Page 89 of One Year Ago in Spain
“It’s just that…Matías and I have kind of been going on dates.”
“What do you mean?”
“I talked to a professor who specializes in astral projections, and she said that his soul needs to reconnect to reality in order for Matías to wake from his coma. So I’ve been trying to spend time with him—his soul—walking around the park, going to the Sorolla Museum, that sort of thing. It’s the reason I can’t always be in the hospital.”
Gloria chewed it over. As a theory, it made as much sense as anything else. “Is it working?”
“I think so…The other day, he, um, kissed me.”
Gloria could tell from the flush in Claire’s cheeks that it must have been more than a quick peck.
“And the more time we spend together,” Claire was saying, “the more solid Matías’s soul is becoming. It used to be that if there was a beam of light, it would shine right through him and he’d go transparent. But now he’s getting more and more opaque.” She ended with a hopeful smile.
But Gloria sank back into the depths of the armchair. Because this brave young woman clearly thought she was helpingMatías, when—Gloria was quite certain—she was doing the exact opposite.
“Did I say something?” Claire asked.
“Oh, Claire…” Gloria let out a long sigh. “You did not mean to. It is true that you are strengthening Matías’s soul, but I fear it is in the wrong way. The more time his soul spends with you in the unreal world of one year ago, the further he strays from his body and the less likely he is to return to it. And here, in our reality, Matías is slipping away.”
“No!” Claire said. “I’m his anchor, and I’m trying to reel him in.”
Gloria hesitated, then took a deep breath. She did not want Claire to feel guilty, because Claire’s connection to Matías’s soul meant she really was the only one who could save Gloria’s grandson. But Claire also had to understand that what she was doing might well be killing him. “The doctors have said that Matías isn’t getting any better,” Gloria said. “He is actually getting much worse.”
“Oh no,” Claire whispered. “It’s because we fought.”
“When?”
“Literally seconds before you arrived and the receptionist called me.”
Gloria shook her head. “That cannot be it. It took me a while to get here from the hospital.” The taxi ride itself had been quick, but the walk down to the hospital lobby before that had been arduous. “Matías was already doing poorly before you two fought. He has become sicker ever since that episode we thought was a heart attack. All the time that you are spending with Matías’s soul—the Matías in the hospital bed has been growing weaker and weaker.”
“Oh god…” Claire looked like a small child who’d gotten lost in the woods, hoping that Gloria was here to guide her out.
But Gloria couldn’t. Claire was the one Matías’s soul knew.
“The doctors told us to start thinking about whether we want to bring Matías home. In Spain, we prefer not to pass away in the hospital.”
“No!” Claire said. “It’s too soon.”
“Your time is running out,” Gloria said. “The longer Matías’s soul is separated from his body, the more his condition declines. It is no longer time for caution, Claire. You have to make up that fight you had with him, and you have to bring his soul back to this world.”
“But I don’t know how to do it!”
“Then you must figure it out. Because you are the only one who can save him.”
Matías
One Week Ago
As they walkeddown the dock toward the speedboat they were renting for the afternoon, Diego punched Matías on the arm. “Okay, tío, you ready for this? I don’t know if you’ve gone soft while living in America or if you can still handle us.”
Matías laughed and gave it right back. “You talk a big game for someone who spends his days changing diapers and falling asleep at 7p.m.in your kids’ bed with stuffed animals all around you. Besides, haven’t I kept up the last few days? I seem to remember being the least freaked out about scuba diving at night in the pitch dark.”
“He’s got you there,” Leo said, holding hands as usual with Facu. The two were inseparable and proud of it, and it made Matías’s heart ache a little, wishing Claire had come on the trip.
But she would have hated what they were about to do—not only because she got seasick on boats, but because Diego would be driving, and that meant speed, speed, and more speed. It wouldn’t matter where they went or what they saw, as long as they went faster than anyone else around them.
They reached the slip where their boat was, and Carlos—who was rolling their cooler behind them—let out an appreciative whistle.
