What A Year

Him, Victor's pov

“Hi,” I say, standing and walking over to you, my heart leading me by the hand.

You’re slowly sitting up in bed. I see your cautious gaze searching for something. The lack of emotion on your face and in your eyes shocks me.

You look at me as though I’m a stranger.

“Do you know where you are?” I ask softly, careful not to startle you.

You take another scan of the room, “ A hospital?” you ask, sharply raising your thin eyebrow. A movement that I’ve never seen cross your face with me before.

I sit on the bed opposite you, careful not to touch you, “ Yes, and do you know who I am?”

You tilt your head slightly, gaze unwavering from mine, when just a hint of confusion moves through your eyes. Where I once saw love and longing has been replaced with apprehension and caution.

“No. I don’t know who you are, but I don’t know who I am either. There’s no memory, there’s nothing..” you whisper. You look down, defeated, at your hands.

I get up and walk back to the chair, not sitting down just yet. I’m trying to get a better handle on my emotions so that I can help you understand what’s happening.

“Is there anything you do remember?” I ask with my back to you, battling a deep heartache and a sense of loss I don’t understand.

“I only remember hearing ‘Guadalupe,’ and then waking to see you. Am I Guadalupe?”, you ask.

I turn back and nod yes. I finally sit and let my head fall back.

With my eyes closed, I recount endless memories—the sound of your laughter, the way your hair smells as you lay in my arms, the feel of your lips on mine. I take a deep breath, open my eyes and sit up straight.

You open your mouth to speak, and I yearn to hear your wonderful voice—when your mom rushes in.

I stand as she enters and stops mid-stride. I close the door behind her and gently bump her shoulder. That seems to spark some life into her.

“Why are you just staring at me?” you ask your mother.

It takes Tonya a couple of seconds before she can speak. “Do you remember anything?” she asks, a little too roughly.

You turn your eyes back to me and once again, nothing—and it destroys me even more. The room suddenly feels small and airless. The way we’re interacting is heart-shattering.

“I think I’ll go down and check on Lola for a bit while you talk to her, Tonya,” I give you a small smile you don’t return, and with my head hanging, I walk out.

“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 my Lola. My beautiful chocolate lab. I wave absently to the nurse sitting at the information desk.

A genuine smile forms as I think of Lola. My parents gave her to me on Christmas when I was ten. They died a couple weeks after. That pain… it’s a mirror image of what I feel now. It’s as if a death has occurred, but you’re not dead, you’re alive and talking.

I walk out to the parking lot and see her. She loves to nap out in the truck bed and is a wonderful people person. Everyone loves Lola.

As I get closer, she stands quietly, waiting for me. I hug her fiercely and breathe in her sweet scent—it instantly calms me. I hold on a little longer. She can tell I need it.

“You ready to go, girl?” She circles the bed twice and sits down roughly—her way of waiting.

I feel completely helpless Lupe. All I wanna do is talk to you and tell you everything I’m going through. But, I know that’s not what you need right now, so I get into the truck.

I open the rear window so Lola can climb in and sit up front with me while I text Tonya.

Me: Tonya I’m heading to Zeke’s. I can’t be here right now.

Tonya (immediately): We’ll get down to the problem, Vic. Just get some rest and be careful. Looks like she doesn’t remember anything.

Me: Ok. Keep me posted. Please.

I put my phone away and drive to Uncle Zeke’s house by the woods. He lives about an hour from the hospital.

Leaving you there feels like abandoning a part of myself, but staying would only make the emptiness wider.

Memories of countless conversations between us fill my head as I drive — especially the conversation we had that night you went into the coma. I won’t utter a single word of it until I know you’re ready to hear it, Lupe.

I turn onto Zeke’s dirt road and catch a view of those lush woods you love. We’d spend hours in there, talking about our future and what we wanted. The things and places we wanted to see and do together .

The woods are where we found our cave. It’s a straight 40-minute walk from Zeke’s back door into the thick of it. A dark, heavy blanket of despair starts to fill me.

I finally pull into Zeke’s driveway just as he comes out the front door, ear to phone. Lola starts barking as soon as I park, wanting to get his attention.

He says goodbye to the caller and meets me as I step out of the truck. “I hear you’ve had quite a day,” he says.

“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.

After my parents died, I came to live with my Uncle Zeke.

You love it here, Lupe—and it made me love it more. I give him a final squeeze and we head inside.

It’s after 5 in the afternoon now, and I smell dinner. “Enchiladas?” I say with a hopeful smile.

“Go wash up so we can eat together,” he replies.

I head upstairs to my bedroom. Even here, there are memories of you—laying in my bed, doing your hair in front of the mirror, random notes you’d leave for me to find. I wash my hands and change my shirt. Zeke’s just finished setting the table when I go back down.

“You make the best food in the world, tío,” I say as I take my first bite. It lands with a warm thud in my stomach. I forget about all my problems for a while. I close my eyes and savor all the rich flavors—especially the red sauce, my favorite part.

Zeke’s food is one of the many things he’s praised for.

“How about after this, we go and take care of the lawn out back?” I offer.

“Feeling better already, I see,” he remarks.

“I need a sweaty workout.” Another thing about Zeke’s food—it always leaves you feeling refueled. It’s helped to push the dark thoughts back into a corner for a while.

We’ve all got our different and special abilities. Zeke’s are more on the healing and strength side. He owns a chain of tacos trucks throughout the county. His cooking is phenomenal and it helps that his hands burn hot, literally.

I’m more of a mind-type myself. I can slip into a person’s subconscious and change a memory or insert a fake one. The person would be totally unaware. I know it sounds scary, but that’s what your mom helps me with. Her abilities are mind-based too.

“Daydreaming already?” Zeke pulls me out of my thoughts.

“I miss her so much,” I say. He knows who I mean.

“Let’s put away the food and dishes. Hey, I have an idea! Let’s go take care of my lawn!” I let out my first genuine laugh.

“Sounds like a great idea, Z. Come up with that all on your own?”

“Of course,” he says. We both chuckle, then clear the table and put away the dishes. I put out a plate of food for Lola, and we start by raking leaves. It’s dusk now, and naturally, I reach out to 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 mother. As I move onto another task, I try again to reach into our bond. I visualize myself dismantling a brick wall—and this time, I get through.

The second attempt goes smoother. I’m seeing and feeling everything you’re experiencing. I hear your mom telling you about us being mates, when suddenly, something physically picks me up and throws me across the yard.

I land with a thud. Zeke instantly runs over.

“What did you do?” he demands.

I give him a crossed look. “Why do you assume it’s something I did?” I say 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. “I tried to reach out to our bond. At first she blocked me—and this”—I gesture up and down at myself—“is the outcome of the second attempt.”

He helps me up. “I was on the phone earlier with Tonya when you pulled up,” he says. “She wants us there at 11 tomorrow morning to go over what happened.”

He places his hands on my shoulders and stares into my eyes. “I don’t know what it is you’re hiding, but I know there’s something you’re not telling me.” He gives me a reassuring squeeze. “I will always be on your side, Vic. But whatever you’re trying to hold in will eventually burst free.”

He drops his hands. “Let’s go to bed. You look horrible.”

I know it’s meant to be a joke, but I do feel horrible.

Lola follows me upstairs, and I collapse onto my bed. She lays next to me, and I drape my arm over her. The smell of sweet lavender… your emotionless eyes… are what I cradle to as I fall asleep.