I open my eyes and am immediately blinded by a shock of white light. The tops of my corneas sting until my vision adjusts to the brightness — Marco… Marco, can you hear me? — I hear a female voice that sounds familiar, like an echo in my mind, but I can't quite remember who is she. I tilt my head to the right where I can see an open window; it's daytime — Here, I'm here — she says, just as I see a pair of hands with long fingers enter my field of vision. A strong feeling of nausea and pressure in my throat distract me from examining the woman's face — Relax, I'll call a nurse to take this off — When I see her leave, I notice that the woman's hair is black, shoulder-length, and she's wearing a green sweater, but that scent... is it hers?
I feel like I'm falling asleep just by blinking, so I focus on my breathing, which makes me realize how terribly my ribs hurt. It's so quiet in this place, I can hear my own heartbeat, the approaching footsteps, and voices mentioning my name.
— Good morning, I'm Dr. Garrote. How are you feeling? — I hear a male voice say after the door closes. I look around for the voice and see a tall man in a white coat approaching. There are two other women in blue uniforms with him.
— It's obvious he can't talk with that tube in his throat — the woman says.
— Gracia and Yudy, please help me with that — Garrote says.
— You might be uncomfortable from the friction — one of the nurses says.
Then, I feel my stomach churn and my head jerk upward because of the muscles in my neck, but I don't vomit — It's okay, I'm here — the woman says. That phrase takes me back to my childhood.
— It… it hurts… to breathe, Auntie — I say, or at least I try to, because I can't move my mouth enough; I slur the words as if my jaw is stuck. The nurses and the doctor continue checking my vital signs.
— Do you remember what happened? — My aunt asks. The corners of her mouth twitch into a forced smile that doesn't hide the deep anguish behind the creases at the sides of her eyes.
— No. Why are you crying? — I say a second before one of her tears spills over. The woman bursts into tears. "I'm sorry" she says, covering her mouth before leaving the room — Doctor, tell me what happened.
— What's the last thing you remember? — My mind goes blank. A dark cloud begins to fill the white space, and suddenly a distorted figure appears, so I shake my head to banish the thought. — No… I don't know.
— Do you remember your name, your age…— the doctor asks. At that moment, my aunt returns to the room.
— Marco Galileo, twenty-three years old, I live with… with my aunt… She's my mom, Yolanda. I think I'm about to graduate, or maybe I already have…
— You already graduated last year — Yolanda says — You came back to town to take a break from your studies. Don't you remember?
— What?
— You wanted to stop by for a year.
— It's best if we take it one step at a time — Garrote says — First, I'll inform you about the condition you were found in after the accident, and then we'll proceed to evaluate your physical state to make sure you're alright. The physical evaluation also requires us to check your mental processes to get a better understanding of your brain — Garrote says this last part as if to reassure my mother a little more.
It's a phantom experience, the way I can recall the injuries my body suffered when I fell off that hill, with every description the doctor gives. I wasn't wearing my seatbelt because I was in the middle back seat, leaning forward and laughing like a madman because Grandpa wouldn't stop teasing my nanny while she was driving. Suddenly, I touched his shoulder. I don't know what I said to him, but I ended up out of the car, on the wet grass, in complete silence.
— I understand, doctor — I reply. Mom is watching me closely, as if she knows it was my fault.
— I need you to please remember these three numbers when I ask them — a nurse says. I see her uniform says Gracia and I nod — Eight, three, five.
— Do you feel this? — the other one asks as she pricks the soles of my feet. She must be Yudy. And so they continue for several seconds, asking me questions about my education, my likes and dislikes, or even asking me to solve simple math problems.
— Eight, three, five — I say. Yudy smiles and nods, her gaze fixed on Garrote.
— We require a brain scan to monitor your activity. For now, I'll give the order to begin physical therapy — Garrote affirms — After so many months without standing, it's very likely your muscles have weakened, and you'll have to learn to walk again.
— But I can feel my legs.
— He means you might not have the strength to stand — Mom says. Her arms are crossed. She looks like she's about to burst into tears again with every word.
— You're young, recovery can take about six months or less — Gracia says. I nod and take a deep breath despite the pain to keep my nerves under control.
— Are you hungry? Lunch will be here soon — Yudy comments.
My aunt approaches the stretcher as the last person to leave closes the door. She places her hand on my shoulder and slides her fingertips down to mine, intertwining our hands. She kisses my cheek, leaving a trail of tears. — I'm so sorry, it was my fault, I distracted him — I say, a knot forms in my throat that intensifies the burning sensation.
— But what are you saying, my child? — she asks, but all I remember is that dreadful silence.
— They didn't survive, did they?"
— I thank heaven for your life, because you came back to me — she says, trying not to choke back the words through her tears, which compel her to rest her forehead against my right cheek. Then the door opens, and my mother gets up, her face covered with her hands as if she were ashamed to see herself so weak.
{} {} A week later {} {}
I wake up, but I feel like I haven't rested at all. I wiggle my feet and pull my legs up to get off the stretcher. I manage to sit up straight just before someone comes in. When I see her, I feel a warmth in my chest, but I refrain from smiling because, although I have a strong feeling that I know her, I can't quite connect her to any memory. — Hello — I reply to her greeting.
— I'm sorry it took me so long to get here — the woman says with a broad, relieved smile — I was busy at the workshop and wanted to bring you something to eat, so I had to set aside a day to go shopping, and then… Oh my God, I'm talking too much! — She exhales with a smile and comes over to my side to open a small backpack on the stretcher — I made you something to eat; I figured the food here would be rather bland.
— You guessed right — I say, caught up in her nervous smile. She strokes my cheek, and I see her eyes scan my face, so I do the same.
— How are you feeling?
— I'm fine. In fact, the doctor says my fractures healed faster than normal before I woke up. My mom says it's thanks to her chicken and broccoli casserole — I say. This makes her laugh a little. Pretending I know who she is makes me feel like I'm fighting to keep her gaze from discovering that I don't remember her. When I see my reflection in her eyes and wipe away a tear before it reaches her cheek, I know I've loved this woman at some point in my short life.
— I'm so glad you're okay — she says, pressing her palms against my chest, then crumpling my robe into handfuls. Is she in those memories that have escaped from me?
— Thank you for coming, woman — I say, to which she lets out a grunt through her smile, as if she'd tightened her stomach to stifle a laugh.
— I've had to wait so long.
— I'm so sorry.
— No, it's fine — she says, as if I really had to apologize. Then I lean in to better appreciate the scent emanating from her hair and find my nose brushing against her neck. She pulls away slightly before kissing my lips, a kiss that doesn't even last a second thanks to my mother's interruption.
— Sorry, I didn't mean to… I see you've caught up — They both hug, while I open the food container. My throat doesn't hurt as much anymore, so I start eating without thinking much about it.