What A Year

The other, Sebstian's pov

“Sebastian!” Lilah bellows from somewhere in the house.

“Seb!” She screams, closer now.

I grab my phone and step into the hallway, nearly colliding with her.

“You’re feeling down,” she accuses, “and it’s bumming me out, bro.”

I kneel to her level, brushing hair out of her face. “I’ll try not to be a downer on my birthday, baby sis.”

She puts her hand on my cheek, pulling my last thought to the surface.

The first time I saw you, Lupe.

Smiling she says, “Let’s go. I’m hungry and Momma and Dad are waiting.”

She bounces back to her usual self and we go into the living room.

Dad’s already got his keys in hand. “Well, you know if we don’t get going,” mom’s saying, “we’ll be eating dessert in traffic.”

An image of mozzarella sticks drowning in marinara flashes in my mind. “I could go for some mozzarella sticks,” I say out loud, gaining a grin from Lilah.

We pile into the family car and drive off.

My mind drifts back to you, as always.

Lilah puts on her headphones—her way of checking out when I get too sentimental.

I’m sure people suspect how I feel about you.

I’ve always respected your relationship with Victor and who you are to each other.

Still, there’s just been something about you.

As we near the restaurant, I play one of my favorite wishful games.

I close my eyes and whisper your name in my head.

“Guadalupe”— I say.

I snap my eyes open when I hear it—“Who?”

My family hasn’t moved around and Lilah hasn’t noticed what I heard.

All is normal.

But, I know I heard you.

The sound of your voice is a song I know by memory.

When we get to the restaurant, we’re seated quickly.

Everyone’s chatting and laughing, but I can’t focus.

A flood of emotions flow through me.

Panic. Confusion. Anxiety.

These are not my own.

Our food comes, and as I share mozzarella sticks with Lilah, I do my best to shield my thoughts from her.

As we’re finishing up, she says, “Hey family, wouldn’t it be awesome if today was the day Guadalupe woke up?”

And just as she says it, the waiters bring out a birthday cake blazing with candles and everyone sings.

Lilah has to sense something, right?

Why else say that?

A text comes from the nurse.

Victor just left and she’s awake.

I nearly fall out of my chair. That woman is an angel.

She pities my puppy-dog devotion and always lets me know when it’s safe to visit.

I stand, grinning, “Guadalupe woke up!” I announce.

My family stares.

Lilah’s jaw drops. “I was just joking,” she whispers.

Mom and Dad cover their mouths, stunned.

“Dad, Mom—let’s take big bro to get his birthday gift!” Lilah says, catching on fast.

Coincidentally, we are not far from the hospital and make it there in fifteen minutes.

They leave me at the entrance and promise to wait in the cafeteria.

I take the elevator to the fourth floor, feeling lighter than I have in weeks.

When I get to your door I knock.

I know your mom is inside. I can sense her.

I’m not usually comfortable around Tonya, but today, none of that matters.

She opens the door, and her brown eyes flash to violet the moment she sees me. That’s her way of intimidating people.

Or maybe she just keeps that setting on for me.

“Sebastian,” she says. “What can I do for you?”

“I know she’s awake, Tonya. Can I see her, please?” She looks away and finally steps back, letting me in.

You’re sitting up in bed.

I notice the frailty in your body, but your beauty still shines.

Your eyes grow a little wider as we meet and I hear a faint clicking noise.

Then I smell it, jasmine and pine—fresh, wild, and delicate all at once.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt you two, Guadalupe. I just had to see for myself that you were truly awake.”

Tonya begins to stab away at her phone and asks, “And who told you, Sebastian? I only just found out myself.”

Dang, I messed up.

“Apologies, Tonya. I can’t disclose names, but they are friends of Guadalupe. Again, forgive me, but I only came to steal a few minutes of your time so I could see your eyes. I have to leave, but I’ll be nearby, should you need me.”

My heart leads me by the hand and I step forward and kiss your cheek—soft and slow.

I feel your response to my closeness—but you hold back.

I say goodbye and leave, practically bouncing my way to the cafeteria.

Lilah beams when she sees me. I know she feels it, too.

As we head home, I replay our interaction in my head.

I glance at Lilah and notice her staring. “No headphones this time?”

And then, finally, I stop to think.

Why?

What happened overnight for my feelings to be this strong for you?

You never even mentioned Victor’s name.

On second thought, it looked to me like maybe you didn’t know who I was.

The nurse did say memory loss is a side effect of comas.

As we pull into our driveway, my mind feels heavy.

Full of questions and doubts.

How long would it take for you to remember?

After opening my gifts and enjoying my family, I head upstairs.

I burrow under the covers, holding onto memories, old and new.

Your smile and the feel of your soft cheek coax me into dreams.