The Year I Almost Drowned

Chapter 9

I felt like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz when she had to say goodbye to the Cowardly Lion and the Tin Man so she could get back home to Kansas. Only, I wasn’t going home. Tampa wasn’t my home anymore, Graceville was. I just wondered when I would ever want to go back to Graceville again. When could I be there without that pang in my heart every time something reminded me of Jesse?

I had promised myself I wasn’t going to cry. I had done enough crying and was tired of it. I didn’t think I was capable of producing anymore tears anyway. Nana handed me a small cooler. “To take on your trip,” she said. I opened my car door and laid it on the passenger seat. I closed the door and looked back at her and my grandfather. They were both on the verge of tears. Both of them. Nana I expected. My grandfather, no way. I never expected him to cry.

“Your tires looked low. I put some air in them,” my grandfather said.

“Thank you,” I said to him.

“Don’t pick up any hitchhikers. Even if it’s some old coot like me. He could be one of those serial killers you read about in the paper,” he added.

“I won’t. Promise.” I smiled appreciatively.

“Call us when you get there,” Nana said. “So we know you got there in one piece.” She hugged me tight. I deeply inhaled–smelling her–the jasmine and honeysuckle mix I loved so much. I wanted one last whiff to remember, to take with me.

My grandfather’s expression was glum. He moved toward me with open arms and gave me the biggest bear hug I’d ever gotten from him. We held onto each like that for a while. “We’re going to miss you, Finn. I’ve gotten real fond of you being around. Be careful.” He let go of me and smiled at me. He put his hand to his face and wiped away the tears.

Seeing him cry made me cry even though I had told myself not to. There was no point in fighting back the tears–they were going to flow anyway. “I love you both,” I said to them.

“And we love you,” Nana said. She hugged me again.

“Love you, Finn,” Grandpa said.

I waved goodbye to them and took one last look at their house before pulling out of their driveway.

***

I couldn’t listen to music because every single song I heard seemed to remind me of Jesse in one way or another. I listened to a book on CD, instead. The author’s monotone voice nearly put me to sleep. A few hours on the road and I was already tired. Not a good sign. I took the CD out and turned the radio on. I kept hitting the button in search of a pop station. Jesse wasn’t a big fan of pop music, so I figured it would be a safe bet to listen to. There was no way a pop song could remind me of him.

The scenery on the interstate was miniscule. Nothing but trees lined on both sides of the road and ugly billboards advertising fast food restaurants and tourist destinations. Cars zipped past me moving at a record pace. I put my foot on the accelerator and sped up to keep up with the traffic. Being in the car by myself was probably one of the worst things I could have done. It gave me too much time to think and thinking was something I didn’t need to do.

My gas tank was getting close to empty. I pulled off at the next exit and searched for a clean gas station or at least one that looked new. The last thing I wanted to do was use another nasty restroom. In my few hours of being on the road, I had become the expert on finding gas stations with clean bathrooms. If the gas station looked like it was built in the last five years, chances were it had a decent bathroom. After stopping at one gas station where the bathroom was so bad I had to plug my nose and breathe out of my mouth, I realized that I’d have to be more thorough in my choices.

I bought another bottle of Coke–my third that day–a large bag of salty potato chips and a Snickers candy bar. Driving long hours and being on the road, made me crave nothing but junk food. It was the first time in days that I actually had an appetite, and it seemed promising. Maybe one day I would get back to normal? Whatever normal was.

Welcome to the Sunshine State. That was the sign that greeted me as soon as my car crossed through the border from Georgia to Florida. I looked up to the sky. No sunshine. Just another cloudy winter’s day. I rolled my window down. Humid and warmer–a welcome change to the cold dry weather I had grown accustomed to. I left the window down, allowing the wind to blow through my car.

The Welcome Center was a few miles down the interstate. I stopped and purchased a few oranges. I drank my Coke and ate an orange while I sat in my car watching the hoards of people stopping for a quick rest before they got back on the road. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and called my mom.

“I’ll be there in about four hours,” I said.

“I can’t wait!”

“Me, too. See you soon,” I said and hung up.

I looked down to my right and decided to open Nana’s cooler. Inside was a bottle of sweet tea, a pimento cheese sandwich and a bag of chocolate chip cookies. I picked up the sandwich and was about to unwrap it, but saw that underneath it was a sealed envelope with my name on it. Curiously, I grabbed the envelope and ripped it open. She had written me a letter. In perfect script were the following words:



Dear Finn,

I hope this food brings you comfort on your journey to see your mom. Your grandfather and I are going to miss you so much. You are the light of our lives. Please know how proud we are of you. I know that it’s a tough time for you right now. Just know that you are loved by everyone whose lives you touch.



Love you,

Nana



I held the letter close to my heart and smiled. Nana always knew the perfect thing to say. I put the card back in the envelope and placed it in my purse. After a quick trip to the restroom, I got back in my car and drove straight to Tampa.

***

My mom had gone all out–like I was some famous dignitary coming for a visit: a dozen pink roses on my bedside table; body lotion and shower gel on top of the bathroom counter; a pair of fuzzy bedroom slippers at the foot of my bed; and take out from The Olive Garden. This was not what I was used to. Mom was never the type to lavish me with presents–she was more practical and usually bought me stuff I needed.

I took a long, hot shower and got into my pj’s. The slippers felt warm against my feet. I smelled like cherry, the fragrance from the shower gel and lotion. I combed my wet hair and lay down on my bed.

She knocked on my bedroom door. “Finn.”

“You can come in, Mom.” She entered and saw me laying there.

“I bet you’re tired.”

“A little,” I said. “You can sit next to me.” I patted the empty space next to me. She came over to the other side of the bed and sat up against the pillow. It was strange being back in my old room. I felt like a visitor to someone else’s life even though it had been mine just six months ago. I lay there staring up at the ceiling. The fan was on despite the fact that it was winter. It was warm outside–a typical Florida winter.

“We can open Christmas presents tomorrow,” she said.

“Yeah. Sounds great,” I said without much enthusiasm. A decorated Christmas tree stood in the living room. Celebrating Christmas a week after it occurred did not feel festive.

“Are you excited about school?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m ready to start.” What I really wanted to say was–I’m ready to start this chapter in my life and put the other chapter behind me.

“I bet. Was it hard saying goodbye to everyone?”

“More than you can imagine.” I sighed and turned over on my side facing the pink roses. Even roses reminded me of Jesse. He had never bought me any, but they made me think of my birthday dinner, when we went out for the best date of my life.

Jesse had bought me daisies once. He knew that I loved them. He knew everything about me. I had never been around anyone who paid as much attention to me as him. I had come home to find a beautiful yellow vase filled with white daisies sitting on my bedside table, along with a card. That’s how Jesse was–spontaneous and romantic.

Once the flowers started to die, I placed the card and some of the petals into my Jesse box, which I still haven’t had the courage to get rid of. It, along with the rest of my things, was packed into my suitcase and going with me to Harrison. I should’ve left it in Graceville at my grandparents’ house, but I needed him with me and that was the only way I’d ever have him again. It’s like I was hurting myself on purpose like those dogs that keep running through the electric invisible fences even though it shocks them every time.

“I’m sure it was especially hard to say goodbye to Jesse,” she probed. I hadn’t told her that we had broken up. For some reason, I didn’t want to. I hadn’t told anyone, really, except Everett. My grandparents figured out that was what happened. And Meg and Hannah knew because of Matt. But the actual phrase had never been uttered out of my mouth except once. And no one had come out and asked me.

“It was,” I lied. I faked a yawn. “I’m really tired, Mom.”

“Okay. I’ll let you get some sleep. We’ll celebrate Christmas tomorrow.” She got off the bed and walked to the door. “Goodnight, Finn,” she said and turned off the light and shut my door.

I thought I was tired, but I restlessly lay awake for a good part of the night, trying to find the perfect sleeping position. My bed felt stiff and uncomfortable. It felt foreign–all of it did. Tampa wasn’t my home anymore. I thought coming back would make me feel complete. But it didn’t. I felt like a person in limbo– in transition–trying to find their place back in the world again.

***

The week passed quickly. My mom had taken the week off of work and had planned things for us to do each day of my visit. Going to dinner, the movies, and shopping–you name it–it was in her itinerary. Each day was filled with one activity after another. It was all too much. By the end of the week, I felt spent, exhausted, and ready to leave.

We said our goodbyes–no long embraces or mushy words. Mom wasn’t a very touchy person and didn’t get too emotional about things. Her eyes watered a little, but it didn’t make me want to cry. All of my tears had dried up. It was good to see her, but I wanted to move on; I was ready to move on.