anything.
I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down with them. My grandfather sipped on his coffee, looking at me skeptically. He sat across from Jesse.
“Ya’ll going to Dixon State Park?” he asked.
“Yes sir,” Jesse said.
“Well, have her back before it gets dark. You don’t need to be in the woods at night, not with all the coyotes out,” he said.
“Coyotes?” I asked with trepidation.
Jesse looked at me. “They don’t come out during the day. It’s the bears we need to worry about.”
“Bears?” I swallowed. They all laughed. I looked at them bewildered. Bears are not a funny subject matter. My face must have gotten more pale than usual because Nana stopped laughing.
“Finn, we’re just teasing you,” she said trying to appease me.
“Oh, I know,” I lied, my voice nearly broken.
“No really. There aren’t any bears at Dixon,” she said reassuringly. I breathed a sigh of relief.
I listened to the three of them talk as I ate breakfast. Jesse spoke so freely to my grandparents. There was no pretending with him. I could tell that my grandfather was especially fond of Jesse. The way he acted around him, it was very paternal. I’ve never discussed with Jesse what I saw that night at the bowling abbey, that his dad was drunk. The night I was over there trying to nurse Meg, his father had drank so much he was passed out cold in his bedroom. Jesse didn’t try to cover for his father, but he also didn’t make a point to bring it to my attention either. I think he decided it is what it is—that his father is a drunk and there is nothing he can do about it. I don’t know what I would have done if I had grown up in similar circumstances. My mother rarely touched a drink; she was very straight laced and expected me to be the same way. She raised me to believe that the people who did these things were bad, nefarious people. But how can Jesse’s dad be so bad if Jesse is so good? Does his weakness for alcohol make him a bad person or just someone who is frail and can’t cope?
Jesse saw that I was in deep thought. He looked at me and asked, “Are you ready to go?”
“Sure,” I said. I stood up and took my plate to the sink, rinsed it and placed it in the dish washer.
Nana handed me a small cooler. “I thought you two may want lunch later. Have fun,” she said to us. Looking at Jesse she said, “Take care of our girl.” She wrapped her arms around me.
“I will, I promise,” he said. He took the cooler out of my hand and walked toward the front door. My grandfather whispered something in his ear and Jesse nodded seriously.
I plopped down on Jesse’s passenger seat. He turned on his CD player, jazz music blared in the background.
“Who’s this?” I asked.
“Nina Simone. She’s from North Carolina. She’s a classic,” he said.
“I like her,” I said listening intently to her soothing voice, to the deep lyrics and words of her song.
“Well, you have good taste then,” he said teasingly.
We drove the rest of the way listening to music. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of the scenery. Emerald green pastures filled with yellow and pink wildflowers; belted cows and billy goats chewing on the long blades of grass; the warm tepid breeze putting everything in motion; the views of the enormous majestic mountains. The sky was cloudless and a perfect blue. The air was crisp and clean. I inhaled instantly feeling like a dog sticking its head out of the car window for a long Sunday drive but I couldn’t contain myself. For eighteen years, I had lived in the same place, with no exposure to anything different, always the same. Being in another territory, in a different environment, it made me curious. I wanted to explore more. I felt like I was home, like I was meant to be here and I questioned whether I ever wanted to leave.
We reached Dixon State Park’s parking lot. It was more of a gravel makeshift lot. There was a large sign created by the Parks and Recreation Authority warning people of bears, being respectful to the environment, and encouraging hikers to complete an information card in case you got lost. I gulped nervously when I read all of this. Jesse touched my shoulder lightly. “They have to write those things for the idiots,” he said.