The Year I Almost Drowned (22 page)

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 something 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