What A Year

Her, Guadalupe's pov

The first thing I notice as I wake up is the soft bed beneath me. Then—a beeping to the right.

The air I’m breathing smells like fresh cut grass. I don’t open my eyes, yet I can see where I am.

A hospital room.

The scent—someone sitting in the chair beside me. Fear bubbles inside as I try to recall some memory of this person.

As my breathing increases, a new sound comes from the machine and the man opens his eyes.

I open mine.

His eyes—light hazel—seem to swim with emotion, though I’m not sure why.

“Hi,” he says, walking over to me as I sit up.

Then, a pull on my heart— but not because of him.

“Do you know where you are?” he asks.

Again, I look around. “A hospital?”

He sits at the edge of the bed, facing me. “Yes, and do you know who I am?”

I tilt my head, hoping to find something in this empty brain. All the while, his gaze feels intimate.

“No. I don’t know who you are—but..” I look down at my hands, away from his intense eyes. “I don’t know who I am either. There’s nothing..” I whisper.

He walks away, but not before I see something in him break. “Is there anything you do remember?”

Closing my eyes, I push through thick fog. Finally, something, “I only remember hearing ‘Guadalupe’. Am I Guadalupe?”

He nods his head and sits, closing his eyes.

Part of me wants to go to him—comfort him—but, something deep inside says I shouldn’t.

As I run my fingers through my hair, memories suddenly rush forward—me and him. Moments of us, together. They feel intimate and not at all like my own.

Not sure of how I got these images, I picture myself walking up to a door and turning a key. Instantly, everything quiets and the flood stops.

And how do I even know how to do that?

He opens his eyes and just as I’m about to ask a question, a petite woman walks in and stops.

She’s not breathing. Does she know she’s not breathing?

He taps her shoulder, and that seems to wake her.

“Why are you staring at me?” I ask.

That seems to do it, “Do you remember anything?” she asks.

I look at him, waiting to see what he says. After a few moments, he says, “I think I’ll go check on Lola while you talk with her.” And bolts out of here.

“Victor, please be careful,” she calls out to him.

Victor. So that’s his name.

Strangely, being alone with her isn’t uncomfortable. “And who are you?” I ask.

Her brown eyes flash violet—just for a second—then change back. Something presses against my brain, like it’s scratching to get in.

“I’m your mom,” she says with a proud smile, “Tonya, and that,” she points to her own head, “was me trying to read your memories.”

Read my memories? I swing my legs over the bed— a feat in itself now that I feel the stiffness in my bones.

Without thinking, I pat the space next to me, inviting her to sit. When she does, I lay my head on her shoulder.

This feels— familiar. She sighs and rests her head against mine.

Can I read her memories?

Her phone vibrates, and she answers a text. When she finishes, I lift my head. “What happened to me?”

As she’s about to answer, my heart flops in my chest— someone knocks. I reach out to stop her. Whoever is behind that door, the tugging is for them.

She pats my hand. “It’ll be okay.”

The smell of an ocean breeze fills the room when she opens the door.

“Sebastian, what can I do for you?” she asks sternly.

His name sends shivers through me.

“I know she’s awake, Tonya,” he’s saying. “I thought I heard her. Can I see her, please?”

His voice, like a warm hug.

She glances at me, her eyes flashing again, then lets him in.

The hospital lights give his blonde hair an angelic glow. He’s a little taller than Victor, and as we lock gazes, something clicks into place.

Why wasn’t he the first person I saw when I awoke? Quickly, I look away, realizing I’ve been staring.

“You have no reason to be ashamed, Guadalupe,” he says. “I would happily die for just one look from you.”

Tonya taps furiously at her phone—clearly unimpressed. When he says my name I know it was him I heard earlier.

“Please, don’t stop on my account.” he says to Tonya.

She lets out a deep sigh. “Your name is Guadalupe Jimenez. As for what happened to you—and how you came to be in this state—no one knows. Victor Delacruz is your mate.” she says, emphasizing a word that sounds territorial. “And this intruder is Sebastian Hernandez—a friend of yours. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Tonya, that is correct. But, you did forget to mention how deeply in love I’ve been with your daughter.” His eyes shine as Victor’s had.

A phone rings in his pocket, that he ignores, and he stands.

“I have to leave Guadalupe, but I’ll be nearby, should you need me.” He leans forward, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

My body aches to lean into it—but again, something in me holds back. He leaves, taking the ocean air with him.

Tonya stares at me. “What was that?” She asks confused.

As she speaks, another tickle brushes my mind. Ignoring it I ask, “So I’m guessing we’re magical or something?”

She nods. “What did you say Victor was to me?”

“He’s your mate. The one person who holds the other half of your heart.” Again, a very faint scratch at my brain, followed by a very subtle click.

Closing my eyes, I visualize a small bag in my hand and toss it into the air. Quickly, I build a brick wall around myself—mentally—solid and impenetrable.

“What just happened?” she asks when I open my eyes.

Not revealing too much, I say, “Just a headache. It’s a lot to process.”

She hugs me and I don’t pull away. “I’ll bring you something light to eat.”

When she leaves, I lie back on the bed, letting it all replay.

I have no memories. I feel something for someone who isn’t mine, and nothing for the one who is.

The room fills with light and a tall woman appears. Her long hair floats from a breeze I can’t feel and her silver eyes hold me in a trance.

She speaks without moving her lips, but I hear her:

“Guadalupe Jimenez, no one sees the chaos leaking into your lives. History is coming to claim its fruition. The loss of memory is to transform you into who you were always meant to be. Questions will be answered. Enemies will be made.”

She fades as Tonya enters. “I brought you some soup and Jell-O. You’ll want to take it easy on your stomach.”

I expect her to say something— anything— about what just happened.

“Tomorrow, around lunch, Victor and his uncle will stop by,” she continues.

I sit up to eat. “If Victor and I are mates, shouldn’t I remember him? Or at least feel something?”

She stares off at something I can’t see. Taking my now- empty tray, she says softly, “We’ll find all the answers tomorrow—together.”

She tucks me in and kisses me good night. I drift off to sleep thinking of silver eyes and the ocean air.