Reality

Chapter 21

We drive about thirty minutes outside of the city, the dark sky breaking into a hazy, bright orange at the horizon as the sun starts to rise.

Alex's left hand rests on the steering wheel, driving, while his right hand is in mine. Sometime after we made it outside of the city, he planted his elbow right next to mine on the center counsel, his forearm brushing against mine. He was timid at first, but eventually he reached for my hand and laced our fingers together.

He pulls off onto a two lane road, and I can tell he's getting anxious as we get closer to the destination. His thumb starts brushing faster, deeper, across the skin on the back of my hand and he adjusts restlessly in his seat.

About two miles of backroads later, his hand subconsciously squeezes mine as he puts on his right blinker. I glance out the window to find us pulling up to a large black iron gate, the words Peace and Hope Cemetery are spelled out above the archway, that's open for visitors.

I swallow, trying my best not to uncomfortably shift in my seat or display any signs of uneasiness.

We both stay silent as he drives towards the back of the cemetery, passing hundreds of headstones. I can tell this cemetery is old, but it's well kept, the grass freshly cut and the stones in good condition. I'm pretty sure I even saw some headstones dating back to the 1800's that are still dirt and moss free for the most part.

He rolls to a stop at the very back of the cemetery, and that's when I spot it. There, in the front row, I see a familiar face. It's a face I never had the pleasure of meeting, but one I've become fond of.

Her face is thin and full of wrinkles—that along with her gray hair giving away her real age—yet she looks so youthful in spirit. Her eyes are bright and warm while her smile is kind.

Loretta Jane Walker is what the stone reads, confirming that this is where Alex's grandmother is laid to rest. Below her name and the picture of her that's etched into the large, high quality stone is her date of birth and death, along with the words "Beloved wife, mother, and grandmother. Forever in our hearts."

My heart clinches uncomfortably tight in my chest. I've heard so many wonderful stories about this woman and seen so many pictures of her with a young Alex that it hurts to see that she's actually gone. I've never gotten to meet her since she died before I even met Alex, but deep down I feel like I know her.

Alex has always been fond of his grandmother. When he was a kid, she basically raised him while his young parents struggled to keep their family financially stable. He picked up his knack for cooking from her. He always use to tell me some of his best memories were in the kitchen cooking with her.

To the left of Loretta lies Michael Walker Sr. with a matching stone, someone I've also never met due to him passing several years before Loretta, but seen in plenty of family photos. His face is fuller, full of wrinkles, and eyes bright and squinted from a large smile under his gray mustache and glasses. He looks like an older version of Mike—who looks like an older version of Alex. I can tell the Walker genes are strong in the men.