Spinning.

“What do you want to do?” I was sitting on the Maine's bus, trying to figure out what to do before we had to be back for the show. It was the first day I didn't have to use crutches, granting me my freedom back, so I was actually open to doing anything.

“I'm kind of craving ice cream, actually.” John shrugged. “Want to go find a Coldstone?”

I nodded, thinking about the last time I had ice cream, which was too long ago. “I like how it's freezing outside and you want ice cream.” I chuckled.

“Haters gonna hate.” He smirked, grabbing his jacket.

We looked up the closest Coldstone, writing down the directions before embarking on our quest for ice cream. We had walked about a block before a memory popped into my head, how my grandpa and I always had a tradition of getting ice cream together every time I would visit him.

“What are you thinking about?” John cocked his head to the side, studying my face as we walked.

“Oh... just...”

“Just...?”

“Well, my grandpa and I used to have this thing, where every time I'd come to visit we'd get ice cream together.” I shrugged. “We hadn't been able to do it the last few times, since he's got alzheimer's and the complications made it hard for him to go out anymore since he can't really take care of himself... but we'd still have ice cream together. He always made time for ice cream with his little girl.”

“That's cool.” John nodded, unsure of what to say. “Were you two close?”

“I mean, decently so. I spent a lot of time visiting him over school breaks as a kid, and he and my grandma would come visit us frequently. I mean, it's a long drive from Milwaukee to where I grew up, but we definitely kept in touch when we weren't visiting. My mom didn't have grandparents growing up, so she was determined to make sure we had her parents in our lives.”

“What about your grandma? If-If you don't mind me asking, that is.”

“She died years ago. Heart attack.” I shrugged. “We were also close, she actually always thought that I should be a musician. She was pissed when I chose to go to art school instead.” I chuckled, cracking a smile on John's face as well.

“Why was she pissed about that?”

“Beret, you have such a wonderful singing voice! Why would you let such a god given gift go to waste?” I imitated, grinning. “Apparently when I was like six I serenaded her on the phone with a perfectly pitched Christmas carol. I never heard the end of it afterwards. Sometimes I wonder if she's looking down like 'ha, Beret I told you so!'”

“Oh man, you sound like my Nana.” John laughed.

“Tell me about your Nana.”

“Well,” John thought for a moment about what to share. “My Nana's probably who I got my love of whiskey from.” We both laughed. “She's stubborn, like once she gets an idea in her head good luck trying to get it out. When I went to ASU, she was convinced that I should study philosophy because I'd really enjoy it. I was eighteen and too busy partying to care about anything, so of course I swore she was crazy. Now I read philosophy books in my spare time. She saw my bookshelf in my apartment and had her moment of smug satisfaction.” He rolled his eyes, smiling.

“She always makes a big deal out of every time I go home, having me come over for entire days to do odd jobs for her while she bakes stuff to send home with me. Sometimes I think if she didn't make me food, I'd never eat anything healthy. And I swear she saves up the odd jobs for me, because she could always just have Shane or Ross come over, but she always has an entire day of things for me to do. There's no way that all of these jobs could just appear in a week or something.”

I laughed, imagining a little old woman sitting in her house bossing John around.

“She sounds like a character.”

“She is. I'm sure you'll meet her when we're in Phoenix. She comes to every show, even if she complains about all the little punk kids who are there.” He made air quotes around little punk kids, a chuckle escaping his lips.

“Does she count you as a little punk kid? With your tattoos and your band and all?”

“No, to her I'm always baby fifth.” He shook his head, his eyes shining.

We found ourselves standing in front of the Coldstone, putting our conversation on hold so we could order ice cream. The girl at the front counter had to pick her jaw up off the floor when we walked in, obviously recognizing at least one of us.

“Hi, can I help you two?” She asked, trying to keep her cool.

“Want to split something?” John asked, looking over at me.

“Sure,” I shrugged. “What were you thinking?”

“Order whatever you want, I'm sure I'll like it.”

“You realize that's like challenging me to make a combination you'll hate?”

“Don't do that.” He laughed.

“Okay. Umm...” I looked at the flavor options, trying to decide what I wanted. “Can we get an 'ours' with the coffee and chocolate?”

She quickly scooped our two flavors out, laying them on the mixing block.

“Any mix ins?”

“Oreos, caramel, and peanut butter.” I grinned.

“Wow, decadent.” John laughed.

“Yeah, this might take more than one sitting to finish.”

“Is this all for you?” The girl asked, watching us.

“I think that's it.” I looked at John. “Is that it?”

“Yeah, that's everything.”

“Alright, your total's $6.34,” the counter girl smiled at us. John handed her a twenty dollar bill, putting some of the change in the tip jar.

“I, um, not to be weird or anything, but by the way I'm going to your show tonight and I'm really excited for it!” The girl spoke up, blushing a little.

“That's awesome! If you want to stick around after the show we do a signing every night, you can get a picture and stuff.” I offered, smiling at her.

“That'd be great! Wow. Can't wait!” She grinned.

“Thanks for the ice cream! We'll see you later!” John smiled at her, waving as we turned to leave.

“She seemed nice.” I stuck my spoon into the ice cream, scooping some out before popping the spoon in my mouth.

“Did you see her face when we came in? It was like she just saw god.” John laughed.

“She wants your bod.” I joked.

“So does every other teenage girl in America.” He smirked.

“Which explains why you can't pick up chicks to save your life.”

“Hey, who said I was trying to?”

“Um, your dick?” I joked.

“Hey, I haven't gotten laid in forever. It's not my fault.” He defended, a slight blush creeping onto his face.

“Oh come on, I was kidding. I haven't either.” I pointed out, scooping some more ice cream into my mouth.

“We could change that.” He waggled his eyebrows at me, causing me to almost spit out my ice cream.

“Don't choke there.”

“Don't make me choke.” I replied, licking off my spoon.

“I mean, think about how easily we could change that though...” He proposed mischievously.

“Oh my god O'Callaghan, keep it in your pants!” I laughed, my face turning red.

John wrapped his arm around me, rounding the corner to where the buses were. “It's so much fun getting you all flustered like that.”



I hadn't been expecting the call from my mom to come when it did.

But then again, that's how life usually is-- things happen when we aren't expecting them.

We had just finished signing in Michigan, and fans were still standing around talking to each other when my phone rang. I saw the name flash on the screen and my heart sank: I knew that she wouldn't be calling at this hour unless something was wrong.

“Hey mom,” I breathlessly answered, climbing back onto the bus so no one could hear me.

“Beret, he's gone.” My mom was sobbing on the other end of the phone, in the background I could hear my dad trying to comfort her. I didn't know what to say, collapsing onto the couch without a single word. There was never a manual on how you're supposed to grieve; they don't tell you when to cry and when you'll start feeling the hollow sensation in your heart, or even when it'll disappear. It wasn't even my first time losing someone close; I had lost my grandmother, though at the time I was young enough that I saw the world differently from how I do now.

“Mom?” I tentatively asked, unsure what the response would be.

“Yes, sweetie?” She asked through her tears.

“Can you put dad on?”

I heard rustling in the background, my mom passing the phone to my dad.

“Beret?” He answered, his voice relaying his exhaustion.

“Hey dad. Um, are there... service plans?” I chose my words carefully, not wanting to say the wrong thing.

“It's scheduled for your day off between your Chicago and Milwaukee shows. Just like we talked.”

“Okay.” I paused, taking a deep breath. I didn't know what else to say, still trying to process what was happening. “Thanks for calling me. I- I've gotta go, but I love you.” I told him, careful not to let my voice break.

“I love you too.”

“Bye.” I hung up the phone quickly, knowing if I heard my mom crying in the background much longer I'd be in a similar state. Before I knew it, my feet were moving without a second thought, pulling me out of the bus. It still hurt a little to go down the stairs, but after two weeks of not being able to walk I was willing to take a little pain for easier movement. My feet almost acted like magnets, pulling me along until I found John. He had been standing by his bus smoking a cigarette, fresh out of his signing. I didn't say a word as I approached, burying my face in his shirt before letting out a loud, yet muffled sob.

“Beret, what's going on!?” He dropped his cigarette, wrapping his arms around me.

“He's gone!” I choked out. “John, he's gone!” I could feel some people watching us, but I was too upset to even care.

“Shh, Beret.” He held onto me, tightening his arms around me as he gently rocked back and forth. Every breath I took in smelled like him, his cologne blending seamlessly into the scent of the cigarette he had been smoking moments before.

“Hey, Beret. Can you look at me?” He coaxed, tilting my chin up and pressing his forehead to mine. His grey-green eyes met mine, soft and honest. “I'm sorry... And I know it hurts. But he's not suffering anymore.” John brushed a tear away with his thumb, the rough callouses gently scratching against my cheek before softly smiling at me. “Let's go inside, okay? You're shivering and I know he wouldn't want his little girl crying in the cold.”

I nodded, not wanting to say anything, before he led me back onto my bus. He kept his fingers intertwined with mine, not letting go even when fans were giving us both looks. He didn't stop until we were in the back lounge, sitting down on the couch before pulling me down, landing on his lap. He didn't say anything, just letting me bury my face in his chest so I could cry in peace.

“Do you want anything?” He asked after a while, his breath tickling my neck.

I shook my head, tightening my arms around him. “Just stay here. I don't want to be alone.”

“I won't go anywhere.” He promised, rubbing my back and kissing my forehead.

We stayed that way, his breath hitting the nape of my neck as I slowly calmed down and began to drift off.

“Bro, where've yo--” I heard Dave and Jared clamoring onto the bus, pulling me out of the sleep I had been falling into.

“Shh!” John harshly cut them off, snapping the pair into silence. I kept my eyes shut and pretended to stay asleep, not wanting to move or deal with anyone at the moment.

“What's going on?” Jared whispered, surely confused by what he was seeing.

“Her grandpa died. In case you haven't noticed, she's had a rough couple of weeks.”

“Shit, that is rough.” Dave responded, earning another shushing from John.

“So...?” Jared trailed off, as if John would know what he's referring to.

“No.” John firmly whispered. “This is not the time.”

“Look, she obviously needs someone. You obviously need someone. Why can't you both see that the someone is each other?” I couldn't believe what I was hearing from Jared.

“Because, this isn't the time.” John repeated. “I don't want to rush something like this.” I had to fight to keep the emotion off of my face, letting out a gentle snore so nothing was suspected.

“So when is it going to be the time?” Jared pushed, wanting an answer.

“When things settle down. Things have been crazy lately, okay? I don't want to do it if she's overwhelmed or something. And we're done talking about this, she's right here!” John replied, agitated.

“She's asleep. It's fine.” Dave mumbled, butting in between the two.

“Well... we're heading out again.” Jared changed the topic. “I'm guessing you're staying in?”

“I'm not going anywhere.” John moved his head, causing mine to slide down gently. “I promised.”

“Aww, look at you two. So crazy about each other and totally blind to each other's feelings.” Dave chuckled, still whispering.

I could feel John roll his eyes. “Shut up. She probably just thinks I'm a friend.”

“You're delusional.” Jared shrugged. “Anyways, we'll catch you later.” One of John's arms moved, I'm guessing to wave goodbye. Or judging by how his mood sounded, maybe to flick them off.

As the pair made their way off the bus, I felt John sinking slowly into his seat. He reached up, brushing a strand of hair out of my face before kissing my forehead again.

“God I never want to let you go,” he murmured. “And someday I'll have the guts to tell you to your face, but you make me so nervous and I need some time to get myself together before I could even begin to deserve you.” He sighed, his nose gently nuzzling into my hair.

My heart sank, hearing those words. I was the one who needed to work to deserve him, not the other way around. Jared was right, he was what I needed, and he had been giving me more than I could have ever asked for. He never complained when I came to him as a total mess, he never pushed me to talk about things I didn't want to talk about, he was always able to make me smile, and he treated me like Beret, not like a superhuman. He got that I was flawed, and he was still around. And maybe that was part of what I loved about him, how he accepted people for their flaws, but what I think I loved most was that when I let him in, he didn't leave, and he didn't try to change me. He didn't take me on like a charity case, trying to fix me. He just let me be. It was so refreshing to not be forced into doing anything, letting me just live at my own pace.

And as I stayed with him, feeling the tension leave his body as he drifted off to sleep, I couldn't help but smile. I might have been hurting, but John was in this with me, even if we didn't do things by the rules. I laced my fingers through his, feeling the rough callouses on his long fingers and studying every detail of his hands with mine. I opened my eyes, adjusting to the lack of lighting on the bus before moving up to take in every perfect imperfection on his face: the tawny stubble on his chin from not shaving, the faded freckles dancing across his nose, the barely noticeable marks from where being a teenager hadn't been so kind to him. A soft snore escaped his lips, distracting me and causing me to jump a little, waking him.

“Beret?” He mumbled, eyes meeting mine as he adjusted to his surroundings.

“Hmm?”

“You're up... what time is it?”

“I don't know,” I murmured, nuzzling closer to him. “and I don't really care.”

He adjusted from sitting to laying on the couch, and I moved so my head rested on his chest.

“John?”

“Yes?”

“Will... will you come with me to the funeral?” I looked up at him nervously, stuttering. “I mean, if you don't want to you totally don't have to, but I--”

“Yeah, I'll come.” He cut me off before any more words could tumble out of my mouth. “When is it?”

“It's on our day off between Milwaukee and Chicago.”

“Alright,” he promised, “I'll be there.”

I traced a finger along his chest, doodling shapes and images that didn't really exist onto his shirt.

“Thanks,” I whispered, eyelids getting heavy as I pulled myself closer to him.

“Mhm,” he curled his fingers along the edge of my neck, tickling my skin. “Let's try and get some sleep, okay?”

Before he even finished his sentence, I was out.



“Do I look okay?” John stood in front of me, hands shoved in his pockets nervously.

I looked away from the mirror, taking him in. He was wearing black slacks, with a slate grey button down shirt tucked into them. His black suspenders held up his pants with a coordinating black tie. His hair was pretty neat, all things considered, but still just disheveled enough that it worked.

“You look great.” I smiled at him, anxiously swallowing the lump in my throat.

“Okay,” he smiled reassuringly at me, coming up and wrapping his arms around me from behind. “You look beautiful.”

I could feel the heat rising off of my cheeks, and I looked away. I was more concerned about not crying all day long than I was about how I looked, though I did appreciate John's compliment. “Thanks,” I mumbled, putting in my earrings.

We had rented a car the night before and made our way from Chicago up to Milwaukee for the funeral, our bandmates opting to stay in Chicago for sight seeing. John drove, letting me get lost in my thoughts as I watched the trees go flying by. He had been incredibly understanding about the entire situation, letting me talk when I wanted to and cry when I needed to, never even hinting that he wasn't okay with coming along.

“You ready?” I looked at his reflection in the mirror, a small smile gracing my lips.

“I think so.” He grabbed his wallet, phone, and keys, placing them in his pocket before grabbing both of our coats and holding mine out for me.

“I, uh,” John started nervously stuttering when we got into the car. “Do you... do you think your family will, uh... like me?”

“I don't see why they wouldn't.” I shrugged. “Why are you so nervous about that?”

“Well, I mean, I'm a smoking, tattooed, partying musician. Not the kind of guy that girls introduce their families to.”

“You're also considerate, intelligent, creative, caring, down to earth, kind, hilarious, and have a heart of gold.” I countered, not seeing where he was going with this. “And I'm sure my aunts will be whispering about how easy on the eyes you are. Also if a girl named Carrie hits on you, don't flirt back. She's my cousin and she's really... uh... horny, for lack of a better word.” I blushed, suddenly scared for him to meet my crazy family. I was sure my mom would be crying the whole time, along with my uncles, and their spouses would be comforting them. The cousins would probably have mixed emotions, some maintaining stone faces while others cried.

“Well, I'll keep that in mind.” He flashed me a smile, eyes never leaving the road.

“Honestly though, I think my family, at least the ones who have opinions that matter, will be too focused on the whole reason we're here.” I continued, looking out the window. “I mean, if it was a family reunion, that'd be one thing, but it's a funeral. Half the people there probably won't even know who you are, they'll just assume that you knew my grandpa too.”

“That's true.” He kept driving, occasionally looking down at the directions we had from the hotel to the church.

“Is your brother going to be here?”

“Yup. You'll have at least one familiar face.”

“That's good.”

“Don't worry about my family.” I reassured him. “They'll like you, and it'll be fine. I mean, you're going with me to a funeral. That says something about your character.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, that you're not scared about the tough stuff. You're still there when things get rough.”

He smiled, thinking about what I said. “Thanks.”

“No, thank you. You're the one coming with me to this and putting up with me.”

We pulled into the church parking lot, one of the earlier groups to arrive. I spotted my parents' car, breathing a sigh of relief that I was going to have them as a bumper for at least a little while. John and I linked arms, walking into the entryway of the church.

“Beret!” My mother rushed over to me, embracing me so tightly I could hardly breathe.

“Hi mom,” I patted her on the back, hoping she'd loosen her grip.

“Oh baby, I'm so glad you're here.” She pulled away, hanging onto my shoulders as she gave me the once-over. “You're not wearing heels. And you still have that brace. I thought your ankle was supposed to be better?”

“Um, no?” I asked, confused. “I mean, I am off the crutches, but I still have to strengthen it and stuff before I go without the brace. High heels wouldn't be a good idea.”

She frowned. “Well hopefully it gets better soon.” She looked to John, who was watching with a confused look on his face.

“Mom, this is John.” I introduced them before she could ask any questions. “John sings for The Maine. John, this is my mom.”

“Nice to meet you Mrs. Emerson,” he held out his hand to her, which she pushed aside so she could hug him.

“We're huggers around here.” She told him, almost squeezing him in half. I had to refrain from chuckling as John lightly hugged her back.

“Beret, your father should be around here somewhere. I'm going to go make sure Uncle Charlie and Uncle Ben are alright. Nice to meet you!” She scurried away, leaving John and I standing there.

“I suppose I should mention that my mom fixates on strange things when she's upset.” I chuckled, looking down at my shoes. “At least she's not sobbing everywhere. Yet.”

John nodded his head, smiling at me nervously.

“Want to find my dad? He might be with Michael, assuming Mi--”

“What about me?” I turned around to see Michael standing there, his ever-present smirk on his face.

“Michael!” I hugged him. “I was just saying we could go find you or dad.”

“Oh. Yeah, Dad's in the bathroom right now.” He waved to John. “Hey John! Didn't expect to see you here.”

“Beret asked me to come with.” He smiled at me, wrapping an arm around me.

“Beret, you two better watch out for Carrie.” Michael chuckled.

“Yeah, I know, I already warned him.” I laughed.

“Is that my daughter?” My dad approached us, his eyes lighting up as he saw me.

“Hey dad,” I hugged him as he kissed the top of my head. “Dad, this is John. He sings in the Maine.” I gestured to John. “John, this is my dad.”

“Nice to meet you, sir.” John held his hand out and my dad shook it firmly, smiling.

“Nice to meet you! Say, do any of you happen to have a smoke? I need one after all of ...this.” He gestured around us.

“Dad, you know I don't have any. I'm going to med school.” Michael rolled his eyes, chuckling at our dad.

“My emergency smokes are at the hotel. Sorry.” I shrugged.

“I have a pack in the car if you want?” John nervously added.

“That would be great! We'll be back.” My dad smiled at Michael and I before leaving with John, who shot me a nervous look over his shoulder. I gave him an encouraging thumbs up, praying that my dad wouldn't go crazy on him.

“So, you bangin' him yet?” My brother smirked, moving so he was standing next to me.

“Oh my god, you are disgusting!” I scolded, hitting the back of his head.

“Hey, you already know how I feel about him.” He shrugged, pretending to be far more innocent than he actually was.

“Gross. Oh God I hope dad isn't embarrassing the shit out of him right now or something.”

“Nah, Dad's not the one to worry about. Now Mom...”

“Yeah we already met Mom.”

“How was that?”

“Well she didn't cry, but she fixated on my shoes. And my ankle.”

“Sounds like Mom!”

“Yeah, I have a feeling that once the service starts she'll be a mess.”

“Yeah, probably. So wait, you aren't banging him. Are you two dating?”

“Shut up with the banging!”

“Answer my question!”

“Well... no. I don't know. Like, Jared swears that we just need to get together already, and sometimes he says things or does things that make me think he really likes me, but then nothing happens.”

“Make the first move.”

“What?” I looked at him incredulously.

“Well if he doesn't do it, make the first move.”

“Do you know me?” I scoffed.

I didn't have a chance to hear his answer because John returned with my dad, who was chatting away about baseball.

“Welcome back.” Michael smirked, looking between John and I. “Should we go in?”

My dad nodded, letting out a slight chuckle. “Yeah, as much as I love your mom I don't really want to stand around and make small talk with your mom's family.”

I couldn't help but smile, silently thanking god that my dad wasn't really into the whole socializing thing. My mom could talk to new people all day, but my dad would rather just relax with a couple of old friends.

We made our way into the sanctuary, taking a seat close to the front for when my mom arrived. John silently slipped his hand into mine, passing me a note. I looked up at him and he just smiled, sliding into the pew after my my brother and father.

When we sat down I began to unfold the note, however John stopped me from opening it yet.

“Wait until this starts.” He whispered, making sure that my brother and dad couldn't hear.

Michael and John spent the time until the service started talking about guy things, leaving me to examine the church that I had been to countless times as a child with my grandparents. It wasn't anything big, a small baptist church on the outskirts of Milwaukee, but my grandparents had always sworn by it. Even though I never became particularly religious, I always had fond memories of coming to church with my grandparents. It hadn't changed much since the last time I had been there, the altar dressings being the only really noticeable difference in the space, but it still felt older. I noticed the pastor speaking to another old couple-- he had been there since I was a little girl, and now he had silver hair and deep-set wrinkles.

I almost didn't notice my mom come to sit down with us, but I realized she joined us when I saw my dad pulling a package of tissues out of his pocket. The opening hymn begun, and I braced myself for the next hour.

As soon as we were done singing, I looked over at John before opening the note he had passed me earlier. The pastor was reading scripture, his voice melting into the background as I silently opened the piece of paper.

“Your dad said you might want a distraction-- dots?”

John's messy scrawl lined the top of the paper, underneath the writing was a grid of dots all set to play. My dad, brother, and I used to distract each other during church all the time, something that would thoroughly irritate my mother, since normally it involved poking each other and one of us squirming in our seats. As we got older though, we figured out that passing notes worked better, playing tic tac toe and other games to pass the time that we spent bored out of our heads. It made me glad that my mom was on the opposite end of the pew.

I glanced over at John, but he was pretending to pay attention. I looked down to notice that in his hand was one of the mini pencils that they keep in pews, held out like he was ready for me to take it. I carefully took the pencil from him, making the first move before slipping both the note and the pencil into his hand. A hint of a grin crept onto his face, him moving to make a move before slipping the game back to me. We continued this for almost the entire service, the game being neck and neck until the very end. We only stopped for hymns, the call and response sections of the service, and finally the eulogy.

I wasn't surprised to learn from the eulogy that my grandpa was a well-loved man. I only had to look around to see the entire church packed with people to know that. An old friend of his from high school was the one who spoke, lacing hilarious stories about my grandpa's youth with anecdotes about who he was as a man: a husband, a son, a father, a grandfather, a friend, a mentor, and a man of god. The friend was the perfect person to deliver the eulogy, reminding everyone of the good times we spent with him and everything we can learn from him instead of looking at who we lost.

I managed to stay dry eyed until he told a story that I was in. I was maybe five years old at the time, and we had driven across town to get ice cream from a new ice cream shoppe, bringing our cones home with us before we were going to walk the dog. I had just gotten out of the car with my big cone, having been so careful all the way home to not drip or spill, but as soon as I got out of the car I accidentally dropped the cone. Instead of getting mad or telling me that it was tough luck, my grandpa drove me all the way back to the ice cream shoppe to get a new one, because I was his “little girl” and it simply wasn't acceptable for me to be sad.

John had been watching me out of the corner of his eye, listening to the speaker but also making sure that I was okay. As soon as the first tear fell, he fished a pack of tissues out of his pocket, pulling one out for me and passing it to me. He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close and kissing my temple while I wiped my eyes, trying to at least keep my composure while we were in the church. After the service, John pulled me off to the side and wrapped his arms around me, engulfing me in a hug.

“Since I couldn't do this in there.” He whispered, causing me to start crying again. I was glad that at least I was smart enough to put on waterproof make-up, knowing that if I hadn't his shirt would be completely ruined now.

We stayed there a good twenty minutes, knowing that no one would really care if we came to the post-service luncheon late. We still had to go to the internment after that, since we were family and all, so it wasn't our last chance to see the people we knew.

Finally I pulled away, wiping my eyes. “God I probably look so disgusting right now.” I laughed.

“No, you're still beautiful.” John shook his head, smiling at me. “Ready for some lunch?”

My stomach rumbled loudly, causing both of us to laugh. “I'll take that as a yes.”

He grabbed my hand and we went to the luncheon, sitting with my parents and brother and talking about everything except why we were here. John and I talked about the road, my brother talked about med school and the east coast, and my parents both talked about their job and the news from home. John seemed to fit in, something that I couldn't help but smile about. I really didn't know why he had been so nervous earlier.

The internment was cold, to say the least. February in Wisconsin is always frigid, and standing outside while the pastor read from the bible and talked about my grandpa wasn't really what I wanted to be doing. The cemetery was an hour away from the church, way out in the middle of nowhere, where all of my relatives from my mom's family had been buried since immigrating to America. I was beyond thankful that the internment was short, though as everyone left I stuck around, taking my own moment alone with my grandpa.

“Hey,” I crouched down, trying not to fall into the dusting of snow that covered the ground. “I, um, I miss you Grandpa. It's so weird to think that I'm not going to be going to your house anymore and that you won't be dragging me out for ice cream.” I let out a laugh, thinking back to the eulogy. “You better tell Grandma hi for me, I can't believe it's been so long since I've seen her. She'd be so proud of me, tell her about my band. She always wanted me to sing...” I trailed off. “We're actually about to play in Minnesota. Thirteen thousand people, I think is what Carolyn said. Thirteen thousand people are coming to see me sing. I wish you two would have been able to see it.”

“And I think I found a boy! Grandpa, I think you'd even like him. Well, you can probably see him, he came with me.” I looked back to John, who was talking with Michael and my dad. “You always said I needed to find a good man. Only the best for your little girl, right?” I stopped, swallowing the knot in my throat. “Fuck, Grandpa I hope that some day I'm half the grandparent you were to me. So many people love you and miss you. And I know that you were slowly dying, and I'm glad it wasn't too drawn out so you didn't suffer as much, but I don't think I ever would have had enough time with you.” I stood up, adjusting my dress and my coat. “Look at me, talking to dead people.” I chuckled to myself. “I love you Grandpa. Take care of Grandma out there for me, alright?”

I turned and made my way back to the rest of the group, proud of myself for staying dry-eyed for the internment. My dad winked at me when I returned, and I smiled sadly back at him.

“You ready?” John studied me for a moment.

I looked back at where my grandpa was being buried, taking in the scenery before nodding my head.“Yeah, let's go.”