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“Do you have any idea what it felt like?” I asked, the question coming out as a sob. I hadn’t realized I was crying, the tears streaming nonstop down my cheeks. He was wiping his with the back of both hands, rubbing at his eyes to make them stop.
“Doyou?”he asked, but he flinched as soon as the words were out. I wrapped my arms around my body, hugging myself and hiding that stupid permanent reminder of her. Maybe this way, this would stop. “She died, and you weren’t there, Lucía.”
“I know!” I was bawling now, trying to catch my breath as the tears kept coming down. I couldn't see him clearly, my vision too blurry with too many tears to even see his reaction. “I’ve replayed that moment in my head for years.”
Jazmín had been discharged from the hospital after that last infection, her labs looking good enough for her to go home, where she would be more comfortable. She still needed to take care of herself, avoiding many visitors and strenuous activity. But at least she could sleep in her own bed and shower in her own bathroom. Only a few days later, and seemingly with no explanation, she developed a fever that had her back in the hospital, a little more severe thanher previous stay. And I wasn’t there because I was visiting my family in this freaking small town.
“Me too,” he responded, taking a step closer. He reached out for my hand, and I let him. It felt a little selfish, holding on to him while he was like this, remembering what was probably the worst time for his family in recent years. But my body needed him, my brain needed him, and my heart kept thumping in search of his, looking for the rhythm it was missing. “And you weren’t there.”
He dragged me towards his body, wrapping one arm around my shoulders and the other hand cupping my head. I rested my head on his shoulder, my tears making his shirt wet at the contact. I couldn’t catch my breath. My sobs were way too loud and uncontrollable.
It was the first time I was talking to anyone about this. Not even Valentina knew.
“I am so sorry,” I said in between breaths. His chest moved up and down against mine, his tears falling on my bare shoulder. “I am so, so sorry.” I kept repeating it like a chant because I felt responsible for what had happened. I should have caught it. I should have been there instead of being in this town, celebrating the new year with my family and laughing at Jacinto’s shenanigans. Because maybe, just maybe, if I had been there, the outcome would have been different and Jazmín would be here today.
He took a step back and searched my face.
“Sorry for what?” he asked, looking straight into me. He was both curious but serious at the same time, like it hadnever even crossed his mind that I could be partially responsible for what had happened.
Another sob, this time deeper, stronger, more painful. I could hear it, the pain coming out of my body. A wail. It was like an out-of-body experience. I didn’t recognize it.
“I couldn’t save her,” I said, covering my face with my hands. My chest heaved spasmodically.
“Oh,” he said. He blinked, then blinked again. There was a long silence, the sound deafening and overtaking all my senses. It was obvious in his response that he blamed me for this. He didn’t want to see me again, so why was he still here? Standing in front of me and holding me like this?
25
FRANCISCO
“I couldn’t save her.”
“Oh.”
Oh.
“Is that what you think, Lucía?” My eyes filled with tears, the back of my throat tight again. It was the first moment since Jazmín died that I had felt like this. Like finally I could talk about it with someone who would understand the pain. The ache. The anger. It was a lonely time for me, a moment where I realized that grief was a solitary stage. Where a person was alone with their thoughts, trying to navigate the giant waves of hurt, the what-ifs, the blaming, and the anger. All inside one's heart.
“Why didn’t you come back to me?” she asked, her hands going to her face and covering her eyes once more. I moved, pulling her hands away and twisting my fingers through hers, dragging her back to the loveseat.Her tears had all but stopped, though evidence of them still remained in her blue eyes and her dark lashes lumped together in tiny groupings.
“No,linda,” I whispered, running my fingers through her hair. “That’s not it at all.”
That night I had walked into the hallway in the pediatrics wing and could hear the commotion coming from the opposite side of the hall. There were nurses coming in and out of a room, hurried steps and hushed tones. It wasn’t yet dark outside, the summer day stretching to its fullest and still hanging on by a thread. The sky was a dark pinkish purple, and the last of the sun was peeking through the tops of the trees outside of the hospital window. Jazmín had been hospitalized just that morning, and I hadn’t had time to visit her.
Being in the hospital was a strange thing, really. It was like everyone was living in their own parallel universes. Some parents and patients were happy, their bodies showing all that joy that getting good news meant. And others, somber in and out of the rooms, holding on to whatever hope they still had. I had been one of the former just days before, when that pretty doctor had uttered the happiest string of words anyone could ever say to me.
But now, there was a fog and a pressure in my chest that could only mean one thing. I raised my hand and rubbed it, hoping that it would pass.
Ahead of me, staff exited a room in a single file,their heads down.
No.I mean, it could mean anything, right? Maybe it wasn’t Jazmín’s room. Maybe they were just running a drill. Was that even a thing?
I rushed my steps, very aware that I had multiple eyes on me. I wasn't supposed to be there, but the staff had stopped paying attention to me months ago, the moment they had realized I was a constant in my sister’s life. That if it weren’t for me coming there, then she would be all alone, spending so many nights lying in her hospital bed, looking tiny and fragile, without a single person there to support her.
“Francisco.” Sonia’s stern voice came from behind me. Her gaze was soft, looking at me with something that I could only describe as pity. She shook her head.
That only meant one thing, I was sure.
She was gone.
