Page 3 of Diving In

But if I was being honest, I think subconsciously the real reason I never saw Jack in the same light after my brother’s death was because deep down, I blamed him. I blamed him for it all, and when I couldn’t face that head on, I masked it instead.

As the workday dragged on, the minutes feeling like hours, I pretended to work while actually sorting through all the emotions that I was feeling and trying to comprehend them one by one.

It had been a while since I’d thought about the past in such great detail. Sometimes it was just easier for me to keep moving forward instead of dwelling on what I couldn’t change, but after talking with my mom, it was like everything had resurfaced and now there was no suppressing it.

My time on Sullivan’s Island was an entirely different life. Almost as if I had watched it through a movie lens. Always fast-forwarding through the messy parts, pausing to remember the greatest scenes, and ejecting the movie completely when the pain became too unbearable, placing it neatly on a shelf where it’d stay for fourteen years.

I used to think about Fletch a lot, daily in fact, but life happened, and I realized that no matter how much I thought about him, he was never coming back. Death was weird, and losing someone at such a young age even more so. I remembered the moment when I had to decide who I was going to be: the sad little sister or the girl who seemed strong.I chose the latter.

Despite him being three years older, Fletcher was my best friend. He always looked out for me, protective in that classic older-brother type of way.

When I was in seventh grade, I hadn’t quite grown into my body yet, always comparing my squishy frame to the string bean ones of the other girls at school. One day, Fletcher came home from his job at the dive shop and proudly announced that he had saved up enough money to take me shopping.

It wasn’t that our parents didn’t buy us clothes, just that the ones I wanted weren’t in our budget. Mom leaned toward the budget-friendly options, but the girls at school didn’t havebudget-friendlyin their vocabulary. If it wasn’t Abercrombie, it wasn’t worthy, which obviously sounded so ridiculous now.

We’d spent all afternoon at the mall, Fletcher letting me try on as many things as I wanted, despite not wanting to be there in the first place. I must have tried on ten outfits, but none of them were up to par.

“Do you understand that this outfit must be perfect? I’ll never have the chance to impress Blair and her friends again,” I’d tried to explain to Fletcher.

Blair Warner was the itgirl of Sullivan’s Island. All the girls wanted to be her, and all the boys wanted to dateher. Me, I just wanted to be friends with her, wanted to feel like I belonged. I knew that if I could impress Blair Warner, I wouldn’t feel like such an outsider. I couldn’t be, not if Blair was my friend.

“Those girls will love you regardless of what clothes you’re wearing, and if they don’t, they’re not your friends,” he’d said.

“Fletch, I love you so much, but you’re so out of touch with middle school girls,” I’d huffed, walking back into the dressing room for what felt like the fiftieth time.

“Should I grab some popcorn?” he’d joked.

I’d ignored him and slipped on a casual red top and a white miniskirt that hit slightly above fingertip length. Gazing into the mirror, I’d actually smiled at my reflection.

I had thrown the velvet curtain open and screeched, “This isit!”

“You look great! They’re going to love it!”

That outfit had cost exactly $58.67, which was almost every penny Fletcher had saved, yet he hadn’t batted an eye when handing the cash over.

“Thank you, Fletch,” I’d said, wrapping my arms around his waist as we left the store.

“Always, G,” he’d replied as he returned my embrace.

I knew he’d never admit it, but he hadn’t been saving that money for me. It was supposed to be for the light blue surfboard he’d been eyeing. It wasn’t until he’d seen how desperate I was to fit in with my peers that he’d changed his mind. Because that was Fletcher. That was the kind of generosity he showed to the people he loved.

My own absentminded clicking of the keyboard brought me back to my office, and staring right at me was the Southwest Airlines website. I typed in the flight information I needed, round-trip from New York City to Charleston on July 2ndand returning home on July 4th. It was then that I realized I’d be in Sullivan’s Island for most of my birthday.

Fucking fantastic.

Watching the website load as I hit purchase, I had no choice but to acknowledge the knot of anxiety unraveling inside of me. I couldn’t believe I was actually doing this.

“Booked! You’re going to Sullivan’s Island, Georgia Windsor!”illuminated the computer screen, my phone simultaneously pinging with an email confirmation. Before putting my phone down, I forwarded the email to my mom like she’d asked.

The thought of being back on Sullivan’s Island without Fletcher was almost too much for me to process.

We did everything together, Fletcher and me.

I’d never forgotten the time Fletch thought it would be a good idea to break into the aquarium after it had closed to “tuck the penguins in for bed.” I was adamantly against the idea, but Fletch had a way of convincing me to do things I didn’t want to do.

Let’s just say it ended horribly, as I knew it would. I could still clearly recall waking up to Mr. Marlow standing over us, angrily yelling to get out of the penguin habitat. Fletcher and I did our best to keep straight faces, but we couldn’t control our giggles as we ran out.

Over the years, I’d found myself missing that feeling and the adrenaline that came along with it. The way he made me feel alive every second of every hour of every day, just by being there with me.

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