Read The Year I Almost Drowned Online
Authors: Shannon McCrimmon
and mouthed “stop,” trying to calm him. He ran his fingers though his dark hair.
“They have to know something by now.” He folded his arms against his chest,
standing
in
a
defiant
stance.
I moved to an empty chair and sat down. “Finn, don’t you want to go home and
rest a little?” Nana asked, standing over me. She touched my cheeks, her
expression
was
thoughtful.
“No.” I shook my head. “I’m not going anywhere until I see Jesse,” I said. “Can
one
of
you
call
Mom
and
let
her
know
I’m
okay.”
“I
will,”
my
dad
said.
“I’ll
call
her
for
you,
Finn.”
“Thank
you,”
I
mouthed
to
him.
He kissed me on the cheek and left the room. Nana and Meg sat down next to
me. Hannah gave me a warm hopeful smile and watched as Matt continued to
pace the entire room. Jesse’s uncle stood against the wall watching the television
as it blared the twenty-four hour news. We all sat quietly and said nothing. Jesse
was
on
everyone’s
minds.
“Mr.
Dunne,”
a
hospital
employee
said.
“Yes,” Jesse’s uncle answered, as everyone stood up and moved closer to her.
“We have some news about your nephew. He sustained a severe second degree
burn on his fore arm. He won’t need skin grafting and is expected to fully recover
within eight weeks. They’re more concerned about the amount of smoke he
inhaled and are keeping him overnight to monitor him. He’s been moved to room
232.”
I felt a major sense of relief like the whole world had been lifted off of my
shoulders.
“Can
we
see
him?”
Matt
asked.
“Yes,”
she
answered.
We didn’t hesitate for even a second and moved in haste toward the elevator. I
impatiently hit the “up” button several times in frustration. I wanted to see him. I
had
to
see
him.
The elevator bell rang as the six of us squeezed into the small, confining space.
I hit the second floor button, and the door closed. The elevator slowly made its
way to the second floor. It would have been faster if I had run up the stairs, I
thought. We exited the elevator and searched for room 232, which was all the
way
down
the
long
corridor.
One-by-one, we entered his hospital room. Jesse lay on the bed, oxygen tubes
running through his nose, an IV hooked into his one arm, his eyes barely open.
His other arm was completely covered in white bandages. He was drained of all
color,
the
palest
I’d
ever
seen
him.
“You look like hell,” Matt nervously teased. Jesse looked awful, frail, not like his
usual
strong
self.
“Thanks,” Jesse said weakly, his voice hoarse and scratchy. “Your mug is not so
great,
either.”
Nana shook her head and gently touched the top of Jesse’s head. “My sweet boy,
we
were
so
worried,”
she
said.
He smiled weakly and then looked over at me. “Are you okay, Finn?” he asked
me. There he was asking how I was, when he was the one on lying on that
hospital
bed.
He
was
the
one
in
pain.
“I’m
fine.
It’s
you
we’re
all
worried
about.”
“I’m good,” he lied and then coughed again. “Have y’all been waiting around al
this time for me? You should all go home and get some rest. It’s late.”
“We want to stay here with you,” Meg insisted and Hannah nodded her head in
agreement.
“You’ll have plenty of time for that. They said I can’t go back to work for eight
weeks.” He coughed and a low rattle hummed from the depths of his sternum. I
watched as his chest rose and then fell flat. “I’m pretty beat. Y’all go on home and
get
some
rest.”
Everyone relented, complying with Jesse’s wishes and said their goodbyes. “Let
me talk to him for a minute,” I whispered to Nana as we stood near the door about
to exit. She gave me an understanding nod and walked out the door, giving us
our privacy. I moved toward him and sat in the chair beside his bed.
I laid my hand on top of his palm. “I’m so glad you are all right,” I said. “Jesse, I
need to know. Why did you go in the diner,?” I was desperate to know.
He took another deep sounding breath. His tired eyes searched mine. “I thought
you
were
in
there,
Finn.”
“What?”
I
asked
in
disbelief.
“Why?”
“I was on my way to the pool and saw the fire. The whole place was up in flames.
Then I saw my father lying outside on the ground in front of the diner. He kept
saying your name over and over again. I asked him where you were and he just
kept saying your name. He was so drunk. I thought you were in there,” he said
and grimaced. “I ran inside the diner and searched for you. The smoke was so
thick. It was hard to see anything. I couldn’t find you and worried you had passed
out from the fire.” He gently squeezed my hand and continued, “The heat was so
intense and the fire was spreading so fast. It was getting hard to breathe.
Everything in the back of the diner was on fire and coming at me with full force. I
knew I couldn’t save you. It was too late. I thought I had lost you,” he said quietly,
his lips twisted into a frown. “It was the one of the worst moments in my life, short
of losing my mom and Charlie. The thought of losing you, Finn,...” He trailed off
and paused for a minute and then said, “As I walked through the thick cloud of
smoke toward the door, flames were spreading all over and caught onto my arm.
I ran outside and rolled onto the ground to get them off of me.”
I leaned down and lay my head against his heart. Tears fell from my eyes. “It’s
my fault. You got hurt because of me. If you hadn’t gone in there,” I began. I
hadn’t
felt
that
much
guilt
since
my
grandfather
died.
He stroked my hair with his hand. “Shh,” he said soothingly. “It’s not your fault.
You
and
your
martyrdom.”
He
sighed.
I shot up and looked at him. “Yes it is,” I protested. “If I had just cooked for your
dad when he came in the diner,” I shook my head “the fire wouldn’t have started
and
you
wouldn’t
have
gotten
hurt.”
His forehead creased, and he gave me a bewildered look. “Cook for my father?”
“He came in when we were closed and wanted something to eat, and I just sent
him away when I should have cooked for him,” I cried. “I didn’t know he was so
hungry. I just thought he was drunk.” I wiped the tears from my eyes. “He broke
into the diner and started to cook. I tried to warn him, to tell him not to add so
much
grease.”
His head tilted forward, his eyebrows burrowed. “He started the fire?”
“Yeah,” I breathed. “But not on purpose, Jesse.” I stared into his eyes, trying to
get him to see reason, but I could see the look of contempt in his light blue eyes.
“All that oil started a grease fire,” I paused, “and he poured water on it. It wasn’t
his
fault,
Jesse.
He
didn’t
know
what
he
was
doing.”
“Quit making excuses for him,” he growled and let go of my hand. “He’s my father,
Finn, and he could’ve killed us both!” he shouted. “He. Burned. Down. The. Diner!
Not you. He’s a lousy drunk that doesn’t care about anyone but himself.” He
placed his hand up to his forehead and ran it down his tense face, his lips turned
down.
“How
will
you
ever
forgive
me?”
“Forgive you?” I said in disbelief. “There’s nothing to forgive.”
“He’s my father, Finn. And every time you see me, you’ll think about the fact that
he’s responsible for burning down your grandfather’s business and that he almost
killed
you.”
His
facial
expression
was
stressed.
“You’re wrong, Jesse. You’re so wrong.” I reached for him, carefully touching him.
“Maybe you don’t feel that way tonight, but in time you’ll resent me for being
related to him. You’ll blame me for what he did. Finn, what has he done!” he cried,
pounding his fist against the bed, and wincing in agony at the same time.
“Jesse,” I said. “Please,” I begged. “I would never blame you. You have to know
that.”
“Go home and get some rest, Finn. You need it.” He moved his arm so that I was
no
longer
touching
it
and
stared
in
the
opposite
direction.
He truly believed I would blame him for his father’s actions. Never, ever, would I
consider doing that. He had to know that. “But,” I started.
“Goodnight,
Finn,”
he
cut
me
off.
I got up from the chair and headed toward the door. I took one last look at him,
lying helplessly on that bed, in excruciating pain, both physically and mentally.
My heart felt the weight of heaviness, and I wondered if I had lost Jesse Quinn
for good.
I slept and slept and slept. Several hours. Almost a full day. My eyelids felt heavy.
It was as if a brick had been dropped on my chest, like my muscles became an
elastic rubber band and had been stretched beyond their capacity. I slowly got
up, with a lot of effort, and shuffled my way through my room toward the door.
Now
I
knew
how
old
people
felt.
As I navigated through the dark room, I hit my big toe on the corner of my desk.
“Ow!”
I
whined.
I could hear crickets chirping outside. Nana’s voice carried all the way upstairs.
Every sound from downstairs bounced off of the walls and found its way dead
center into my room. I opened the creaking door, letting the light from the hallway
in,
and
headed
down
the
stairs.
“There’s Sleeping Beauty,” Nana said to me as I slogged toward her. “For
someone who just slept twenty-four hours, you sure look beat.”
I yawned. “I am.” I sat down next to her on the couch and nuzzled as close as I
could get to her. She smelled like strawberries. “Who were you talking to?”
“My insurance rep.” She twisted her lips to the side. “He talks a lot. It’s hard to
get a word in edge-wise.”
“What’d he say?” I lay my head on her shoulder and stared at the teal green wall–
Nana’s latest endeavor. Before it was teal green, it was bright orange. The fact
that
she
was
painting
the
walls
again
was
a
good
sign.
“This and that,” she muttered. She ran her fingers through my unkempt, tangled
hair,
putting
me
in
a
trance
like
state.
“Like...,” I murmured.
“We’re going to be okay,” she answered.
I lifted my head from her shoulder. “Meaning?”
“I mean, I’ll get plenty of money from the insurance company. It’s pocket change,
really. Your grandfather was the most frugal man I have ever known, but you
knew that already,” she said, and I nodded in agreement. “Anyway, we had lots
of money saved up, lots and lots, enough for me to live on and then some. Plus,
we’ll get more when I rebuild the diner and then sell it and the property it’s on.”
“To
Mike
Wyatt,
right?”
I
knew.
Somehow
I
just
knew.
“Probably,” her voice trailed. “I’m sure he’ll want to buy it once it’s rebuilt. We’d
have a harder time selling it if we left the property bare.”
We both sighed and propped our feet on top of the coffee table. We leaned back
against the couch cushions and just sat there, saying nothing, thinking.
She looked in my direction. “Something’s buggin’ you. I can tell. What is it?”
“Nothing,”
I
lied.
She
looked
at
me
incredulously.
“Everything.”
I
sighed.
She shifted her body and was now facing me sitting cross legged. For someone
in their late sixties, Nana was incredibly flexible. “Like?” she probed.
I sat up and turned to the side so I could look directly at her. “I miss Grandpa. I