The Year I Almost Drowned

by McCrimmon, Shannon

  Jesse wore a dark navy blue suit, with a light blue shirt underneath and a colorful tie with shades of turquoise, blue and yellow. I had never seen him in a suit before, just a picture of him from prom when he was wearing a tuxedo. There wasn’t a sign of stubble on his clean shaven face.

  Dad was wearing a gray suit with a white shirt and maroon tie. He pulled nervously on his tie and would stand up, then sit, and then stand up again. I could tell he felt awkward around my mother. I know she was trying to pay her last respects, but the unspoken tension could be felt by everyone. She was making things worse. Far worse.

  I could see her through the window, pacing back and forth on the porch, talking on her cell phone. Mom was a legal secretary and worked long hours at a law firm. She was a workaholic, and the attorneys took advantage of that. She got off her phone and opened the door. It was the first time I had seen her since spring break. She had driven up the night before and was staying at a nearby motel. Nana had offered for her to stay at the house with us, but she politely declined. At least she knew not to stay in the house–that would’ve been too much–with Nana having to worry about being hospitable while she was trying to deal with everything else.

  Mom was wearing the Audrey Hepburn dress that I used to love so much. When I looked at it now, it just reminded me of that night–the night that started it all. If I hadn’t intended to borrow it the night of my graduation, I would’ve never seen those letters in her closet and wouldn’t have traveled to Graceville. I cringed at the thought and started to get angry. If she hadn’t kept my grandparents’ from me all those years, I would have had more than barely a year to get to know my grandfather–the man who had become a father figure to me in so many ways. He gave me my first job, taught me to drive, and offered me the most sage, solid advice I’d ever gotten. What was I going to do and how was I going to live without him? The thought of not having him in my life scared me to death.

  The black limo pulled into the driveway, breaking the awkward silence that was hovering in the room. We all traveled outside. Nana insisted that Jesse ride with us.

  “You’re family, honey,” she said to him.

  And I could tell from the look on his face, that he didn’t feel comfortable riding with us. But what she had said was true–he was family. My grandfather practically raised him. They knew each other better than I knew my grandfather. Maybe I was the impostor? Maybe I should’ve ridden in the car with my mom or with Meg?

  The four of us sat in the back of the limo across from each other: Nana next to me and my dad next to Jesse. The silence on the ride to the funeral was deafening. No one knew what to say or what to do. Even my Nana, who normally tried to keep things light, was too overwrought with emotion to speak. My dad constantly tapped his fingers on his thighs. Nana messed with her purse straps. Jesse looked out the window. No one talked. I cleared my throat and everyone turned their head in my direction.

  “Do you need a mint, Finn?” Nana asked me.

  “No. I’m okay,” I answered. And that was all that was said.

  We were the first to arrive. Mr. McNeely instructed us to get there half an hour before the service began. His job was an odd one–event coordinator for the grieving. How he was able to deal with death on a daily basis was beyond me. As we entered the room, terrible organ music played through the speakers. Grandpa would’ve hated it. The room was all things beige: beige curtains; beige carpet; velvet beige seats. I tried to look at anything but at what was staring me in the face–my grandfather lying in an open casket. Nana walked up to the casket and titled her head to the side.

  She looked down into the casket. “They did a good job. Come see, Finn,”

  How could she be so calm? I didn’t want to see. I wanted to hide–to do anything but what she had requested–but there was no hope. I slowly walked toward her, my heart beating a mile a minute, and glanced quickly at my grandfather then averted my eyes in the most opposite direction I could find. I didn’t want my last memory of him to be like that. I wanted to remember him how he was–full of life–strong and opinionated, beloved by everyone, especially me.

  Needing to catch my breath, I sat down in the nearest chair I could find. Jesse peered down at my grandfather, placed something in the casket and then sat next to me. It made me curious.

  “What did you place in his casket?” I whispered. It was the first time I had talked to him since he had picked me up from Harrison.

  “It’s one of my Boy Scout merit badges,” he said in a hushed tone and then read my perplexed expression. “When Charlie was my scout leader, he helped me earn the lifesaving badge. It’s always meant a lot to me.”

  Dad, Jesse, Nana and I all sat in the front row of the chapel. Person after person came to pay their respects. A cluster of people filled the room to the point that the doors had to stay open and not an empty seat was left. Even to the outside main lobby, people were standing, waiting patiently, to honor my grandfather, to tell us how much he meant to them. I was thankful we had chosen to do the funeral all in one day rather than splitting it up into two days for the visitation and funeral. I had only been sitting in the chapel for an hour and was completely drained of all my energy.

  The preacher spoke about my grandfather’s spirit, his hard work, and his love for his family. He didn’t know my grandfather–that was all based on information I had given him, on things I told him to say. But from his sermon, you would have thought he and my grandfather were old friends. My Nana said my grandfather was a spiritual man, but he had quit going to church years ago. He and the preacher had a disagreement about something, and he never went back. He was stubborn like that.

  Jesse spoke next. Nana had asked him to. He stood in front of us, a small piece of paper in his hand. His hand shook a little from being nervous. I had never seen him like that. Usually he was so controlled and confident. On this day, he was just as much of a mess as the rest of us.

  “Lilly asked me to say something about Charlie.” He cleared his throat and continued, “It feels wrong reading from a piece of paper, but I had to make sure everything I wanted to say was said today.” He looked down at the paper and began to read “Charlie was like a father to me. From the time I was a little kid, he took care of me and helped raise me. He taught me how to be a good man. I hope a part of him carries on through me. I can only hope that someday I’ll be half the man Charlie was,” he said, looking up at tear-filled eyes. “That’s all,” he added quietly as he stepped down and moved to the seat next to me. He wiped his palms against his dress pants.

  “That was beautifully said,” I whispered to him.

  He sat quiet for a moment. “I really loved him,” his voice breaking.

  ***

  My dad, Jesse, Cookie, and another old friend of my grandfather’s named Ronald, were the pallbearers. Nana and I followed behind them as they carefully carried the casket into the long, black hearse. We drove slowly down Main Street, following the police car that lead us. A long line of cars followed closely behind us as we rode to the cemetery. It was a few miles outside of town. I could hear the bells ringing from the nearby church, but everything else was silent–eerie even. It was if the entire town had closed its doors and had gone to the funeral.

  The preacher said a few final words, and then the casket was lowered to the ground. I sat between my Nana and my dad, holding their hands, and trying so hard to keep it together. But being around that many people who were so deeply affected by the loss of my grandfather got to me. The tears kept falling, from me, from my Nana, my dad, from Jesse, from everyone.

  I wanted to lie in bed and sleep the day away. It was so exhausting, taking so much out of me. Nana and my dad were just as tired, but the day wasn’t over. We’d have several more hours to endure. Etiquette called for people to come over, bring food, and socialize. It was a strange custom. Having to play hostess on the day of a funeral wasn’t s
omething I was up for or wanted to do.

  The limo drove us back to my grandparents’ house. We all walked inside and collapsed onto the couch and chairs in the living room. No one would dare sit in Grandpa’s chair. It was his and always would be.

  “I’d like to get out of these clothes and put on something comfortable,” Nana said, interrupting the silence. “Y’all take off your ties,” she said to Jesse and my dad. “And Finn, you can put your hair down.” I looked at her hesitantly. “Go on.” She kicked off her heels and propped her feet onto the coffee table.

  Jesse and my dad took off their ties and jackets and rolled up their sleeves. I could see the instant relief in my dad’s face. He hated to be dressed up. I pulled my hair down and took off my shoes. We all leaned back against the cushions on the chair and the couch and simultaneously exhaled.

  “Y’all rest while you can, we’re about to be inundated with some of the strangest casseroles you can imagine.” Nana’s nose crinkled. I gave her a perplexed expression. Jesse and my dad seemed to know what she was talking about. “You’ll see, honey. Who would’ve thought you could ruin pineapple.” She sighed. “You’ll see.”

  ***

  The house was full of so many people–people I that had seen in the diner or around town. Most of them I had never spoken to, but they all seemed to know who I was. “Your grandfather just adored you,” they would say to me. “You look so much like your father,” they said.

  I went into the kitchen delivering yet another casserole. Nana was right–we were inundated with casserole after casserole: pineapple, tuna, chicken, broccoli, sweet potato. Nana was in what appeared to be a very serious discussion with Mike Wyatt, Graceville’s slimiest landlord. He owned half the buildings on Main Street and according to my grandfather, had been eyeing the diner for some time. Grandpa didn’t like him. He said he was a “sleaze bucket” who preyed on the weak and tried to siphon all their money out of them.

  I knew what they were discussing, and I couldn’t believe that Nana was actually considering selling the diner to him. I cleared my throat, letting them know I had come in the kitchen. Nana stopped talking to him.

  “Just think it over, Lilly,” he urged her. He had some nerve, trying to do business on the day of my grandfather’s funeral.

  “I take a while to mull things over, Mike. You’ll just have to be patient,” she said to him and then addressed me. “Another casserole?”

  “Yes.” I shook my head and handed it to her.

  She took it from me and placed it on the counter, alongside the other casseroles. “How’s your father holding up?” she asked, changing the subject.

  “I’m not sure. I think he’s outside,” I said and then asked, “What was that all about?”

  “Nothing, honey. Go check on your father for me, please,” she said.

  We would have this discussion later. There was no way I was going to allow her to sell the diner to Mike Wyatt. No way.

  My dad was not doing well. He hated to be around that many people and I could see he was at his wit’s end. The medication he was on made him sleepy and lethargic the later it got in the day. I joined him outside on the porch swing. He was smoking his pipe; his hand trembling more than usual.

  “You okay, Dad?” I asked.

  “Just came out here to get some peace.” He gave me a faint smile, his eyelids looked heavy. Smoke lingered in the air.

  “Me, too.” I sighed. “People keep coming up to me crying, it doesn’t help.”

  “I guess they’re grieving as much as the rest of us,” he answered and inhaled from his pipe again.

  “Do you want to get out of here?”

  He laughed. “More than you know. I guess I can handle another hour or so, but if anymore people come up to me and hug me, I’ll scream.” He tapped on the arm of the swing.

  We sat there for a while. The sounds of voices from the inside of my grandparents’ house could be heard. The screen door opened, and my mother walked out holding her purse.

  She looked at us both. “I’ve got to get back on the road. I have to be back at work tomorrow.”

  My father shifted uncomfortably on the swing, causing it to rock uncontrollably. I stood up and approached her. “Drive back carefully.” I hugged her and whispered, “Now is as good time as any to talk to Dad. You two need closure.”

  “I’m not sure about that,” she whispered back.

  I let go of her and looked at her, pleading with my eyes. “Please,” I begged.

  She gave it a moment’s thought and then moved her head to the side, glancing at my father. “Pete,” she said to him. He shot up from his near slumber. “I haven’t seen this place in a while, how about showing me around?”

  “It’s pretty much the same, Hillary,” he answered.

  He was trying to avoid her. I turned around to face him and widened my eyes, silently urging him to do it. “For me,” I mouthed to him.

  “Guess I can show you around.” He shrugged his shoulders and got off the swing. They walked down the steps and onto the green grass. As I watched them walk together, I hoped for a brief moment that they would make amends and rekindle their relationship. But life isn’t the movies, and there was no way they were going to get back together, too much time and hurt had passed between them.

  I sat down on the porch floor, my bare feet on the steps, my elbows resting on my knees, my hands to my chin. The door swung wide open. Sidney was carrying two casserole-filled plates. She had come up for the funeral for the day. It was a long drive and a nice gesture on her part.

  “You want some?” she asked, putting the plate in my face.

  “What is that?” I asked grimacing.

  “Pineapple cheese casserole.” She took a swift bite and swallowed. “It’s actually... good,” she said surprised. “Here try some.” She handed me a fork.

  I dug in and placed a small amount on my fork and took a bite. “Surprisingly, it isn’t bad.”

  She nodded her head in the direction of the door. “There’s a lot of people in there that keep coming up to me and talking like they know me–real friendly bunch, you know what I mean?”

  “That’s Graceville for you.”

  She sat down next to me. “So Jesse...he’s the ex you told me about?”

  “Yeah.” I stared down at my feet, the pink nail polish already chipping away.

  “He’s nice, and really easy on the eyes, too. He’s still in love with you, you know.”

  I shook my head. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Trust me. I know men and even though he’s grieving as much as you, that hasn’t stopped him from keeping his pretty blue eyes on you this whole time.”

  “He broke it off with me,” I admitted.

  “Well, he still has it for you. How many ex-boyfriends will travel hundreds of miles like he did, just so he could make sure you were okay when you heard about your grandfather? Let me see.” She placed her fingers on her chin and gently tapped. “I can think of... one, and that’s him,” she said confidently.

  “You’re wrong.” He broke up with me because I couldn’t commit to a long distance relationship, because of my stupid doubts, because we were headed in two different directions, because I didn’t know.

  The door opened again. Meg and Hannah came out and joined us. We all moved to the far corner of the old, wooden porch and sat down side-by-side. As my fingers trailed against the smooth painted texture, I was reminded of the previous summer when Jesse and I had painted the house.

  “Cookie’s in there telling stories.” Meg giggled.

  “He and your grandfather did some crazy stuff when they were kids,” Hannah said.

  “How’s my Nana?” I had been sitting outside for a while and had neglected to check on her.

  “Enthralled like the rest of
them. She can’t stop laughing,” Hannah said.

  “Good. She needs to laugh,” I said.

  “So do you, Finn,” Meg said. “Hannah, tell the story about Finn’s first day at the diner. That makes me crack up every time.”

  ***

  Everyone left my grandparents’ house with the exception of my dad and Jesse. I had said “thank you” so many times that day, the words seemed to just sputter spastically from my lips. My mother and father talked to each other. Finally. It took them over seventeen years, but at least they had closure. She wouldn’t tell me what they had said to each other, only that they both were able to say some things that needed to be said and that they would be filling out the paper work for a divorce within the next few months. I wanted to know what was said between them. How did they feel about each other after all that time? Did she forgive him for leaving? Did he forgive her for lying? But those were answers I would never know because the conversation was theirs to have and theirs alone.

  I lay on the porch swing, swaying back and forth, still in the black dress, my feet hanging over the edge. I was so tired from the day, I could’ve fallen asleep right there and then. The sun was setting, casting a perfect shade of violet in the sky. Crickets were chirping constantly. A murder of crows flew around, circling in the sky, making their calls.

  The door opened. “Finn.” Jesse cleared his throat. “I’m taking your dad home. Lilly said you were pretty beat.”

  I pushed myself up and looked up at him. Sometimes Jesse seemed so tall; I couldn’t see the sunset anymore. My dad stood next to him holding a large casserole dish covered with aluminum foil.

  “I can do it. Let me find my shoes.” I stood up and searched the porch. I couldn’t remember where I had placed them.

  He quickly touched my arm and said, “Stay here with Lilly and get some rest.”