One Summer with the Sinner (Monteverde Series 5)

41

Chapter Forty-One

VANE JASON

I used to wonder what happens after a person hits rock bottom.

I hate that I had to find out like this. I hate that now, I finally understand. The deafening emptiness comes with something else – a kind of silent acceptance that makes you ache even more.

I can't clearly tell if the realizations came because of seeing what abuela looked like, with tears in her eyes, and a hand on her chest as if she'd be having a heart attack at any given moment. Or maybe it was because of seeing my mother with her hand shaking as she covered her face with it, or the way her lips quivered as her chest rose and fell out of stress – stress that I gave her. Or perhaps, if I'm truly being honest with myself, it may be because of seeing the person staring back at me when I first had the courage to look at myself in the mirror.

All I could see was the hollowness of a man with sunken and bloodshot eyes, a couple of dark purplish bruises, a busted lip, and a cast to immobilize his broken arm.

I'm already desperately trying to nurse a broken heart back to life.

Now, I've got a broken arm to match that, too.

And as usual, there's no one else to blame, but me.

Abuela walks into the room and our eyes met, breaking me out of my reverie. I can clearly see the disappointment and sadness in them. Among the two, I have no idea which one hurts me to see the most. She sat on the chair in front of the hospital bed and her eyes trailed to the cast on my arm.

"I'm... sorry." My own voice sounded foreign to my ears. "Abuela... I..." I wanted to say that I can explain, but my cohesion was nowhere to be found, and even if I could string out a few words and turn them into sentences, what exactly do I tell her? In the past few weeks, my mouth has produced so many apologies that I've already lost count. And now, even I don't believe in them anymore.

She pursed her lips. "Who are you apologizing to?"

"You..." I sighed. "I made you worry. I made Ma worry."

"You owe us no apology, nieto." She motioned to me. "You owe yourself an apology or ten." She shakes her head. "What exactly were you thinking riding out at night, drunk? Or, the better question is, were you even thinking at all?"

"I was..." I couldn't continue. I looked away. The intensity of her stare made me feel the gravity of what I had done, the gravity of the repercussions I didn't have the time to consider. "I know I hurt you, Abuela, and that no amount of apology coming from me can ever undo all the stress, fear and worry I have made you and Ma feel when they found me unconscious –"

"Your mother thought you were d-dead..." She took a deep breath. "I thought I have lost my one and only grandchild. And you what I was thinking? I was begging the Lord to not take you from me, because that's not how it was supposed to be. He's supposed to take me first, because you're meant to enjoy this life and... and see what else it has to offer. You're meant to grow old and tell your grandchildren, the way I did with you, how amazing you have lived this life!"

Hearing her say that was like getting a stab on the chest. If only I could go back to that night and undo all the damage, I will. Without a single thought. "I'm an asshole. Both of you didn't deserve to be put through such a horrible thing."

It was Marcia who recounted the story of how they found me unconscious. Last night, she was the one looking after me while abuela and Ma took a rest. She told me that it was Mang Elmer who found Buchephalus the next morning, grazing near the stables. He was confused when he saw the saddlebag still on because he knew I'd always return Butch to the stables after each ride and would remove all gear on him. He had a hunch that something bad may have happened, so he reported to Ma and asked her to check if I was inside the mansion.