I watch her brown eyes flick through every picture. She glances at the notes I've made and looks back at me.
"This is really something." She says after a while.
I hated my situation right now. Imagine waking up in a hospital with people telling you you've been sleeping for two years.
Two fucking years.
And let's not forget the added half.
"It's not only about the new people and the new place, is it?" She asks.
I shrug. "Somewhat no." I grab a chair and take a seat. She sits on the edge of the bed, vary of my expression.
"I didn't want to come to America in the first place." I sigh, leaning back. My tone has an edge of frustration to it. "Just last week I remember screaming to my own mother how I didn't want to leave the only life I knew behind. So why the fuck did I--"
"Gee, I know you're angry but could you keep the cursing to a minimum?"
I stop and stare at her. Who was this girl? She was nineteen and she couldn't handle a bunch of swear words.
"Sorry." I mutter.
"Actually you never told me about that." She says. She makes herself comfortable and crosses her legs. Next to my pillow are a couple of strewn pictures. I see her eye them, but she doesn't bother going through them.
"I met you after summer break." She says. "You must have settled well, then."
I ca't believe it. I had promised myself that if she dragged me to that Godforsaken country I would never talk to her again.
I turn to the wall where I had hung everything up with mismatched pieces of tape.
"So I ended up in America." I start from the beginning. "Met you at some party. Then what?"
"We went to the same high school." She says. "We were both seniors."
I had just failed senior year at my old school like three months ago. No. Two years ago.
But I couldn't be blamed. It was my brain's fault.
"Right." I shuffle around. "I'm assuming that's where I met all those weirdos." I point at one of the pictures. I'm standing next to Valencia and a bunch of other people at some beach.
Valencia laughs. It's sweet compared to all the high pitched giggles I usually hear from other girls.
"Yeah." She points to a blonde girl. "That's Claire." And a red-haired one with bright green eyes. "Rosie."
Next to Rosie are two dark-haired boys. "Kevin and Liam." Kevin had her arm wrapped around Rosie, so I'm assuming they are - or they were - dating at the time.
Next are me and Valencia, and next to her is a tall guy with a silk scarf wrapped around his neck. "Eli." She says.
"Are they siblings?" I ask, pointing to Eli and a blonde girl who has the same physical features.
"Twins, actually." She replies. She points to a boy which, on further notice, looks a lot like her. "She used to have a thing for my brother. She's in Germany now, studying law."
I nod once, biting my lip. I don't think I'll ever learn their names.
"Were we on vacation or something?" I ask.
"Getaway." She smiles. "Myrefall was a seaside town, abandoned long ago because of the civil war."
"How...lovely." I say dryly.
"It was fun." She says. "You took me on a date there. I think it was our first real one."
"Real one?" I shake my head. "Mind explaining?"
She chuckles. "Well technically, the first one didn't count. One of the girls at our school asked you out and you didn't want to go, so you said you were going out with me that night instead."
"And our date in Myrefall? How'd that go?"
She shrugs nonchalantly, but her cheeks flush. "It was good. Of course, that was when you told me you were planning on dragging me to Spain."
I lick my lips. I'd always wanted to take someone on a tour of Madrid, but that didn't mean crossing the country to get there.
She lets out a long breath. "But you didn't tell me you couldn't travel without the necessary arrangements. You were sick that Christmas, really sick. The doctors removed your tumor and everything, but longterm, it really didn't make things better."
Her voice slows, and for a minute, I want to reach out and hold her hand.
But why should I? Who was she to me anyways?
"You had another headache the day of your birthday. It was horrible. I remember coming in and you were lying on the floor, blood pooling around you."
Her voice drops to a whisper. "You never woke up."
I fiddle with my fingers. I try really hard to remember something, anything, but my efforts are in vain.
"I'm here, now." I say. "So maybe it doesn't matter."
"Of course it matters." She says. "I've been trying really hard to believe you're going to be okay, but how can I? You don't remember anything!"
Her eyes water. I can see what I liked her. She's pretty - with large brown eyes and full lips. But she's not my usual type, and I can't fathom why I wanted her in the first place.
"Not yet." I allow my lips to curve into a small smile. "But you being here... it helps."
But she's looking at the ground. "No it doesn't. I may have told you what happened, but I can't bring your memories back, now can I?"
A tear falls down her eye. It makes her way down her flushed cheek, and drops to her slender neck.
My eyes shift somewhere else. I don't want to stare.
I lean my head against the chair. Everything I've ever learnt is summed up in one sentence :
Be greater than the sum of your parts.
Ma keeps telling me it's something dad used to say often.
Dad was a person I had never known.
He was a person I rarely thought about.
Yet, I missed him.
They say it's always hard for a child to grow up without a father. I, fortunately, had a mother who played both parts. And a great older brother. So why would I miss someone I never knew?
Only now did the weight of his words sink in.
"Did I ever talk about my father?"
Her eyes shift to me. She's embarrassed of her emotions, I can tell. Embarrassed of what I might think of her.
"He died of brain tumor." She says. "That's why you think it's hereditary. But yours is benign."
Benign. Was I supposed to be grateful?
He was the one person who might have known what I was going through.
She looks like she wants to say more. But she bites her lip, afraid to look me in the eye.
"Is there something you want to tell me?"
She shakes her head, but I can see her grind her teeth together.
"I've never kept anything from you." She says.
"Well, now you have." I cross my arms. I can tell when someone is lying, mainly because I do it so much.
I'm not saying I was proud, but hey, if you're asking...
"It's not my place to tell." She shrugs.
"Valencia." My voice sharpens.
"It's sorry, Dani." She says.
"Okay." I cross my arms. "How about this? You tell me everything I know and I won't put up a fuss about my appointment tomorrow. If you know me, you know how stubborn I am."
My bedsheets fist into her hand. "I don't care."
"Yes, you do." I'm challenging her now, although I don't know why. "I deserve to know. He's my father."
Valencia lets out a defeated sigh. "He sometimes... he had frequent attacks which resulted in temporary amnesia all the time."
I frown. Why had nobody told me this?
"Who said that?"
"I overheard Nate talking about it. When your mom found out I knew, she explained. Those were the early days, when we had first brought you to the hospital. Amelia was so scared at first, but as time went on, she didn't care. She just wanted you awake."
My shoulders slump.
How come I didn't know?
They had no right to keep this from me.
"But at least you remember who you are." She says.
Yeah. At least.
I laugh dryly to myself.
Would it have been better if I hadn't.
Daniel Price. I wasn't fully American. I wasn't fully Spanish. I barely graduation high school - I painted for a living.
Not to mention the fact that I was 22 and still lived with my mother.
Who was now in America, making deals with my girlfriend's father.
A girlfriend I didn't even know I had.
My life sucked.
Be greater than the sum of your parts.
Who was Daniel Price anyways?
A/N : next chapter : Gabriella :)