The Art of Knowing [Completed]

35. • to mourn •

[to all who have learned to accept and move on. to the ones who move on but will never forget.]

• • • •
"Can you tell me something about them? Anything you remember specifically?"

Cassandra fidgeted at the question as it hovered over the small table. Ordering any lunch at all was definitely a wrong move since, after all, the artist was more than aware she wouldn't be able to eat any of it. Her gaze wandered over to the clear pane next to her, and it seemed that anything outside of the small restaurant could hold her attention longer than she had intended. Surely, she was avoiding the question with other distractions over by the other side of the glass. After a couple of seconds filled with overbearing silence, Cassandra decided to return back to reality, facing Ryan head on before mustering an actual answer. The socialite knew well about the question he had just asked, just as much as he knew it would be harder to answer for her when considering where they were driving off to. It'd only been about 4 days since they'd returned together from Chicago and much to the artist's dismay, she'd never let herself forget of the anniversary of her father's passing. Now, in an attempt to soothe the constant yearning for closure, the couple opted driving 4 hours over to Cassandra's hometown, where the graves of both guardians rested in peace.

A ghostly smile flickered onto her lips as she lowered her cup of lemonade back to the table's surface. "Not much about my mom, but I remember finger painting while my dad painted his own stuff."

"Do you still have any of his work?" Ryan inquired.

"Yeah," she breathed with certain nostalgia laced within her voice. "Most of the paintings in my apartment are his. I tried painting a lot more because of him, although I don't know why I would since it's obvious no one could compare to his skill."

Silence fell upon them as Ryan exchanged a weak smile. He'd been meticulously folding one of the many napkins sprawled near their meals, and while Cassandra had barely touched her own food because of the awaited event they would drive over to, Ryan found himself unable to finish his own meal as well with all the nervous tension lingering in the air. In truth, he'd been quite surprised at the artist's request to visit her late parents. It was surely an important step, nonetheless. The brunette checked her phone screen once more, indicating they still an hour left before what they estimated would be the time of their arrival. Each passing hour proved to infiltrate more evident impatience within Cassandra since she hadn't been to her parents' resting places in nearly 2 years. She was convinced not going would mend some of the unwavering existence of her grief, but she was far from correct— visiting this time around seemed like a plausible solution to her constant yearning.

"You'll be fine, you know."

Cassandra smiled weakly at Ryan's words, consciously tugging a strand of hair behind her lowered ponytail. The artist had caught herself wearing a considerate amount of black attire— unbeknownst to her —which surely made her uneasy. Since when did she associate visiting her parents as an event that required such depressing clothing? She didn't know. Perhaps she'd associated her inner thoughts and feelings as a vehicle to reflect upon through the exterior. It was pretty concerning to say the least. But, after much needed reflection throughout the car ride, the brunette made a mental note to try and wear more lively clothes next time.

"I don't know about that," she murmured. When the young man reciprocated a knowing glare, she mustered up the explanation. "It's been about 2 years, Ryan. And to be honest, I have no idea how I thought this would be a good thing."