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“Are you hungry now?” He talks in the direction of the bag instead of looking at me.
Now I’m certain he has something to say, and I’m sensing he doesn’t want to say it. “No, it’s OK. I can wait.”
He finally turns to look at me. Seriousness falls over us, and I dread whatever he is seconds away from revealing. He takes a deep inhale and folds his arms behind his head, puffing out his chest to reveal a soft trail of hair past his belly button, disappearing under the waistband of his shorts. It takes everything in me to focus anywhere else.
Keeping his arms behind his head, he begins to speak. “I’ve played this conversation over and over in my head, and I can’t find the right words.” He opens his eyes, and a cloud of apprehension creeps in.
Here we go. The “I’m just not that into you” conversation.Once again, I read the situation completely wrong.
“Jackson. It’s fine, whatever you need to say.” I don’t mean for my words to cut so sharp, but I’ve been through this conversation one too many times. I’m ready to stack those bricks and rebuild my wall of protection.
His eyes widen and sadness settles into the creases of his expression. “Solia, listen. When I met you, I wasn’t looking for love or even a date. You simply appeared before me at the hardware store. I shouldn’t have brought your card back to you because while I convinced myself I was just being a good guy, I should’ve been honest about the pull I felt toward you at that moment. We hadn’t even talked, but something powerful drew me to you.” He stops, refocuses his breath, and closes his eyes again. I concentrate on his every word, trying not to anticipate the next sentence. It’s obvious he’s struggling.
The silence is deafening, and then the floodgates open …
“Almost one year ago, there was an accident. Trinity. She grew up in Meriden with us. She was part of our crew, like one of the guys. Our families were friends—cookouts, on the playground at school, sporting events—you name it, we were together. You ever see the movieThe Sandlot? It was like that—we were those kids. When we grew older and one of us didn’t have a homecoming date, we’d call dibs and beg her to go. There were so many great times.
“We were never anything but friends until last summer. Something changed. At first, I thought it was a mistake, risking our friendship. We both did, but emotions shifted and we saw each other from different angles. Things were good. We’d only been together a few months.”
He pauses and returns his hands to his knees and sits straight, his gaze off in the distance. “She wanted to go tubing, something she never got to do. Our families owned boats but never purchased extra accessories like that. They thought it was a waste of money. I, on the other hand, couldn’t wait to purchase the toys. It was a beautiful day on Labor Day weekend, so I knew it’d be busy, but we grew up here and knew every square inch of this lake. So Jay, Tyler, Ryan, and I packed the cooler and met Trinity and her friend Sara at the marina. Trinity was all smiles, her energy contagious. She and Sara cracked jokes, and everyone laughed and was having a great time.
“After cruising the lake, the girls wanted to go on the new tube I’d bought. We decided Jay would drive and the rest of us, me especially, would co-captain to let him know if one or both girls fell off. We went around and around, more times than I could count. The girls took turns going together and then separately. The yellow tube sailed through the wake from our boat and other vessels, sending the riders flying into the air, hair whipping in the breeze, their blue life jackets bouncing against the tube as they crashed into the water. Their laughs and shrieks echoed off the mountains and around the lake.
“They climbed back into the boat for a bit because their hands were sore from gripping the tube handles, so we pulled up along the sandbar on the west side. It’s a popular spot for boats to drop anchor and then boaters blast their speakers, swim, and just chill. We stayed for an hour, and before we headed back around the lake, Trinity asked to take one more ride on the tube. At first glance, I knew there were more boats out than when we’d first left the marina. But Trinity was convincing, and seeing her have so much fun made it hard to say no.
“She jumped on the tube for one last ride. I remember Tyler pulled the anchor from the sandbar and Ryan refastened the tube rope to the boat. I drove to make sure my engine didn’t scrape the bottom—there are some exceptionally shallow parts around the sandbar area.
“Once we got to the middle of the lake, out to the deep water, I handed Jay the wheel and I headed to the back to watch Trinity and signal if we needed to stop. Just like the rides before, I could hear Trinity’s squeals of joy and her smile never left her face. Jay was doing an awesome job driving with just enough speed to send her sailing over a wave, and the tube would come sailing back. Jay took a quick left turn, which he had done many times that day, sending the tube as far as the tow rope would allow to the right side of the boat. Trinity waved to us, letting us know she wanted more. Just as her hand went into the air, the tube hit a hard wake from another boat or Jet Ski, and it sent Trinity flying.”
Jackson rests his elbows on the table and digs his palms into his eye sockets. Tears begin to fall.
I sit frozen, sensing the pain take over his body, my breath held.
He doesn’t lift his head but continues, “I threw my hand in the air and yelled to Jay to slow the engine. Trinity was off the tube, and we needed to swing around and get her back to the boat, just as we had done several times that day. Jay did what I asked—he slowed to almost a complete stop and circled left to pick up Trinity. The bright yellow empty tube bounced in the water as it followed the boat, and Trinity bobbed in the distance, waving at us to pick her up.
“Then, between the two islands on the lake, I caught a glimpse of this orange speedboat. I heard it before I saw it. The music was blasting, and they were flying.” Jackson lifts his tear-stained face and looks directly at me. “I felt like my eyes were deceiving me because one minute I saw her and the next, she was gone. I remember screaming and turning in circles, thinking I lost where she was or maybe she swam a little or maybe she dipped her hair back into the water. The speedboat had flown by us from the direction where we last spotted Trinity.
“The rest is a complete blur. Our boat idled, but none of us could find her. The speedboat had stopped and pulled into the dock up ahead. The next thing I remember is being in the water, screaming and swimming to where I had last seen her. There were so many people in the water—I had no idea where they’d come from. Tyler threw me a life jacket. Someone next to me helped me into it. I couldn’t breathe. Everyone was screaming her name. I desperately wanted her to appear from somewhere, yell back at me, tell me she was OK.
“I honestly don’t know how long we were in the water. It felt like hours. Time froze. Our boat’s engine must have been off at that point because I remember Jay screaming and choking out water, saying he had her.
“At that point, the Lake Coast Guard was there. Someone called 911 because we could hear the sirens from every direction. I was far from where Jay was, but as soon as I looked at him, even with the distance between us, I knew she was gone. I hadn’t yelled quick enough when she fell into the water.
“Somehow I made it back to the boat and then to the hospital where paramedics transported Trinity. We were all there—my friends, family, her family—and then a doctor came out to deliver the news. She was gone … a split second is all it took. The speed, force, and direction in which that boat had hit killed her instantly. There was nothing anyone could do. My heart sank 183 feet to the bottom of the lake.” Jackson’s voice cuts, his words interrupted by deep sobs.
“In the weeks that followed, we found out the kids on the speedboat were here vacationing and had been drinking nonstop throughout the morning. They were drunk on the lake that day and never even spotted Trinity in the water. She didn’t stand a chance.
“We all blamed ourselves during those first few months. Jay tried to claim responsibility because he was driving. I blamed myself for even being out there that day, knowing the traffic would be heavy. I caved when she wanted to go out again on the tube because I saw how happy she was, so I was the one to say yes. Sara had egged her on to go again, and I’m sure she’ll forever wish she hadn’t.
“The months after were awful. Everyone was supportive. We had people checking on us, but I was numb. All I could think about was her family. The loss I had experienced was nothing compared to the pain they were going through. Despite their loss and anger, they still found it in their hearts to show kindness to me and the others. They never once blamed us. We grieved alongside them. For that, I will forever be grateful.
“They held the drivers of the speedboat responsible, but that changed nothing. She was gone, and the tragedy has forever connected us. We each have tried to move forward through the grief. Jay has had an extremely tough time.
“I … just kept replaying that moment in my head over and over again. She was right there, waiting for our boat to swing around to get her. She was smiling. Then she was just … gone. Everything was gone. The beauty of this place was gone. After that day, I avoided driving by the lake and looking at boats. I distanced myself from everyone and couldn’t handle being around the guys without thinking about the accident. It’s not like we talk about it because no one brings it up. It’s just there, this unspeakable sadness. I can’t shake it. I continue to work and go through the motions, but this place lost its magic. Every time someone sees me, their eyes sink. There’s no way to escape it. It became too much to handle.
“I decided I needed to get away from here, same as Trinity’s family, start over, not be reminded every single day of the accident. A couple months ago, I decided to move to New York where my parents are. I’ll still work in the family business but at the cider production end of things. My grandparents are supportive but would prefer I stay to run the orchard. I’m leaving Meriden at the end of August.” He wipes his eyes, dries his hands on his shorts, and reaches for me.
I choke back my tears and hold on tight. A million thoughts flood my head as I try to comprehend everything Jackson has shared. He looks into my eyes and more tears fall, like drops of rain I never saw forecasted.
