The Summer I Learned to Dive (5 page)

Chapter 5

I still didn’t feel like talking to my mom, but Nana persuaded me to call her. The last thing I wanted to do was hear her tell me more lies. For my entire life, I thought she knew what was best for me. That changed and I couldn’t fathom it ever going back to the way it used to be between us.

“Finn,” she said desperately. “I can’t believe you left in the middle of the night like that. Do you realize how dangerous that was?” she asked in an accusing tone.

“Mom, I didn’t call to be yelled at. Nana told me to call you to assure you I was fine,” I said, becoming frustrated.

“Oh, she did,” she said with a tone of sarcasm. “How nice of her. Well, it’s time you came home.”

“No.” I shook my head. “I’m not ready to come home yet. I will when I’m ready. Just give me space,” I tried to say with confidence. It was hard for me to challenge my mother.

“Well, I don’t think you know what is best for you,” she said.

“I do know what’s best for me. I don’t want to talk anymore about this.” I sighed through my nose. “I just wanted to call you to tell you I was safe and not ready to go back home.” It felt strange referring to Tampa as home now.

“I don’t think you are thinking this through.” Her tone of voice made me feel like a five year old again.

I sighed. “I am, Mom. I’ve got to go,” I said and hung up the phone before she could say anything else. I didn’t want to argue with her. It was difficult listening to her because she wasn’t talking to me, she was talking at me.

She immediately sent me a text telling me to come home. I turned off my phone wanting to ignore her for a little while longer. I sat down at the table in the kitchen with Nana and breathed heavily out loud. She stroked my arm gently. “Didn’t go well?” she asked, referring to the phone call.

“No. She wants me to come home,” I answered. “I’m just not ready for that. I just got here.” I looked at her, trying to gauge her reaction to see if she wanted me to stay, too.

She smiled at me. “I’m selfish and don’t want you to leave either.” She watched me curiously and saw that I kept looking around the room. I knew my grandfather was home, it was his day off of work.

“He’s outside doing yard work. You should go talk to him.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“He doesn’t know you. You have to take the first step with him,” she said, and I obsequiously headed outside.

Jesse was standing on a ladder scraping paint off the wooden siding. He didn’t see me, and I definitely didn’t want to make a point to say hi to him. I walked over to my grandfather. He was bent over, pulling a large dandelion out of the ground. The sun cast a shadow over me, revealing that I was standing right behind him.

“You here to watch or help?” he asked without looking at me.

“I...,” I couldn’t speak.

“How about you help. This isn’t a spectator sport,” he said, still pulling weeds from the ground.

I bent over and started pulling a weed out of the flower bed. It was lodged stubbornly in the ground. I exerted myself, trying in vain to get it out of the ground. He stood up and left me there to my own devices. I felt like he didn’t want to be around me. I wondered if we were ever going to develop a relationship.

“Here.” He threw gloves at me. “You’ll need these.” The pair hit me in the back of my head. I grimaced from the surprise. “You were supposed to catch those. Can’t you catch?” he asked irritated.

“Next time, tell me you’re throwing something then I’ll know to catch it,” I replied in an annoyed tone.

He laughed. “Sassy little thing, aren’t you?”

“No,” I mumbled something under my breath. He laughed again. I bent over and began pulling another weed. I gave up hope on the first one. It had found its permanent home.

“You need to pull from the root.” He demonstrated, grabbing a handful of weeds at once from their roots. He made it seem so effortless.

I nodded and continued pulling the weed, this time from its root. He didn’t speak to me. Instead, we pulled weeds for a couple of hours in silence. I was the expert at being silent, he just didn’t know that. I had lived in my own world for so many years; silence was an old friend of mine.

“It’s time to eat,” he said, interrupting my thoughts. “Jesse, we’re eating lunch!” he shouted. Jesse climbed down the ladder. He put on his t-shirt and followed us inside. He smiled at me as he wiped sweat off his forehead.

“It’s a scorcher out there,” my grandfather said to Nana, his tone opposite from when he spoke to me. He walked over to the sink and poured cool water on a cloth. He placed it on his pink neck.

“Your face is red. You’re supposed to be wearing a hat out there,” she said and touched his face.

She kissed him on the cheek. I admired their relationship. They were still affectionate after so many years and still in love. I wondered if my mom and dad had been the same way. I know that they had married young and went to high school together. In my mind, they were high school sweethearts, soul mates destined for each other the moment they met in freshman English class. I don’t know the true story of their meeting, of what caused the sparks. My mother never shared much with me about their relationship. It has always been easier for me to have a romantic picture of them.

We all sat down to eat lunch. The kitchen smelled of bacon. Nana had made BLT’s. I felt my grandfather staring at me as I ate. I tried not to look at him. Jesse sat next to me. His dark wavy hair was wet from sweat, his shirt soaked. He smelled good despite being outside all day.

“So Finn, have you ever had a job?” my grandfather asked.

“I volunteered at the American Cancer Society last summer.” I shrugged.

“What’d you do there?” he asked.

“Answered the phone, stuffed envelopes and filed,” I said. I bit into my sandwich.

“But you’ve never had a job where you got paid,” he continued.

“School preoccupied most of my time,” I said, suddenly feeling like I was on trial.

“When I was your age, I worked and went to school,” he said.

“It was different back in the olden days,” I said a little sarcastically, annoyed by his abrasive behavior. Nana and Jesse laughed.

“Leave her alone, Charlie,” she said. “Finn’s young. She’s got her whole life to work.” She smiled at me.

He ignored her. “You should work.”

“I will once I graduate from medical school,” I said. That had always been the plan anyway.

“That’s not the same. That’s white collar work, clean work. You need a job where you get your hands dirty.” He leaned forward, looking me square in the eye.

I folded my arms. “How is that going to help me?” I asked irritated.

“You want to be a doctor right?” He moved closer to me, intimidating me.

“Yes,” I said, almost afraid to answer him.

“A lot of your patients won’t have money and will be blue collar workers, the kind of work where you get your hands dirty. You need to be able to identify with them, rather than looking down at them like they’re nothing,” he said. Then he looked at me directly in the eyes, “I saw how you were pulling weeds, how you reacted to getting your hands dirty. You didn’t like it. If you don’t like that, then your patients will know you look down on them, too.” He stood up, towering over me.

“Charlie, that was harsh,” Nana said, trying to calm the situation.

“She needs to hear the truth, Lilly. That mother of hers has done her a disservice. Making her think that she’s too good to get a job. By the time Pete was sixteen, he worked at the grocery store and our diner. He was playing sports at the time and making good grades, too.” He looked at me and smirked. “She hasn’t even had one job and she’s eighteen.” 

“Charlie, that’s enough. I will not have you insulting her like that,” Nana said angrily.

“Fine. Let her never experience real life,” he said and threw his hands up the air.

I sat there quietly, too struck by what he said to say anything. I questioned everything my mother had taught me. She had always insisted that I didn’t need to get a job, that school was more important. Hearing him, what he said about experiencing life, hurt me but a small part of it made sense. I failed miserably in the social aspect, failing to make friends and never getting a boyfriend. I wasn’t one of those teenagers that worked at the fast food restaurant or the mall earning minimum wage. I wondered if I had failed in that aspect of my life, too?

“One of my waitresses just quit. How about you fill in for her till I find someone permanent?” he asked.

I hesitated. The idea of working for him did not appeal to me. But I wanted so badly to have a job, to see what it was like, to feel like everyone else my age.

“Humph, figures,” he said gruffly and left the room.

“I’ll start tomorrow!” I yelled loud enough for him to hear in the other room.

He snickered. “We’ll see how long you last!” he shouted back at me and closed the screen door, heading outside.

“You two are just alike. You’re both so stubborn,” Nana said. “Working for him is not going to be easy, just ask Jesse.”

Jesse laughed. “He’s not so bad, Finn.”

I looked at them both, my forehead wrinkled with worry thinking, what had I gotten myself into?

Chapter 6

The sound of his loud voice startled me, waking me up suddenly. “Time to rise and shine,” he said a bit sardonically.

I yawned and turned back over closing my eyes. I thought I was having a nightmare.

“Suit yourself. I guess I was right,” he scoffed.

I immediately sat up and opened my eyes. It wasn’t a nightmare.  “No, I’m coming. Give me a minute,” I said. I was determined to prove to him that I could do it.

“You have two minutes,” he ordered and left the room. I put on a pair of jeans and t-shirt, threw my hair in a pony tail and brushed my teeth. I heard the engine roar and ran down the stairs. “I’m coming!” I shouted frantically.

“Here’s a PB & J,” Nana said, handing me a wrapped sandwich.

I grabbed it and ran out to the car, seeing my grandfather sitting in the driver’s seat. He placed his foot on the accelerator and revved the engine even more. Gravel flew and dirt filled the air. He looked at his watch and then back at me. It looked like he said, “Times a ticking,” but I couldn’t tell for sure—the car engine muffled out his voice. Thankfully.

I rolled my eyes at him and opened the passenger door, quickly sitting down. He reversed the car and we were off toward the diner. The sun had just risen. It was barely light outside. I yawned and took a bite of my sandwich.

“If you had gotten up earlier, you’d be eating a better breakfast,” he said, watching me eat.

“This is fine.” The last thing I wanted to do was let him think he was right.

“After a few hours of working, you’re going to wish you had eaten better,” he added. He wouldn’t leave well enough alone. I thought about replying, but decided against it. He would always have the last word. We drove the rest of the way to the diner in silence.

We arrived at Lilly’s. I felt like I had stepped back in time. Red large letters spelling out Lilly’s Diner covered the front of the restaurant. A large vintage Lilly’s Diner sign stood on top of the roof and could be seen from a far distance.  There were windows everywhere with red awnings hovering over them. The diner was painted an egg yolk yellow. I was amazed. I had never seen anything like this in Tampa, nothing authentic anyway. There were franchise diners, but they paled in comparison. They were a generic wannabe version of this. This was the
real
thing.

This made me think of the diners that I read about in books. The type of places where waitresses wore pink uniforms and peculiar hats, chewing gum and shouting orders to the cook in the kitchen. A place where you could order a milkshake and it wasn’t some processed version, but a real genuine milkshake made from ice cream.

He unlocked the door and turned on the lights.  It smelled wonderful like chocolate chip cookies, French fries, and maple syrup. I couldn’t put a finger on the source of this pleasant aroma. It had to be a mixture of all three. No wonder people wanted to eat here.

The walls were painted a bright turquoise. Vintage signs adorned them. The inside of the diner was narrow, filled with red vinyl tufted booths and wooden tables on one side and a bar on the other. The bar stools were shiny cobalt blue; the counter a pale blue. Behind the bar was a pie case, coffee maker, a milkshake machine, and other things that I couldn’t recognize.

“Start the coffee and unwrap the pies,” he barked.

I touched one of the shiny blue barstools before walking behind the bar. A large window opened to the kitchen. I imagined myself standing behind the counter shouting orders to the kitchen saying to a customer, “What’ll it be?” I stopped daydreaming and turned around to face the enormous coffee pot.

It looked nothing like the coffee pot I had at home. For one thing, it was huge and another, I had no idea how much coffee to add for this size of a coffee pot. I estimated the amount and poured in the water. Who can screw up coffee, I thought. I opened the pie case and slowly unwrapped the pies. They looked delicious and perfect like images I saw in cooking magazines or cookbooks. The crusts were a near perfect golden brown. They smelled liked they looked, pleasant and mouth watering. If there was a pie heaven, this was it.

“What have you done?” he asked irritably.

“What?” I turned my head, looking at him. The coffee grounds overflowed into the pot.

“You’ve added too much coffee,” he said annoyed. He stood in front of the coffee pot and began to clean up the mess.

“I,” I began.

“This is how much you add,” he said slowly as if I were incapable of understanding him otherwise. He poured a measured amount of grounds into a filter.

“I’ve got it,” I snapped, grabbing the filter, placing it back on top of the coffee pot.

“Let’s hope so. Mess it up again, it’s coming out of your paycheck. Coffee doesn’t grow on trees,” he said gruffly and stalked back into the kitchen. 

The front door opened. I looked up and saw two girls about my age dressed in pink waitress uniforms. One was blonde with a cute round face and a short stylish haircut. She had on bright colored lipstick and big hoop earrings.

“Hannah, look we’ve got someone new,” the blonde said. “What’s your name?” she asked as she approached me.

“Finn,” I answered. “I’m Charlie’s granddaughter.”

She looked at me curiously and then at the brunette. “We didn’t know he had a granddaughter.”

“We’re reconnecting,” I said, purposely being vague, hoping that would keep her from asking more questions.

“Reconnecting. That sounds interesting. Have you been living abroad?” she asked. She moved closer to me, completely immersed.

“Something like that,” I said, pouring water into the coffee pot.

“I’m Meg. You’re adding too much water,” she said and stood next to me. “Always fill it up to here.” She pointed.

“Thanks. He just told me to do it and I wasn’t sure,” I replied.

She shrugged. “That’s Charlie for you.”

“We didn’t know you had a granddaughter, Charlie,” the brunette girl yelled toward the kitchen. “I’m Hannah. Meg’s older and much wiser sister,” she joked. I didn’t know if I should laugh or not. Meg rolled her eyes.  Hannah was stunningly beautiful. Her long dark hair was pulled into a perfect ponytail, her face naturally tan.

“Nice to meet you,” I smiled.

She analyzed me. “You need a uniform, Finn. Come on, follow me. There’s an extra one in the back.”

I followed her and Meg into a very small room with a few lockers. She took a uniform out from a locker and handed it to me. “It was Joanna’s, but she quit. She got married and moved to the middle of nowhere.” She laughed to herself. “I don’t know what could be more remote than here, though.” She looked at me, and I laughed. “You can put your pocketbook in one of these lockers.” 

She stood more than a few inches over me and had to weigh less than I did. She could have been a model, with her beautiful olive complexion and silky brown hair. There was definitely a resemblance between her and Meg. But Meg was more funky, more stylish. Hannah was more traditional and conservative. Meg’s make up was a little more severe and less natural looking than Hannah’s. I became self-conscious thinking of how I must have looked to them, like I had just rolled out of bed. My hair must have been a mess, still thrown up into a ponytail, my face a white shade of pale, without make up.

“We’ll give you some privacy while you put on your uniform. Just lock the door. Jesse will be here in a minute. You wouldn’t want him or your grandfather walking in on you,” Hannah smiled at me.

“I wouldn’t mind if Jesse walked in on me,” Meg joked before they left me alone.

I locked the door and took off my clothes and put on the uniform. It smelled like fabric softener. I gazed at my reflection in the mirror. I felt like a pink lollipop. I straightened my collar and tried fixing my hair, combing it with my fingers, placing it back into a neater, cleaner pony tail. I tugged on the dress again. It was a little short and a bit snug on my cleavage.  I unlocked the door and instantly bumped into Jesse.

“Sorry,” I said.

“No problem,” he responded and came into the room, not making eye contact with me. I turned my head and watched him place his backpack into a locker. He shut the door and looked up, seeing me staring at him. “I didn’t think you’d back out.”

“What?” I was confused by his remark.

“You’re just like him,” he said and chuckled quietly to himself.

I ignored him and immediately walked out to the front of the diner. I was nothing like Charlie. What did Jesse know? He had just met me.

Meg and Hannah were opening the blinds, letting the sunlight come in. I felt helpless and must have appeared that way.  Hannah came over to me. “Have you ever worked in a restaurant before?”

“No,” I answered.

“Just follow me around today. You’ll get the hang of it. You’ll be my shadow, okay,” she said and smiled encouragingly.

She was trying to be nice and I appreciated that. My grandfather would have left me to the wolves. “Thanks.” I smiled in return.

The first customer came in the restaurant. Hannah greeted him familiarly. “Same as always, Hank?”

He nodded and took off his cap, exposing a receding hair line. His head tanned, filled with brown freckles. He looked at me and winked. It took me by surprise which must have shown because he laughed. He smelled like a brewery. He sat down on one of the bar stools.

“Finn, this is Hank. Hank, this is Charlie’s granddaughter,” she said.

“Pleased to meet you.” He extended his hand. They were callused and rough. Years and years of hard work had definitely impacted them. His face was full of wrinkles, his skin tan and leathery.

“Finn, go fix him a cup of coffee. Black. I’ll put your order in Hank,” she said and stepped over to the window. “Give me an Adam and Eve on a raft!” she yelled.

I gave her a strange look. “That’s two poached eggs on toast,” she said to me.

I shook my head as if to say I understood, but learning diner lingo would be as challenging as learning a foreign language. I poured the coffee and brought it to his table.

His hands shook a little as he held his cup, sipping the coffee slowly. I had filled the cup too high. Some of the coffee flowed out onto the counter. “Sorry,” he said, looking down at it. He put the cup down and wiped the counter with a napkin.

“I’ll get it,” I said, grabbing a wet cloth and wiping up the mess.

A few more customers came in. I nervously looked around for Hannah. She was busy with another customer and motioned for me to seat them myself. I walked to the front door and greeted them.

“Hi, welcome to Lilly’s Diner.” I walked away, forgetting to tell them to follow me. I turned around and saw them bewildered standing by the front door.

“If you’ll just have a seat right here folks,” she said, coming to my rescue. I walked over to where she sat them and listened to her telling them about the day’s special.

“Thanks Hannah,” I whispered to her gratefully.

“I was new once. You’ll get the hang of it,” she said, making me feel better, more secure.

The day was a long one. Being on my feet for that amount of time wore me out and hurt. It was a pain beyond anything I had ever experienced. My feet felt like they were on fire, like someone had poured lighter fluid on them and then struck a match.  Waitressing was hard work. When the breakfast crowd left, the lunch crowd came in. I didn’t get a break. If the diner had been open for dinner, I know in all certainty that I would have never been able to last. I would have hobbled out the front door to die.

I sat down on one of the bar stools, taking off my shoes, seeing that the back of my heels were bleeding from newly formed blisters. I ached all over and would have to do this tomorrow and the next day and the next. I felt an enormous amount of dread.

“You need better shoes,” Hannah said, looking down at my feet. She sat next to me. Meg sat down on the other side of me.

“They hurt,” I said, squeezing my left foot, grimacing from the pain.

“It’s part of the job, Finn,” Hannah said, patting me on the back. “You’ll get used to it.”

“So Finn, what made you come to Graceville?” Meg asked.

“I wanted to get to know Charlie and Lilly,” I said.

“Charlie’s never mentioned you before.” She sucked on her straw, swallowing some of her Coke. “But that doesn’t mean anything. He tends to keep to himself a lot.”

“Well, we don’t really know each other. I haven’t seen him a long time,” I said, regretting that I had admitted that much information.

“I know what you mean. I haven’t seen my grandparents in forever,” she said unfazed by my comment. “So, did you just graduate from high school?” she asked, changing the subject. She moved closer to me, her elbows resting on the counter, her hand under her chin.

“Yes,” I said, unsure of how to continue making conversation. I can talk to anyone about books, but basic conversation was difficult for me. “Did you?” I asked her.

“Last year. I’m going to cosmetology school. Hannah is a year older than me. She’s in nursing school.” She took a sip of her Coke. “You’re hair color is amazing.” She touched my hair. “Is it natural?”

“Yes.” I was surprised by lack of boundaries. She didn’t have any problems with personal space.

“People pay big money to have that hair color,” she said. “It would look great in curls. You’ll have to let me curl it sometime,” she offered. I wasn’t good with this girl stuff. I had never curled my hair. I was fine letting it hang straight against my shoulders or up in a pony tail.

“That’s okay,” I said, forming a slight smile.

“I insist.”

“Thanks though.” I was trying to be polite.

“Suit yourself,” she said nonchalantly. She handed me containers of sugar and a bag filled with sugar. “Here, fill these up.” We began filling the sugar containers and refilling the ketchup bottles.