“Finn, there is a laser show this weekend at the science center,” he said quietly.
“Oh. I hadn’t heard,” I said, looking through the microscope examining the slide.
“I have two tickets,” he said.
“Okay,” I barely uttered. I was more concerned with my slide and had almost tuned him out.
He cleared his throat. “Do you want to go?” He almost tipped over the beakers in front of him.
I quickly caught them and looked at him. “Sure.” I shrugged.
He quickly smiled. “I’ll be at your house at seven then.”
“Okay.” I instantly went back to my work thinking nothing of it.
Trace’s mom drove us to the laser show. He hadn’t gotten his driver’s license yet. His mother was friendly, though, so I didn’t feel awkward riding in the car with both of them. My mother had insisted that she meet him before we went out together. I told her it wasn’t a date but she wouldn’t budge. She told me under no circumstances would she allow me to go out with him until she had met him. I think she wanted to appraise him, to see if he was good enough for me. He was the first boy I would be bringing home. I never looked at Trace in a romantic way. I never thought about any of the boys at school like that. Trace wasn’t ugly. It’s just, he was Trace, my science partner, my sort-of friend. Some of the girls in our class thought he was cute with his longer shaggy brown hair and doe brown eyes. He had a sweet face, the kind anyone could trust. He didn’t give much thought to what he wore. Usually it was a t-shirt, mostly an homage to a hard rock band from the 1980’s, and jeans. It was ironic. He was a science nerd but loved hard rock bands. Trace wasn’t the most social guy either and my mother didn’t like that. When he came to pick me up, he walked inside my house and uttered about five words through the entire conversation. My mother tried to ask him questions, but he clammed up from nervousness. I had hoped that my mom would have cooled off and see that he was struggling. Instead she pressed further, trying to force him to talk. It only made things worse. By the time we left for the show, I knew she hated him.
The laser show was fun. I enjoyed listening to Trace’s favorite band Led Zeppelin, while watching an array of different colored lasers zig and zag to the music, dancing on the screen and amazing everyone in the audience. But I think I mostly enjoyed myself because I was out on a date and for the first time, I wasn’t nervous around a boy. Maybe it was because I knew Trace? We didn’t talk much that night, but during the show, he grabbed my hand and held it until his mom picked us up after the show. His hand was cold and sweaty, but I didn’t care. It was the first time I had ever gotten that close with a boy and I liked it. I was beginning to see Trace in a new light. That evening, I saw Trace as someone I could get to know better, someone that could potentially be my boyfriend.
When I got home from the show, my mother was relentless in her insults. She said that he was weird and that I could do better. She made me feel like I was too good for him. Against my better judgment, I didn’t go on anymore dates with Trace after that even though I had fun with him. He stopped asking me after a few rejections and began dating Amy Thompkins a few weeks later. He never asked me to go out with him again. There were times, when we worked on our labs in science class, that I wondered what it would have been like to go on more dates with him. I wondered what it would have been like to hold his hand again, to kiss him, to be his girlfriend. I regretted not listening to my heart and instead following the advice of my mother. Now I think that maybe he was too good for me.
***
I went back to Dylan’s table and delivered their meals. The girl glared at me again. “This salad has dressing on it,” she said loudly. “I didn’t want dressing.” She pushed the plate away and pouted.
“Relax, Becca. She can bring a new one out,” Blake said. “Right?” he asked me.
I nodded. “Sure.” I tried to keep my composure, but her whole demeanor was really annoying.
“I don’t understand why some people can’t understand simple English,” she said. “I want a salad without dressing.” She stared at me while speaking slowly, an octave higher.
“She doesn’t have ESP, Becca. You didn’t ask for no dressing to begin with,” Dylan offered. He smiled at me. I was grateful for his help, but irritated that she could be so rude.
She rolled her eyes, “Whatever,” she said. “I’m not eating it.”
I walked away trying to contain my anger and yelled out the order emphasizing no dressing.
“Doesn’t surprise me,” Meg said, looking at her. “She looks finicky.”
I glanced at the table and caught Dylan’s eye. He smiled at me, and I immediately turned my face in another direction.
“Dylan’s checking you out,” Meg said.
“No he’s not.” I blushed.
“Be careful with that one. He’s a player,” she said before she left to check on a customer.
I didn’t know what she meant by that. I looked at him again and saw him looking disinterested in what Becca was saying. It was probably something petty or superficial. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw me looking at him. He rolled his eyes at her and I laughed. I turned around to face the counter. Jesse had been watching me. He pushed the plate toward me with more force than usual.
“Here’s your order. Next time pay attention so it doesn’t get cold,” he said annoyed.
“It’s salad, Jesse,” I retorted. “Next time just throw it at me why don’t you.” I glowered at him.
“Maybe you should do your job instead of flirting with the customers.” I grabbed the plate in a huff and delivered it to Becca.
Chapter 8
It was Sunday. My day off. My day to sleep in. The irritating repetitive sound from outside awakened me and going back to sleep was out of the question. Jesse was scraping paint off the wood right outside of my bedroom. I tried putting a pillow over my head to muffle out the noise, but the sound echoed into my head like a jackhammer hitting concrete. I looked at the time on my alarm clock. Eight thirty a.m. I sighed and reluctantly got out of bed and walked downstairs. Nana was dressed up, wearing makeup, a denim skirt and a red shirt.
“I was hoping you’d get to sleep in,” she said and frowned.
“Me, too,” I said and yawned. I stretched my arms above my head.
“I didn’t make breakfast, but there’s bread in there for you to make toast,” she said, picking up her purse from the table.
“Where are you off to?” I asked. My grandfather entered the living room from outside. He was dressed in khaki pants and a polo shirt.
She hesitated before she answered me. “We’re bringing some meals to someone who needs them.” She frowned and then pinched my chin. “You will have to hold down the fort here.”
“Do you need help?” I asked.
“That’s sweet of you, Finn, but this is something your grandfather and I need to do on our own,” she said.
“Don’t use all the hot water and turn off the lights if you leave a room. We don’t need to pay double on our electric bill,” he said.
“She’ll be sure to take a shower by candlelight and will boil the water on the stove,” Nana said sarcastically and winked at me.
“Ha ha. Wait till you see the bill,” he said and pushed the front door open.
“We’ll be back in a few hours,” she said and left.
I looked around the empty house. It was the first time I had ever been there alone. It felt strange being there by myself. I poured myself a cup of coffee and took it with me into the living room. I sat on the couch and propped my feet up on the wooden coffee table. I placed the mug down on the coaster that was adjacent to a large photo album. I picked it up and opened it. It was full of black and white photographs of my grandparents when they were young. I turned each page, admiring Nana’s beauty. Towards the
back of the album, there were photos of my mom and dad. He was dressed in a navy blue suit, she in a simplistic and chic white dress. They had to be wedding photos. My mother didn’t have any around the house. The few photos she had of my dad were of him alone, mostly school pictures. I stared at the photos again. They looked happy and young. I analyzed them, staring at them for several minutes. I had never seen my mother so happy. I closed the book and put it back on the coffee table.
*************
“Mom, what was your wedding day like?” I asked.
“Like most weddings,” she responded vaguely.
“Did you wear one of those big, pouffy dresses? You know, the southern belle style,” I asked curiously.
“No. I kept it simple. We didn’t have a lot of money.”
“What did dad wear?” I continued to press for more information.
“A blue suit. We kept it very basic.”
“What was your song?” I wanted to know more.
“Oh, Finn. It was such a long time ago. Your father and I enjoyed a lot of music. We need to get going,” she said, forcing me to drop the subject.
*************
My thoughts were interrupted when the door opened. I turned around and saw that it was Jesse. He was wearing jeans and an old t-shirt that was sopping wet with sweat. “Hey,” he said to me as he moved toward the bathroom.
“Hey,” I said, instantly feeling exposed. I looked down at what I was wearing: gray sweat pants with an oversized blue t-shirt and pink and black striped socks. My hair was a mess. I instantly felt self-conscious about my appearance.
I went into the kitchen and put bread in the toaster. I looked at my reflection in the toaster and pulled my hair up in a pony tail. I started humming to myself and poured myself another cup of coffee.
“Hey again,” he said, startling me. I hadn’t heard him enter the kitchen.
I gasped and then calmed myself. “Hi.”
“Sorry I scared you. I’m just fixing myself a glass of water.” He seemed to know his way around the kitchen. He knew which cabinet the glasses were in and moved around with ease.
“I didn’t hear you,” I said. The toast popped up suddenly. I grabbed them and slathered butter and jelly all over them. I could feel Jesse staring at me.
“Do you want some toast with that?” he asked, laughing.
I looked down at my toast. “What? It’s not that much butter.”
“What is that, half a stick? The American Heart Association called earlier, they want you to be their spokesperson,” he teased.
“It’s less than two tablespoons.” I rolled my eyes at him.
“Sure it is,” he said. This was the first time we had ever joked around with each other but I liked it. I forgot about my horrid appearance, about the fact that he was a guy, a really good looking guy, and just talked to him.
“How long have you known my grandparents?” I asked and took a bite of my toast. Crumbs fell on my chest. I quickly wiped them off hoping he didn’t see what a mess I had made.
“A long time, about ten years. Your grandfather was my scout master when I was in boy scouts. He’s a really good man. They’re both great people, you’re lucky,” he said looking at me. He leaned against the counter and drank his glass of water. He gulped the water and put the glass down on the counter. “Well, I better get back to work.” He wiped his lips and walked out of the room.
***
I sat in front of the television not really watching anything, mostly flipping channels. I was bored out of my mind. Working every day had given me something to do. Nothing was on TV and it seemed like a waste to spend my entire day off cooped up inside. I deliberated going outside. I thought about offering Jesse help. It would be better than sitting inside all day. It’s not like I could go anywhere. I didn’t have a car and there was nothing around within miles of my grandparents house.
I put on a t-shirt, shorts, and slipped into my flip flops and then trekked outside to the front yard. He was standing on the ladder, chipping off more paint. Music blared in the background.
“Need some help?” I yelled from the bottom of the ladder.
He looked down at me.“What?”
“Would you like my help?” I asked, this time louder. I could tell he still didn’t hear me. I thought about yelling again. He walked down the ladder and faced me. I moved back. His proximity made me nervous.
“What’d you say?” He turned the radio down to a near inaudible sound.
“I asked if you wanted my help,” I said.
“Sure.” He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “Hang on a second.” He walked to the porch and sifted through a tool box grabbing a tool. “Here,” he said, coming toward me and handing it to me.
I looked at it bewildered.
“You use it to scrape the paint off with,” he said as if I were a child and demonstrated by making stroke marks in the air.
“I think I’ve got it. Thanks,” I said annoyed, glaring at him.
“You can do the areas that don’t require a ladder.”
He turned the radio back up and got back on the ladder, climbing up the steps. I started chipping off layers and layers of paint that was probably older than my grandparents. Music blared in the background. I sang pathetically along. Time flew quickly. I didn’t realize that hours had passed. My arms and shoulders were sore. I felt the back of my neck and squeezed it, hoping to relieve the pain.
“Where’d the money go?” Jesse asked me, again surprising me. I had been so immersed in singing I didn’t hear him come up behind me.
“What?” I asked, confused by his remark.
“You know, for the singing lessons.”
“You’re funny.” I glowered at him. “The money was spent on more important things.”
He pondered my remark. “Well, it’s probably better spent that way. Anyone who has heard you sing would say the same.”
“I am musical. I play the trombone,” I said defensively.
“Playing an instrument doesn’t make you a good singer though. You’re evidence of that theory,” he said and laughed.
I gave him a dirty look. “Do you need something or did you come over here to critique my musical prowess?”
“Impressive,” he said. His hand rested on his chin as if he were analyzing me.
“What?” I asked exasperated.
“Your vocabulary,” he said, stifling a laugh.
I rolled my eyes at him. “I’m surprised you’re able to recognize words with five or more letters,” I snapped.
“Me, too,” he said, which wasn’t the response I expected. “I’m taking a lunch break.” He began walking away from me.
“Good for you,” I replied sourly.
He stopped moving and and spun around to face me. “I thought you may want to take one, too,” he said. “But if your intent on scraping away, by all means.” He bowed and moved toward the inside of my grandparents house.
My stomach growled. I was hungry, too, but hated to eat lunch with him. I started scraping again. My stomach growled louder. “Fine,” I said annoyed and dropped the scraper to the ground. I kicked it, feeling like a child for allowing him to get me so angry. I walked inside the house. He was sitting in the kitchen eating a sandwich.
“I left the meat and bread out for you,” he said without looking at me and then bit into his sandwich again.
I glared at him. I tried to ignore him and made my sandwich muttering under my breath. I sat down across from him. He looked at me pensively.
“What?” I asked.
“Why’d you come to Graceville?” he asked. “I’m sure there are a lot of other places you could have gone this summer.” He bit into his sandwich and chewed with his mouth closed. For a boy, he had manners.
�
��I wanted to meet my grandparents,” I said, leaving out most of the details. Details he didn’t need to know.
“Oh,” he responded, nodding his head. He looked at me curiously.
“What?” I asked, suddenly becoming self-conscious.
“You look a lot like your Nana,” he said. “But I can see the resemblance between you and Charlie, too.”
“I look like them?” I questioned him, suddenly aware that I was playing with my hair.
“Yeah,” he said, still staring at me intently, which made me blush. He took another bite of his sandwich and chewed his food. “So what are you planning to do now that you’re grown up?” he asked with a tone of sarcasm, changing the subject.
“You mean since I just graduated from high school?” I asked.
He nodded his head, almost rolling his eyes.
“I’m going to college.” I couldn’t fathom what else he would think I would plan to do.
“What college are you going to?”
“Harrison,” I said proudly. I wanted him to know how smart I was.
“Never heard of it.” He shrugged. He continued to eat as if he hadn’t said anything offensive.
“It’s one of the most prestigious women’s colleges in the US. Half of the students that apply are not accepted. Their alumnus is of the highest caliber,” I stated matter of fact. I stared at him, my arms folded. I showed him. “Some of our country’s most successful women went there,” I added.
He laughed which made me angrier.
“What is so funny?” I asked irritated.
The Summer I Learned to Dive Page 7