“That’s Paul McCartney singing, the song is called ‘Here, There and Everywhere,’ by The Beatles,” I proudly share with her.
“Oh, you know your music, right?” I chuckle.
“My mother used to listen to them all day long. She used to be quite the hippie. Listening to them takes me back to my childhood.”
“I see. I know the melody, but I don’t know anything about them.” A shocking statement.
“You didn’t listen to them!?” I ask.
“I was into a lot of things back then, but the music wasn’t one of them.”
“I find that hard to believe. Music is essential to everybody.”
“I think you wouldn’t have liked Cassandra. She was… plain, dull.” She’s clearly embarrassed, and I can’t stand it when she feels that way.
“Sarah, look at me.” I shake her hand to make her look at me. “If I’m sure about anything, it’s that Cassandra would have stunned me, just like you do. Don’t you forget that.”
“If you say so…”
“I know so… Here, there and everywhere.” I sigh with relief.
???
We arrive at the cemetery, relaxed and somewhat more connected to each other. I always thought that music brings people together, but hell, she’s not letting my hand go.
I park the car on top of a slope, with a clear sight to where the service is being held. I step out after signaling Sarah to stay put while I check the surroundings. It seems to be clear, no threats in sight. At this point, I don’t know why I was expecting them to be stupid enough to try something here. The only logical and safe way to do something around here would be to snipe your target from afar, given that there’s a clear line of sight pretty much everywhere, with only a few old trees in the way. But they won’t do that— the deed must be done up close, because it’s personal. I turn around and slightly nod, but she doesn’t step out. I walk towards the car and I see her, sitting there as if frozen in time.
“It’s safe, come on out.”
“I don’t think I can do this.” I open the passenger door.
“Yes, you can. Take my hand.” She grabs my hand, tight. “Come on, let’s go.”
She walks in complete silence and looking grim. I guess that’s to be expected given that:
A. That’s her mother in the coffin.
B. Her life is highly likely at risk.
C. She can’t get close and give her the proper goodbye.
We stay a few feet away from the car. She’s still holding my hand, interlocked fingers and all. The air got dense and Sarah’s looking stiff; she’s fighting something inside of her and she doesn’t want me to notice, which is why she started to put up her shield, as usual. She’s a strong woman, very strong, even stronger than me and a lot of ‘tough’ men out there.
From this position, we can hear and see pretty much everything. On the one hand, there are a lot of people sitting, some are openly wiping, others are trying to conceal it; one can clearly see that her mother was truly loved by friends and of course, family. On the other hand, we are surrounded by nature, the grass is green and well maintained, the smell of water saturating the atmosphere indicates that the sprinklers were on before the service started, making me want to take a deep breath and fill my lungs with fresh air, just like when it’s about to rain. There’s another slope to our right. This one is taller and casts a shadow over our position, giving the scenery the final touch to make it a solid candidate for an oil painting. However, none of that can change the fact that I fucking hate funerals. To me, they are a waste of time. Whomever is about to go into the ground doesn’t care if you’re there or not. But since this means so much to Sarah, then it means that much to me as well.
I can’t keep fooling myself— she’s my number one priority and has been for a long time. It’s very strange to feel like this right now: this limbo, where every feeling meets its counterpart, where I clearly want andneedher close, but far at the same time.
I want her to be free andmine.
Happy but just withme.
I know, I’m fucking selfish, but we are who we are, and I’m not gonna pretend I’m not.
The sunglasses I made her wear are making it impossible to look into her eyes, and yet I’m sure she’s having a conversation with her mother inside her head.
The service is almost over, and the coffin starts to go down slowly like they always do, which is kind of shitty if you think about it. Your loved one is going under the ground and instead of doing it quickly to save you a lot of pain, like ripping a band-aid off, no, they make it extra slow, to extend your agony.
Fucking assholes.
