What A Year

“Hi,” I say, standing and walking to you, ready to wrap you in my arms. You’re slowly sitting up in bed, sweeping your gaze around the room. A table, a chair and hospital equipment is all there is. When our eyes meet, the air is sucked out of the room. Gone is the spark of our love, you’re cold stare pierces me. “Do you know where you are?” I ask breathlessly. You take another look around, “A hospital?”, your husky voice glides across my skin. I sit on the bed opposite you, “Yes. Do you know who I am?” You tilt your head examining me, “No- I don’t know who you are, but,” you look down at your hands, “I don’t know who I am either. There’s nothing,” you whisper. Even your voice is different, not light and musical, but deep and broken. I stand and turn, not ready to acknowledge the elephant in the room that, apparently, only I’m aware of. “Is there anything you do remember?”. A few quiet heartbeats tick by, “I only remember hearing ‘Guadalupe’. Am I Guadalupe?” Turning back, I nod yes and sit. Memories come forward. The sound of your laughter, the smell of flowers in your hair, your soft lips on mine. Why haven’t you reached out your arms to me? Why haven’t we kissed? You’re being so cold to me. Now, I know the doctors said memory loss could be an issue, but they don’t know us. Taking a deep breathe, I focus on calming my thoughts. I know how I can get sometimes. I open my mouth to speak, just as I see you doing the same, when your mom walks through the door. I stand as she enters, and then abruptly stops. I move to close the door and then tap her shoulder, which does the trick. “Do you remember anything?”, she blurts out to you. You react to her in the same manner as with me and shake your head no. “I think I’ll go down and check on Lola while you talk with Lupe, Tonya.” The room starts to feel small and I need to escape. “Victor, please be careful,” Tonya says as l walk out with a pain in my chest. My footsteps echo in the hallway as every instinct tells me to turn around. You’re on the fourth floor, so I take the elevator down to see Lola, my beautiful chocolate lab. Lola was a gift from my parents on Christmas when I was ten. She is the only piece left that I have of them. That pain echoes today—same rhythm, different verse. She’s the comfort in all my storms. I walk out and see her. She loves napping in the truck bed. As I’m getting closer, she stands, waiting for me. I hug her tight and hold on. I breathe in her wonderful scent—instantly calming the ache in my heart. I release her and scratch behind her ears. “You ready to go, girl?” She circles the bed twice and sits down. I look at her, “Yes, she’s awake,” Lola gives a playful yelp after that news, “but she’s staying here.” She gives an unladylike growl and slumps, dramatically, on her side. I get in the truck and open the rear window so she can climb in and sit up front with me while I text Tonya. Me: I’m heading to Zeke’s. I can’t be here right now. She’s different. Tonya: I’ll solve this problem, Vic. She doesn’t remember anything right now. Remember what the doctors said. Me: Yeah, I know. Tonya: Just get some rest and be careful Me: Ok. Keep me posted. I put my phone away and drive to Uncle Zeke’s house by the woods. He lives an hour from the hospital. I hate to leave you Lupe, but maybe space will help us both. Silence keeps me company as Lola sleeps beside me. My mind is somewhere I do not want to be right now. When I turn onto Zeke’s dirt road, I can see the woods. We’d spend hours in there, in the cave we found. We had our future planned out in there, even etched it into the walls. That same cave is where everything went wrong the night of your coma, Lupe. I can’t reveal everything about that night to your mom and Zeke, because you deserve to hear it first. I drive up to Zeke’s house just as he comes out, ear to phone. He says goodbye to the caller and meets me as I step out of the truck. “I hear you’ve had quite a day.” “You know me, tío. I live for excitement,” I reply sarcastically. Lola bounces out of the truck when Zeke pulls me in for a tight hug. I lean into him. After my parents died, I came to live with Uncle Zeke and he’s become my home now. It’s after 5 in the afternoon now, and I can smell dinner. “Enchiladas?”, I say with a hopeful smile. “Go wash up so we can eat.” I head upstairs to my bedroom and even here, memories of you lying on my bed reading, or doing your hair and leaving random notes for me. As I walk out my restroom I see in sick note, “MY MATE”, written on a purple post it with little hearts. I slide my finger across it and head downstairs. Zeke is finished setting the table and comes around the corner with 2 very big plates in hand. We sit and eat. “How about after this, we go and take care of the lawn out back?” I offer. “Feeling better already, I see,” he says. His food always leaves you full of energy and a clear mind. It’s helped push the dark thoughts back into a corner, even if just for a while. “I miss her so much,” I whisper into the dining room, unable to hold in the words. “I know son.” Zeke covers my hand with his and a comfortable warmth flows through me. We put away the dishes and I put out food for Lola and get to the work. It’s dusk now, and naturally, I reach into our bond to see how you’re dealing. I’m blocked. I think nothing of it—you were taught how to block out unwanted magic by your mom. I move onto another task and after a while, I try our bond again. I visualize myself dismantling a brick wall, just like you showed me—and this time, I get through. I’m seeing and feeling impressions of what you’re experiencing. I can hear you and your mom, though not clearly. Then, as soon as the bond starts to really open and I get a whiff of rain, something physically picks me up and throws me across the yard. I land hard in the drive way by my truck. Zeke instantly runs over, “What did you do?” he demands. I give him a crossed look. “Why would it be something I did?”, I say darkly. “Because, when it comes to Lupe, Vic, you don’t always think things through.” I lay back down on the ground and recount my steps to him. “I reached into our bond and at first I was blocked. I tried again a little later and this,”—I gesture up and down at myself—“is the result of me getting through.” He comes over to help me. “That was Tonya on the phone when you pulled up,” he’s saying, “She wants us there at 11 tomorrow to go over what happened.” He puts his hands on my shoulders and stares into me, “I don’t know what it is you’re hiding, but I know there’s something you’re not telling me.” I look away, breaking his intense stare. He gives me a gentle squeeze, “I will always be on your side Victor.” He drops his hands, “Let’s finish tomorrow. You look horrible.” Lola follows me upstairs, and I collapse onto the bed. She lays next to me, and I drape my arm over her. Her sweet scent pushes away the angry thoughts that try to find me before sleep does.