We're up practically at the crack of dawn the next morning. Adam passed out immediately after crying himself into exhaustion, and after the long drive, I wasn't far behind him. I have no idea how long Eleanor stayed up before going to bed, but she's the first one awake of the three of us, which I know because I'm woken out of a dead sleep in the morning by her pounding on the door.

We can only guess how today will go, and we can't be sure if we'll come back to the motel or not, so even though we put all our stuff back in the car, I go ahead and pay for a second night at the front desk before we head out anyway.

Eleanor and Adam offer to cover the cost, but I wave them away, telling them they can take care of breakfast. Adam has never had a significant amount of money of his own until his internship at the radio station, and Eleanor doesn't have a job and I know her family isn't rolling in money, so I'd feel guilty doing anything less.

We get back in the car, and I punch in the first of the two addresses we have into the GPS.

“Ready?” I ask, glancing in my rear view mirror at Eleanor, and then across from me at Adam.

“Fuck yes,” Eleanor replies. Adam nods once, looking a little pale.

We head back onto the freeway for about fifteen minutes, heading deeper into the heart of the city. Finally we pull off on an exit and wind up on a labyrinthine maze of wide, treeless surface streets.

I miss a turn when some asshole won't let me merge into his lane, and with a swear I slow down a little, waiting for the GPS to reroute. El flips the guy off, and even though he's already gone and almost certainly didn't see it, I still scold her.

“Keep your road rage to yourself; you don't know who's a psycho out there. I won't be backing you up if you get into a fist fight on the side of the road.”

“Who said anything about fists? I'll curse his head right up his ass, since that seems to be where he likes to keep it. If he wants to play rough, I'll play rough.”

“Hey, guys!” Adam interjects abruptly. I glance at him, and see he's got his nose practically pressed against the car window. “Can we stop here really quick?”

He's pointing at a supermarket coming up on the right.

“What for?” I ask, even as I put on my blinker and start pulling into the next lane.

“I just want to grab something.”

Another fifteen minutes later, we're standing in the office at the Parkridge Cemetery, an indigent graveyard where the unknown and those too poor to afford their own burial plots are laid to rest; while the clerk shows us on a map where the grave of “Wolfe, White Female” can be found.

Most of this city is flat and characterless, devoid of trees and any color apart from the grey of pavements and cement. But this graveyard is a green place, and we have to walk up a small hill dotted with oak trees to find the spot.

Once we get to the right area, we just have to read the headstones to find the right one. Many of them just read things like “Unknown Black Male”, with only a date of death beneath, and it gives me a pang in my heart to see so many lost and forgotten souls here.

Eleanor's voice is the first to break the silence as we search.

“I found it! Here is is.”

Adam is at her side in a flash, and I'm only steps behind.

It's a flat headstone, flush against the ground. It's grey and unadorned, the only markings on it the name “WOLFE”, followed by “Unknown White Female”, and the date of her death.

It's so small and so unassuming, just a little rectangle of stone laying on the grassy hill. It's hard to imagine there is a person laying here beneath our feet—well, the ashes of a person, anyway. And it's even harder to imagine that that little pile of ashes was once Adam's mother, a vibrant, living person who had brought him into this world.

I look away from the headstone and up at Adam. His jaw is clenched tight, and I can see his knuckles straining as he grips the bouquet of flowers he bought at the supermarket tightly in his hands. I almost reach out to touch his shoulder, but I think twice and just leave him be for now. He doesn't need me distracting him.

His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard, and then he crouches down in front of the headstone.

“Uh... here,” he says in a raspy voice, and he lays the flowers down. Then he glances up with uncertainty in his eyes at me and Eleanor. “Am I... am I supposed to talk to it? I mean, to her?”

I shrug. “My mom talks to my grandma when she visits her grave.” I always felt silly doing that, even though my mom always insists I say “hi grandma” and “bye grandma” as the very least whenever we visit. But even so, I always offered a silent wish in my head that wherever she is, she's doing well.

“We do during Día de los Muertos,” Eleanor adds, crouching next to Adam. “And we leave offerings for the dead; food, drinks, marigolds, pillows and blankets so their spirits can rest.”

“Just do whatever feels natural,” I advise. “If talking seems weird, you don't have to.” I glance at Eleanor. “Do you want us to leave you alone for a little while?”

Adam shakes his head. “No. No, I'd rather you guys were here.”

I sit down in the grass on Adam's other side. He wraps his arms around his knees, just staring at the headstone. His eyes are wet, but no tears fall.

We stay like that for maybe an hour. Eleanor climbs a tree because she has no respect for anything, and I lie down in a shady spot, my arms in back of my head, with my eyes closed as I just enjoy the warmth of the morning and listen to the cicadas starting their songs above me.

Adam stays right by the grave, every once in a while saying something in a low voice to it. I make an effort not to listen in.

Finally he stands up, brushing dirt from his pants.

“Okay,” he says, his voice just a little choked. “We should probably go.”

I sit up. “Are you sure? We don't have to rush, we have all day technically. We could even go to the hospital tomorrow instead if you want.”

“No, I want to keep going. I don't like sitting around when there's more to do.”

Eleanor jumps down from the tree, and I rise to my feet. I go to link arms with Adam and lead him away from his mother's grave, but he resists my tug.

“Wait,” he says, looking back down at the headstone with troubled expression. “Can we... can I... I mean, like...”

“What?”

Adam takes a deep breath. “Is it legal to... dig her up? Like, is that something I can request?”

“Dig her up?” Eleanor repeats, looking shocked.

Adam flushes. “I mean, it's just an urn down there, right? It's not like a... a body or anything. People keep their family member's ashes sometimes, don't they? You have your old dog's ashes on the mantle,” he points out to her. “I just... I just don't want to leave her here. All alone, I mean. I just found her. I don't want to leave her here all alone again.”

He rubs his eyes furiously with the palm of his hand, making a concerted effort to keep himself composed.

“Uh... we could look into it,” I suggest gently. “I don't know for sure. Maybe? We'll figure it out, if you want. Of course we will.”

He swallows again and nods. “Okay. Cool. Great.”

With one last look at the patch of earth his mother ended up beneath, Adam lets me and Eleanor draw him away, back to the car.