Her Name is Memory

05| breathe

CHAPTER 5

The night has changed since you left
It used to sing with joy
Now the stars have become too calm
Watching silent above me

~Nathaniel's Lyric Journal

I COULDN'T BREATHE.

I kicked off the damp sheets clumsily, attempting to regain control of my mind.

diez...nueve...ocho

I counted backwards in my head, trying to reclaim my body from its anxiety.

Usually counting backwards in Spanish help me relax, but that did not work this time. Feeling the familiar horrid rush in my chest, I jumped off my bed fast enough to reach the bathroom before puking my guts out in the toilet.

I covered my hands with my face, ignoring the dull burning sensation in the back of my throat.

I dreamt about her again. When I close my eyes, I could vividly see her on the floor, dead. How I walked in on her unmoved body and my useless cries for help that followed after. Her closed eyes only served as a reminder of what happened.

I failed her.

I still remember standing at her funeral, standing under my umbrella as the rain was beating against it with anger. My black shoes were sinking into the mud as my breathing became more heavy throughout the funeral.

I shook my head.

Don't do this to yourself again.

Attempt to push my thoughts aside, I flushed the toilet, and stared at myself in the mirror. I saw my mother in my facial features. My dark hair was mussed everywhere except for the side that was matted from my pillow. The dark bags appeared swollen under my eyes, indicating the lack of sleep. I was not sure how long I slept, but from the heavy feeling in my eyelid, it was not for a very long time.

I splashed over water on my face, holding back a tiresome yawn.

Attempting to look more awake, I showered, enjoying the water beating on my back. When I finished, I mindlessly grabbed the nearest white towel around my hips and got another one for my hair. The exhaustion made everything feel slow and distorted.

I walked into my room, and checked the time.

11:32 AM

I rubbed my sleepy eyes, and walked towards the open window. I closed my eyes, letting the sun ray hit my eyes. Flinching at the sudden warmth, my eyes adjusted to the brightness before looking around outside. The backyard was empty besides the chirping noises and rusting from animals.

I scratched my head, still not entirely use to the sounds of the country. I remembered seeing cars and buildings as my view in New York. It seemed like eons ago rather than a few weeks.

Unsure how to feel, I went back inside the house and tiredly put on shorts and a polo shirt. Going down the hallway, my nose smelled something enticing from the kitchen. I slowed down, processing the scent with a sense of déjà vu.

It was a smell that I have not experienced since Mom.

Entering the kitchen, I was not surprised that Dad was not there. Instead, an elderly lady was using the stove. Her peppered hair was tied back into a bun as she was humming a familiar Spanish song I use to hear when I was a child.

Fresh tortillas were on the counter. Chicken was grilling on the skillet and I saw a bowl with salsa verde nearby. It looked weird to see so much food on the counter because it looked like a home with life.