The Year I Almost Drowned (21 page)

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?

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

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 severed 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.

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