Going 78 Miles Per Hour | ✓

40 | After The First Crash

Do not overreact, Dahlia.

"Alejandra Miyares Gonzáles," one of the nurses called from behind the door, causing both our attention to split towards the door. A black nurse, dressed in blue scrubs, holding a clipboard with a bright polite smile.

My mother and I jump from our seats and my mother slaps the phone into the palm of my hand, walking up to the nurse with a kind smile. I roll my eyes, locking the phone—the back slightly burning with the usage of the battery—and pocketing it.

We head into the back as the nurse takes my mother's measurements—height, weight, temperature—all the good stuff. I had to translate when and where she had to step, and what she had to do, before the nurse leads us to the back in one of the rooms. Now, another period of waiting.

My mother sits on the chair, cushioned with a thin sheet of paper, and she swings her legs back and forth. Her blue eyes glancing around the bland room, trying to find some amusement in this period.

I lean back against the free seat, watching my mother, like a child yet to grow up. "Si hubieras venido a los Estados Unidos, por tu cuenta, ¿qué habrías hecho?" If you had came over to the States, by yourself, what would you have done?

She snaps to me, eyes wide, "¿Los Estados Unidos? ¿Sola?" The States? Alone?

I merely smile. "Sola." Alone.

She sighs, imagining all of her possibilities. Without the restriction of my birth, or the easy-access like my father offered her. She tilts her head to the side. "Yo tomaría clases de inglés, tal vez. Tomar un par de lecciones, aprender a hablar e ir a entrevistas de trabajo. ¿Quizás podría ir a la universidad? Nunca tuve la oportunidad en Venezuela, ya que siempre estaba ayudando a mi mamá con su granja, y siempre quise aprender." I would apply for English classes, maybe. Take a couple of lessons, learn how to talk and interview for jobs. Maybe I could go to college? I never had the opportunity back in Venezuela since I was always helping my mom with her farm, and I always wanted to learn. She pauses, her eyes gleaming with possibilities and hope. "Compraría mi primera casa. No tiene que ser grande, o amplia, sino sólo un espacio. Un espacio, para mí para vivir y en el cual estar cómoda. Algo así." I would buy my first house. It doesn't have to be big, or roomy, but just a space. One space, for myself to live and be comfortable in. Something like that.

I smile, an actual smile, "¿Pensaste en esto?" You thought about this?

She shakes her head, the delight in her eyes slowly burning out. "No, nunca lo hice." No, I never did.

"Tuviste tus respuestas muy rápido." You had your answers quite quickly.

She shrugs, not taking into account how I felt from her words. Her passion, her hope. It was brimming with each syllable. "Fue lo primero que se me ocurrió," It was off the top of my head, she adjusts herself, playing with the bracelet on her wrist. I gifted it to her when I got my first paycheck. "Nunca tuve tiempo de considerar todo lo posible desde que te tuve." I never had time to consider all of the possible what-ifs since I had you.

I frown, but don't add anything to it. I jokingly considered asking if she'll love me if I was a worm, but I knew the joke was too played out. Plus, the mood wasn't right.

The door swings open and reveals a female doctor, and I instantly straighten in my seat. A polite smile graces my lips, and the doctor introduces herself before asking for my mother's. I translate, every word—from English to Spanish, Spanish to English—and I waited, being the perfect daughter she groomed me to be.

The daughter she watched grow, but never herself.

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JUEVES
7:57 PM