine,” I answered.

“We’re going to get along great! I can tell. Let’s plan to go out for lunch when you move in, k Finley? I mean Finn.” She squeaked.

“That’d be great,” I answered her, trying to sound enthusiastic. I didn’t want to be rude. She was being so nice.

“Awesome. See ya soon.”

“Bye, Sidney.” I hung up the phone and let out one, long drawn out breath.

***

There were nine graduates. Nine. Poor Stench had dropped out the last week of school. Jesse said it broke his heart when Stench quit. He said that he and Noah tried to persuade him to stick it out, but he didn’t have the resolve. According to Jesse, one of his instructors was relentlessly cruel and had targeted Stench from day one because he was clumsy, not very athletic, and way too sensitive. Jesse said the instructor had Stench in tears the last day Stench was in school. That was Stench’s breaking point. It really messed Jesse up. Jesse was tough, one of the strongest people I knew, but he was a sensitive guy, and he hated to see other people mistreated. That’s what I loved most about him.

The ceremony was quick and to the point. Each graduate dressed in black pants and a red button down long sleeved shirt with the Greenville Firefighting Academy logo embroidered on the left hand side–close to the heart. Greenville was the closest major city to Graceville and the only city within miles that had a firefighting academy.

My grandparents stood and cheered for Jesse. They were so proud. Seeing them react that way really affected me. I couldn’t stop crying, which was really embarrassing. I was emotional for a number of reasons. I was so happy for Jesse, so proud of him for what he had accomplished. I was fearful of imminent change and knew that this was evidence that things were never going to be the same. And sitting next to my grandparents and watching their reaction, made me realize what I had missed growing up and it was heartbreaking. That’s what I had wanted–my grandparents and dad to sit in the audience cheering loudly for me.

For a brief moment, I allowed that feeling of loss to fall over me. Knowing it was Jesse’s day and not wanting to ruin it, I got a hold of myself and congratulated him with as much enthusiasm as they did. Nana took several pictures. Some of Jesse alone. Some with Jesse and me. Others with Jesse and my grandfather. And a few with Jesse and Nana. I asked a student to take some pictures of the four of us.

Jesse was so happy. I could see how proud he was, how accomplished he felt. He looked older, more mature, like a man. Jesse was really never a boy, but seeing him standing there with his uniform on, ready to embark on one of the most dangerous, heroic jobs in the world and showing no fear, it had made him a man.

We went out to dinner. My grandparents insisted on taking Jesse out to celebrate. It was their gift to him. Hank didn’t show up for the graduation. Jesse hadn’t spoken to him in weeks. They were still estranged. It made me feel sad for both of them, especially Jesse. It had to hurt him even if he had decided he was severing his relationship with his father. But it still had to hurt to not have him there on one of the most important days in his life. His father knew he was graduating, too. He knew. He just chose not to come. I had heard that he got another job, but he was still drinking his nights away. I don’t know who he got to pick him up in the middle of the night at bars because it wasn’t Jesse anymore.

After dinner, we went back to my grandparents’ house for dessert. Nana made Jesse’s favorite–apple pie. Even my grandfather was allowed to have a slice. Nana said on this occasion, she’d make one exception. I didn’t tell her that he snuck a slice here and there on days we worked together. No one could resist her pies. I only hoped to make pies as good as her one day. She had been teaching me, giving me instructions in the kitchen, and I managed to make a few decent pies. But they were never as good as hers.

With full stomachs from finishing off the rest of the pie, we sat around the dinner table listening to my grandfather tell stories. He was a gifted storyteller. They were always entertaining and descriptive. I could always picture myself right there with him in the midst of his shenanigans.

He told us the story about the night he and Nana eloped. “Lilly had to climb out of her two story window and use a rope I had given to her. The rope was too thin and it snapped, causing her to hit the ground from the second story of her house. Luckily she wasn’t hurt, just a little scuffed up and dirty from the wet grass,” he said and chuckled. “We drove off in my old Plymouth and didn’t make it very far. The car battery died on our way to the Justice of the Peace. We had to hitchhike in the middle of the night, and we were out in the countryside. The only ride that we were offered was by a pig farmer who stank like manure.” We all laughed and he continued. “By the time we reached the Justice of the Peace, we smelled, and Lilly was filthy from the fall. The ceremony didn’t go off without a hitch, either. They had a water pipe burst and the ceiling caved. Buckets of water fell on top of us just as the minister gave his blessing. With all that happened, you’d think we would have taken it as some type of sign, but we didn’t. I don’t believe in stupid superstitions anyway. Now our honeymoon, we won’t tell you about that. That’s a story for another time.”

We all laughed. The mood was upbeat and happy. I wanted it to stay that way forever. But somehow I knew it wouldn’t.

“So you passed your state boards?” Grandpa asked Jesse.

“Yes sir. Earlier this week. Now I just need to get a job,” he answered.

“Any prospects?” Grandpa asked.

“I’ve got an interview in Hendersonville in a few days.”

“Hendersonville?” I said. That was in North Carolina, which was even further away from Harrison which meant he’d be further away from me.

“Yeah.” He looked at me with a serious expression. “They called me yesterday. It all just happened.”

I didn’t say anything. I sat there with my arms folded against my chest and sulked. Nana looked in my direction and said “I think we’re going to bed.” She and my grandfather stood up. My grandfather took their mugs and placed them in the dishwasher.

“Goodnight. Jesse, we’re so proud of you.” She hugged him and then kissed me on the cheek. “Be nice,” she whispered to me.

“I’m proud of you, son,” my grandfather said and patted him on the shoulder.

“Thank you for coming today. It means a lot to me.” Jesse gave them a warm, heartfelt smile.

“Lock up for us,” Grandpa said, and they left the room heading upstairs to their bedroom.

I got up and poured more coffee into my cup. I didn’t speak and neither did Jesse. He just sat there with this look on his face, an unreadable expression. I had no idea what he was thinking. A million thoughts were running through my mind. How were we going to make this work if we were going to be so far away from each other?

“Coffee?” I asked with slight anger in my tone.

“Sure,” he said, his tone quick and short.

I walked to the table and slid the cup in his direction. I sat down and looked at him. He picked up his mug and held to his lips and sipped it slowly.

“When were you going to tell me?” I asked.

“It just happened.” He put his mug down on the table and rubbed his hand against his temple.

“It couldn’t have just happened, Jesse. You had to apply.” I was being terse.

He leaned in closer to me, his hands on the table. “I applied everywhere, Finn. There aren’t a lot of job openings right now, especially for guys right out of school.”

“Well, it would’ve been nice to hear before tonight.”

He frowned and shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re mad about this.”

“You can’t believe I’m mad?” I said indignantly.

“Well... yeah. It’s an interview. You should be happy for me.”

“You should’ve told me, Jesse.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. He shook his head and closed his eyes. “You’re being selfish, Finn.”

“How?” I raised my voice.

“I need to get a job, Finn,” his voice was quiet. “What difference does it make if I’m working in South Carolina or North Carolina?”

“It matters, Jesse. The further away you are, the bigger the distance between us.” I meant that in more ways than one and he could tell. Jesse was smart. He could read me.

“I don’t see it that way,” he said. “It doesn’t matter where I live, Finn. I could be in Kansas. I’m committed one hundred percent to you, don’t you see that?”

I shook my head. “How can we have a relationship if we’re hundreds of miles apart from each other? What are we going to do? See each other on holidays and breaks if our schedules permit. We’ll be lucky if we get more than a few weeks out of the year together. That’s not dating.”

It was true. I was confessing things I had thought about for a while but had been too afraid to say out loud. I was scared out of my wits. What was happening to us? What was I saying? Why was this happening?

“What you’re saying makes no sense,” he said in a frustrated voice. “It wouldn’t have been that different if I got a job near here. It’s still far away from your school.”

“It’s different. If you’re near here, it’s like you’re home. If you’re up there, it’s like you have another life in another place,” I said. “Without me,” I added quietly. “I want things to stay the same.”

“They’ll be the same between us. Our feelings won’t change.”

“It’ll be different, Jesse. Our relationship won’t be the same, not with you working and me in school. It’s going to change.”

“Nothing’s going to change, Finn. Can’t you see that?” he asked.

“It’ll change, Jesse,” I answered.

He sighed heavily. “Do you even know what you want? I know what I want, but do you, Finn?”

“I want it all to be the same.” That’s what I wanted. I wanted it to be perfect without the complications.

He stood up and ran his hand over his tense, stress ridden face. “Now I know how you feel.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I mean,” he said, putting both of his hands on my shoulders, “relationships take commitment and sacrifice. I don’t know that you’re in this one hundred percent. It shouldn’t matter where either of us lives. If we love each other, we can get through it as long as we meet each other half way.” He let go of me and rubbed the back of his neck and then squeezed it.

“I’m in this as much as you are, Jesse. It’s just have you thought about this? How can we keep this going when our lives are headed in two different directions?” I was so afraid to ask that question because I knew neither of us knew the answer. “I don’t know how it will work,” I murmured.

“I don’t know but you need to figure it out, Finn. If you can’t handle what’s involved with separation, then I don’t know if you’re willing to commit.” He moved closer to me and touched the top of my hand and then pointed to himself. “I am, Finn. I’m so in love with you, I know what I want. But I don’t know if you do.” The way he looked at me, so despondent, it killed me to see him like that. “I’m gonna go now,” he said and walked out the door without even saying goodbye.

I didn’t get up. I didn’t move. I didn’t run after him. I just let him go. I wanted to run after him, to tell him I was in love with him, but I didn’t. I just let him leave.