“Señor?” a new voice asked. A woman this time.
I opened my eyes.
“Ah, hello. I am Dr. Maduro. You took a nasty fall. Do you remember?”
I thought about it. Tried to remember. I saw Harmony leaving in a taxi.
I cleared my throat. “Harmony?”
“I’m sorry, sir. What was that?”
“Water,” I whispered.
“Sure. Of course.” She opened a small bottle of AWA water and poured some into a disposable paper cup. I squirmed to sit up, noticing how badly my head hurt. She handed the cup to me, and I took a grateful sip. “Better?” she asked.
I nodded.
“You tripped and fell in the airport. Collapsed. Early reports show it may have been a combination of a head injury and a panic attack that led to a blackout.”
“What—what time is it?” I asked.
Dr. Maduro checked her watch. “2:15 p.m.,” she replied.
“My flight—”
“You’re not going home today. We need to keep you for observation. You hit your head badly. A fractured skull is not a small injury.”
“Is she here?”
“I’m sorry. Who?” Dr. Maduro asked.
“Harmony?”
“No one is with you, sir. You’re here alone.”
“My bag?”
“Yes. We have your bags. Two of them. One is a smaller bag, a knapsack, yes? And then a regular piece of luggage. Carry-on size.”
“Oh my God.”
“Do you remember the circumstances of your fall?”
I shook my head. But Ididremember. My father was there.
Being a dad to someone who wasn’t me.
***
I slept more then. When I woke up, I could see the sun setting out the hospital window. I looked around. I was in a room now.
Alone.
My head was definitely bandaged. It didn’t hurt as much.
My stomach rumbled.
There was a television on the wall, but it was off. I adjusted my body in the bed to sit upright and was able to see my reflection in the black screen.
