The Year I Almost Drowned (20 page)

“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