Chapter 21 – Alejandro
Chapter
Twenty-One
ALEJANDRO
Two hours later, I’m sitting in the small hospital waiting room with Alana, my mama, and my uncles when a surgeon in dull green scrubs walks in.
I stand up to greet him, and my mama gasps behind me, perhaps preparing herself for the worst. I hear Alana comfort her, and I’m grateful that I can give my whole attention to the doctor.
“Mr. Montoya?” the surgeon addresses me. I nod, then stare at him expectantly. He looks tired, and his neutral expression gives nothing away. I wait, wondering if he’s about to blow our whole world apart.
“Your father made it through the surgery and is stable,” he finally says, and I hear the collective sigh of relief reverberating around the small room.
My mom pushes forward, takes the surgeon’s hands in hers. Gives him a dazzling smile. “Thank you so much, Doctor,” she murmurs, sobbing as I put my arm around her shoulder.
“And he’s going to make it?” I ask.
“There’s a long way to go, but the signs are good. He put up a hell of a fight.”
I smile, and my uncles chuckle behind me. Yeah, of course he did.
“He’s in recovery now,” he adds. “You can see him for a few moments, but he’s going to be out for at least the next twelve hours and he needs his rest. His body’s been through a huge trauma and frankly, he’s lucky to be alive.”
A few minutes later, I’m standing at my father’s bedside.
My mom and my uncles came in to see him first, and then Alana and me.
She left me a few moments earlier to give us some time alone.
I look at him lying there, helpless and hooked up to a dozen machines, his whole life measured out in beeps and graphs and flashing lights.
I’m grateful he’s alive, but still weighed down with guilt. If only I had been here. Could I have stopped this? Could I have protected him, the way a man is supposed to protect his family?
The medics said he’s stable, but he will need weeks, maybe months, to fully recover. They warned us he might never be the same man he once was, and that fills me with fear.
I know that my time to step up and try to fill his shoes is here.
But I’m not sure that I will ever measure up to this man lying in front of me.
Our relationship hasn’t always been an easy one.
He kept me at a distance for a lot of my life, and he was always busy with work.
I know now as an adult that it can consume a man.
But I never doubted that he loved me, and I never wanted for a thing.
He taught me well and was always there when I truly needed him, even if his day-to-day presence was lacking.
I remember that conversation we had, about love making you weak. How he adores my mom and me, that we are both his biggest sources of joy and his biggest weaknesses. That’s something I understand better now.
Loving someone is like walking around with your heart outside of your body, with that most precious part of you exposed for the whole world to see.
Now that I have Alana, I get it. I know why he worked so hard to protect me and my mother, why he sometimes distanced himself from us.
It was to keep the two parts of his world separate.
I sit beside him and take his hand in mine.
It’s warm to the touch, but it doesn’t look quite as big as it once did.
None of him does. When was the last time I held my papa’s hand?
I must have been a small child, and he would have been big to me then.
In fact, he seemed like a giant. Not now though.
Now he is just a man. A man I desperately want to have one more conversation with.
“Lo siento, Papa,” I say as I kiss his knuckles. “Lo siento. I promise you, I will find whoever did this to you and I will make them pay in ways they can’t even imagine.”
Can he even hear me? The doctors say they do not know.
But this is what I needed. I needed to be here with him, to see him like this.
To make this vow. I feel the fire surging in my belly.
There is no more time for remorse or regret or wondering what if.
This anger I am feeling will be my fuel.
It will sustain me. It will get me through whatever needs to be done.