Page 2 of Diving In

I tried my best to sound tough, unaffected even, although it came out a little sassier than anticipated. “Oh, so you’re going then? To say your goodbyes?”

“Your dad and I said our goodbyes a long time ago, G. You know that,” she said steadily.

I’d never been sure what the final straw was in my parents’ marriage, but what I did know was that the arguing began shortly after my brother’s death. Losing a child changes you in ways that are impossible to explain, but I saw it in both my parents. I always heard stories about how loss brought people together, but in my case, losing my brother did the exact opposite. My parents slowlyfaded, first from themselves and then from each other, all while giving me a front row seat to the demise of their marriage.

I never had any doubts that they loved me, but I felt invisible at times, like they couldn’t see me anymore because they were constantly searching for the ghost of my brother. His death caused an irreparable fracture to our family as a whole, one that meant we would never be the same.

We would always be a family that was missing a piece.

Mom must’ve known I’d gotten lost in thought because she continued on, trying to explain herself. “G, I know you promised yourself you’d never go back to that island, but you and I both know this is something you need to do. How many times has your therapist suggested going back and getting closure?”

“Except that this isn’t on my terms,” I responded.

“You can’t controleverything, Georgia. How about you forget the bad for once and instead focus on the good of the island? The unforgettable summers that you and Fletch never wanted to end and all the happiness that took over every day when the sunlight seemed endless.”

Her words lingered as I sat in my tiny fifty-square-foot office, overlooking the hustle and bustle of New York City. The world around me seemed to stop, as if I had just pressed the pause button on my life. I could no longer hear the angry taxi drivers honking their horns, the screeching of brakes, or the pure chaos of the city.

Instead, all I could hear was the blood rushing straight to my head, making me woozy, and my heart roaring against my chest, trying to escape my rib cage and break free. And for the first time since moving to New York City, I could hear my own thoughts. The dark and scary ones, the ones I buried deep down, the ones I hoped would never be exposed again, but rather than quieting them this time, I listened a little harder.

It was as if I had opened the gate that was holding them captive in my head all these years. All the good memories—the very best ones—came barreling back into perspective, erasing the fights and the arguments and leaving brimming tears in their wake. Memories of us spending the entire summer going back and forth between Jack’s temporary job at the aquarium and The Scoop, the best ice cream shopever, rushed in. The bike rides, arcade games at the pier, hunting for crabs… It reminded me of everything positive and good.

“Remember when your dad convinced me to move to Sullivan’s Island and you all thought I’d lost my mind?”

I smiled. “You said, ‘As long as I get to paint the front door pink, I’m in.’”

“I would’ve made the same demand over and over again just to see your faces light up like it was Christmas morning when I actually painted the damn thing,” she muttered.

“I don’t even think you unpacked. That was quite literally the first thing you did when we got to the island,” I replied.

“Mellow Coral by Sherwin Williams,” she recalled.

Mom and Jack had been going to Sullivan’s Island since before either Fletcher or I were born, and once our annual trips began, we all knew it was only a matter of time until we were full-time residents.

Once he started seriously asking, it only took a couple of weeks for Jack to convince Mom to move to South Carolina permanently. I was six years old when we packed up everything we’d ever known and moved from the middle of nowhere Kansas to Sullivan’s Island, South Carolina. The most picture-perfect beach town there ever was. I remember thinking I was the luckiest girl in the world to grow up in absolute paradise.

“I’ll go,” I muttered, saying my decision out loud before I could overthink it.

“You will?” she questioned, pretending that wasn’t her intention all along. Mom always had a way of knowing exactly how to get her way, and I knew this situation was no different.

“I will,” I said.

“You’re the best, honey. I know your dad and I always had our own issues, but I really do believe this should be done by you. Let me know your flight info once it’s booked. I’m here if you need anything. I love you,” Mom praised me.

“I love you too,” I said.

Then, just like that, she hung up. As if she didn’t just tell me that Jack had died, or that she now expected me to go back to the one place I promised myself I would never return: Sullivan’s Island.

CHAPTER 2

My office chair squeaked as I shifted my body, rolling back toward my desk. It was cold as I laid my arms down, resting one hand on my keyboard and the other on my mouse. I started clicking aimlessly, opening emails and doing my best to keep my mind moving forward but finding it damn near impossible to keep it from reminiscing.

I honestly felt a bit relieved when my parents finally sat me down and said they were getting a divorce—growing apart, they’d called it. Sullivan’s Island was always Jack’s thing, so I knew this meant Mom would leave and return home to Kansas. And without a doubt, I knew I was going with her. I was getting away from the island and away from my dad who hadn’t really been a dad at all after the death of my brother, away from the water I hated so much, but mostly away from the constant reminders of Fletcher.

I handled Fletch’s death in my own way, which looked a lot like not ever actually “handling” anything at all. Instead, I did what I do best: I took control. I closed off everything and everyone. I changed. I stopped hanging out with my friends. I went from being a sociable, friendly person who everyone loved, to a complete outsider. I became reserved, shut off from the world around me. I kept my head down and bided my time until I could finally get off Sullivan’s Island for good, because everywhere I went, I saw him. I saw Fletcher. He haunted all my favorite places—the beach, the aquarium, the pier, even the local ice cream shop.

The Scoop wasourplace, and I hadn’t returned since his death. I just couldn’t bring myself to walk through those doors. Ms. Nelson owned and ran the place, and she was always the sweetest little lady. She was in her late 60’s back then, and I still had days when I caught myself wondering if she was still alive. If she wasn’t, then who ran the place? Who filled her shoes behind that ice cream counter? I’m confident that no one could replace the warm smile that was permanently planted on her face, because it was simply a part of her, a part of that store. She was truly something magical, one of those humans who left an impression that you’d never forget, no matter how long it had been.

Once I left the island, I not only grew apart from my old self, but I also grew apart from Jack. Maybe it was inevitable, maybe it would’ve happened regardless of our shitty circumstances, or maybe it was the fact that Jack reminded me of Fletcher.The way he walked, the way he talked… It was like looking at an older version of my brother, one that I would never get to experience, one that Fletcher would never get the chance to become.

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