The Year I Almost Drowned

by McCrimmon, Shannon

  “Finn,” he said. His expression was grave, so serious. What was he trying to tell me? Why was Meg standing next to him giving me the saddest expression I had ever seen?

  “Why are you here?” I only asked him. I knew Meg was there. Somehow I forgot to speak to her.

  “We need to talk to you. Is there a place to sit down and talk?” he asked.

  This was serious. What was going on? Deep down I had a sneaking suspicion of why they were there, but I didn’t want to face it, to believe it.

  “We can go to my room,” I said quietly. A dark feeling came over me, and I felt like my chest was caving in. There’s that feeling you get when your whole world is collapsing and everything seems to be closing in on you. That was what I experienced as I walked each step to the second floor of my dorm building. I knew whatever they had to tell me, it was bad.

  The three of us entered my room. I sat down on my bed; Meg sat next to me. Jesse sat on Sidney’s bed across from us. Meg wrapped her arm around me. “Just tell me,” I said. I couldn’t stand it. I needed to know.

  “We tried calling you several times,” Meg said. “You must not have your phone on or something.”

  I reached into my pockets. Empty. My phone–I had left it on the desk. I picked it up and frowned. “I forgot to charge it last night. The battery is dead.”

  Jessie knelt on the floor in front of me. He touched my hand, sending shivers through my body. His finger tips hadn’t touched me in so many months, but just one quick graze still made me react erratically. He took the phone out of my hands and carefully laid it down on the bed.

  “Finn, we tried reaching you,” he said and swallowed. I looked directly into his eyes. He was having a hard time saying what he needed to say.

  “What happened?” I asked Meg. My eyes were starting to water. Meg looked at Jesse and then at me, her expression was pained. “What is it?”

  “Charlie had a heart attack last night. He was in the hospital and had some complications. His heart was still weak from the other heart attack he had last summer. They did everything they could, but he just didn’t have the strength,” Jesse said.

  “No.” I shook my head. “He’s strong.”

  He was in agony. “I’m so sorry, Finn. He passed away early this morning.”

  I fell back on the bed and cried uncontrollably. The room was spinning and things started to turn black. I don’t remember much after that. Everything seemed like a blur.

  “She’s in shock,” Jesse said, his voice sounding like it was a million miles away. I felt two fingers on my wrist. “Her pulse is low, but she’s okay. We just need to let her lay here for a while. Prop her feet up.”

  My feet were raised and a soft pillow found their way beneath them.

  “She looks really pale, Jesse. What do we do?” Meg asked.

  Even though they were next to me, their voices sounded so distant, so far away. I could hear and see them, but I felt like I was somewhere else.

  “I’ll get a cold rag and put in on her head. We should probably pack up her things, too. You get started. I’ll call Lilly,” he said to Meg. “Finn, just lie here for a minute,” he said to me. I heard the water run from my sink. A cold cloth was pressed onto my forehead.

  I felt Meg get off the bed. I could hear her footsteps moving around the floor, going back and forth, moving throughout the room. I couldn’t move. It’s like I was paralyzed. My eyes were open, but they were staring at nothing, absolutely nothing.

  “What’s going on in here?” It was Sidney.

  “I’m Jesse and this is Meg. We’re friends of Finn’s. Her grandfather passed away and we’re packing up her things to take her home.” His voice was low and serious.

  “Oh my gosh, Finn.” She ran over to me. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She’s in shock. Do you know where she keeps the rest of her things?” he asked her.

  “Below her bed. Here.” A warm, soft hand touched mine. “I’m so sorry, Finn.”

  ***

  I don’t remember getting off the bed. I don’t remember leaving my dorm room, and I don’t remember getting in to my car. All I remember was that my grandfather was gone from my life forever. Death had invaded my life. Way too soon.

  Meg was driving my car. I sat in the passenger’s seat next to her. My head rested against the window. Had I slept? I didn’t know. Everything seemed to blend together–the hours, the events that took place before and after they came–all of it.

  “We’re almost there,” she said in a soothing voice.

  I didn’t answer her. I continued staring out the window.

  “I got you a Coke. You should drink some of it. You need something in your system.” I turned my head and saw the bottle sitting between us. “Here.” She picked it up and handed it to me.

  I held it in my hand and unscrewed the cap and took a slow sip. It didn’t help. I put the lid back on and placed it back between us. “How did you get here?” I murmured.

  “Jesse. Don’t you remember?”

  “No,” I said quietly.

  “He’s driving my car.” She pointed to the car behind her. “He and Lilly agreed that you shouldn’t try and drive home by yourself after hearing the news. He called me early this morning and asked me to come with him.”

  “Thank you.”

  She put her hand on my arm and said, “Oh, Finn. I’m so sorry.”

  “I should’ve had my phone on me. If I had known, I could’ve come home.”

  “Finn, you can’t blame yourself.” She made a sympathetic face. “Charlie’s heart was weak. There was nothing anyone could do.”

  “If I hadn’t gone out. I would’ve had my phone and would’ve gotten the messages. I didn’t get to say goodbye,” I cried.

  Her free hand grasped mine. “Charlie loved you, Finn.”

  “I just talked to him tonight,” I sobbed. Feelings of guilt and remorse flooded me. Why had I been in such a hurry to get off the phone? Why did I have to go swimming? Maybe if I had been in my room, instead of the pool, I could have driven home and gotten to him in enough time to see him one last time? I wanted to turn back the clock, but I didn’t have that kind of power. I was weak with guilt and didn’t know how I’d ever dig my way back to the surface.

  ***

  The second I saw Nana, I ran to her and hugged her. We stood there holding each other, trying to give each other comfort, while we cried and cried. Neither of us wanted to let go.

  She put her hand to my chin and gave me a very faint, tired smile. “You look tired.”

  She looked tired, too. Really tired. “I didn’t sleep. Oh Nana, I loved him so much.” It hurt to talk about him in past tense. It made it real.

  “I know honey, and he loved you to pieces. You were the light of his life.”

  “How are you holding up? Is there something I can do?” I wanted to do something. Being back at home woke me up. I needed to be strong for her. She needed more support than I did. This was a man she had been married to for fifty years, and now he was gone.

  She shook her head and smiled. “Finn, you just being here is enough for me. Let’s go inside.” Being back home made me feel better. The faint scent of cherries still lingered in the living room. Meg and Jesse followed us into the house, carrying my bags.

  Jesse placed my bags at the end of the stair case and walked over to Nana. “I have to be at the station soon.”

  How soon? I wondered. The station was over an hour away.

  She placed both her hands on his cheeks. “My sweet boy, what would I do without you? Thank you.”

  “Let me know what else you need me to do,” he said and hugged her.

  “I will,” she said and then looked at Meg. “Thank you, Meg. You’re a good friend to Finn and to me.”

 
Meg placed both her warm hands on my arms. “Finn, you call me if you need anything. I mean it.” I gave her a grateful nod and then hugged her. “Jesse. You ready?” She moved toward the door and opened it.

  “Jesse,” I said and he stopped moving. “Thank you,” I added, my voice was hoarse and scratchy from all of the crying, from being completely and utterly worn out.

  His expression was solemn and sincere. I could see the traces of water lingering in his sea blue eyes. Had he cried? I hadn’t noticed. I hadn’t noticed anything in the last several hours. He didn’t say “you’re welcome” because it would have been a strange thing to say at a time like that. Instead, he acknowledged, giving me the faintest smile, and then walked out the door.

  ***

  There was one funeral home in the town of Graceville. McNeely’s Funeral Parlor was established in the early 1900’s by Robert McNeely, now deceased. His grandson, Robert, Jr., was its current owner. He was an obese man–so heavy that it looked like his large, round head was right on top of his shoulders without a neck in sight. He talked with his hands a lot, which were short, stubby and very chunky. Sweat trickled down the sides of his face. He kept placing a handkerchief up to it and wiped away the droplets every so often.

  It’s bad enough to be grieving, but to step foot into a carpeted room with sappy chamber music playing on the speakers intensifies the grieving process and catapults you into a further state of depression. Talking about which coffin to choose–what type of service to have, which music to play, and what to have written for the memorial–was too much for my Nana or me to handle. But someone had to, and that someone was me.

  My dad came with us, although he wasn’t much help. Once he stepped foot inside the funeral home, he retreated to a laconic state and barely muttered two words during the entire meeting with Mr. McNeely. It frustrated me. I wanted him to step up, to help us, to do something. It wasn’t fair to Nana to have the burden of grieving and planning a funeral.

  Mr. McNeely rambled on about one coffin being better than the other. “I can’t decide, Finn,” Nana said to me. She was always the strong one, and for the first time in my life, she was beside herself.

  So I chose the coffin, the music, the type of service–all of it. At nineteen years of age, I was in the midst of planning my grandfather’s funeral–a task I’d never thought I would have. All of a sudden, I had to grow up and I didn’t want to. I was still grieving, too.

  We left McNeely’s Funeral Parlor and drove to the diner. It had been closed since Grandpa died. Nana unlocked the door; my dad and I followed her inside. She hit the light switch. The place still smelled like him; his presence was everywhere–from every nook and cranny–he was the diner. I imagined him coming out of the kitchen saying something to us, but he didn’t and wouldn’t ever again. And it hit me hard. On that day, it hurt so much to be inside the diner that I loved so much.

  Nana went back to his office while my dad and I sat at the counter. “Coffee?” I asked him.

  “Sounds good.”

  I placed the coffee grounds into a filter and poured water into the coffee pot. It percolated while we sat quietly on the bar stools. My dad rested his hands under his chin, his elbows on the counter; I sat in similar fashion. We were alike, yet so different in many ways. Nana walked out of Grandpa’s office carrying a stack of receipts, bills and his ledger.

  “Oh good you made coffee,” she breathed. She sat down next to me and separated the receipts and bills, scattering them out on the counter. “I have no idea how he did his book keeping. There’s no rhyme or reason to it.” She frowned.

  “Let me see if I can figure it out,” I said and moved the papers closer to me. I studied them and looked through his ledger. It was like reading hieroglyphics, but I was determined to figure it out. She needed me, and I couldn’t let her down.

  The coffee was ready and my dad got up and poured cups for us all. I sipped on mine and continued to try and decipher my grandfather’s maddening system. It would take a while. “Nana, I’m going to need to bring this home and if you know Grandpa’s password for his computer, that would help. I’d like to get on it and see if there’s anything else on there,” I offered.

  “He used the same password for everything–Finley.”

  My gut wrenched, and I almost started crying but somehow managed to contain myself. It took a minute for me to catch my breath, to maintain my cool. I followed her back to his office and turned the computer on. She stood over me while I sat in his chair typing on the keyboard.

  “I don’t know what we’re going to do with this place,” Nana said.

  I stopped typing and looked up at her. “What do you mean?”

  “Finn, I can’t run this place by myself. It’ll be too much.”

  “Sell it? You can’t do that,” I said. What was she saying?

  “It was just a thought. I don’t know what I’m going to do about anything, especially this.” She squeezed my shoulders. “Don’t worry, honey. We’ll get it figured out.”

  I couldn’t help but worry about it. Closing didn’t seem like the right thing to do. But how could it stay open when the one person who was its life and soul was gone?

  Chapter 14

  It was the type of day that most people would relish–a beautiful late spring morning. The birds were chirping, bumblebees were buzzing around to get their nectar, and flowers were in bloom. This was the type of day that most people would spend outside enjoying the moment; but not me, not on this day. This was one of the worst days of my life. It was a day I’d always look back on with absolute sadness.

  A part of me was relieved it wasn’t gloomy and rainy–like in the movies–funeral scenes are always like that. That would’ve made it ten times worse. It was hard enough to deal with, I didn’t need Mother Nature to interfere and intensify the already depressing feel of the day–to make it worse.

  Meg arrived carrying a garment bag in her hand. She unzipped the bag and laid the dress out carefully on my bed. It was a sleeveless black A-line dress–simple and perfect. With all the arrangements and phone calls I had made within the last few days, I hadn’t thought to go out and get one. Meg knew me all too well.

  “Thanks for doing this, Meg.”

  She was wearing a black wrap dress and black heels. With nothing but black fanned out in the funeral parlor, it would be an overt reminder of the somber day. Why do people wear black at funerals? It just makes it all the more depressing. I put the dress on, and Meg zipped the back. I searched the room for my heels, putting them on my bare feet.

  “I’ll do your hair,” she said. I sat down at the edge of the bed and handed her my brush. She combed each end and pulled my hair up into a classic chignon. “Do you want me to do your make up, too?”

  “I don’t care.” I didn’t feel like getting dolled up. I wanted to look nice for my grandfather, to show respect, but I was feeling a lot of apathy about everything.

  “I’ll just keep it simple.” She took out her compact, dabbing her powder across my face. She applied some blush and then asked me to pucker my lips so she could apply a light pink lipstick. “All done.”

  “Thanks for getting the dress. I don’t know how you knew, but thanks.”

  She shrugged. “I know what’s in that wardrobe of yours, Finn, and a black dress is not part of it.”

  I grabbed her hand and looked at her seriously. “It’s going to be a rough day today, if I don’t say thank you later–thanks.”

  “That’s what friends are for.” She smiled. “Ready? Your Nana, Dad, Mom and Jesse are already downstairs. Your mom has gorgeous hair, by the way.”

  I had called my mom after the shock wore off. I knew she would want to know. She insisted on coming to the funeral, but I didn’t understand why. I know that she and my grandparents’ had made amends, but they weren’t close. At all. She had sev
ered those ties when my dad left years ago. Still, she thought it was best she come. I just worried about the ramifications of her and my dad seeing each other again for the first time in over seventeen years. Were they ready to handle it? I didn’t think my dad could and thought it might not be best to add the extra stress during the funeral service. I tried to persuade her to stay put in Tampa, but she never listened to what I had to say anyway.

  I hadn’t really talked to Jesse since I had been back. “He had to get up early. I mean, that’s over an hour’s drive isn’t it?” I tried not to make it obvious that I was curious about him.

  She gave me a strange look. “You know he moved back right?”

  “No.” He moved back? When did this happen? How come I didn’t know?

  “He got a transfer to a station in Greenville and is renting a place a few blocks from the diner. I thought you knew.”

  “We don’t talk,” my voice was quiet.

  “I know,” she said in a gentle tone. “I just thought maybe Lilly told you.”

  “We don’t talk about him. Since the break up, she hasn’t brought him up to me,” I admitted. “So, he lives here?” She nodded her head. I took a deep breath and she took my hand. “Let’s go.”

  Nana refused to wear black. She instead wore a red dress with a red belt that was fitted to her petite frame and red, strappy heels. Her toes were painted in the brightest shade of ruby red. “Charlie hated black. Said I looked like a sad sack of potatoes in it.” She sighed and faintly smiled, reflecting just for a moment.