Snapshot: Chapter 17

Dex ordered enough food to feed the whole block. I sampled everything and it has me reconsidering the dress I wore. Pretty, but not remotely forgiving.

With my hands strewn across my full belly, I sink back into Dex’s couch. He’s busy in the kitchen, repacking leftovers and putting dishes in the sink, refusing to let me or Dottie help. I’m so stuffed I can barely move. I’m in a trance, watching the little fish in his giant aquarium under the low lights. It’s past eight o’clock, so the tank lights automatically switched to dim. The fish look so still, it’s like they are sleeping.

“He’s become quite domestic since he’s moved out here,” Dottie says, taking a small sip of her red wine.

“Dex doesn’t do dishes at home?”

Dottie points to Dex’s giant aquarium in front of us. “This kind of thing usually ate up most of his chore time.”

The first time I saw this tank was the night I met Dex. I didn’t even realize it was supposed to be a giant aquarium. I thought it was art—some sort of glass wall. But after a few weeks, Dex’s tank pieces came in. He had the filters, pumps, and lights meticulously installed. Once his masterpiece was set up, he never threw a rowdy party like that again.

“There’s another one in the bedroom,” I say. “He let me feed the Damselfish up there once. They are prissy little things. They eat live mealworms for clean protein and get daily vitamins through an eyedropper. They are healthier than I am.” I laugh thinking about the rundown Dex gave me with their feeding schedule and how to gauge their health by watching their swim patterns.

“Damselfish,” Dottie muses.

“Is that the big, flat black one?”

“Oh, no, no. That’s his Black Tang, Zeus. He’s very fond of that one. The way he sweettalks Zeus is going to cause that poor fish lots of problems. Everyone is going to gang up on Zeus out of jealousy. The tank upstairs is a little angsty. I keep telling him he should move Zeus down here, but for some reason, he keeps all the smaller fish down here. To be honest, they are less impressive.”

“See that little red one?” Dottie says, pointing to the bright red fish that seems to be staring right back at us.

“The Cherry Barb?”

Dottie smiles. “Yes. It’s his favorite. He puts one in every single tank.”

“Really?” I ask, squinting at the fish. It’s not that they aren’t cute. But they aren’t that impressive in comparison to their tankmates or the exotic beauties upstairs.

“It was the first fish his mother bought him. They are small and easy-going enough for a five-year-old to care for.”

“And yet I’ve still managed to lose so many,” Dex says, startling me. I didn’t notice him approach. He sets a tray of drinks down. Coffee for me and Dottie, and a glass full of amber liquid for him. He settles on the couch next to me and hands me a cup of coffee. “Lots of cream and sugar for you.” After grabbing his glass, he slides the tray closer to Dottie. “Black for you, Grandma. Careful, the mug is hot.”

“Thank you, honey,” she says, sitting back and letting the burning cup cool.

I take a small sip and give Dex an appreciative smile. “It’s perfect.” He gives me a quick flash of a smile, but it’s gone so fast, it seems something’s bothering him. “I take it your mom likes aquariums, too?”

“She did.” His response is flat and he doesn’t elaborate. It’s apparent from the anguish on his face that this is a tough topic for Dex.

“Dex’s mom, my daughter Melody, passed away when she was twenty-nine,” Dottie clarifies.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, unable to find bigger, better words to convey my feelings.

“Thank you. It happened a long time ago,” Dottie assures me. She points to the tank at the little red fish. “But we try to keep parts of her close.”

“Len, I’ve been wondering all night…what’s in that old shoebox?” Dex looks over his shoulder at the kitchen island, unsubtly changing the conversation. “Because I’m half worried you bought me a hamster or something.”

“Oh! Geez, I almost forgot.” He’s blocking me into the sectional, so I pat his knee. “Would you grab it for me?”

He’s on his feet immediately, crossing the living room to fetch the box. He shakes it aggressively, then holds it up to his ear.

“Dude! Careful,” I squall. “What if it was a hamster?”

He laughs. “Sounds like paper,” Dex says as he hands the box over.

Setting it on the table, I open the lid so it’s facing Dottie. “Dex told me you and Jacob were friends a long time ago. After he passed, I saved some of this stuff from the dive shop. Mostly just pictures and notes he’d jot down. I thought maybe you’d like a little insight into his later life. Seemed like you two were close once if you felt compelled to buy his dive shop?”

“Thank you, Lennox. This is…” Dottie trails off as she slides the box into her lap. She handles it so delicately, you’d think it was a baby. Holding up the folded stack of papers on top, she murmurs, “This says Business Plan. Was this an idea of Jacob’s?”

“Oh, that’s my college admissions essay. Jacob helped me.” I slide my coffee cup aside and scoot closer to Dottie. “For my college application to UNLV, Jacob had this idea to write out a legitimate business plan instead of a typical admission essay. Just to stand out. So, I made all these big pretend plans for the dive shop like I was actually planning a future for Discover Dives. He wrote a statement as the owner claiming he was going to implement my plan and had intended to give me a percentage of the profits. That little stunt got me into business school and a partial academic scholarship. Jacob was so proud of me that he kept a copy of the plan.”

Dottie flips through the pages, reading line by line. “You and Jacob did all this together?”

“It was just a cute bonding thing.” Cute? Why did I say that? I hate that term so much. Cute is for puppies and babies, and it always feels aggressively condescending when people use it against me. Although, from what I understand Dottie runs a pretty big company. This might indeed seem cute to her.

“Did Jacob implement any of this?”

“No, he never got the chance. And anyway, it wasn’t a real plan, just a way to get me into a good college.”

Dottie’s eyes snap to mine, and she surveys my face. “But this business plan is very good. You wrote this when you were eighteen?”

I nod. “Just about.”

“Do you know how many pitches and business plans come across my desk? All from professionals who never once think to include ethical business practices, checks and balance systems, and giving back to the community in their five-year plans. You wrote this based on how the business could better society instead of simply how the business could drive revenue. That takes maturity far beyond your years, Lennox. Very impressive. I have a feeling you were a natural in your business ethics classes?”

I feel the flicker of shame I always do when this topic comes up. “I never ended up going to school. My scholarship wasn’t enough, and my student loans got messed up. I… I couldn’t afford it.”

“Oh, that’s such a shame,” Dottie says. “It’s impossible to afford school for many students these days. It wasn’t like that in my generation.”

I shrug like it doesn’t bother me. “All for the best. I probably would’ve failed out. Numbers and statistics aren’t my strength. I’ve heard those pesky things are necessary in business school.” I shoot her a playful wink.

“Sweetheart, I’ve been in business for a very long time. Numbers aren’t what you need to be a successful leader,” Dottie says, setting the box down.

“What is it, then?”

“Heart and resilience,” Dottie answers. “And you, Lennox, seem to have both.”

I turn to Dex and lift my brows. “Hear that? I think your grandma likes me.”

Dottie chuckles as she continues to sift through the box. Dex reaches over and pats my knee. “I think you won her over. Clever.”

It wasn’t strategic. I was just interested to learn Jacob had friends. He was such a warm spirit, yet a lone wolf. It didn’t make sense to me. I was relieved there were people who cared enough to seek him out eventually. Even if it was long overdue.

“These are incredible,” Dottie says, holding up each picture and article. Some of the images are crystal clear. Underwater photos of giant sea turtles and manta rays. There are a few news articles about ocean anomalies that Jacob witnessed. Rare marine life sightings, environmental movements to protect the ocean, and mass community cleanups of oil spills and garbage dumping. Jacob always volunteered when he could.

As she nears the bottom half of the box, the pictures become poorer quality, faded, and in desperate need of restoration. Evidence of the antiquated photography equipment used at the time.

“He lived a really full life,” Dottie murmurs. “What was he like? Happy? Was he in love?”

“I only knew him for about three years before he passed away. From what I know, he was never married. No children,” I answer.

Dottie’s eyes are down, scanning images slowly, like she’s savoring them. “Marriage doesn’t always mean happy…or in love.”

I hold out my hands. “Actually, may I see the box? I might know…”

Setting the box on the table, I remove the photos and clippings in small chunks, laying them out on the coffee table. I think it’s at the bottom. “Ah, here,” I say, finding the image that’s paperclipped to a folded-up piece of paper. I carefully detach the flimsy half-picture of a woman sitting on a dock. Her back is turned, so all you can see is her feminine silhouette and long, dark hair hanging in a thick braid down her back. “Be careful, it’s delicate,” I say, handing the photo to Dottie. “My cousin Finn has access to the photo lab at UNLV, and he said he could restore it. But it’d be so much better if we had the other half.”

“Maybe it’s in there,” Dex says, leaning forward, starting to gently lay out the images one by one.

“No, I’ve looked. I think it’s with her. Daisy.”

“What did you say?” Dottie asks in an urgent whisper. “Who?”

“Daisy.” I hold up the square, folded note in my hand. “That’s what I nicknamed her. I don’t know her real name. He wrote this letter for her. Or maybe it’s a poem. I’m not sure. But I always imagined this was his long-lost sweetheart. I asked him about it once, but he told me Daisy died. You should’ve seen the look on his face. I couldn’t pull at that thread. Seems like it would’ve broken him.”

Tears fill her eyes as she scours the photo. “Will you read it? My eyes are not so good without my reading glasses.” I hardly believe that. She read the tiny print of the business plan just fine. It seems like Dottie needs my help, though. So, I unfold the note and read her the short poem:

Daisies, daisies, daisies,

They follow me into the ocean. They haunt my sweetest dreams.

My heart is detached from my body, lying in a field of white flowers.

A long, full life is a curse.

Every single breath that staves off death keeps me away from you.

Pink lips. Rosy cheeks.

I let you go in this life.

But you’re mine in the next.

I promise.

“Len,” Dex says softly. “Maybe we should stop.”

I look at him. “I’m done. That’s the whole poem.”

“Look,” he says, gesturing to Dottie.

I turn to see her face tear-streaked, the picture pressed tightly against her heart, ignoring my warning to be careful. Her head is hung, and she’s silently sobbing.

“Grandma? Are you okay?”

She inhales and exhales deeply a few times as she nods. Surprisingly, her makeup didn’t even move. She gently dabs her cheeks with the back of her hand. After a deep sniffle, she’s completely recomposed. Dottie Hessler is elegant even in the throes of a meltdown.

“I’m sorry. Just years of emotions bubbling to the surface. That’s what happens when you go gray. Too much bottled up.” She traces her hand over her perfectly curled hair, but there’s not one gray hair on her head. Her hair is dyed a rich black. “I’m okay. I’m just sad I never got to say goodbye to my friend.”

“Grandma, can I get you some water?”

“I’m fine, Dex. Thank you. I think it’s well past my bedtime, though. I’m still on East Coast hours. I think I’ll excuse myself for the evening, but Lennox?”

“Yes?”

“I know it’s a tremendous thing to ask but may I keep this picture?”

I nod eagerly. “Dottie, you can keep whatever you like. I brought it all for you. Do you want me to sort out the pictures? Or do you want⁠—”

“Then I want it all,” she says with firm resolve. “If I may… I want every single piece, if you’re offering.”

I nod again. “Of course.”

“Grandma, I’ll clean all this up, and we’ll leave it for you. You just get some rest,” Dex instructs.

“Okay, yes,” she breathes out. But she doesn’t replace the cut polaroid. She holds it in her palm as she shuffles around the coffee table to stand in front of me. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to meet you, Lennox. Thank you for these memories, and thank you for being such a good friend to my precious grandson.” Stunning me, she kisses me on the cheek. The smell of her fancy French perfume envelops us both as I hold my cheek, fighting the urge to cry. I’m not even sure why. I think she transferred everything she was feeling when we touched, and now my heart aches miserably.

We sit in silence until Dottie is up the stairs, and I hear a bedroom door gently shut.

“She liked you, I promise. I have no idea what that was. She’s been having breakdowns left and right lately. I think she might be sick. I’m starting to really worry about her,” Dex says.

I turn to face him. “She’s not sick, Dex. Don’t you see it? Your grandmother and Jacob were obviously lovers.”

“What?” He looks torn between disgusted and offended. “She married my grandpa at twenty. Are you suggesting she had an affair?”

“No. I’m saying you don’t have to be with someone to love them.”

“Len, I’m not saying my grandma had the perfect marriage, but she loved my grandpa a lot. She loved my mother and her family. She was a faithful woman.”

I pat his knee and apologize. “I never meant to question your grandma’s integrity. Forget what I said.”

But I got a glimpse of the truth based on the look in Dottie’s eyes.

There’s love. And then there’s love.

That kind that gives you no choice in the matter. Jacob once told me that love is an innate force beyond our will and comprehension. It’s how the universe humbles the stubborn human race, hellbent on forging destructive new paths. Love is how the universe stays in control of our fates. Some people can see that and accept it. Others ignore it and let it slip right by, living half-lives.

Dottie’s tears tell me there’s more to the story than just a long-lost friend. Did she and Jacob live their lives full of regret?

“Do you want some dessert?” Dex asks, pulling me from my thoughts. “I have a whole sheet of tiramisu in the fridge. You don’t have to rush out, do you?”

I hold onto Dex’s soft eyes and feel the ache of sadness. Are we headed down a path of regret? Maybe in sixty years, we’ll be kicking ourselves for what could’ve been.

“I should actually head out. I told Alan I’d swing by his place if dinner didn’t run too late.”

Dex’s eyes shift down, and he subtly nods. “Probably for the best.” Then, he rises. “I’ll pack two slices up for you guys.”