A girl chasing her dream. A boy looking for the light.
When Florence Nyx started her internship at a Formula 1 paddock, she expected a lot. Fast cars. Exclusive impressions most people could only dream of. An entire array of skills she'd acquire...
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"Flor..." My mother's voice seeped into my consciousness, but I groaned internally. "Lucia, por favor... You need to get some sleep."
"I am sleeping..." I mumbled and pulled the blanket over my head, trying to get comfortable in the hospital's lounge chair.
"No, you need to go home. Your father will be released later and I'm here to look after him until then," she whispered, stroking Dad's hair. The rising sun shone gently into the room, but even through the dim lights I recognized the worried expression on my mother's face.
I slowly got up from my chair and shuffled over to her, wrapping one arm around her waist. "Mamma, you don't have to do everything. I'm here."
She'd been a rock through all of this, taking it all on the chin. I'd tried to help her the best I could; by allowing her to get rest whenever Dad didn't need her, didn't need us. My mother and I had one thing in common, though.
We were strong as hell and loyal to the bone.
As expected, Mom shook her head and glanced at me, her eyes tired but determined. "It is my responsibility to take care of you, hija, not the other way around. You need to prepare for your move."
It'd been two weeks since Dad's accident, and even though my entire family had spent their days and nights at the hospital, my mother insisted I still went to university, followed my dreams.
She didn't know I'd already decided not to go. She'd have my head the second she heard about it, but I didn't care.
My family needed me, and I'd be there. End of story.
"Let's not talk about that now. Do we have everything ready for tomorrow?" I asked, hinting at the renovations that needed to be done to make the house wheelchair accessible.
The good news was, Dad was still alive and breathing, and he was slowly getting back to his usual self, making stupid comments and throwing inappropriate Dad jokes into the conversation.
The bad news was, he couldn't walk. He injured his spinal cord during the accident, leaving him mostly paralyzed from the waist down. His arm was broken as well, but that seemed like a simple scratch compared to the changes we'd have to implement in our life now.
What mattered was that he was still there, and that Mom survived along with him.
I'd never been a fan of Jesus or any other higher power, but my mother had insisted I'd pray with her, and I did. Not for me or for Dad, but for her. It calmed her thinking someone would help her husband when it all seemed so hopeless in the beginning.
I envied her for finding strength in something so simple as a prayer, or the belief in God. My sarcastic and overly rational mind couldn't accept that our lives were guided by some strange bearded guy in the clouds, but I was glad she had that salvation.
