145 JOYFUL NOTES
ANDRE’S POV
I stood still, eyes fixed on my mother as she walked up to me. I was supposed to go pay Ariel a visit at the hospital, cause I had a feeling she would be there. Now I was being delayed by my parents. Just great, I was the one who brought this upon myself. I woke up, got ready for work, forgetting that about Ariel.
“You’re going to work?” My mother asked, she had gotten a little bit closer to me.
“Yes. But I’ll be going to the hospital first to see how Ariel and Luke are doing.”
“Oh right. We should go and see them, don’t you think?”
“You want to come along?”
“Yes, of course. Ariel is like a daughter to me, so I really need to check up on her.”
“Okay then, we can start leaving now.”
“Woah woah woah, young man. Not so fast” my mother spoke, and I gave her a curious look.
“Anything?”
“Yes, I thought you were wounded last night.” She crossed her arms.
“Yes. Yes I was,” I responded.
“And you’re feeling better now?”
“Yes,” I answered and let out a sigh. “I am feeling better now,” I added. Honestly, when I woke up this morning, took my bath, and put on my clothes, I totally forgot I got some scars on my body. Like, it wasn’t even painful. It was like nothing happened last night.
“Are you sure about that?” My mother gave me a skeptical look.
chimed in. “Can’t you see how
can
My son is a strong man, and he took
into laughter
dad asked, giving her a puzzled face.
seeing
just so funny?” She fixed her
dad gaped at her.
this one time when we went camping and you got chased by bees,”
no ordinary bees.” He
her elfish tone, taunting him. “Oh tell
of here.” My dad marched
not giving her the playful mode. “Mom, you
“We should get going then. But have do
but he stormed out of the house
that?” she raised an
I sighed, and walked out of the house.
wait for me!” I could hear her screaming from behind.
****
ARIEL’S POV
beeping of machines and the faint murmurs of nurses outside the door created a dull backdrop to my thoughts, which were heavy with worry and exhaustion. I
condition.
at the hospital when it happened. He was rushed
at me.
passing moment. I furrowed my brow in confusion, wondering where the festive sounds could be coming from in such a somber place. Then, as if materializing out of thin air, a group of Mexican musicians burst into the room, their
sported wide–brimmed hats, embroidered shirts, and polished leather boots. They carried guitars, trumpets, and maracas, their fingers flying expertly over the strings and keys, producing a cacophony of joyful
in surprise as the musicians began to play,
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