Moonsland (EN)

Chapter XXXII

  Since the accident, a lot has changed. I was eventually discharged, but not all the moments were happy. When I woke up at the end of December, the first face I saw was Emily's, followed by several doctors asking questions and seeing how my eyes reacted to light. When they calmed down and I was alone with Emily, she managed to calm me down and tell me what had happened. At the time, my last memory was of kissing Emily and finishing the play. She told me that I ran off stage after my parents, that something had happened to make us leave without talking to anyone and that we had an accident at a crossroads because of some drunk kids. My father died on the spot, which was news I had no reaction to. I wasn't happy, because even though I didn't like his attitudes, I liked him. After all, he was my father. But I wasn't sad either. I asked about my mother straight away, and she said she was in hospital like me, only her case was worse. Unlike me, she hadn't woken up yet. The doctors had given up hope, but "I was also the only one who believed that you would wake up," she told me. If there had been any doubts about her, at that moment there were none. She was the one.
  He also spent New Year's Eve with me. Against the orders of the hospital staff, he pushed the bed against the wall where the windows were and sat next to me watching the fireworks. From his smile, it looked like he was watching the fireworks on the edge of the Eiffel Tower or on a beach in Brazil, but he wasn't. He had stopped going to a house. He had stopped going to a house that his parents rent every year, so as not to leave me alone and to watch the fireworks through three large windows.
  She still lived with me for a week of the new year, but I made her go home, as she was feeling better. I'd already taken off all the bandages and plasters. Fortunately, I didn't have any aesthetic damage. However, I had to undergo physiotherapy to regain full functionality in my right leg and left hand.
  Two days ago, on March 6th, my mother woke up. The doctors had already told me to sign the paper allowing them to turn off the machines, but I told them that I would give my mother as much time as I could, so that she could fight for her life. We still haven't told her anything about what happened, because it's believed that she's still mentally in a coma and has no idea what she's being told.
- Are you ready? - Betty asks me. She came to pick me up on her own. When Emily found out she was being discharged, she said she'd come and visit me, but I didn't want her to miss class because of me, like she did in the first week of January. I could have told her that we have our whole lives to be together, but the truth is that, after what happened, I'm not sure if that's a long time or a short time.
- Yes, but first I wanted to visit my mother. - I reply.
- Okay, I'll take the bags. I'll take the bags, meet you in the lobby?
- That's fine, thank you.
  My mother's room is in another wing, as I was in a wing I wasn't supposed to be in, at Emily's request. She's great. When I get to her room, after a long time, due to my slow walk through the corridors, I look out of the window before entering. I don't know what she looked like after the accident (in fact, I don't even want to imagine), but she doesn't look much different now. She's definitely thinner and looks tired, but you can't see any scars or burns. She's still beautiful. I enter the room and she looks at me. It's the first time I've spoken to her since the accident.
- James, my darling. - she says, struggling to speak.
- "Hi, Mom, how are you?" I ask, trying not to show too much concern in my gaze, so as not to worry her.
- Well, I seem to have had an accident. - say. I don't know what they told you, but I do know that if you knew I'd also had the same accident, you'd be worried sick.
- Yes, you did. But everything's going to be fine. - I say, running my hand over his cheek.
- Uh-huh. - she mumbles, a tear trickling down her cheek.
- Is everything all right, Mom? - I ask, worried.
- Uh-huh. I love you very much, James.
- I know, Mom. I love you too.
- Will you do me a favor? - he asks, stuttering.
- Of course, what?
- If anything happens to me, I want you to take the paper that's in the pocket hidden inside my bag, go to the bank and take what's in the safe.
- Nothing will happen to you, Mom.
- Do you do that? - he asks me, looking serious.
- Okay.
- And you promise you won't talk to Dad about it?
- I promise. - I don't know when I'll tell you, but it won't be now.
I take the paper, with a name and what looks like a code, and leave.

  I've been out of hospital for two days. As soon as my friends saw me, they threw a party and the teachers congratulated me on my return with recovery sheets. But today is Friday and I've already had my lessons. I get home and find Betty crying on the kitchen counter. I approach her.
- Are you all right, Betty? - I ask, worried.
- James? - she replied, quickly wiping away her tears. - I didn't expect you to arrive so soon.
- I always arrive at this time. - I reply. - Whenever I'm not in hospital.
- Oh, yes. I'm sorry. - he says, getting up. - Can I have a hug?
- Of course I will. - I reply, hugging her. - What happened?
- I'm so sorry. - she says, crying again. - I got the news a while ago.
  I stop hugging her and stare at her. I don't know what you're talking about. I do, but I don't want to.
- What do you mean? - I ask.
- Your mother, James. She's passed away. I'm so sorry.
Mother. She passedaway. No. No. It's not true. It can't be true. I saw her two days ago and shewas recovering. It can only be a nightmare. I walk away from Betty, who iscrying with one hand covering her mouth, and go to my room. I can't cry. I openthe window and suddenly everything stops. Cars, people, animals, time. Thenoise of the horns dissipates and takes the place of a deafening silence, as ifI were on a mountain with no sign of any other living thing. Peace before thestorm. The tranquility before death. I come back to reality. I feel like I'vebeen punched by reality. I feel the tears wanting to come out. I close thewindow and run to bed, throwing my head on the pillow. I give the biggestscream of my life and cry like I've never cried before. Betty's words were likedistant whispers as I tried to find an anchor in the middle of the emotionalstorm. Every tear that fell seemed to take a part of me with it, a part thatbelonged in my mother's presence. Every sob that escaped my throat was a lament,an echo of pain born from a newly opened wound. I close my eyes and allow myemotions to take me away. The deep wail resounds through the four walls of thisempty room. It was a cry like I had never experienced, a mixture of longing,regret and an overwhelming sense of emptiness. Each tear was a reminder, adesperate way of clinging on to what had been, knowing that what remained wasonly the pain of absence.