Chapter Nine (Michael POV)

The past three weeks of my life have been, well for lack of a better description, pretty weird.

It began with an emotional dinner hosted by the Villanueva family and has only escalated from there, ending with me aimlessly roaming the aisles of the local Target in search of, you guessed it, Jane Villanueva. I honestly don't even know how I got to this point. There's a saying I heard once, that life comes at you fast. Buddy, you don't even know.

Life is definitely coming at me at a dizzying rate, landing well placed punches that leave me disoriented with each pass around. It's getting harder and harder to keep up with the changes and people and boundless information that seems to define my existence as Michael Cordero, Jr. There is a certain irony in all of this as well. The longer I stay in Miami, the place that was once my home, hearth and livelihood, the more confused I become. It doesn't help when everything I'm familiar with changes from day to day.

I recently began therapy with an expert PTSD clinician whose specialty is hypnosis. In addition to that huge adjustment, I've also been emotionally assaulted by a fluffy cat, formed an unlikely friendship with a precocious six year old, learned that Rafael Solano apparently has a very loyal pit bull named Petra, found myself unexpectedly drawn back into the blue brotherhood by a bunch of cops intent on "showing me love," and, finally, received confirmation that the dead man in Michael Cordero's grave is definitely not Michael Cordero. He had also, apparently, been a victim of homicide. That last part I had been a suspicion of mine since learning that someone else had been buried in my grave but having confirmation still left me a little out of sorts, as did the rest of it.

A lot out of sorts if I'm honest, particularly because on top of all of that I am now struggling to control my growing feelings for Jane Villanueva.

In retrospect, the subtle shifting in my life had started off innocently enough. When I met with Dr. Alan Beavers for my first therapy session, Jane and the Corderos had been there to provide support. In light of the resurfacing of a few memories (most of which curiously revolved around Mateo Gloriano Rogelio Solano-Villanueva), I was hopeful that Dr. Beavers would be able to help me unlock more of my past. It was there, in his office, flanked by my parents and Jane that Dr. Beavers officially diagnosed me with PTSD. He explained that much of our therapy sessions would involve me talking out my feelings but that a portion of it would also be dedicated to helping me access the deepest, darkest parts of my psyche that I've been too afraid to face.

That's right. According to Dr. Beavers, the reason I can't remember anything is because I don't want to remember. It had taken me all of two minutes to label him a useless quack and go storming out of his office. I had turned a deaf ear to the Corderos and Jane's frantic pleading for me to give it a chance and had gone for a walk on the beach instead. I spent a good majority of that time wandering afterward and ignoring their repeated calls. When I couldn't stand to be alone in my own head any longer, I called Lorena and told her what happened.

"And you just walked out?"

"I just walked out."

"But you said yourself that you were finally starting to make progress! This is your chance to get your life back! Why would you do something so stupid?"

"Because what he was suggesting was stupid! There's no way in hell I brought my amnesia on myself! The only thing I've wanted for half a year is to remember who I am!"

"Is it really? Be honest with yourself, Michael. Would you be so mad about it if part of you wasn't afraid it might be true?

In the end, once I got over being indignant and frustrated, I could appreciate Lorena's unwillingness to sugarcoat the situation for me. For quite some time, I had been nurturing an idealized image of the life I left behind. I never let myself consider for one moment that it might have been anything besides sunshine and roses. After all, it just had to better than what I knew presently.

But now, I had no choice but to analyze the facts. The truth was I'd once had a job that put me in close proximity with dangerous criminals, criminals who apparently had no qualms about holding me hostage for five years. My history with wife is complicated and, as I'm coming to learn, also extremely painful. My parents are divorced and barely on speaking terms. That's not exactly a storybook life that's waiting for me if my memories return.

Is it possible that, on some sub-conscious level, I'm afraid of that? Could that be the reason I've barely made any progress in all this time? I didn't have the answers to those questions and, because I didn't, I started to consider that Dr. Beavers might not be such a quack after all.

So I did the only thing I could do. I went back to my psychologist and asked him if we could start again. Once that was done, I had called the Corderos and apologized for my behavior. They were patient and understanding and all too grateful to learn I hadn't decided to disappear. I deliberately saved my trip to the Villanueva home for last. I knew instinctively that I was going to need to issue Jane's apology in person. As I'd anticipated, she was pretty upset.

"You promised me you wouldn't run off like that again!"

"I didn't run off! I needed some time to myself."

"Then just say that, Michael! Don't you realize that every time you disappear like that it feels like I'm losing you all over again?"

When she had started to cry following that outburst, I had reacted on pure instinct. I reached out to pull her into my arms, relieved and surprised when she came against me without resistance. I didn't even realize how much I needed to hold her until I was actually doing it. She hugged me tightly in return, her fingers bunched in the freshly laundered cotton of my t-shirt as if she had been waiting for that moment for a lifetime. At least, that was exactly how I had felt at that moment… Warm and safe and drowning in contented familiarity.

It felt like I had finally come home.

I could have stayed in that moment with her forever. I had definitely wanted to but, in the end, the universe had other plans. Eventually, her cat's persistent and obnoxious meowing demanded our attention and finally prompted us to release one another. The mild irritation I'd felt over the interruption was heightened when the aforementioned cat began circling my ankles with a satisfied purr.

"Jane…I think your cat is getting fresh with me."

"I think you mean your cat."

"Since when do I have a cat?"

"Since I made you a deathbed promise that you could have one."

According to Jane, I had apparently adored that animal in the past but I'm a bit skeptical of that claim. I'm not sure I would label myself as a cat person. Sure, she can be adorable and maybe I like to pet her every so often but it doesn't mean that she and I are going to become friends. At most, I tolerate the furball and her constant invasion into my personal space.

However, it seems that Faith M. Whiskers III (and what the hell kind of name is that anyway) isn't at all dissuaded by my apathy. She is determined to make me love her. So now whenever I have dinner at the Villanueva home, which has been happening twice a week for the past three weeks now, that stupid cat always makes herself at home in my lap.

The one bright spot in her tenacious stalking is that her feline antics clearly tickle Mateo and anything that tickles that kid tickles me. I haven't spent an inordinate amount of time with him but I am quickly discovering that Mateo Solano-Villanueva is pretty easy to like. He doesn't seem to harbor the reserve and resentment towards me that is so typical of his father. In contrast, Mateo is friendly, inquisitive (albeit frustratingly headstrong at times) and not at all adverse to speaking his six year old mind. Having recently celebrated a birthday, he now thinks that he knows everything. Although, that last particular character trait is both blessing and curse.

"How come it's taking you so long to remember?"

At first I think I'm dreaming when I hear his voice. "Mateo? What are you…why are you calling me?" I glance at the digital numbers illuminated on the bedside clock. "It's 2 o'clock in the morning! Where's your mother? How did you get my number?"

"Mommy's asleep so I decided to borrow her phone. I've got a lot on my mind right now."

"Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"I told you…I got a lot on my mind. I need to talk."

I shift upright in bed and click on the lamp. "Oh yeah?" I yawn, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, "What do you need to talk about?"

"Do you still know your abc's?"

"Um…yeah?"

"Can you remember how to tie your shoes?"

"Of course."

He huffs an exasperated sigh. "Can you count to 100?"

"Yes, I can. Is there a reason any of this is important?"

"How can you remember all of that stuff but you can't remember me and Mommy?"

I slump back against the headboard with his lament. "I don't know, buddy."

"Mommy said that we can't move into our new house with Daddy until you start to remember so can you please hurry up already?"

The gnawing guilt his innocent demand had caused prevented me from sleeping for the rest of the night. All the kid wants is to have the typical family with his parents happy together and under the same roof. It makes even more sense that he should have it too since his parents are romantically involved and are obviously committed to one another. I feel like hell that I've inadvertently stalled his dream because the last thing I want to do in life is hurt that kid. It bothered me so much, in fact, that I eventually took my concerns to Jane.

"I don't want you delaying your plans with Rafael for my sake. If you want to move in with him then you should do it. If you want to marry him, you should do that too."

"It isn't the right time."

"Mateo seems to think so."

"Mateo is a child."

"Okay, well you seemed to think so before I got here. So, if it isn't because of me then why are you stalling?"

"Don't you think things are going to change when you get your memories back, Michael? I don't want to give Mateo any hope for the future until I know what that looks like."

And there it was. Her first tacit admission that she felt something more for me than friendship. It isn't exactly a sweeping surprise. I have suspected for quite a while now that Jane's feelings for me weren't entirely platonic. It was to be expected, after all. We had been in love, had been still newlyweds with plans to expand our family when I "died." The connection that had spurred her to make vows before God to love me for a lifetime or until death parted us didn't vanish after I was gone. It had simply fallen dormant. So the reawakening of those feelings with my return was expected.

What was not expected was that my feelings for Jane Villanueva would gradually evolve and deepen into something more the longer I knew her, especially not expected because I don't have the reference to our history that she does. For me, she's just some woman that I met less than a month ago but I can't deny that somehow, someway she's managed to embed herself firmly in my heart and now I don't know how to excise her…or even if I want to. I can't even pinpoint when what I feel for her started to change. I don't know exactly when indifference became like and like became affection and affection began to grow into…

Nope. I am not going there. I decided it then when she told me she was uncertain about our future and I'm reaffirming it now. I will not even allow myself to entertain the thought because I know if I do the consequences could be disastrous. Too many people stood to be hurt in the aftermath if I decided to indulge my inexplicable attraction to Jane Villanueva, namely her son.

There is also Lorena to think about, who has recently become more agreeable to the idea of a relationship with me. And Rafael, who I don't particularly care for, but to whom I still owe a debt of gratitude because he helped to give me back my life. The honest truth is that he and Jane have carved out a lives for themselves with their son and I don't really fit into that picture. I certainly didn't need anyone to tell me what stood to be lost if I let my burgeoning feelings get the better of me but that hadn't stopped Petra Solano from getting in my face about it.

She had stormed into my motel room about two weeks ago as if she owned the place. Blond, beautiful and altogether too confident. I decided right then on the spot. I didn't like her. Not one bit.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I'll be your worst nightmare if you don't listen to me very carefully."

"Excuse me? Do we know each other?"

"It's a long story. The condensed version is my ex-husband is involved with your ex-wife."

"You were married to Rafael? Okay, that explains it. You're just as much an entitled jackass as he is!"

"I didn't come here to discuss my ass. I came here to set you straight about something."

"No thanks. I'll pass. You can leave the way you came. Don't let the door hit you on your way out."

"You really don't get why I'm here, do you? Jane is Rafael's entire world, Michael. He adores her. Don't ruin this for him. You've already had your happily ever after with her. Let Rafael have his."

While I resent being placed into a position where I am expected to be the keeper of Rafael Solano's happiness I also know that it's the right thing to do. So, I'm really left with no other choice in the matter. I shut Jane down. I tell her that, while I value her friendship, the only thing I want or feel for her is friendship. I tell her that regardless of whether I regain my memory or not, I had serious doubts that those feelings would change.

"Because of Lorena?"

"Because of Lorena."

"I think you're mistaking gratitude for love, Michael."

"And I think you're living in the past. You have a completely different life now. So do I."

"You weren't some high school crush. You were my husband! If you hadn't been kidnapped, we wouldn't be having this conversation. You and I would still be together. It doesn't matter if it's legal or not…I still feel like I'm your wife and I think we should address that."

"What about Rafael? Do you love him?"

"Of course I do! He's the father of my child. He's my best friend. We have an incredible history together."

"So then you know what you have to do."

"You and I have an incredible history too."

"That doesn't matter, Jane. Not anymore. I'm in love with someone else and so are you. It's time to let go of the past. I've moved on from it and you should too."

It wasn't entirely a lie. There had been a time in the very recent past when I couldn't imagine myself with any woman besides Lorena. She had been my friend, my protector and my stable, safe place for as long as I could literally remember. I certainly do love Lorena but what I feel for Jane isn't something I can explain. I'm drawn to her and the pull I feel only becomes stronger the more I'm around her. And while I may be resolved in my decision not to pursue a romance with her, it's impossible for me to forsake her friendship. Like I said, she's in my heart and she's wedged in there firmly.

In the meantime, I encourage Jane to move forward in her relationship with my blessing. And even though it hurts when she finally accepts Rafael Solano's marriage proposal, I tell myself it's the right thing, the best thing for everyone. I won't let myself wish for something more with her and I won't give her a reason to wish for it either. I have to believe that one day the feelings we have for each other will fade. I hope they will. They have to fade.

I must remind myself again and again that she is in love with someone else and I am in love with someone else. I rationalize in my mind that five years is a long time and that my memory loss would only serve as a hindrance. I convince myself that the connection between us is simply a remnant of our shared past. It's not like we're meant to be together (though sometimes when I'm feeling weak and vulnerable I let myself wonder) because surely, if we were, we wouldn't have moved on to other people. Surely, if we were, Mateo wouldn't exist. And I'm glad he exists. Truly glad.

"Hey, guess what!"

"Mateo, you gotta stop calling me so late. Does your mom know you have her phone again?"

"Me, Mommy and Daddy are going to move into a new house together!"

"That's great. Congratulations, kiddo! I bet you're psyched."

"I am. I've wanted this for my whole, entire life."

"Yeah…all six years of it."

"You can come live with us too, if you want. You can share my room."

"Thanks, but…I don't think that's appropriate, buddy."

"That's the same thing Daddy says."

"Well, your daddy is a very wise man."

"It might help you remember if you came to live with us. Don't you want to remember, Michael? Then we can be best friends like you and Papa!"

"We're going to be best friends no matter what, Mateo."

"You promise?"

"I promise. Now go to bed and, for God's sake, quit stealing your mom's phone."

It shouldn't be too difficult for me to stay the course in regards to Jane. After all, I have the best motivator of all. Mateo. I am really starting to love that kid and his random, late night phone calls. Of all the people who have come into my life and who are threaded in my past, he's the one I feel most connected with and I think it's because he's the only one I've had a few memories about. It's enough for me to know that I loved him. I truly, deeply and utterly loved that kid like he was my own.

Whenever I find myself fantasizing about Jane or the love we once shared, I imagine Mateo's sweet, innocent, trusting face and that brings me right back down to earth. I may be in the process of figuring out who I am and what I want but I know one thing for a certainty. I do not want and will not become a homewrecker. Just not happening.

So, I stay focused on Lorena. I faithfully attend therapy. I have lunch with my parents once a week. I try to put my time and energy into things I can control. Which is exactly what prompted me to go to the police station and file an official police report in relation to my kidnapping. In hindsight, it was not my most thought out plan.

Too say that I was mobbed the second I set foot in the station house sounds like dramatic exaggeration but it's not far from the truth. Within moments, I found myself surrounded by a wall of cops. They approached me one after the other after the other, shaking my hand, hugging me, clapping me on the shoulder heartily and telling me how good it was to see me again. On the one hand, it was great to know I had been missed. On the other hand, it felt surreal because those men were relating to me like I was still a cop. Even my former captain had offered me my old job back, assuming that I would want a hand in charging the criminal responsible for my disappearance.

But I didn't. I don't. I don't want any part of it. It's enough to finally have confirmation that another man had, indeed, been buried in my grave. According to the captain, the police are currently running DNA tests on the remains in an effort to uncover the man's identity. Strangely the news fills me with a mixture of relief and guilt. Relief because I can finally put to rest the secret fear that I might not be myself after all. And guilt because, well…I feel partly responsible for that man's death.

All of those thoughts surrounding Mateo, Jane, Lorena and even that nameless dead man are beating around in my brain while I wander through the Target like a little, lost orphan. I am in the middle of contemplating a container of liquid Tide and trying to decide if I want to purchase the plain or scented brand when my cellphone chimes to life. I glance at the screen and find the text from Jane that I have been waiting for.

I have a situation. Where are you?

Aisle 7. Laundry Detergent. What's up?

Mateo meltdown. Need back up. Meet me in outdoor supplies.

On it.

It isn't hard to find them at all. All I have to do is follow the sound of Mateo's irate screams. As I round the corner I come upon a scene that stops me in my tracks. Mateo is currently clinging to a tent display, and destroying it in the process, while Jane unsuccessfully tries to pry him off. They are also surrounded by beleaguered Target associates who are debating on whether or not they should call the police. I quickly step forward before things can escalate further.

"Hey, hey, hey, what's with all the family discord?" The second Mateo hears my voice, he releases the display and comes flying into my arms with noisy tears. I shoo away the lingering Target staff. "I've got it from here." As a clearly annoyed Jane closes the distance between us I ask her what's going on.

"He wants me to buy him a tent so that I can take him camping."

"And she's said no because she's a big mean meanie!" Mateo sniffles petulantly.

"Hey now," I admonish him softly, "That's no way to talk to your mom, is it?"

Mateo makes a face and then pokes his tongue out at Jane for good measure. "It is when she's being a big, fat meanie!"

"No, it's not," I tell him firmly, "It's never okay that you talk to your mom like that because she's your mom. No one will ever love you or take care of you the way she does, Mateo, and that deserves your respect. Always. Even when she makes you angry, even when you don't agree, you have to respect your mother. It's important."

"But she won't take me camping and I want to go camping," he sobs.

"Buddy, we don't always get what we want and you can't throw a fit every time you don't because that's not good. Do you understand?" He nods. He's sullen and pouting when he does it but he does it. Beyond his shoulder I see Jane offer me a grateful smile and mouth "thank you." I return her smile briefly before giving my full attention to Mateo. "Now maybe if you apologize to your mom for your behavior, she might reconsider buying you a tent."

Mateo dutifully does so. "Now will you please buy me a tent? I promise to be on my best behavior."

"It has nothing to do with your behavior, baby. You know I'm a disaster at camping and your dad isn't interested. And you know Papa won't go. There's no one to take you."

"Michael can take me."

I'm so stunned by the declaration and how easily he's roped me into something I never volunteered for that I can only blink in disbelief at first. "Um…Michael can't take you camping," I tell him wryly, "because Michael doesn't know how to camp."

"Yes, you do," Mateo insists, "Mommy said you loved it."

I'm about to tell him that I have no recollection of that at all when I suddenly have string of memories that come at me from out of nowhere. Assembling a tent with my father under a blanket of twinkling stars, racing my brother on our bikes as we head down to the lake, my first kiss with the girl staying two campsites down from us, sleeping under the canopy of the night sky with my academy buddies the night before graduation and finally camping with Jane in all her disheveled, sweaty glory.

"To make up for the heat and the bugs and the rash you got from the bug spray I have whittled you a…giraffe!"

"Thank you. That is so…random."

She hated that experience. She told me it was never happening again. I remember that night with her so clearly and I remember thinking how easy it would be to fall crazy in love with her because I was already halfway there. When I look up at Jane, I know without asking that she is remembering that day too. We might have stayed like that indefinitely, staring at each other in unspoken emotion if Mateo didn't begin waving his small hand in front of my face in an effort to reclaim my attention.

"Why do you have that funny look on your face, Michael?" he asks curiously, "Is something wrong? Are you sad?"

"No. I'm not sad, buddy. I was just thinking that I would love to go camping with you."

"You would? Yay! I'm going camping!" he cries, throwing his arms around me in an exuberant hug, "Thank you, Michael!"

I look over at Jane as I hug him back and our eyes lock in another profoundly intense and unwavering stare. "You're welcome, Mateo," I murmur, "I can't think of anything I want more."