The Year I Almost Drowned (38 page)

miss him so much, Nana. And I felt like I was close with him when I was running

that diner,” I was speaking quickly without taking a breath, confessing every

secret I’d had for a long time. “I really loved it, Nana. It just clicked and felt so

natural. And now I have to go back to school and I’m not excited about it. It all

feels

wrong,

like

a

piece

of

the

puzzle

is

missing.”

“And?”

she

pressed.

“And.” I sighed. “I love Jesse,” I confessed. “And he thinks that I resent him

because

his

dad

started

the

fire.”

“Do

you?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I’m angry at Hank for drinking, but I don’t blame Jesse. I

would

never

blame

him.”

“Have

you

told

Jesse

this,

honey?”

“I’ve tried but he won’t listen. He’s made up his mind.” I squinted and looked down

at my hands, trying so hard to fight the tears. “I’m just so afraid to tell him how I

feel because I don’t think he feels the same way. He’s the one who broke up with

me,”

I

said.

“Honey,” she said and brushed some loose strands of my hair out of my face and

smiled

at

me.

“He’s

in

love

with

you.

Trust

me.”

I

gave

her

a

questioning

look.

She sighed through her nose. “He didn’t want to break things off with you. He did

it because you needed time to figure out what you wanted.” She laid her hand on

top

of

mine.

“I

don’t

understand,”

I

said.

“How

do

you

know,

Nana?”

“We talk, you know that. And I’ve lived long enough to know things.” She leaned

forward and looked at me seriously. “He knew you had doubts, and he was smart

and mature enough to know to give you time to figure things out.” She pinched

my chin and winked at me. “Tell him how you feel honey. When you know how

you feel about someone, you shouldn’t let anything stop you from telling them.”

“I’m

scared,”

I

admitted.

“Don’t be, Finn. In this case, you’ll just have to trust me,” she said. “If you can run

a diner, you can tell the boy you love that you love him.”

I gave what she said some thought and didn’t say anything for a while. Telling

Jesse was going to be hard, but I knew I had to do it. I knew what I wanted. I just

hoped

that

he

still

felt

the

same

way

about

me,

too.

“Sometimes with men you have to show them. When my daddy told me I couldn’t

marry your grandfather, I was dumb enough to relent. Your grandfather had just

about given up on me. But then I got some sense in me and realized that I had to

do

what

I

wanted

to

do

because

it

was

my

life.”

“What’d

you

do?”

I

leaned

toward

her.

“I made him a pie,” she said. “I know, it sounds silly.” She let out a soft chuckle.

“But it worked. I brought him that pie I made and told him, ‘I’ll be making you

plenty more of these pies. So you better get used to them because you’re stuck

with me for good.’ It worked.” She smiled as she shrugged.

“That’s

sweet,

Nana.”

“Oh please, honey.” She waved her hand in the air, blowing off my compliment.

“The point is, well, you get the point. You’re one of the sharper tools in the shed.”

I decided to change the subject and said, “I’m going to miss the diner.”

“Me, too, honey. It was a part of my life for fifty years. Fifty years. Can you imagine

that?”

Her

expression

was

pensive.

“No, but I know for the short amount of time it was a part of my life, I loved it. I

loved working there, Nana. When you gave me the chance to run things, to do

things on my own, it really showed me how passionate I was about it. Running

that diner was a natural as breathing.” I lay back against the couch and stared up

at the ceiling thinking about the fact that the last part of my grandfather was gone

from my life for good. It was if he was truly gone, and I wasn’t ready to let go.

“You

were

doing

such

a

good

job,

too.”

“I don’t know about that. I thought I was going to drown the first few days, but

things got easier. It’s as if Grandpa’s spirit was in me. Does that make sense?” I

asked.

“Yes honey, it does. It makes perfect sense.” She wrapped her arms around me

and

pulled

me

closer

to

her.

***

“Outside enjoying this nice summer’s day?” I asked my dad as I closed my car

door and approached him. He was bent over pulling cherry tomatoes from

vegetable garden. “Those look juicy,” I said, standing beside him. They were

plump

and

bright

red.

He stood up straight. “Have one,” he offered. I took it from him and plopped it in

my

mouth.

“Good.”

I

smiled.

“So

what

brings

you

out

to

my

neck

of

the

woods?”

That was putting it literally. Dad’s cabin was surrounded by nothing but trees and

then

more

trees.

“Nothing.

I

just

wanted

to

see

you.”

He smiled and placed a pile of tomatoes in my hands. “Let’s take these inside

and

sit

down

for

a

spell.”

An array of brightly colored flowers bordered the base of his house. Dad had a

green thumb, everything in his yard was alive and thriving–from the perfectly

pruned trees and shrubs–to the flowers and potted plants. We passed my favorite

sculpture–the one that he said was me when I was little. “You should make more

sculptures,”

I

said.

“I will. I’ve been too busy painting.” He smiled and opened the door for me as we

walked

inside.

Everything about my father had changed–from his demeanor–to the way he lived.

Never had I seen his house so full of light and air. Before, it was dark, musty, and

stifling. But standing inside, seeing every window open, the gingham curtains

pulled back, the smell of vanilla permeating the air, it made it feel real, it felt like

it

had

life.

“Coke?”

he

asked.

“Sure,” I said and sat down on his floral couch. A painted canvas leaned against

a pale pink throw pillow. I picked it up and stared at it. “When did you paint this

one? It’s beautiful.” Trees were painted jade green with strokes of charcoal

outlining each and every limb. Yellow daisies carpeted the grassy knoll,

enveloping

each

formidable

oak

tree.

“The other day.” He scratched the back of his head and squinted. “I wasn’t too

sure

about

that

one.”

“No. I like it,” I said. “Especially the flowers.” I was tempted to trace my fingers on

the texture of each and every flower petal, but I was afraid that I would harm the

painting.

“That’s going to the gallery,” he said. “Along with those.” He pointed to two bigger

canvases that leaned against the wall. He brought me a glass of Coke and sat

down

in

his

leather

chair.

Jack

curled

up

against

his

feet.

I drank some of my Coke. My dad stared at me peculiarly. “What are you planning

to do about school? I haven’t heard you talk much about it.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, mindful that I had started to fidget.

“You

left

abruptly,

right?”

he

asked.

“Yeah.”

“And

you

haven’t

been

back

since?”

“No,”

I

answered.

“It’s just,” he crossed his legs and shifted in his chair, “not once have you brought

it up. I figure you would’ve at least chosen your classes by now.”

I

sighed.

“What’s

wrong?”

he

asked.

“I’m

fine,”

I

lied.

“You’re

not

a

good

liar,

Finn.”

“I

know.”

“So,

why

the

glum

face?”

he

pressed.

“It’s just, I’m not looking forward to going back to school,” I said and paused. “To

tell you the truth, before the diner burned down, I was going to ask Nana if I could

stay on and continue to run things. I enjoyed it that much,” I said. “But then things

changed.”

I

frowned.

“That’s a lot of sacrifice and takes a serious commitment,” he said. He picked up

his

pipe

and

lit

it.

The smell of pipe tobacco filled the air. I hadn’t smelled this tobacco before–it

was

a

sweet

mix

of

peaches

and

vanilla.

“I knew what I would’ve given up, I mean with school and all. I didn’t have the

desire to go back. I didn’t want to. Actually, Dad, I dreaded it,” I confessed. “I

really, really loved running the diner. I even had plans to make some changes.”

His

eyebrows

lifted.

“What

kind

of

changes?”

I leaned forward and eagerly said, “I wanted to change the menu and serve

healthier food like more soups, salads and sandwiches. That’s what people

wanted.

Well,

that

and

Nana’s

pies.”

He sucked on his pipe. A ring of smoke rose above him. “Sounds like you put

some

thought

into

it.”

“A lot,” I replied. “I planned to serve cakes, brownies and cookies, too.”

“I thought you said people wanted healthy food,” he said with a skeptical

expression.

“They do. But for some reason, no one minds splurging on desserts and not

everyone likes pie even though Nana’s pies are so popular.” I sat back against

the couch cushion realizing that I had said that all in one breath.

“You

know

what’s

interesting?”

“What?”

“Your grandfather left me some money when he died.” He inhaled on his pipe

again.

“He

did?”

He nodded. “Quite a bit, too. Probably enough for you to start a business. Say a

bakery/cafe

perhaps?”

I

gave

him

a

perplexed

expression.

“Your

grandmother

is

having

the

diner

rebuilt,

right?”

“Yes,”

I

said.

“And

then

she’s

selling

it?”

“Uh

huh.”

“Well, with the money I have, you could get what you need to start the business

and get things you need like tables, chairs, inventory, and whatever else you

need. There’d probably be enough left you could use to pay her rent for the first

few months.” He stared at me, waiting for my wheels to stop spinning and for me

to

answer

him.

“Are

you

saying

what

I

think

you’re

saying?”

“Yes,”

he

said

calmly.

“Dad, that’s too generous. I can’t take the money Grandpa left for you. It’s yours,”

I said, feeling the pang in my heart, realizing my dream was almost within my

grasp

but

I

couldn’t

grab

it.

“It’s

yours,

Finn.

Let

me

give

this

to

you.”

“No,”

I

said.

“I

won’t

have

you

doing

it

out

of

guilt.”

“So I feel a little guilt. That doesn’t matter. I’m your father, and I wasn’t there for

a large part of your life. I want to do this, Finn. Let me do this.” He put his pipe

down and nervously tapped his fingers against the arm of the chair waiting for me

to make one of the biggest decisions of my life. It was as if time had stopped and

wouldn’t

begin

again

until

I

answered

him.

“I can’t.” I exhaled. My eyes began to water, overcome by the emotion of it all.

He quit tapping his fingers and said in a soft yet stern voice, “You can, Finn.