Chapter 1 #2
“My head is like a battlefield. I’ve been getting flashbacks of the past. Memories of my childhood.
” I grip the back of my head as it throbs.
“They keep coming, flooding me with the past. I remember everything. My childhood. My parents. You. Us.” My parents.
The tightness in my chest escalates. A fresh, painful wound stabs deep into it.
How do you mourn people you didn’t know you’d lost?
My body knew. My heart knew. Before my mind has finished unraveling it to me, the tears are already running.
Fourteen years of grief that had nowhere to go.
Landing now. All of it. Lying in the arms of the same person who held me years ago.
I remember the dual ache in my heart at the thought of never seeing my Mamá again. The news that she was gone. The memory surfaces without warning. One minute, I’m in a hospital bed. The next, I’m eleven years old in my grandmother’s kitchen.
“Sol, ven aquí.” My grandma pats the seat next to her for me to sit. Her face sad, a tear slides down her wrinkly face.
“What is it, Abuelita?” My voice breaks at the sight of her like this. Her warm hands wrap around mine. I’ve always loved the touch of my grandma, and her scent has always been so inviting. Mamá said Abuelita wasn’t doing too well. Maybe that’s what she wants to tell me.
“Your mamá didn’t make it.” Her chin trembles. “I’m sorry, mi Sol. So sorry you have been through so much.”
The shattering of my heart stabs through my petite frame. My body trembles. I crawl onto my grandmother’s lap and weep. We both cry for the loss of my mom and her daughter for what felt like hours.
“Let’s make you some hot chocolate,” my abuelita says, rubbing my back.
We go into her kitchen, and I sit while she rummages through the fridge, searching for the gallon of milk. She stops and stares inside. Abuelita shakes her head and grabs the gallon of milk. She then goes into the cupboard and does the same. “I forgot what I need.”
“The chocolate, remember?”
“Así.” She keeps looking.
A small, faint, weak giggle leaves my lips. “It’s right in front of you. It’s a small yellow box that reads, “Chocolate Abuelita.”
“Oh, I see it now.” She sighs.
She continues wiping her tears and preparing a warm beverage.
Whenever I had a rough day, my mom would make me hot chocolate, and my dad would add a heaping amount of whipped cream.
Then my papá would take a sip, and the cream would stick to his nose.
I always laughed because he was silly. He always knew just how to make me feel better.
I’ll never have that again. I rub my broken heart over my chest. Will anything or anyone ever be able to fill that pain with happiness? Probably not.
Abuelita sets the steamy cup in front of me.
Her knees crackle when she sits. “I need to tell you something, Sol. I’m moving into a nursing home because of my disease.
I can no longer care for myself. Your mamá wanted me to move in with you two.
She also made plans in case things did not go as planned.
Your mamá was always planning ahead.” She cries, reaching for my hand.
“I can’t care for you. I’m sorry.” I had aunts and uncles, but they didn’t have the finances to care for me, or even my grandmother.
My chest constricts with a sudden, sharp ache.
I clutch at Max’s shirt, drawing him toward me, seeking the solace of his body heat as tears spill down my face.
His hand moves in slow circles across my back while he cradles me with a delicate tension, as though I might shatter in his arms. “I got you. I’m here for you, tesoro.
” He kisses the top of my head. “Shh, you’re okay. I’m here. We’ll get through this.”
“I miss them.” A whimper tears through me before I can stop it. I’m in my body, but my head feels like I’m living inside an eleven-year-old’s. Such a strange feeling—like I’m going back to where my memory froze in place, like I’m in someone else’s life. The crazy part is, it’s me. My life.
“I know, my love. It’s okay to cry and miss them.” Max pulls me off his chest. With his thumb, he wipes every tear. “They will always be a part of you.”
“I know, but it all feels surreal. Like I’m a computer being rebooted. That’s exactly how I feel—flashes of memories. I’m sure they will keep coming. I lived so long as Rainey, and now I’m meeting Sol.”
A knock at the door startles me. I grip Max’s blue shirt. “It’s just the doctor, corazón. I won’t allow anyone to hurt you again.”
I believe him. He protected me the best he could.
“Rainey, I just came in to check in on you. Your nurse is getting your medication.”
“Her memories are coming back,” Max says, his arms still around me. “The ones she lost as a child—due to a head injury.”
Dr. Wallace steps in. His brown eyes widen, and his blond hair looks disheveled. He must be having a day at the hospital.
“Rainey, can you tell me what you remember?”