Tanks For The Memories

Chapter 2

"I'm so proud of you mijo." Tia beams at me as she serves me a huge plate of enchiladas. I grin like a fool.

"Thanks Tia. Just the weekend and we can begin." I start shoveling the spicy food into my mouth. The flavor is rich and I almost groan.

"How was your week?" She is watching me carefully. Her eyes are lasers beams.

I swallow before answering. "It was okay."

"No slips?"

I look away. "There was just a small one." I stuff more into my mouth to end the discussion. I just wish it would work.

"When, where, how?" The questions are bullets.

"I was going out for a stroll yesterday morning when I had an anxiety attack. No big deal." I shrug and give her smile. It is small lie, but one I'm willing to tell.

"Are you taking your meds like you're supposed to? You're better but you still need to heal. And losing Anita barely two years ago," She covers my hand with her own as her sentence trails off. Her hand is warm and soft. Just how I remember my adopted mom to be. I'm crying before I even realize it. Tia gets up and comes around the table to hug me. I cry in her arms. My grief is lightning. It's fast, hot, and powerful.

I will always remember Anita, my hero, my mother not by blood but by choice. The fact that she chose me versus all the other well adjusted kids still stuns me.

I hardly remember my first year of recovery. It was a blur. I was told that doctors kept me sedated all the time because I tried to bite and scratch anyone that came near me. My second year is still fuzzy but I remember Anita. She was one of my nurses. I can't explain it, but she warmed me up on the inside. She took my bitterness, confusion, and hostility away. For some odd reason I just wanted to please her. To have her smile at me with pride if I got something right. I did anything that woman asked.

When I turned 18 the state kicked me out of the hospital. I was no longer a child they wanted. I had been abandoned. Anita didn't leave me alone though. She took me home, changed my name from John Doe to Manuel Garcia, and called me son. My father took time to warm up to me. Tia treated me with kindness the instant she saw me. I guessed it was genetic.

I loved my small family. I still do, it's just a bit smaller.

I look at Tia. Her big brown eyes are watery, as I'm sure mine are, and her mascara is smudged. I gently wipe her eyes with a napkin,"You better stop crying or Tio will chew me out." She smiles and playfully smacks my arm. I grin. "Go clean up your face and I'll clean the dishes."

"But you can't do it alone."

"I got this Tia, I'll even make myself a to-go plate like you always do."

"Mijo, I don't know what I did right to have you as a nephew, but I'm glad you're familia." She kisses the top of my head before waddling off.

I go about my business and it's not long before I hear the front door open. I tense. I can't explain it, but my Tio always seemed off to me. I feel like I know him. In the beginning I use to just get panic attacks from him even being in the same room as me. To this day I still do but not as bad thankfully.

"Maria? Are you in the kitchen? Bring me a beer." I bite my tongue. He doesn't even say please?

I grab a beer can from the fridge before popping into the living room. His shoes are already off and he relaxes in his recliner. Though as soon as he sees me he tenses up. "Sorry Tio, but she went to go freshen up after dinner."

He frowns and as I give him the beer. "Did you make her cry again?"

Inside my heart is beating rapidly,on the outside the only thing I do is clench my fist. "Not purpose. I started then she followed. I believe they call it sympathy."

His face twitches in quick disgust. It was only a nanosecond but I still wanted to clock him. "You know real men don't cry. You don't see me cry if life gets hard."

"Beto!" I turn around to see the horror on Tia's face. Her light brown skin is getting darker with a blush.

"It's okay, Tia. One man's opinion doesn't make me who I am." I walk over to her ignoring the hot feel of his eyes on me. I lean to her forehead, give her a quick kiss and a tight hug. "If I did I would still be in the looney bin." I whisper in her ear.

"Mijo, you are too good for this world." She whispers back. I look at her face and she is smiling. I know she means what she said.

I make it home. The empty sound of my place is deafening. I need noise. I can't deal with silence right now. I go to my room and lay on the bed. I grab the remote to switch on the tv when it hits me. I faint.

I'm running. My throat is raw from screaming. The woods should be making noise but they aren't. I don't even hear a cricket. I can barely see through the darkness so I end up tripping on almost everything. I crave light. I need it. I can feel hot breath on the back of my neck. I can't risk looking back or I'll really be dead. I hear a laugh. It echoes in the soundless woods. Is this real? Or something my mind made up to explain the hate of silence? I want my cake and to eat it too.

The biggest question I have though, is why now?

AN

Hello my legion of dark fluff. Alrighty, so was that too much info, not enough, or would you rather just punch Beto in his big head? My vote is on the last one.

But do tell me what you think of him. Is believable? Do you think some men still think the way he does? Or was I just completely wrong?

And how about Anita? What happened to her? What about his father? Does everyone see their mom as a hero?

Like any good author, I have to beg for you to vote, comment, and share with all your nice friends! Please? Throw an inspiring author a bone. :)