Better than Friends

Chapter 14: Eventually

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"Grief is the price we pay for love."

- Queen Elizabeth II

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Tick . . .

Tock . . .

Tick . . .

Tock . . .

Krunchh!

Tick . . .

Krunchh!

My watch ticked lazily in the silent car and with every turn the sound of gravel and stone was evident. No words were spoken, only silent comforts. Dawson had one hand on the stirring wheel while the other was on my hand, clutching it tightly as he drove us to St. James Hospital.

My lips quivered slightly, collecting the stray tears that fell out of my eyes as thoughts and what ifs ran recklessly through my mind. It was a depth deeper than the Mariana Trench, the horrid feeling in the back of my throat as I imagined the worst case scenarios. My stomach tightened and I ran a hand through my hair as the emotions began to feel overwhelming.

Noticing my distress, Dawson squeezed my hand and began to rub circles on the back of it in an attempt of comfort. Any other scenario I would have welcomed this but my mind felt so flooded with different roads and paths that seemed neverending and grim. I pulled my hand away from his with a tight heart and turned away so I wouldn't have to look at the hurt on his face.

"We're almost there," He assured me, understanding that the walls I put up were not against him.

No verbal response came from me as I only nodded my head, looking at the window with furrowed brows and sore eyes. My eyes had been stinging with tears all cried out and I didn't think I'd be able to cry anymore.

Even as we arrived at the hospital and I had rushed out to hurry to the floor my grandmother was on, no tears fell. Dawson followed closely behind to ensure my safe arrival but I was quick and nimbly worried as I whizzed past busy doctors and patients, annoyed glances thrown at my panicky state.

"Be alright," I chanted in my head as my heart hammered loudly in my chest.

My feet slowly came to a stop as I caught sight of the room number in which held my grandmother's life.

Dawson eventually caught up to me and panted to a stop. He saw my hesitation and stood by my side in silent support as I looked up at the numbers with big, fearful eyes.

I crossed my arms over my chest and finally turned to look at Dawson who was giving me an encouraging, sad smile. He didn't speak any words and I was grateful for it cause I knew the wrong combination of syllables and consonants would only make me more anxious.

"I think I should go in," I muttered quietly, gaze lowered in depressed contemplation.

Dawson kicked my feet in a manner that was similar as to patting someone's back when they're sad. "It's alright. I'll be out here if ever you need a human-sized tissue."

I quirked a smile at his attempts at comfort and then nodded my head.

"Deep breath," I whispered to myself as I placed a hand on the door knob before twisting it open to see what lay before me.

~*~

Christmas was in a week and here we were on the ninth day of my grandmother's passing at Mary's Garden, a cemetery. The whole was six feet deep and stood above it were my parents, siblings, cousins, aunts, and uncles gathered around to pay our respects.