What A Year

“Hi,” I say excitedly, standing and walking to you. Very slowly, you sit up in bed, looking around at the small room. Our eyes meet, gone from your gaze is the look of love. “Do you know where you are?” I ask softly, careful not to startle you. You swiftly sweep your eyes over me and the room. “A hospital?” you say. Unable to stand from that cold stare, I sit on the bed opposite you, careful not to touch. “ Yes, and do you know who I am?” “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.” I move to sit in the chair, giving us both space. “Is there anything you do remember?” A few moments of silence and then, “I only remember hearing ‘Guadalupe’. Am I Guadalupe?” I nod yes and instantly, memories surge forward. The sound of your boasting laughter, the smell of vanilla in your hair, the feel of your soft lips against mine. Once I gain control, I stand, ready to help in any way I can. As you move your lips to speak, your mom walks in. She stops when she sees you. I close the door and tap her on the shoulder. That seems to spark some life into her. “Why are you just staring at me?” you ask. It takes Tonya a couple of seconds before she can speak. “Do you remember anything?” she asks swiftly. Your eyes seek mine, but I have no words. “I think I’ll go down and check on Lola while you talk with her.” I escape the shrinking room. “Victor, please be careful.” Tonya says as I close the door. You’re on the fourth floor, so I take the elevator down to see Lola, my chocolate Labrador. My parents gave her to me on Christmas when I was 10. I walk out to the parking lot and see Lola. She loves laying in the truck bed. As I get closer she stands and I go in for a hug. She doesn’t complain as I hold on tight. I release her and scratch behind her ears. “You ready to go, girl?” She circles the bed twice and sits down—waiting. I roll my eyes. “Yes, she’s awake,” she gives a playful yelp, “but she’s staying here.” With that, she gives a warning growl and slumps dramatically. I get in the truck and open the rear window so she can climb in and sit up front while I text Tonya. Me: Tonya, I’m heading to Zeke’s. I can’t be here right now. Tonya: We’ll start finding answers tomorrow, Vic. She doesn’t seem to remember anything. The doctors did say this could be a side effect of the coma. Me: Yea, I know. Tonya: Just get some rest and be careful Me: Ok. Keep me posted. Please. I put my phone away and drive about an hour to Uncle Zeke’s. When I turn onto his dirt road, I get a view of those lush woods you love. We’d spend hours in there, planning our future. That’s where we found our cave— and where we were the night of your coma. I haven’t come clean about everything that happened that night, but only because you deserve to hear it first. I pull into Zeke’s driveway as he says goodbye to someone on the phone and walks to meet us. “I hear you’ve had quite a day.” “You know me, tío. I live for excitement,” I reply sarcastically. He pulls me in for a fierce hug. 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,” he says pulling away. I head upstairs and even here, in my room are memories of you—laying in my bed reading stories, doing your hair in front of the mirror, random notes you’d leave for me. I wash up and change shirts, seeing one of those notes. “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. “And for the final act,” he says, heating up the food in his hot hands. “Show off,” we begin to eat in silence. I know he’s giving me time. “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 me feeling better afterwards. After we clean up the table, I leave food for Lola and we head outside. It’s dusk now, and naturally, I reach out 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 again. I visualize myself dismantling a brick wall, just like you taught me—and this time, I get through. I hear you and your mom, though not clearly and then, as it really opens up I get a whiff of rain. Then, an invisible force grabs hold of me and tosses me across the yard. The air is knocked out of me as I land. “What did you do?” Zeke demands. I give him a crossed look. “Why would it be something I did?” I ask darkly. “Because, when it comes to Lupe, Vic, you’ve always chosen the easier path instead of the smart one.” 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 to help me. “I was on the phone with Tonya when you pulled up. She wants us there at 11 tomorrow to go over what happened.” He puts his hands on my shoulders, giving me a reassuring squeeze, “I’ve always got your back Vic, but whatever you’re not telling us, and I know there’s something, it will eventually burst free.” He drops his hands. “Let’s finish tomorrow. You look horrible.” I know it’s meant to be a joke, but I do feel horrible—about everything. Lola follows me upstairs, and we collapse onto the bed. I drape my arm over her as I let memories lead me into sleep.