Pahiram

Ikaanim na Kabanata

FRIEDRICH

This was my entire fault.

Our car was hit by a truck from the left, straightly crashing into Vonn's side. He wasn't wearing his seatbelt so he was thrown away as soon as the truck jammed into our car. He fell with his head first and rolled for at least two meters. Now, he's in a critical condition. And it's my entire fault. And the fact that I only managed to atain minor injury – because the metal in the car didn't give up easily even if the truck dragged the car (with only me inside) for about five meters – made the situation feel a lot worse.

It should be me inside the emergency room. It should be me who should be given some surgery and resuscitation. It should be me. I deserved all of those horrible things.

This wouldn't have happened if only I didn't allow Alex to leave the house alone with Vicente, if only I believed more in my guts that Alex cannot be trusted at all when it comes to our child, if only I explained to Vonn everything about Alex when I still had time, if only I allowed him to drive the car as he insisted, if only I calmed down when he asked me to do so, if only I stopped and parked the car as he instructed. I should have listened to him. I should have done what he told me because he is always right. I should have known from the very beginning that rage and anger would lead me no good.

All these I should have's and now I'm on the verge of losing my husband.

Mauubos na yata ang daliri ko sa kakangata ko rito sa sobrang kaba. My whole body is trembling while waiting for the doctor to come out to tell me my husband's situation.

I'm preparing for the worse, while at the same time, wishing that he's fine. My thoughts are all over the place. I wish that Vonn is here to help me clean it up the way he used to kasi siya lang naman ang nakakagawa no'n. He has his own way of calming me using some of his breathing exercises. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Our chest would rise and fall at the same time. And the would end it with a kiss on the top of my head, down to my nose, then on my lips, and I would forget why I was even mad or sad or confused in the first place.

I pressed my face against my palms and cried. If he's here, he'll tell me to stop crying because my tears won't help fix the situation. But he's not here to tell me that. And there is nothing else that I can do but cry.

If he survives this, I don't think everything will stay the same. I will be blaming myself for the rest our lives for whatever happened to him. I cannot and will not ever forgive myself for what I have done and for where we lead our love.

I stood up and wiped my tears when the door opened. The doctor came out of the room with a smile in his face. I felt relieved, my shoulder dropped with all the tension it carried.

"I-Is he alright?" I asked despite my trembling voice.

"He will be fine," he said like he really meant what he just said, "although he's still unconscious as of the moment."

Then, the smile in the doctor's face suddenly faded. I swallowed. "But?"

"His... hippocampus, the part of our brain that is responsible for our memory, and parts of his medial temporal lobe are damaged which means..."

I covered my mouth to hide my gasp even if I didn't really understand what the doctor just said but I know it's something bad with all his sad and pained expression.

The doctor cleared his throat. "My apologies, Mx. Rivera-Santos." He clasped my shoulder. "But your husband has amnesia."

Tears started dripping from my eyes again, like I have an unlimited souce of salt water in my body. I keep on covering my mouth to hide my crying noises, to stop myself from whining like a child who just lost something that he likes.