Queens, New York — 23 February 2010
The curtains around her bed added a vermillion glow to the morning light, making every morning a perfect sunrise. It reminded Lita of the times she slept in a beach hut, watching the Chilean ocean emerge under the coral shimmer. For a moment, her mind conjured the rhythmic waves, soft on the sandy shore, and felt her heart beating at the same slow pace. Lita breathed in deeply and reached her hand out to the fabric, noticing how, up close, the light poured through the open spaces between fibres. The material was warm between her fingers, and when the sun flooded the room, for a moment, everything felt okay.
Lita swung herself upwards and slumped when she sat. With a tired groan, she ran her hands over her face and then stretched her arms out, ready to get up. Lita fought her two youngest brothers to the bathroom and won, then spent an excessive amount of time in the shower to piss them off. When she emerged, Gabriel and Joaquín argued with her, then quickly fought to get into the bathroom themselves. Lita laughed as she looked at them over her shoulder, and then returned to her room to get changed. As she was choosing a necklace to wear, her eyes fell upon the powder blue gem that Loki had gifted her. With a sigh, Lita a simple silver choker instead, then slid her helmet and suit cartridge into her back pocket.
"Lita! Breakfast!"
"Coming!"
The kitchen was an eclectic mixture of orange, green and brown hues all put together in a strange yet comforting decor. From the oven wafted homey aromas on a daily basis, fragrances that Lita could only associate with her step-father's impressive baking skills. When she entered the kitchen that morning, the smell of sweetened condensed milk and cinnamon immediately brought joy.
"Are we eating tres leches for breakfast, Juan?"
"Good morning, birthday girl," Juan called, his honey-brown eyes sparkling with delight. "Anything you want, you get."
"Then why're we going to the Empire State Building?" Lita said playfully. "In February."
"Because you would rather spend an entire day at that art museum," Mateo scoffed, sitting down at the table.
Breads, cheeses, spreads and various meats had been laid out. A pitcher of orange juice, a carafe of coffee and a teapot were sitting comfortably on folded dish rags. Joaquín, Gabriel and Isabél were already sitting down, helping themselves.
"Hey, the MET has an exhibition of art from the Yuan Dynasty," Lita complained, taking a teacup from the cupboard. "Plus, I'd get to walk down the street and stuff my face at Juan's bakery."
"That's a good excuse," Juan chuckled as he sifted cinnamon over his cake. "You should take notes, Mateo. Lita's onto something."
"How about we head to the Empire State Building early," Isabél began, "then head to Café Taja for a snack. Lita and I can spend the rest of the afternoon at the MET."
"As long as I don't have to walk around the mit," Gabriel said, stuffing a piece of cheese in his mouth.
"The MET, Gabi," Lita corrected, chuckling. "The MET."
Gabriel and Joaquín continued to mispronounce the museum's name throughout breakfast and as they all got dressed and ready to go out. Lita was just finishing putting on her lipstick when Mateo dragged her out of her bedroom, and they all packed into the minivan one by one. Lita and Mateo got in first to sit at the very back, and they played rock-paper-scissors to figure out who was taking the left seat—the right seat had a missing chunk of padding and was very uncomfortable to sit on.
"Damn, I'm gonna get butt cramps," Mateo complained as he scooted over to the right seat. "You're gonna lose on the way to Juan's bakery."
"Not a chance."
Lita popped the corner of the back window open to let the cold winter air into the minivan. Mateo complained that the wind was freezing and messing up his hair, but Lita was lost in the familiar stench of New York City. She could vaguely smell the sewers and dumpsters, the scent of gasoline and car exhaust was strong, and the gentle smell of snow intermingled with it all. Lita hated and loved it at the same time.
The wait to get up the Empire State Building was short, according to the staff, although the wait time still ended up being upwards of thirty minutes. The family of six was squashed into the elevator alongside five others and they slowly made their ascent to the top. Joaquín had the privilege of being hoisted onto Juan's shoulders since the barrier was too high for him, and Gabriel rode atop Mateo's.
The view from the top of the Empire State was something that Lita had seen before. Even then, she'd seen views that her family could only ever dream of. However, to see the agglomeration of buildings from so high up, without the noises and distractions of the streets, was something special, still. It brought a small smile to Lita's face. If she closed her eyes and listened, drowning out the chatter of her family, the schoolchildren on tour, and the German tourists arguing about their lunch plans, Lita could almost hear the heartbeat of the city.
"First the mountains and now this city?"
"Why do you make fun of me enjoying my surroundings, Mateo?" Lita chuckled, reopening her eyes.
"'Cause you get all annoyed," Mateo admitted, amused.
Gabriel pointed to a plane in the sky and began imitating the sound of propellers.
"Hey, it's peaceful." Mateo gave her a sceptical look and Lita shrugged. "If you drown out plane boy up there, those little kids talking about whether it's safe to eat yellow snow, and the German tourists arguing that creamy coleslaw should be banned."
"It really should."
After Gabriel and Joaquín had their tour around the top of the Empire State Building, Isabél fought for the family of six to be the only ones going down the elevator at one time. They then spent far too much time in the gift shop and Gabriel came out wearing a new tuque while waving a little flag featuring the building.
Once again, Lita and Mateo played rock-paper-scissors to determine their seats and, luckily for Mateo, Lita drew the short straw. She shuffled into the right seat and sat down. Immediately, the unevenness of the padding warped her back. She pulled a face and groaned, giving Mateo a pitiful look, hoping that he'd change seats. However, he merely stuck his tongue out at her. To annoy him, Lita opened the back window and asked Gabriel and Joaquín to do it as well. Mateo whined about his hair again, which made Lita and her other brothers laugh, but Isabél and Juan told everyone to calm down and roll up the windows because of the cold.
When Lita agreed, the right side of her head collided with the window. The force of her body suddenly swerving to one side pulled the stitching on the old seatbelt apart and Lita went crashing through the minivan's back window. The glass lacerated her face, arms and legs, and sharp stinging pain erupted throughout her body. As she flew, Lita felt as if she were suspended in time and space, her mind fuzzy from the impact and the sudden lack of oxygen in her lungs. By the time she was inches from the ground, the suit cartridge and helmet reacted on their own, activated by Lita's immediate danger. It began to crawl over her clothes, desperately trying to cover all of Lita's body before she crashed onto the pavement. However, when Lita's body collided with the icy road, only the helmet had hardened, sparing her only the skull-cracking impact of the landing. She felt her skin rip and her ribs break as her limp body skidded several feet across the road, clearing her from the car wreck, and stopped when her head collided with the edge of the sidewalk.
It was dark and quiet for a long time. While conscious, Lita's eyes and ears registered nothing at all. She took a deep breath and barely felt the rise of her chest. A sharp pain stabbed her sides as she breathed and, the more she did, the more pain came—her head, her neck, and all of her limbs felt like they were on fire even though she was lying in an inch of snow. Lita felt the slow retracting of her suit and helmet, the immediate danger gone, and the pain from the cold air on her wounds made everything come into focus. Her ears were ringing so loud that it was creating new pain, and her eyes, suddenly accepting in the light again, burned so bad that Lita hissed in pain.
From the carousel of random thoughts and severe pains came some order, a subtle awareness of what had happened and where she was. After taking a few moments to experience the pain, Lita began to analyse her surroundings. There were several car alarms wailing in the distance. Air or water was hissing somewhere in the vicinity. Men, women and children were screaming. Nearby, the voice of a panicked child seemed to be speaking to her.
"Hey, miss! Miss, wake up!"
Lita turned toward the voice. She groaned loudly, pain radiating throughout her body, and looked up in the direction the voice was coming from. There was a little boy standing in front of her, unharmed, no more than nine or ten years old, and he was staring down at her with panicked eyes.
"Miss, miss, you're hurt!"
"Estoy bien, estoy bien," Lita lied, her voice weak and hoarse.
She rolled onto her stomach, trying to ignore the pain, but as she tried to lift herself up, a horrible stabbing sensation rushed through her body. Lita lurched forward but kept her mouth shut, forcing herself not to vomit, and then pushed herself onto her hands and knees. Shards of glass embedded themselves in her skin and Lita hissed in pain.
"Estoy bien," she repeated under her breath, trying to convince herself of it.
Lita winced and turned to look at the boy.
"Are you okay?"
"M-Me?" the boy stuttered. He stepped towards Lita, eyeing the cuts on her skin with fearful eyes. "You need a hospital. There's a hospital two streets away."
"I can't," Lita breathed out. Her lungs hurt. "My fa—my family."
The sound of ambulance sirens reached Lita's ears and made the pain in her head and the ringing in her ears much worse. Bile rose up to her throat again and she forced herself not to vomit as she tried to stand. Lita struggled, her legs shaking underneath the weight she carried every day, and they gave out when her knees were about to straighten out. The boy rushed forward and caught her head before she cracked it on the pavement. He whimpered in pain on impact, but he kept his hands there nonetheless.
"Thanks, kid," Lita breathed, looking over at him.
The sound of footsteps grew louder and louder in Lita's ears and, soon, the boy was being pushed out of the way as paramedics began to assess Lita's condition. They asked for her name, preexisting medical conditions, allergies and the levels of pain she was feeling, and Lita answered as best she could—her mind was growing foggy, the pain was confusing her, and the fear that her family was in worse condition than her was overtaking her so badly that she barely remembered answering the questions at all.
The paramedics shouted for an ambulance and one of them backed up to reach her, weaving through the debris of the crash. They called for the driver to rush her to the nearest possible hospital, and the loud sirens rang in Lita's ears as they drove. Her face scrunched up in pain as the pressure in her skull mounted and the pain in her body began to grow worse. Every breath felt like someone was stabbing her in the chest and her skin was on fire. It was taking over an enormous portion of her brain—as if keeping herself awake and alert wasn't already straining enough.
Lita's condition was easily stabilised once at the hospital, however. She was put under general anaesthesia to pluck out all the shards of glass and chunks of asphalt stuck in her skin. She was put through x-rays and CT scans to determine the number of broken bones in her body. Several dozen wounds were sewn shut, leaving Lita with the possibility of developing numerous scars over her body. Doctors pumped her with pain killers which, upon her awakening from anaesthesia, made her mind groggy and sloshy, as if the room was the deck of a ship on an unstable ocean.
"Miss Herrera?"
The voice had come from somewhere ahead. Lita rolled her heavy head backwards and fixed her gaze on the ceiling. The voice called her name again and Lita lulled her head forward to look at the door to the room. She winced and narrowed her eyes, the white light burning her eyes. The person who had spoken seemed to understand her predicament—the lights dimmed significantly and Lita was able to open her bloodshot eyes all the way. She took a deep breath, trying to focus despite the heavy painkillers coursing through her veins pushing for the opposite.
"Miss Herrera?"
"I don't," Lita muttered, speech a little slurred. "The pain medication... I can't focus."
"That's okay, that's okay," the voice said again. It was calm. "You need to relax."
"The accident... My—"
Lita's head lulled forward again and she cut herself off. With a heavy sigh, she rolled her head back onto the hospital bed's flat pillow.
"My family," she gasped, sounding tired and out of breath. "Where—I don't—Are they—"
"Miss Herrera, you need to calm down."
"Just tell me—tell me if they're okay."
She rolled her head slightly to the left and tried to focus her eyes on the person speaking to her. The figure was fuzzy at first, but one of the paramedics that assessed her at the crash site soon became clearer. She took a few steps inside the room and pulled the chair in the corner to Lita's bedside. Despite the haze in which her brain was in, Lita felt the suffocating weight of dread crush her chest.
"Do you remember what happened?" the paramedic asked.
"I..." Lita frowned. "I was in a crash."
"Yes, you were in a car accident, Miss Herrera. An eighteen-wheeler truck hit the front and left side of your vehicle. You were flung several metres away from the crash. Your right-side brow and cheekbone were fractured, and you suffered a concussion, whiplash, multiple broken ribs and several lacerations to your body."
"What about..." Tears began to pool in Lita's eyes. "My mom, my brothers, my step-father..."
"I'm sorry, Miss Herrera, but..."
The paramedic took a long breath and exhaled it slowly. Lita's face twisted in pain and her bottom lip quivered.
"Tell me," Lita insisted, her voice watery. "Don't sugarcoat it."
"Okay," the woman muttered. She cleared her throat and straightened her back. "The truck hit the front and left side of the minivan. Your mother and step-father took the brunt of the impact—they were pronounced dead at the scene."
The pain medication that was making her mind fuzzy seemed to disappear all of a sudden. A sharp pain in her chest made nausea rise in her throat, but she kept herself in check. She was a soldier and, for now, she needed to act like one.
"Your brothers Gabriel and Joaquín survived the initial crash but, unfortunately, Gabriel died on his way to the hospital and Joaquín lost too much blood by the time he made it to the operating room. He didn't make it, either."
"And Mateo?" Lita asked, her voice cracking.
"In critical condition," the paramedic said. "He's still in surgery."
Lita let out a quick breath and nodded once in understanding. The paramedic's eyebrows furrowed. She'd only seen reactions to death like this in people who'd seen it before, repeatedly and in great quantities. Lita was reacting like a soldier and she pitied her for it. Despite the devastating tragedy of these events, the woman wished that Lita would allow herself to feel it completely. Denying it for too long would end up causing more harm.
However, as she left the room, the sound of quiet sobbing reached her ears. The paramedic turned and peeked back into the room. It was as if she could see Lita's soul bleeding through the tears in her eyes. She could tell that Lita wanted to scream out in pain, but all she could manage was a small, pained whimper. It made her seem so small, so young, like a child separated from its parents. But the whimper seemed to show more pain than any shout or scream that Lita could have produced—all her pain, anguish, and grief condensed inside.