The Year I Almost Drowned (26 page)

never asked for it back. All the lights were on, and he was already inside, prepping

in the kitchen. I opened the door and went straight to my grandfather’s office to

put my purse up in my locker. I turned on my grandfather’s computer and started

entering data into the book keeping program I had downloaded. It made balancing

the books simple and easy–not some confusing, conglomerated mess like it used

to

be.

Music from the kitchen echoed into my grandfather’s compact office. Jesse and

his Nina Simone. He had chosen Work Song, one of his favorites to play at the

diner. Hearing her voice brought back so many memories. I had shut out all jazz

music

from

my

life

since

he

and

I

had

broken

up.

I entered the kitchen. He was moving his head and bopping his feet back and

forth.

“Jesse,”

I

said.

His subtle dance moves stopped, and he spun around. He looked a little

embarrassed. He turned the volume down on the CD player and said, “Hey.”

“Hi,”

I

said.

“Nina

Simone

again?”

I

arched

my

eyebrows.

“Always.”

He

smiled.

“I just wanted to say thank you for helping out yesterday and for coming in today.

Hannah told me you had a long shift yesterday,” I started.

“It’s not a big deal. You looked like you needed help,” he said and shrugged.

“You’re

running

low

on

a

few

things.”

“Oh, gosh.” I slapped my forehead. “I didn’t even think about inventory.” I moved

to the pantry and opened its door. He followed me. And even though the space

was big, it suddenly felt small and confining and not roomy enough for the both

of

us.

I

could

smell

his

cologne,

the

earthy

musky

scent.

“You need flour.” He pointed to the last bag of flour on the bottom shelf. He was

standing right next to me. “And definitely more pasta for the mac and cheese,” he

said,

moving

his

head

in

the

direction

to

the

top

shelf.

Jesse and I moved around as well as we could and looked at the shelves, taking

a mental note of what was needed immediately and what could wait. “You need

sugar, too,” he said. I checked one of the shelves and turned to face another shelf

behind

me

and

there

was

Jesse,

within

inches

of

me.

“Sugar,” I repeated, trying keep my voice steady. My palms were clammy and my

heart was racing. It was a strange sensation, like the feeling you get when your

blood sugar is low and you can’t think straight, but I had eaten plenty for breakfast

and

knew

there

was

nothing

wrong

with

my

glucose

level.

“Brown sugar, too,” he said, still close to me, close enough that I could smell his

breath, his warm delicious vanilla wafer breath. He peered into my eyes and I

thought he was going to lean down and kiss me, but then all of a sudden, he

backed away, far off to some invisible safe zone. And just like that then things

went back to the way they had been. He put his hand behind his head, ran it

through his short hair and searched the room one more time. “You should place

these orders this morning so they’ll get here by tomorrow.”

“Okay.” I nodded. “Thank you, Jesse. I mean it, thank you,” I said, looking up at

him.

He responded with a smile, and we walked out of the pantry together. Hannah

passed by the kitchen and saw us coming out together. She gave me a strange

look and then pursed her lips. She was still angry with me, and I didn’t understand

why.

“Hi,”

I

said,

coming

up

to

her.

“Hi,”

she

said

briskly.

“We

were

checking

inventory,”I

said.

“Great,”

she

sneered.

I wanted to ask her why she was still mad at me but was afraid of the

confrontation. We were within minutes of opening, and I didn’t need another blow

up. So, I just ignored her and acted like nothing had happened. I went back to the

office

and

placed

the

orders.

***

Hannah left before we could talk. It was just Jesse and me in the diner. The day

had gone by fast and was much better than the day before. Things ran

seamlessly; it felt like old times, well almost. It would never feel the same without

my

grandfather.

I sat in front of the computer entering the day’s sales. The screen flickered, giving

me

an

instant

headache.

“Finn,”

Jesse

said,

standing

at

the

doorway.

“Yeah?” I placed both hands to my temples, pushing them to create the slightest

pressure.

“I’m

gonna

go.”

“Okay. Thanks for helping again.” I looked at him and smiled. “I wouldn’t have

been able to open it today, and I can’t believe I didn’t think about the inventory.”

I laughed at myself. How on earth was I going to run this diner?

“You have a lot of things on your mind. It’s understandable.”

“Still.

If

it

weren’t

for

you,

I

would

have

sunk.”

“You’re

gonna

need

to

hire

a

cook,”

he

said.

“Oh, I know. I just don’t know who. I was hoping my dad would change his mind.”

“Your dad probably won’t change his mind. But I’ve been known to be wrong

before,”

he

said

and

then

grew

quiet.

What

did

he

mean

by

that?

“I guess I’m going to have to try my hand at cooking,” I said.

“Lou Schwatzentruber. You should call him. He was a scout leader with Charlie

and used to be a cook in the Navy. He lives close to Graceville. He came to the

funeral,”

he

said.

“I didn’t meet him.” I put my fingers through my hair and pulled out my rubber

band and then pulled it back into a neater, tighter pony tail. “Oh, I don’t know.” I

leaned back in the chair. “I could’ve met him. I met so many people that day, they

all

blend

together.”

“You met him.” I didn’t know how he would know who I met but didn’t question

him.

“Here’s his number. He and I talked last night, and he sounded interested.” He

handed me a piece of paper. “I’ve got to go to work tomorrow or else I’d help out,”

he

said.

I took the paper out of his hand. “Thanks. You’ve done enough, Jesse.” And he

had;

he

had

gone

above

and

beyond.

“I’ll see you later, Finn.” He smiled at me and placed his hand on my shoulder

and then rapidly removed it. “Don’t worry, this will all come together,” he said and

was about to leave but stopped himself. “Are you fixing to leave? We can walk

out

together.

Graceville

can

be

a

scary

place,”

he

joked.

I laughed and things felt strangely familiar, like before the break up. “I guess I

better stick close to you, then,” I said in the same teasing manner. The ease of

our

conversation

felt

familiar

and

comfortable.

I shut off the computer and grabbed my purse from my locker. We walked out of

the office and toward the entrance to the diner. I turned off the lights, Jesse

opened the door and I walked out, him following right behind me. It was still light

outside, late in the afternoon. Small beads of sweat started to fall from the back

of my neck, down to my lower back. The heat was intense and stifling.

“It’s

a

good

day

for

a

swim,”

he

said.

I wiped the sweat off of the back of my neck and then wiped my forehead. The

smell of bacon grease and coffee still lingered on my hands. “Yeah. It’s crazy

hot,”

I

answered.

He

paused

for

a

moment.

“Wanna

go?”

he

offered.

“Now?”

“Yeah. I’ve still got a key.” He smiled as he held the key up. Jesse used to teach

swimming lessons at the Graceville Community Center pool–the only pool within

miles of town. I hadn’t been in it since the previous summer.

I bit on my lip and thought about it for a moment. “I don’t have my swimsuit with

me,”

I

said.

“Oh,”

he

said,

a

tinge

of

disappointment

in

his

voice.

“I

can

go

home

and

get

it,

I

guess,”

I

said.

“Whatever you want to do,” he said. “Maybe I’ll see you there,” he added, like it

didn’t

matter

if

I

went

or

not.

For some reason that really irked me. I thought about saying something, but

before I could utter any words out of my mouth, we were interrupted.

“Jesse,” Hank said, stumbling toward us. He reeked of alcohol and it was obvious

he hadn’t taken a shower. The smell of body odor and sweat seemed like it had

seeped permanently into his skin. His hair was disheveled and greasy. “Jesse!”

he

screamed.

Jesse was beyond angry. His breathing became heavier, louder. I could see it in

his eyes. Still, he remained calm, eerily calm. I didn’t know what to do, so I just

stood there and watched it, like those people who slow down at car accidents.

“What

do

you

want?”

he

asked

sharply.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” He moved closer to him, nearly tumbling forward. I

don’t

know

how

he

was

able

to

maintain

his

balance.

“Because

we’re

through.

You

and

me

are

done,”

he

said.

Hank saw me and slowly moved in my direction, standing inches away from me–

completely invading my personal space. He placed his callused, rough, sweaty

hands on my arms, gripping a little too hard. “Make him talk to me, Finn. He’ll

listen to you,” he said desperately, shaking me at the same time. His eyes were

heavily

dilated–black

pupils

enveloped

his

light

blue

eyes.

I shook my arms to try to get him to let go and turned my head in Jesse’s direction.

Fear

was

written

all

over

my

face.

“Dad! Get your hands off of her!” Jesse shouted, rushing over to me.

“Make

him

talk

to

me,

Finn,”

Hank

pleaded

to

me.

“I can’t,” I said, holding back the tears. And I couldn’t. I couldn’t make Jesse do

anything.

“Let go of her,” Jesse demanded and grabbed Hank’s hands, forcing them to

release their grasp on my arms. His finger prints were still imprinted on my arms.

Hank peered down at his hands, realizing what he had done to me.

“Sorry,”

he

said

to

me.

“Leave, Dad,” Jesse commanded. “Just go,” his tone a little softer, more hurt.

Hank staggered in the opposite direction, away from us. Where he went I don’t

know. I was a mixture of emotions: sad for Jesse; angry at Hank for drinking

again; and sorry that they were a broken family. All of it was too much to witness.

I wanted to cry but fought back the tears. Crying wouldn’t make it easier; it

wouldn’t

make

it

better

for

Jesse.

He squeezed the back of his neck. “You okay?” he asked.

Me. Why was he asking if I was okay? Hank wasn’t my father.

“I’m sorry he grabbed you like that. He never used to be like that when he drank.

Since he started drinking again...” he shook his head, “he’s changed so much,”

he

said,

his

expression

grim.

“I’m fine,” I lied. I was a little shaken and wasn’t going to tell him that. How would

that help? “Maybe you could try to get him to stop again.”

He shook his head and gave me a look of absolute disgust. “He’s never gonna