Page 68 of A Coffee Away

I grabbed the cup and drank. God, I was thirsty.

Did she just call me Robbie? “Do I know you?”

“It seems you don’t, but I do. I’m Carmen. I’ve been taking care of you for quite a while.” Her voice broke a bit.

Was her chin trembling?

I frowned. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “Happy to have you back. The headache is expected, but I’ll bring you something for it.”

I turned to Mom. She was crying.

“Mom, why are you crying?” I frowned. “Wait.” I faced the nurse. “What do you mean by back?” My heart hammered.

Mom held my hand. “Son, you’ve been asleep for three months.”

A heaviness expanded throughout my body. Three months?

“Mr. Fernández.” A blond woman came to my bedside. The name tag on her coat said Dr. Echevarría. “How are you feeling?” She scanned the machine that beeped behind me.

“I…” I took another sip of water. “Everything feels weird.” I moved my toes, but it was like trying to lift a heavy stone.

“It’s normal. You’ve been in a coma for a long time. But your body will work. You just need some therapy and time.”

My heart raced. A coma? What the hell happened to put me here?

I tried to sit up again but fell back. Fuck. “I don’t understand.” My voice trembled.

“Mr. Fernández…what’s the last thing you remember?” The timbre of her voice was soft. Her light-hazel eyes offered comfort.

I thought back and remembered a day at the beach. I was painting another self-portrait. Reds and blacks covered my features. I remembered the emptiness. The void. The sense of loneliness as the world passed by. A smile. A beautiful smile. Then nothing.

“I’m not sure. I remember painting. And a sunset. I think I was about to go home to my parents.”

Mom widened her eyes, then she and the doctor looked at each other.

“Do you remember what day?” Mom asked.

I glanced down at my hands. “Oh, it was my birthday.”

Her breath faltered. “Do you remember anything else from that day?”

I studied her carefully. A twitch in her eye. Her pinched lips.

What happened then? I tried to remember, but there was nothing. My thoughts were scrambled. Nothing made sense.

I rubbed my temples. Why couldn’t I remember?

The doctor squeezed my shoulder. “Don’t push yourself.”

“But…” The air around me seemed thicker than usual. I clutched my chest. “I can’t breathe.” What was wrong with me?

Mom grabbed my hand. “I’m sorry. Don’t worry. We’ll figure things out.”

“What are you talking about, Mom? You’re scaring me.” My pulse was over the hills. My heart drummed against my ribs.

Mom started crying, then ran out of the room.