Parker
“Are you sure you even know where it is?” Isaac asked me as I looked around. “I mean, you’ve never been here, before, have you?”
“Sure I have. I was here for the funeral,” I said. “Then again, I was eight when she died, so I don’t quite remember the exact location. But Gina told me it was near the flag pole in the back. There’s the flag pole,” I added, pointing out the window at where, sure enough, the flag pole stood at least forty feet tall with the American flag whipping in the breeze.
“Well, that’s real specific,” Zac said as I rolled my eyes and climbed out the door.
“Guys, just remember to be quiet,” Isaac warned us. “I think there’s a funeral going on somewhere around here.”
“Gee, what was your first clue? The funeral procession that went by while we were at the flower shop or all the cars lined up outside with the hearse in the front?” I said sarcastically, but obediently lowering my voice.
Zac snickered as we walked away from the parked truck and toward the headstones which horizontally lined the grass. I watched the names go by as I walked past all of them, some decorated with flowers and others so worn it was hard to even distinguish the name.
“How come you’re visiting Gina’s dead mother’s grave and not Gina’s perfectly alive father’s house?” Zac asked quietly as we continued to weave our way through the headstones.
“Because Gina’s father lives in another state. He moved away when his wife died,” I answered. “I think the last we heard of him, he was in California.”
“Oh,” Zac said, nodding.
“Here it is,” I said, stopping in front of one of the headstones. “See? I told you I knew where it was.”
Isaac rolled his eyes.
“Francine Corriander Lowell,” Zac read. “What a name. Born May 18, 1935. Died June 3, 1991. That would make her...fifty-six? That’s pretty young.”
“Yeah. I think she had breast cancer,” I said, squatting. I smiled at the headstone a little bit, remembering the way she smiled at me the first time I had met her when I was six. That was probably the only thing I remembered of her besides her cookies. “Hi, Grandma. Just thought I’d drop by and say hello while I was in the neighborhood,” I said, laying the flowers on the ground. “These are for you. From both me and Gina.”
I stood up slowly, suddenly aware that Isaac and Zac and backed up a few steps in order to give me some amount of privacy.
“It’s okay, guys. She was a nice lady, her hand won’t suddenly pop out of the ground and drag you under or anything,” I joked with a smile.
“We know. It’s just that it seemed like a bit of a private moment,” Zac said.
I nodded and smiled thankfully.
“Well, I guess that’s it,” I said.
“Was there anywhere else you were thinking of stopping while you were here?” Isaac asked, a note of caution in his voice. I knew that he hadn’t exactly been comfortable with the idea of bringing me to visit my grandmother’s grave and so was a small bit wary of any other places I might want to go.
“No, I don’t think so,” I replied.
“I’m getting hungry,” Zac said, glancing at his watch. “It’s almost one o’clock. Think we could stop for some lunch?”
“Sure, I guess,” Isaac replied, nodding. “Let’s go.”
We walked back to the truck and piled back into it. Isaac had just put it in reverse, when suddenly I noticed something looking through the windshield.
“Hey, that must be that funeral we saw,” I said, pointing over to where a bunch of people dressed in black were milling around. I could see sadness written on their faces even from the distance we were at.
“Gee, what was your first clue, the fact that they’re all dressed in black or the way most of them are crying?” Isaac asked, grinning at me as he said it.
It was my turn to roll my eyes. “Okay, you got me back. But, seriously,” I said.
“It probably is. We should go, they more than likely wouldn’t want us staring,” Zac said, gesturing for Isaac to pull out.
I sighed and sat back, keeping my eyes on the funeral. Isaac had just put his foot on the gas pedal when suddenly, I saw something particularly peculiar about the funeral party.
“Wait a second,” I said, leaning forward. “Isn’t that...?”
“Taylor?” Zac said, seeing the same thing I was seeing.
Isaac leaned forward and squinted, trying to follow our gazes to where Taylor was walking with someone who quite closely resembled the old man who had come to dinner a few nights before.
As we sat there, watching, two other people joined Taylor and the old man and, though it took quite a bit of squinting, I clearly saw that it was Annie Lawrence and her husband.
“Hey, isn’t that...?” I began, but was interrupted when Isaac jerked the truck into motion and I fell back on my seat.
“We shouldn’t be staring,” he said by way of explanation as we careened into the road and took off like something was chasing after us.
“And besides, it probably wasn’t Taylor. From that distance it’s hard to tell.”
“Yeah,” Zac agreed hastily. “You never know, there could be thousands of you guys running around,” he said jokingly, though he wasn’t smiling.
“Okay,” I said slowly, choosing not to argue with either of them. I knew it’d get me nowhere. Apparently it was just something else to add to my list of weird things about the Hanson family.