The Summer I Learned to Dive - By Shannon McCrimmon Page 0,39

out my phone and dialed their number. Nana answered. It was the first time I had ever lied to her and it felt completely wrong. But it would have felt worse leaving Meg in that condition. I hung up and leaned my aching head back against the head rest.

“You feel guilty,” he said.

“Yeah, really guilty. I’ve never lied to her before and now I feel awful,” I said.

“Well, at least you have a conscious,” he said. We drove the rest of the way in silence. He pulled into his driveway and turned off his engine. He lived in a double wide trailer in a questionable trailer park. If Dylan was the epitome of wealth, Jesse was the epitome of poverty. Jesse stared at me. “My dad’s in there. Just try to keep it down, it’s easier that way.” He didn’t have to say anything else. I knew what he meant.

“Okay,” I said quietly and opened up the car door. He carried Meg over his shoulder and unlocked his front door. Neighbors’ dogs barked in the background. I heard a couple arguing, using several curse words, in the trailer next to his.

We walked inside. The floors creaked with each step we took. I questioned the foundation, wondering if we were going to fall through the floor at any moment. The space was small and confining, obviously inhabited by males only. Decorating was not on the agenda. The living room consisted of an old faded beige couch and two very old recliners. A few pictures from when Jesse was a kid were framed and hung on the wall. I glanced at them, seeing that even then, he was absolutely beautiful. He laid Meg down gently on the couch. She mumbled something. I stooped down and stroked her hair. “What is it Meg?” I asked in vain. She rolled over on her other side and went back to sleep. I looked at Jesse helplessly.

“She’ll be out for a while. You need coffee to sober up,” he whispered gesturing for me to follow him to his kitchen. He opened a can of coffee and poured the grounds into the filter. He poured water into the coffee maker and it began to percolate. The aroma filled the room. I inhaled slowly.

“I love the smell of coffee,” I said. “It’s nostalgic for me but I don’t know why. I didn’t start drinking it until a few years ago.”

“If only it tasted as good as it smells,” he said.

“It does,” I protested. He laughed. The coffee pot beeped. He poured me a cup and knowingly added cream and sugar.

“How’d you know?” I asked.

“I’ve seen you drink it at the diner. You have a sweet tooth.”

“Oh,” I said surprised that he had paid that much attention to me. We sat down on the yellow vinyl chairs. The wooden table was scratched and worn.

“Why’d you drink tonight?” he asked sitting across from me, his hands rested under his chin.

I shrugged. “I don’t know,” I said ashamed. “Everyone was drinking and looked like they were having a good time. I guess I wanted to try it, to see what it felt like,” I admitted.

He rolled his eyes at me.

“What?” I asked.

“You’re too smart to do something just because everyone else is,” he said and stood up. He rummaged through his refrigerator and took out a gallon milk and chocolate syrup. He poured the two into a glass and took a huge gulp. He wiped the milk mustache off and smiled. “Chocolate milk, now that’s worth drinking. But getting drunk with Dylan what does that prove?”

“I wasn’t planning to get drunk.” I said glowering at him.

“You drank so much that you couldn’t drive Meg home. That’s what I call inebriation,” he said smugly.

“Okay. You win. I concede,” I said surrendering.

“Why do you like him anyway?” he asked.

“I don’t anymore. He’s a jerk,” I said.

“I could have told you that but you didn’t ask me,” he said. He took my empty cup. “Do you want more?”

“Please,” I said. He poured me another cup and fixed himself another chocolate milk. This time, he sipped it slowly. I stared into his blue eyes. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

“It’s not a big deal, Finn. It’s what friends do for each other.” He shrugged and then asked, “Was this the first party you’ve ever been to?”

I nodded and said “Yes” quietly, feeling as if I were confessing a deep, dark secret.

He looked at me, his head titled. His eyes moved around, showing that he was in deep