“See for yourself,” Gerardo says.
Anita holds Lorena’s hand and leads her into the clearing. As soon as Lorena’s feet cross the threshold, her knees buckle. She collapses on the grass almost instantly. Anita looks worried for a moment, then she understands. An almost impossible fatigue slips into Lorena’s features.
“I can feel it!” she says, “Anita! Oh, thank you!” Lorena’s eyes close. In a second, every muscle in her body loosens. Her breathing slows. She’s asleep.
Behind her, Marco and Pilar enter the clearing. The effect is almost identical. Their knees buckle. Their postures droop. Their faces loosen into a satisfied, exhausted mask. It’s like a curse has been lifted. They close their eyes as tears stream down their cheeks.
Edu lingers at the edge of the clearing with Gerardo, watching the others as their breathing begins to slow and slip into a regular rhythm.“So I guess it does work. Diana was right, after all.”
“She was,” Gerardo says, smiling sadly.
“Guess that makes dumb fucks out of all of us, huh? She would’ve been so mad. She’d never have stopped rubbing it in.” Edu starts to move toward the clearing, then stops. There’s conflict in his eyes, guilt, as if he’s a sinner standing on the border to a holy land.
“You go on,” Gerardo says. Edu looks at him questioningly. “There’s something I’ve gotta do.”
Edu nods and steps into the clearing. His knees wobble. He takes a couple of steps, then smiles. He shakes his head, chuckling, and crumples to the ground. Somehow, when he starts snoring, he’s still smiling.
Anita steps out of the clearing and into the thicket, walking up to Gerardo. “Not coming?” she asks.
“Not yet.”
“Are you scared I’ll call you a dumbass?” she asks.
“I’m sure you will,” Gerardo says, then pulls his handgun out of his belt. He digs through his pockets and pulls out a fresh magazine, sliding it in place, and handing it all to Anita. There’s no hesitation in the motion, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to hand a gun to an eleven-year-old...in this new world, it somehow is natural. “Watch over them,” he says, “got a promise to keep.”
◆◆◆
Gerardo leans over a pile of dead branches and slimy leaves. He brushes them away carefully, as if he were lifting a blanket from a sleeping child, and uncovers Gabo’s calm, peaceful face. His eyes are closed, as if he were sleeping at the volcano’s peak.
◆◆◆
Under the only tree in the clearing, Gerardo pats fresh dirt with a shovel. He sticks Gabo’s rifle into it and leaves it standing. Anita sits against the tree’s trunk. Below them, at the edge of the clearing, Lorena, Edu, Marco, and Pilar are still asleep. There are coats and sweaters over each of them.
“I thought they’d make it farther than just the edge,” Anita says. Gerardo drops the shovel. His knees wobble. He grabs onto the tree for balance, still fighting his exhaustion as if it were a mortal enemy, even now. He’s trained himself to do it, to find the last bits of adrenaline somewhere deep inside him and force them to course through his veins. “Lie down, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” Anita says as if speaking to a stubborn child who’s insisted on staying up past his bedtime, but is now finally succumbing to his fatigue.
Gerardo’s grip on the tree loosens. He relaxes. His job here is done. He leans against the bark and slides down, losing the battle against his tired body one inch at a time. “What’s that?” he asks, his voice a whisper that’s fading fast.
Anita taps the First Aid Kit on her lap. “I’m gonna try to stitch you up. It’s my first time, so it’ll probably hurt more than getting stabbed did. Good thing you’ll be asleep, right?”
Gerardo shakes his head, smiling softly. He slides down the last of the bark and crumples into a lying position. Anita stoops to sit next to him, the gun and First Aid kit in her hands. She’s on watch, returning the favor. Gerardo breathes deeply. He closes his eyes. His body relaxes. His face becomes a mask of calm and serenity. He’s at peace. He’s asleep.
EPILOGUE
Gerardo stands in front of a small TV. He’s clean-shaven. His eyes are white, wide, and clear. His posture is straighter. He looks decades younger and like a better man.
A pair of construction workers wave at Gerardo on their way out the door. Gerardo nods at the workers as they clock out.
Edu sits on the carpeted floor. He looks like a different man. Calmer, clearer, more in control. His face is less angry, less tired, less disillusioned...less everything. He’s pouring vodka into glasses.
Diana sits nearby. She looks fresher too, more hopeful. She’s still got the eyes of an optimist. A young-looking Gabo’s huddled up next to her. He’s snoring. Asleep.
Edu slaps Gabo’s leg. Gabo gasps, pulled out of his sleep mercilessly.
Diego’s sitting next to Gabo. He’s holding a glass of his own, laughing at something Edu’s saying, but his mouth is moving without making a sound.
Gerardo walks up to them hazily. Like he’s halfway between a memory and a dream.
The circle erupts into laughter. Edu finds a CD in Gabo’s case and sticks it into the stereo on the table behind him. Diego turns to look at Gerardo as he approaches them cautiously, suspiciously. Diego grabs another glass of vodka and motions for Gerardo to sit with them. “Big bro, you gonna join us or what?”
That does it. Gerardo’s tough demeanor melts away. He doesn’t know what this is, where he is, but he wants to be here. Gerardo sits next to Diego. The circle of friends around him laughs, shooting the shit after a long day of work. Gerardo looks at them like he’s seeing heaven itself. Tears stream from his face. He finally cracks a smile, comfortable just enjoying the moment. As they all raise their glasses, the darkness of dreamless sleep begins to creep back in...
Acknowledgements
There are dozens upon dozens of invisible people that contributed to the writing of this novel. I call them, "invisible people,” not because I think they are invisible, but because their name isn't on the cover next to mine. It should be. Whenever I see my name next to this book’s title, I can’t help but see all of theirs as well.
To my mother and father, Patricia and David. You’ve always been selfless, supporting, and above all patient. It’s impossible to communicate here what you’ve done for me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t try. You sent a kid with a dream out into the world and made sure he was supported and had everything he could need and then some. Ustedes me regalaron el mundo. Gracias, amigos.
To my brothers, Andrés and David, I can’t imagine having two better older brothers. You were both my backseat companions and captive pitching audience. When I was little, I would always make you dizzy with my lighting-fast tongue and terrible ideas.
Andre, you gave me the best advice an aspiring writer could ever hear. “Don’t tell me about it, write it down. Finish it. Then you can tell me about it.” Maybe it was because you wanted me to shut up, but it gave a kid with a million ideas the impulse to sit down and try to get some of them on the page.
Davi, you’ve always looked out for me, always managed to get me off my butt and push me to actually move out into the world and interact with some real people, not just the ones on my page.
You are, and have always been my role models. Keep climbing, guys, I hope I can reach you one day.
To my grandparents, David, Manuel, Patsy, and Gladys. Your kindness and your wisdom has had an immeasurable impact throughout my life. Your faith has always been an inspiration, and one of the brightest points in a world that is often dark and hostile. Yaya and Abuelita, I hope you’re not put off by the cursing in these pages.
To the Iglesias clan, my cousins, my aunts and uncles, you’re the best part of an amazing country. You guys inspire me and always make me smile.
Sarah, to limit all the help you’ve given me through the years to this paragraph is criminal. You’ve been reading some version of this story for over five years, all the way back to when it was called, “Mo
rpheus” and I was writing it for Mr. Warren’s Advanced Screenwriting class. It was terrible then. The characters were less than one dimensional, the prose less than bare-bones. Years later, you helped me round out my characters, my descriptions, and my dialogue through a marathon of notes on my drafts. You’ve basically been Awake’s editor for five years, in some way or another. You even came up with the title! If it weren’t for you, this novel would be called, “Sueño,” and would be much worse over all. Thank you for all your hard work and for having the patience to read the same story over and over again.
Ben, you’ve also read this story since its very first draft. I still have the copy I printed out and gave to you to read. You crossed out the shitty title (again, “Morpheus?” what was I thinking?) and rebranded it “Sleepless in Seattle Part II.” That was the first of dozens upon dozens of inspired notes, and the fingerprint of those corrections are still in here somewhere.
Mr. Warren, without you, there would be no version of this novel. You were the first person I ever pitched the idea to, the first person who believed in it. Your enthusiasm back then inspired me to rewrite it over the years. I hope this novel lives up to your expectations. “Always raise the stakes!”
To the Lammens family, you are some of the most generous people I've ever met. Thank you for opening your doors to me. Tía y Peter, gracias por toda su ayuda y por siempre creer en mi y apoyarme. André, gracias por inspirarme a terminar este libro rápido y por todos tus consejos. JP, gracias por escuchar mis ideas.
Angela, you’re another one of the readers whose opinion I treasure dearly. Thank you for reading Awake when it was still a script. You gave me great Kindle, copyright, and publishing advice. Your love of music inspired Gabo’s.
Michael, sitting next to you on the bus throughout my junior and senior years of High School was the best decision I could have made. Sorry I grossed you out every day when I told you about the horror movies I saw the night before. Your support of my writing and the way you always wanted to listen to my ideas gave me the confidence to share them with more people. I can’t thank you enough.
Eduardo, mano, eres un artista increíble. Tienes un talento inmenso, y llevas dentro un papel legendario que merece ser visto en pantalla. Gracias por siempre creer en mi.
Mia, you’re another one of the five year clan. Thank you for your notes then and now.
Kami, gracias por ofrecerme tu ayuda y por leer este libro cuando era un guión.
Mario, Lucas, and Thomaz, thanks for making a space for me at your table throughout High School. You guys made an awkward kid feel welcome, and you were always curious about my story ideas.
Campo, gracias por todo tu apoyo y por ser tan generoso con tu tiempo.
To my teachers, Mr. Warren, Mr. Tait, Mr. Johnson, Mr. Blackman, Pepe, Mrs. Farrell, Mrs. Marchosky, Mrs. Capella, Mr. Mallan...you made this possible.
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