The Summer I Learned to Dive

by McCrimmon, Shannon

  “Thanks,” I said and blushed again.

  As he finished his meal, I watched the other people dancing. “Do you want to dance again?” he asked.

  “Yes.” I wanted to be close to him, to hold his hand again.

  He took my plate and cup and threw them in the trash can. I followed him to the dance floor. We danced with each other the rest of the night, having fun and forgetting time. It felt like it was just the two of us out on the dance floor. I forgot about everyone else.

  The evening came to an abrupt end, too soon for me. Most of the people had left and we were still on the dance floor, holding on to each other, swaying back and forth to the slow tempo. The band promised one last song for those of us left. It was a slow song, perfect for that moment. Jesse took my hands and lifted them up, gently wrapping them around his warm neck. He placed his hands on my hips and we swayed gently back and forth to Bob Dylan’s Forever Young. We looked into each other’s eyes, and in that moment, he took my breath away. The song ended too soon. I wanted the moment to last forever. I hoped that the image would be plastered in my mind for a lifetime. I unwrapped my hands from around his neck and let them drop to my hips. He took one of my hands and held it, lacing my fingers with his. It was the first time he had held my hand like that and I didn’t want to let go. We walked toward Nana. She saw us and smiled, her eyes focused on our hands. She winked at me.

  “Jesse, will you take Finn home for me? I have to stay and help clean up,” she said. But most of the cleaning had been done already. I didn’t see much for her to do.

  “Sure,” he answered. I tried not to look too eager, but deep down I was excited I would have the chance to be alone with him again.

  “Where’s Grandpa?” I asked, looking around the barn.

  “Oh, he snuck out a couple of hours ago,” she laughed. “He always does that. Thanks again, Jesse.” It was her way of saying go on.

  Jesse and I ventured outside. The perfect gentleman, he unlocked my door and opened it for me first. I leaned over and unlocked his door for him.

  “Thanks,” he said, sitting down. I caught another whiff of his cologne. He smelled earthy and sweet. I inhaled slightly, just enough to capture his fragrance. He started the ignition and we were on our way. He turned on the radio. I hummed along.

  “It’s so pretty here,” I said.

  “Yeah, it is. But this is nothing compared to Dixon State Park,” he said.

  “Where’s that?”

  “It’s about twenty miles from here. It’s beautiful, lots of waterfalls and great hiking trails. We should go,” he offered. I wondered if he was asking me on a date.

  “Yeah. That would be great.”

  “How about on Monday?” he asked.

  “Okay,” I said, trying to quell my excitement.

  “Great. I’ll pick you up about nine in the morning,” he said. “You’ll want to wear tennis shoes, not flip flops.” He pointed to my feet and smiled.

  Just then, his phone rang. “Hello?” he answered. I saw his forehead crease, his facial expression change. He breathed into the phone. He looked so stressed. “I’ll be there soon,” he said and hung up. He let out a heavy sigh.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. I could feel the tension.

  He shook his head. “It’s nothing.” I could tell he was lying. It was something, something major. His whole demeanor changed as soon as he took that phone call.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked, but I knew the answer. The answer was yes and it probably had to do with his father. He didn’t answer me. He stayed focused, looking at the road ahead. He put his hand up to his forehead and rubbed it across his face.

  “Is it your dad?” I pressed. I was probably taking it too far, asking too many questions, but I wanted to know. I wanted to help. He looked at me quickly and then back at the road.

  “It’s nothing. Just stay out of it,” he said abrasively.

  “I’m sorry,” I said somberly. “I just want to help,” I added quietly.

  He sighed. “I appreciate it but there’s nothing you can do. That phone call…that was not the first time I’ve gotten a call like that. It’s one of thousands. He’s too drunk to drive home. So you know what?”

  I didn’t answer him.

  “They call me to come pick him up. It’s a regular thing, picking up my drunk dad and putting him to bed. So when I say it’s nothing, I mean it because it has become such a routine that it has become nothing,” he said, his voice raised. He hit the steering wheel with his fist and cursed loudly. I flinched. He saw me and immediately put his hand on my shoulder.

  He pulled the car over to the side of the road and turned the engine off. “Finn, I’m sorry I scared you,” he said, looking at me.

  “It’s okay.” I tried to smile and shrug it off.

  “No, it’s not. I’m just mad and it wasn’t fair to take it out on you. It’s just so frustrating sometimes.”

  “I don’t know what to say or what to do,” I said.

  He lightly touched my hand. “You don’t have to say anything. You’re being a good friend right now by listening.” I placed my hand on his and clasped my fingers around it. He gave me a faint smile. “Let me get you home before your grandparents worry.” He started the engine and began driving. He turned the radio up, loud enough so we couldn’t talk. He didn’t want to talk about it and I needed to respect that. Nothing more was said until we reached my grandparents.

  “I’ll see you Monday,” he said as I unbuckled my seat belt and opened the car door. I looked at him confused. “Nine o’clock, right?”

  “Yeah, I didn’t know if you still wanted to,” I answered.

  “Of course I do. I’ll see you later.” I smiled at him and closed the car door. I walked toward the front door and turned around. He was in his car waiting for me to get in the door, watching me get in the house safe and sound, protecting me. It hurt knowing I couldn’t protect him from what he was about to deal with.

  “Did you have a good time tonight?” Grandpa asked me. He was sitting in a chair, reading the newspaper. I sat down across from him on the couch.

  “It was fun.” I smiled, still excited about it all.

  “You danced a lot with Jesse,” he added.

  I blushed. “Yes.”

  “He’s a nice boy,” he continued.

  “I know.” I grinned too broadly. I couldn’t help it. I liked Jesse and had no way of containing those feelings for him.

  He laughed noticing my red complexion. “Don’t get embarrassed.”

  “Grandpa,” I pleaded. “I’m going to bed,” I said, before the topic could be further discussed.

  “Are you two going out again?” He asked loudly.

  “Yes. We’re going to Dixon Park in a couple of days.”

  He nodded in approval. “Good,” he said. I walked quickly up the stairs, embarrassed that I had just discussed my love life with my grandfather.

  Chapter 14

  My mother left me a message telling me that it was time I came home, that it wasn’t my decision to make anymore. I deleted it immediately. I knew I could not avoid her much longer, but I still wasn’t ready to talk with her. There was no sense in it — she felt the need to shelter me from two loving people who are the only link to my father even if my father was still a mystery to me. I tried to get my grandparents to divulge more about him, but most of their comments were vague and short answers to my questions.

  I heard Nana and Jesse talking downstairs. I looked at the clock, it was a little before nine. He was more than punctual. I took a quick shower and pulled my wet hair up into a pony tail. I came downstairs to find the three of them in the kitchen. Jesse was drinking chocolate milk.

  “There’s the sleepy head,” Nana said. I smiled, but didn’t say anything.

/>   I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down with them. My grandfather sipped on his coffee, looking at Jesse skeptically. He sat across from Jesse.

  “Ya’ll going to Dixon State Park?” he asked.

  “Yes sir,” Jesse said.

  “Well, have her back before it gets dark. You don’t need to be in the woods at night, not with all the coyotes out,” he said.

  “Coyotes?” I asked with trepidation.

  Jesse looked at me. “They don’t come out during the day. It’s the bears we need to worry about.”

  “Bears?” I swallowed. They all laughed. I looked at them bewildered. Bears are not a funny subject matter. My face must have gotten more pale than usual because Nana stopped laughing.

  “Finn, we’re just teasing you,” she said, trying to appease me.

  “Oh, I know,” I lied, my voice nearly broken.

  “No really. There aren’t any bears at Dixon,” she said reassuringly. I breathed a sigh of relief.

  I listened to the three of them talk as I ate breakfast. Jesse spoke so freely to my grandparents. There was no pretending with him. I could tell that my grandfather was especially fond of Jesse. The way he acted around him, it was very paternal. I’ve never discussed with Jesse what I saw that night at the bowling abbey, that his dad was drunk. The night I was over there trying to nurse Meg, his father had drank so much he was passed out cold in his bedroom. Jesse didn’t try to cover for his father, but he also didn’t make a point to bring it to my attention either. I think he decided it is what it is—that his father is a drunk and there is nothing he can do about it. I don’t know what I would have done if I had grown up in similar circumstances. My mother rarely touched a drink; she was very straight laced and expected me to be the same way. She raised me to believe that the people who did these things were bad, nefarious people. But how can Jesse’s dad be so bad if Jesse is so good? Does his weakness for alcohol make him a bad person or just someone who is frail and can’t cope?

  Jesse saw that I was in deep thought. He looked at me and asked, “Are you ready to go?”

  “Sure.” I stood up and took my plate to the sink, rinsed it and placed it in the dish washer.

  Nana handed me a small cooler. “I thought you two may want lunch later. Have fun,” she said to us. Looking at Jesse she said, “Take care of our girl.” She wrapped her arms around me.

  “I will, I promise,” he said. He took the cooler out of my hand and walked toward the front door. My grandfather whispered something in his ear and Jesse nodded seriously.

  I plopped down on Jesse’s passenger seat. He turned on his CD player, jazz music played in the background.

  “Who’s this?” I asked.

  “Nina Simone. She’s from North Carolina. She’s a classic,” he said.

  “I like her,” I said, listening intently to her soothing voice, to the deep lyrics and words of her song.

  “Well, you have good taste then,” he said teasingly. “She’s my favorite. I listen to her all the time.”

  We drove the rest of the way listening to Nina Simone. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of the scenery. Emerald green pastures filled with yellow and pink wildflowers; belted cows and billy goats chewing on the long blades of grass; the warm tepid breeze putting everything in motion; the views of the enormous majestic mountains. The sky was cloudless and a perfect blue. The air was crisp and clean. I inhaled, instantly feeling like a dog sticking its head out of the car window for a long Sunday drive, but I couldn’t contain myself. For eighteen years, I had lived in the same place, with no exposure to anything different, always the same. Being in another territory, in a different environment, it made me curious. I wanted to explore more. I felt like I was home, like I was meant to be here and I questioned whether I ever wanted to leave.

  We reached Dixon State Park’s parking lot. It was more of a gravel makeshift lot. There was a large sign created by the Parks and Recreation Authority warning people of bears, being respectful to the environment, and encouraging hikers to complete an information card in case you got lost. I gulped nervously when I read all of this. Jesse touched my shoulder lightly. “They have to write those things for the idiots,” he said. I didn’t feel comforted. I had never been in the woods before— hiking in Florida consisted of long walks on the coast with no bears in sight. Jesse placed the contents in the cooler in his backpack, zipped it up and motioned for me to follow him. We followed the well-marked trail.

  The hike proved to be more strenuous than I thought it would be. It merely pointed out how physically out of shape I was. Studying all hours of the night did not adequately prepare me for a long walk up a mountain. We climbed up for hours. I was not able to keep the conversation flowing, wanting to savor any breath that I had. Jesse talked freely. He climbed with little effort and reached his hand out to me for the very difficult inclines. I was embarrassed. I was sure senior citizens could have hiked this trail with more ease than me.

  “Let’s rest here for a while,” he said, pointing to a very large rock. I looked at him puzzled, wondering how we were going to get on it. He ran up on it quickly, fluidly and with ease. “Come on, Finn, the view’s great from here,” he said, standing on top of it, his hands on his hips. I stared at him incredulously. He bent over and extended his hand. I grabbed a firm hold of it as he helped lift me up. We both sat down parallel to each other. He lay down and rested his hands behind his head. I followed his lead.

  “How are you doing?” he asked.

  “Fine,” I lied.

  “Because this is a pretty tough trail and you looked pale back there. I thought I was going to have to carry you,” he joked. He leaned over facing me, his elbow supporting his hand that rested under his chin. He was very close to me, which made me nervous.

  “I’m fine,” I lied again. My voice sounded flimsy and weak, but not from being overexerted. The closer he came to me, the more I found it difficult to speak.

  He looked into my eyes. “Your eyes are really green.” My reflexes caused me to instantly close them. I opened them but he was still looking at me. My face, already red from perspiration, turned even more scarlet. He smiled and lay back down next to me. I let out a breath, relieved and disappointed at the same time.

  “Do you come here a lot?” I asked.

  “I try to. It’s one of my favorite places to think,” he said, revealing more about himself to me.

  “I would come here all the time if I lived here. It’s so peaceful,” I said, looking around, staring at the blue sky, watching the birds fly, and enjoying how impeccable it all was.

  “I guess I take this all for granted sometimes.” He sat and tied his shoe lace. “You’re helping me see it through your eyes. It’s like seeing it for the first time.” He smiled at me. “I’m going to miss coming here all the time.”

  “Are you going to college far away?” He had never talked about college with me, so I assumed he wasn’t planning to go.

  “No, not college. I’m going to be a firefighter and between the academy, working, plus taking care of my dad, I won’t have as much free time,” he said. He opened his backpack and pulled out a bottle of water. He took a sip and handed it to me. I took a few large gulps, still thirsty from the hike, and handed it back to him.

  “You’ll be a good firefighter. You’re always coming to the rescue—for me, for Meg, for your…” I almost said “dad” but stopped myself from doing so, afraid I would conjure bad feelings. He looked down at me, his forehead wrinkled. I sat up, sitting across from him.

  “And my dad. It’s okay to say it, it’s true,” his tone became serious, solemn.

  “Are you staying here so you can take care of him?” I asked without thinking first.

  His face became stressed. “No and yes. I have wanted to be a firefighter since I was a kid. It’s just convenient,” he said and lo
oked directly at me, “that the firefighting academy is near town. I can’t just leave my dad, Finn,” his tone more on edge.

  “But is that how you are going to live the rest of your life…for him?” I asked, feeling more courageous, not afraid to challenge him.

  “Who are you to judge, Finn? You’ve never walked a day in my shoes, and until you do, you don’t get to judge me,” he said loudly. He was angry with me and I didn’t like it.

  “I didn’t mean to judge you, Jesse. It just doesn’t seem fair or right that you are giving up everything to take care of him. When do you get to live your life? When do you stop being his caretaker and make him take responsibility for his actions?” I asked, my voice raised.

  “You can’t judge me, Finn. You have no idea what I go through and until you do, you don’t get to have an opinion,” he stated emphatically.

  “I’m allowed to have an opinion, Jesse. You just don’t want to hear it because I may just be right,” I said sternly, confident in my feelings. Nothing was said for a long time. The silence was excruciating. I wondered how long it would go on like this; worried things were going in another direction entirely.

  Finally, he broke the tension and said, “I didn’t mean to yell at you. I’m living my life, Finn. I live it every day. Sometimes in life you have to make some sacrifices for people you love. In this case, I just need to stay in town which isn’t much of a sacrifice really. I couldn’t imagine myself living anywhere else.” His lips curled into a faint smile. I tried smiling in return. He could feel the lingering tension and discern my feelings.

  “Okay,” I said, feeling more at ease, more assured. He didn’t seem as angry. He was right, though, I hadn’t walked in his shoes, but it was still hard for me to understand. It didn’t seem right that he was sacrificing so much. It wasn’t right and deep down he knew it or else he wouldn’t have responded so defensively. How long did he plan to live his life this way? I wanted to ask him that question but decided to let it go for the time being.