The Summer I Learned to Dive - By Shannon McCrimmon Page 0,7

asked me. She had a faint southern accent and spoke slowly, pronouncing every syllable.

“Graceville, South Carolina,” I said.

She looked as if she were reminiscing. “I haven’t been there in a very long time. I’m from that area you know. I’m going to see my daughter up there.” She opened up her purse and searched for something. She pulled out a picture and showed it to me proudly. “This is my granddaughter Beatrix and my daughter Margaret. Named after the British Royalty. Isn’t my granddaughter something?” she said still admiring the picture.

I nodded and said “yes” wondering if my grandparents would be the same way about me—if they would brag to complete strangers about their granddaughter. I hoped so. I was always envious of my friends on grandparents’ day at school. I was one of the few kids without a grandparent to bring to school and I hated it. My mother’s mother was still alive, but I would hardly consider her a grandparent. I had only met her once when I was a little girl. She wasn’t very warm and frightened me with her pointy nose and beetle-sized eyes. She had a scornful expression and kept telling me to sit still and keep my hands to myself. She criticized my mother telling her that I was too spoiled. Her house was dark and smelled like bleach. All of her furniture was covered in plastic. Thankfully, we never visited her again. My mother’s relationship with her was strained, way beyond the point of repair.

“We’ll have to sit next to each other. Strange types ride the bus you know. You look like a nice girl though,” she said. She smiled at me, her front tooth missing.

“I would like that,” I said relieved.

She talked constantly, as if she had not spoken to anyone in a long time. I listened to her and said very little. She didn’t seem to notice or mind. I learned her name was Elizabeth, another British royalty name, and that her husband had recently passed away. She was visiting her daughter and granddaughter in South Carolina to be with family because she was lonely. It had to be difficult for her to all of a sudden live by herself, after sharing half of her life with someone. I felt sorry for her, but knew I shouldn’t. Death was a part of life and at least she had been given the chance to love. I wondered if I would ever have that chance.

We boarded the bus. I helped Elizabeth get settled and sat down next to her. She talked for a little while longer, telling me stories about living abroad and in various unknown places in the US. I admired her sense of spirit, her ability to handle change so well. I had never been outside of Florida and had only ever lived in Tampa. I wanted to see what else was out there, to explore the unknown.

She fell asleep an hour later. It was eerily quiet on the bus. Most of the people were sleeping. The newlyweds I had seen kissing earlier sat in the back and whispered and giggled to each other incessantly. An older man coughed a loud hacking cough every now and again. The obese man who had snored in the bus station, sat behind me snoring even more loudly than before. His son kicked my seat. I turned around to glare at him, hoping it would make him stop. It worked for a while, and then he would do it again. I gave up trying. Another older man sitting in the row across from me talked quietly to himself. I tried not looking at him but it was hard to ignore him. He caught me staring and said something about it being the end of the world. I instantly turned my head facing the other direction. Sleeping was out of the question. Even the smallest of sounds was magnified. The bus engine hummed as we rode through the night. I would begin to nod off and fall asleep but would awaken by any sound I heard. A cough, a loud snore, giggling in the back, or talking, my anxiety amplified everything in the eery silence of the night. It had been an awful day and sleeping peacefully didn’t seem plausible.

I finally fell asleep for a short time. The sun had risen, shining light into the bus, its rays blinding me. The landscape changed dramatically. The bus had crossed into the state of Georgia. Everything about it