Don't Give up on Me

After that beast of a weekend, my brother and I packed up and flew to Texas for my grandfather's funeral. I didn't remember much of the flight, only that I was leaving California on bad terms. While I blamed some of the outbursts towards Zack on my grief, it was really because I was still very disappointed in him and angry. It was not something good to do on my part whatsoever, but it had gotten to the point that I couldn't look at him without getting angry over it all once again. I was very thankful for the four days we'd have apart, and I knew that he probably was, too. Maybe this would clear my head and let me think about everything properly, because Lord knows I needed to.

We stayed in McAllen at my aunt Nadia's house, another staple in my childhood. She was six years older than my mother, so by the time I was born, she was already married with children of her own. I saw my cousin, Ariana, for the first time in three years and nearly cried when I saw her. She was only three months older than I, so she and I were very close growing up. I used to tell her everything, and she did the same. I had missed her, and again, so did she, as we both made a beeline for her bedroom as soon as I arrived.

"The pictures Aunt Monica sent us haven't done any justice. Andi, you are so pretty!" she squealed, squeezing me tightly. "I wish I was half gringa just so I could have your hair. It's gorgeous."

"Ari, stop! Yours is beautiful, too. The pastel blue really works for your skin tone," I replied genuinely. "I'd love to be able to tan like you."

She rolled her eyes and flopped onto her mattress. "Thanks, Andi. Now tell me what the boys in California are like. I'm practically dying over here without a single one even worth mentioning."

I sighed. "You have time, right? This might take a while."

"All of the good stories are long, Andi, now talk," she ordered, reminding me of her bossy days from our childhood.

Speaking of, when I was a child, I always thought of her as the sister I never had. Of course, I had Desiree now, but this was pre-baby sister. She and I protected each other from rotten boys and defended one another if we argued with another girl. We also argued like cats and dogs, but they never lasted more than fifteen minutes, and we often forgot about them and played again.

So, being able to talk to her freely once again was almost liberating. I told her every detail that I possibly could, and she only interrupted when appropriate, which was a quality of hers that I adored so much.

"Wait, you've had the talk with him already?! You've only been together for like, what, five months? Since when did you get serious with a boy? A man!" Ariana exclaims, her brown eyes wide with shock.

I laughed. I shouldn't have; Zack was every bit of a man, yes, but for some reason, her statement made me laugh. "I don't know, Ari! It all just sort of happened..."

"Oh right, I forgot that when the both of you locked eyes the very first day of school in English class, it all just fell into place. Love at first sight, you two spend the night in jail, all that cool punk rock shit," she said dramatically.

I rolled my eyes. "Shut up, there's much more to it than that, Ariana."

"Jeez, I was kidding, Andi. Chill," she says, putting her hands up in surrender. "I know, Andi, trust me. You're still mad about him getting arrested. But here's the thing: people are not always going to be there for you at the drop of a pin. And, okay, I get that him getting arrested would have pissed you off regardless, but you're holding a grudge over him that he doesn't deserve. Circumstantially speaking, he had already said he wasn't going to exactly be there, so when you found out about Grampa, you already knew he wouldn't be there automatically. He doesn't always have to pick up the pieces, Andi, you need to realize that. Before him, you picked yourself up constantly. But now you expect him to pick you up, and like I said, he can't always do that for you. You need to support him, too. What I mean by that is, if he runs into something, you have to support him, too. Otherwise, this relationship won't work. And by the looks of it, it's promising for the both of you to have a future if you work for it. So, work, damn it!"

I stared at her for a long time, absorbing what she said. Of course, my response had to be a joke; it always was in this situation. "When did you become a relationship expert, Ari?"

She laughed. "A wise person never shares their secrets."

"Did you get this from Wikipedia?"

"Shit."

We both laughed. "So, show me pictures of your life in Cali already, woman!" she demanded after a few seconds of silence. I opened my luggage and dug out the photo album just for that purpose. Charlotte had helped me put it together, since she did take nearly half of the pictures in it in the first place.

"Andi, can I move in with you and have a cute boyfriend, too? This is so unfair!" she sighs as she leafs through the album. "Wait, is this you with those blonde highlights from ninth grade?!"

"Ew, oh my God, I forgot that one's in there," I groaned, turning the page for her. "Stop laughing! I remember that awful grape color you absolutely loved in middle school that was just as horrendous."

"We went through our scene phase together, remember that, Andi," she muttered under her breath, leafing through the book some more. "You took up guitar again, Andi?"

"That's actually Zack's acoustic, not mine. I was tuning it. I only play every once in a while now."

"Jeez, remember when we thought we were going to be in a band during middle school and ninth grade? I remember our stage names and our backstory like it was yesterday."

"Ariana Murder and Andi Monroe! They were so bad!" I cringed at the memory as we both laughed.

"'Two girls that just wanted out. We also want in your pants,'" she giggled.

"'Don't worry, we won't bite. Unless you like it,'" I finished for her, unable to help myself. "Oh, my God, why were we so embarrassing back then?"

"We were 13 year olds who thought we ran the world, that's why," she replied. "Enough said."

"Agreed."

I wish I could say that the rest of the week was just as happy and filled with laughs as it was that night, but sadly, it wasn't. Normally, our family was loud, lively, happy; but the day of the funeral, none of the loud voices I remembered from my childhood were heard. Uncle Diego was silent; my cousin Marcus didn't say a single joke about my height to rile me up like he used to; even my mother was silent, only speaking when absolutely necessary. Desiree was so confused, and learned that the adults weren't going to entertain her like usual, so she clung to me for most of that dreary say.

When we approached the grave, I didn't feel anything. I whispered a goodbye to him, knowing that my grandfather would forever watch down over us and protect us. I didn't have it in me to cry anymore, anyways. We dropped our roses into the grave at the same time, and as we walked back to our seat, she asked me the question that I would never forget.

"Why is Mommy so sad, Andi? Did she get an 'owwie'?"

I sighed. This was not how I planned on telling my sister at all about why this day was not like any others. How does one tell a three year old that answer, anyways?

I sighed, thinking of a way to phrase it without sugar coating it too much.
"Well, Dezzy, Grandpa was sick. Very, very sick. And after a long life, God decided to take him to Heaven so he wouldn't be sick anymore. Mommy got a owwie on her heart because she misses Grandpa a lot, honey. You should give her big hugs and kisses so she feels better, okay?"

"Okay," she said, but didn't let go of me. I was glad she stayed; I didn't know if I could handle being alone right now.

The rest of the service was very quiet, other than the sound of the Priest speaking kind words about my grandfather, oblivious to the humid 100° heat he was standing in. Ariana was shaking, unable to even look up and listen to the Scriptures the Father was saying. Instead, she focused her deep brown eyes on the grass below her sandals and let her tears fall. I took her hand in mine and squeezed, letting her know I was there for support, and she squeezed back twice as hard.

My grandma was the last to speak at his funeral. She didn't care that there were tears openly streaming down her face as she spoke, nor did she care that her makeup was smudged. She spoke so fiercely and passionately about her late husband that even I couldn't keep my brave face anymore.

"I met Joseph during our senior year in high school. He was always tinkering around on cars in his dad's shop with his older brothers and never did his homework. Meanwhile, I was the kind of student who got upset if I made an A- on an assignment. Needless to say, our first meeting didn't go very well.

"He was walking towards me in the hallway, and I tried to go around him -- you see, I was a very shy girl and only had about two friends in my entire life. I tended to avoid new people at all costs, especially Joseph Garcia. Anyways, there I was, fast-walking to my Honors English class, when he bumped into me and sent my books sliding to the floor.

"I looked up and my heart stopped beating. I didn't think I had ever truly gotten a look at him before this, and I remember feeling very grateful for that moment. He had the most interesting hazel-brown eyes I'd ever seen, and his hair was tucked underneath his ballcap, but still managed to peek it's way out of the sides and I swear, in that moment, I thought I'd died and gone to Heaven. That man always had that effect on me, each and every day.

"After a few seconds, he gave me a cross look and said the first words he ever spoke to me. He said, 'Watch where you're going, Rosalind, you wouldn't wanna hurt that face of yours,' and kept walking. He didn't even help me pick up my books! I didn't know how to feel. Flattered, hurt, giddy that he talked to me... Everything mixed in all at once. I seethed for the rest of that day. How dare he think he could just flatter his way out of helping me out!? I damned his good looks and charm.

"That day finally ended, and a week passed, too. I was still very angry. I hadn't received an apology, and he wouldn't catch me eye in the hallways. So, I did what any normal girl could do; I confronted him on his own turf. Sure, I looked out of place in that mechanic's shop in my Sundress and sandals, but I bet it was the look of detirmination on my face that convinced his brother, Diego, to let me pass through and find him.

" 'Joseph!" I called out to him in the swelteringly hot room. "Where are you, you--'

"I didn't finish that thought because walked right up to me, and I suddenly forgot why I was there. 'You needed me?' he asked, those eyes of his looking down at me innocently.

"' I need to talk to you,' I told him quietly, crossing my arms over my chest. I was failing miserably at being angry at him, which of course just made me even more mad.

"'Pops!' he yelled over the sounds of the shop. 'I'm going on my break!'

"'Don't take too long, son, we need the Chevy done by seven!' his father yelled back, from where, I couldn't tell you.

"He led me through a door and outside of that hot shop to a shaded picnic table just outside and sat down. He saw me hesitate and rolled his eyes. I then sat down, all anger I felt before returning instantly. He was just so rude!

"'Well, aren't you gonna yell at me or somethin'? I got work to do, doll,'" he finally asked, and I gasped. How dare he talk to me like that!

"'Why are you so.. so rude?!' I asked, crossing my arms. 'You knocked my books over and didn't even help me, and then you talk down to me as if that's even acceptable and--'

"'I'm gonna stop you right there, doll, because that is not how it happened. I bumped into you and asked if you were alright, and you just stared at me like you'd just seen God himself, you were so shocked. I even apologized and you still didn't notice, so I told you not to hurt yourself and walked away. This wasn't my fault.'

"Somehow, all of that had made sense. I then recalled seeing his lips move, but not hearing him until he had said the comment that riled me up in the first place. Embarrassed, I apologized, but he of course had to interrupt that, too.

"He asked me out for the following Friday night. And after that movie, I swear I was in love. A month after we graduated from school, he proposed to me, and when we could finally afford it six years later, we were married. Joseph was a very stubborn man to live with. He didn't have to get drafted for the Vietnam war, but he almost volunteered. He was selfless and put his life on the line for many, and made sure the military's vehicles were in top shape always. I swear to you, if he hadn't of gotten sick, he would've worked in that damn shop until the day he died. He was the best father to our four children, and adored each of his grandchildren. He sacrificed many things to make them all happy, and he loved me with every fiber of his being. And some days, I hated his guts for being so stubborn, but I loved him just as much. He took care of me for so many years, and in his last one, it was finally my turn to take care of him. He fought with every breath, even his last one. And I don't think I will ever be able to explain how much I will miss my Joe. But, I can say that he's still very much with me every day. One day, I will see him again, and I await that day with the same excitement I had on my wedding day. I recognize that it will be a while, but I am willing to wait. I will always wait for my Joe. Always..."

I had been told the story of how they'd met a million times before today, but it never truly hit home until now. There were so many coincidences in their story that correlated with mine and Zack's that it couldn't be just chance. The way she described how she felt when she saw him for the first time, the hallway jab, and of course the teasing. I realize that it's very common, but at the same time, that was us, only forty or so years later. My grandparent's personalities were so similar yet different and clashed constantly, just like ours. They made it work anyways, and I'm sure they had their share of stupid fights like we did. Yet, here they were, and although my grandfather was now gone, she still stood proudly by his side, mourning him but knowing he wasn't truly that far away.

If I had any hope for Zacky and I, I needed to grow up and accept every single thing about him now, otherwise I would lose him. The same went for him, but I knew it was me who needed the work. And I was more than willing to put the work in.

As soon as the service was over, I passed Desiree to Ariana, telling her I needed to speak to Gram alone. Ariana nodded, then started cooing to Dezzy, who soaked up the attention immediately. I greeted my family as I passed, and after about ten minutes, I found my Grandmother, standing by his plot, staring down at the oak casket already lowered into the ground.

I didn't say anything at first, instead just hugging her tightly. She returned it, trying her best to keep it together in front of me. "He loved you so much, Andi, like you were just another one of his daughters. He asked about you every single day, and when I'd tell him that you had just finished another painting, or that you went to see a band, he'd smile so big. Don't ever think for a second that he won't be with you, Andria. He will always be there."

"I know," I replied, my voice cracking. "I loved him just as much. What you said earlier was beautiful. I hope my relationship can be as strong as yours was."

She smiled. "You're going to fight like cats and dogs, and you're going to hate him so much that you can't see straight, but I swear, at the end of the day, it's going to be worth it. Make him work for it, and you work for it, too. Don't give up."

"I won't," I murmured, then offered her my arm to walk back to the car for the reception. She took it gratefully, leading us through with grace and elegance that I hoped to achieve one day, too.

The reception was much more lively than the service, but there was still a dark cloud over the room. The food didn't taste the same, the drinks didn't have their same tang, and the jokes were half-hearted. After getting annoyed by about half of our other cousins for the better part of the afternoon, Ariana and I ventured into the garage of Diego's house, which was still very much our grandfather's. Every car was still here, every tool still scattered and not in their box, and random empty coffee mugs that I knew were a result of him staying out late and starting early every day. We both sat on the black sofa and let out a large sigh. It felt empty without him, and as strong as we tried to be, we were both about to crumble.

"Remember when he'd make us pick up every single bolt and put them in that jar over there?" Ariana asked quietly. "And when I knocked it over and made him yell in Spanish for nearly an hour?"

I giggled. "He was never mad, he was just theatrical. You and I could never take him seriously when he yelled."

"I remember spilling soda on the couch in the living room and he just sighed and said, 'flip the cushion. Hopefully Grandma won't notice the other stain from the carne asada I ate and spilled on it last week.'"

I stared at the red Mustang that was now mine. "I'm going to miss him."

"Me, too," she sighed. "I heard you got the '67."

"I heard you got the Nova."

"Yeah."

"We're never going to be able to drive either of the cars, you know."

"...Yeah."

We shared grim smiles. "We never get to have any fun," I sighed.

She laughed quietly. "Someday, I'll be able to drive you, little red Nova. Someday."

"Want to go back inside?"

"Might as well. I think we're leaving, anyways; I can hear my dad already."

Sure enough, her father was yelling out goodbyes, a habit he could never seem to break. I started to look for Grams, but my mother soon stopped and pointed down the hallway, towards hers and Grandpa's bedroom. "She got overwhelmed, but she's asleep now. She'll be over at the house tomorrow."

I nodded before collecting a few things out of the bedroom I used to stay in here. There were a few records I needed out of the closet, and a few cassettes, too. I smiled slightly at the familiar chicken scratch that was my grandpa's handwriting on the box. It wasn't difficult to find the three I needed, or the records, too. I then put the boxes back and hurried out to the car, pausing briefly to look back at the house and remember it as it was one last time.

Goodbye, Grandpa.