A/N: Your parents get into a car accident and forget all about you and each other.
A young man of about twenty found a car which had crashed into a ditch. The setting sun gleamed maliciously upon its red paint. Its previous occupants, both in their mid thirties, were a little ways off, both breathing but unconscious. They had been thrown out of the car when it hit a rather large rock.
He immediately dialed 911 and hurriedly said to the operator, "Car crash on Elwood Lane. Both of them are knocked out."
"We'll send someone right away," she responded.
Seven minutes later, a medium-sized white and red van EMS van pulled up, red lights blinking in time to the shrieking sirens.
"You related?" one of the workers asked.
"No sir, I just happened upon them."
"Would you like to come with us to the hospital?"
"No, I'm afraid I have something else I must attend to."
"If you give us a phone number, we'll tell when they're stabilized." The man who had found the people quickly penned down a number onto a napkin he pulled out of his pocket.
"Thank you sir."
"Mr. Argent, I believe two members of your family have been in an accident."
Mr. Argent asked worriedly, "What are their names?"
"Julia and Alejandro Argent." My parents. He sighed a deep sigh.
"Are they okay?"
"Yes, their vitals are stable, but we still need you or someone else in your family to come in."
"I'll be there soon. Which hospital?"
"Trident Medical Center. I trust you know where that is."
"Yes, ma'am." He hung up and took in a few deep breaths.
He quickly dialed another number. "Sanjana, my parents were in a car accident."
"Oh my god. Enrique, are they alright?" she exclaimed.
"They're in Trident Medical Center. They just called me."
"Do you want me to go with you?"
That was exactly the response he wanted. It was magic how his neighbor Sanjana Malhotra knew exactly what to say to him.
"Yes please."
"I'll be over there in a minute."
Forty-five seconds later, he heard a key in the lock on the front door. Sanjana was the daughter of one of his parents' closest friends, actually a witness in their wedding ceremony seventeen years ago. Since her family lived right next door, Sanjana and Enrique were best friends and unofficially adopted by the other's parents.
She ventured into the dining room, correctly guessing where he was. He was leaning over the table with his head in his hands.
"Rique, you ready?" she called.
Tiredly he straightened up and said, "Yes, let's go." He grabbed the keys to his car, a blue Toyota Camry.
They spent the twenty minutes to Trident in a companionable silence. Even though they weren't her birth parents, Sanjana had never though of Julie and Alejandro as anything less. Half her childhood had been spent running through the halls of the Argent home.
When they got there, Enrique immediately asked the receptionist for his parents' rooms.
"Sir, are you of direct relation? Otherwise I'm afraid we can't let you visit at this hour."
"I am their son, and she," he said, pointing to Sanjana, "is like their daughter."
"Oh. They don't look nearly that old." Enrique's eyes must have betrayed his impatience because the receptionist then quickly said, "They're in rooms 405 and 406."
"Thank you ma'am."
Both went to his father's room first because it was simply closer. They walked in to see Alejandro asleep with an IV in his upper left arm. Enrique could not bear to see his father, who was always strong and resilient, in bed so weak. Silent tears ran down Sanjana's cheeks.
"Hum kyon? Humne kya kiya? Unon ne kya kiya" Why me? What did I do? What did they do?
"Kuch nahi. Tumhe pata hain na ki naseeb ki mazak kaise raithi?" Nothing. You know how the pranks of fate are.
Sanjana and Enrique often communicated with each other in Spanish or Hindi, the languages of their fathers. They were trilingual before they even went to kindergarten. Of course they mixed up the words of all the different languages, but they understood each other and that was all that mattered. It worked well in school when they wanted to have private conversations.
As most native Spanish and Hindi speakers do, Sanjana and Enrique spoke rapidly, slurring their words together so one who wasn't used to speed talkers or was new to the language would become thoroughly confused. Speed had colored their English as well, so that they had to remember to slow down a little when talking to someone outside their families.
A young doctor came in, too cheery for his occupation. Maybe his smile was there to somewhat lighten the mood.
"Mr. Argent, the son, I presume."
"Yes, sir."
"Your parents are lucky they survived. It's a miracle they didn't break anything, but they did hit their heads pretty bad, so they might have amnesia. I'm very sorry to have to tell you this."
"Thank you, doctor. I'm just glad they're alive," Enrique answered, truthfully.
He was waiting eagerly for his currently sleeping parents to get up now that he knew they were alright.
He wasn't expecting them to have forgotten him.
His father asked, "¿Quién eres¿Estoy yo muerto y eres mi alma, o eres el gemelo idéntico que mi madre nunca mencionó?" Who are you? Am I dead and you are my soul, or are you the identical twin that my mother never mentioned.
Enrique would have laughed under other circumstances. His father had a crazy sense of humor. His mother always joked about how much he looked like his father, same tousled dark brown hair and lanky body. But he had his mother's sapphire eyes.
"No. Soy su hijo." No, I'm your son. Enrique knew the doctor had warned about amnesia, but he was hoping his father remembered him.
"¿Mi hijo¿Tengo una espousa?" Enrique's father had lectured him endlessly about how a real gentleman would never take advantage of a woman unless she was married to him. Alejandro was fascinated with the chivalrous heroes of the Middle Ages and always acted like one.
"Sí Papá. Su carro estrelladó." Yes, Dad. Your car crashed.
"Pero soy estudiante. ¿Comó puedo tener un hijo?" But I'm a student. How can I have a son? Enrique looked into his father's black eyes and realized that his father truly did not recognize him.
Enrique could barely keep the tears from cascading down his face. His father had forgotten him. He could only hope his mother hadn't and would be able to remember him.
A/N: So like it, hate it, indifferent about it? Tell me what you think. Next chapter will be what happens when he sees his mother and maybe a mini flashback. Please Review, even if it is just to tell me I put the comma in the wrong place. Or you could put something from the list: Can't wait, Great, Good, Decent, Bad, Horrible, Go hide in a corner.
If you speak Spanish and wouldn't mind me asking you how to say something, please tell me in your review. Also feel free to suggest any corrections to the Spanish parts.