Chapter 21 Awake


    I wake up with heavy eyes. Gloom surrounds me, and darkness apparently takes control of my vision. I


    stir, ufortable, imprisoned, and immobile in the bed where I am. Attempting to sit up, my body


    screams at me to stop, aching and pitiful. I grunt with annoyance at being unable to sit up as I always


    have.


    “Easy, brother, take it easy. It’s going to be all right. You’ve been asleep for a long time, it’s only fair you


    feel a little dizzy.” It’s Dawson who positions himself next to me.


    “What happened?” I question.


    N?velDrama.Org content.


    My brother helps me sit up in bed with my back half straightened. He shakes out the pillow and ces


    it behind me in a smooth, gentle motion.


    “You had the surgery, but the important thing is that you’re okay. That’s what matters to me.” I hear the


    creak of the chair as he sits down.


    My eyes are heavy, and my head is throbbing.


    “Twin intuition, perhaps? Or maybe you’re worried about nonsense and simpletons?”


    “Good morning,” they interrupt just as I go to answer Dawson. “I see you’re awake already.” David


    reaches over to open my eyelids and shine a shlight on them.


    I’m still dozing. However, something detonates in my brain. Confused, I analyze the situation. I don’t


    see the light. The glow of the shlight doesn’t bother me, burn, or cause me to want to look away.


    When Dawson rearranged the pillow, I heard it, felt it, as I was close enough to do so. I recognized their


    voices, both Dawson’s and David’s... but I didn’t see them. At no time did I see them.


    “But what...?” I p David’s hand and hear the shlight fall to the tile in the room with a tter.


    I touch my face, startled.


    At first, I thought it was just a bandage over my eyes, one of those used after head surgery, to be


    exact, brain surgery.


    David is a specialized neurosurgeon; he prepared me for everything concerning the days before and


    after the surgery. He informed me that, for safety reasons, a bandage would be ced on my head,


    which would go from the nape of my neck to my forehead to protect the incision and suture.


    My head feels heavy and ufortable, as if it were a ton of cement dropped on it by a construction


    truck. I begin to feel dizzy and off-center. I blink, annoyed and ufortable, to find a way for the


    shadow and gloom to leave my vision. Nothing happens. I continue to see nothing but shadows and


    movement.


    “You must tell me everything you feel, Darío. From now on, you must tell me during the time you are in


    the clinic, both in observation and in a basic room. Nothing will be unnecessary. If you feel nauseous,


    please tell me if your head bothers you or is heavy, also. The smallest detail, however simple it may


    seem to you, you must tell me.”


    “Tell you? Is that what you want? Haven’t you noticed that I couldn’t see shit? Fuck, I can’t see


    anything!”


    “You can’t see me?” he inquires between confused and worried.


    “What’s wrong? Howe you can’t see? Is that normal?” asks my brother. I recognize him


    immediately from his voice.


    His presence, him in himself, even if I can’t see him, I feel it. I know he is there, and I don’t need my


    eyes to make his presence almost palpable. Our connection has always been like that: so real, honest,


    natural, and straightforward. I guess that’s why the betrayal with Arianna affected me so much.


    “Can you see this?” He opens my eyelids again and searches for something I can’t decipher.


    The truth is that I see nothing, nothing more than a flow of shes, of light—shadows in movement.


    Everything else isplete darkness.


    I remember the exact moment when David, with the surgical mask on his face, covering his nose and


    mouth, looked at me and told me that they were going to proceed to ce a transparent stic mask


    on me in order to sedate my body before the intervention on my nerve atrophied by the fall from the


    second floor of the castle.


    Even Arianna, after death, continues, in a twisted and cruel way, to manage my existence. She threw


    herself; she threw herself without caring that her son had just been born, just arrived in this world to be


    loved. After four hours ofbor, the doctor who received Dante at the castle determined that it was all


    depression that had not been detected in time. Shemitted suicide. And I tried to reach her clumsily,


    but I failed. She fell from the second floor, and the back of her headnded on one of the rocks that


    adorned the garden I had sent her to nt. I followed her trajectory, but as I was aware of the fall,


    perhaps because my intention was not to die and leave my son helpless, or maybe because it was not


    my time to perish, I did not die like her. I hit the sprinklers hard and full. Nevertheless, I survived. As the


    days passed, I began to experience constant headaches and memory loss.


    “I can’t see anything, David, just shadows. What does this mean? Am I going to stay like this?” I ask,


    on the verge of losing my mind.


    How long ago was the surgery?


    Myst thought, at least the one I remember, was Dante. His first smile, his dark hair, his blue eyes,


    and his bright gaze. He would look at me lovingly when I approached him as if I was the best person in


    the world—his innocence and unconditional love without asking for anything in return.


    “You just regained consciousness. I’m going to monitor you for the first twenty-four hours. After that,


    we’ll see how you evolve...”


    “Tell me what the hell is going on. Is this part of the process? Of recovery? Or have I lost my sight for


    good? You better be honest with me. Don’t be redundant. I don’t need your concern.”


    “Darío, I think you need to calm down.” My brother stands next to me and squeezes my right shoulder


    gently.


    “It’s not you who doesn’t see anything! I have a son! How am I supposed to watch him grow up? How


    am I supposed to hold him before he falls to the ground when he trips over his feet? How am I


    supposed to be in every moment of his life?”


    “Darío, this was part of the risks I told you about before scheduling an appointment for surgery. I


    warned you that something like this could happen. The good thing is that, for the moment, it seems that


    the atrophied nerve is repaired...”


    “So what? Am I supposed to feel good about that? That’s supposed to reassure me? That’s supposed


    to give mefort? That’s bullshit! Bullshit! Fucking bullshit!” I yell, venting.


    This is beyond me.


    My hands are shaking. I’m sure that, had I been able to see David, my fist would have already been


    stamped on his face.


    “David, I think you’d better back off. Leave us alone for a while. I know my brother needs his rest.”


    “I’ll be back in an hour,” the aforementioned replies before I hear the sound of the door closing.


    I’m screwed.


    I have gone blind.


    After so much, after everything I’ve done to be constant and present in Dante’s life, I’ve failed.


    The image of Tatiana pops into my head, her brown eyes bright, her mouth dangerous and so tempting.


    I just got married, and I already represent a burden to my wife.


    “Don’t torture yourself for no reason, Darío. I know that face. I’ve known it since we were boys and had


    tests. Everything will be fine. Don’t despair, and don’t be anxious.”


    “How can I not get anxious if I’m a damn blind man?!”


    No way.


    Instead of helping my son, my wife, my family... I screwed up, and big time.