Rio's Dream - 3:17 AM Saturday Night
The dream comes slowly. I'm young. Maybe fourteen or fifteen.
I'm in a hospital room. There's a woman in the bed. She's pale and struggling to breathe.
My mother.
"Mami," I say. My voice is a boy's voice. Scared. Desperate.
"Rio, mijo," she says. Her hand reaches for me. It's so thin.
"The doctors say they can fix you," I tell her. I'm crying. "The new treatment will work. Please. Just hold on."
She smiles, but it's a sad smile. Like goodbye.
"I'm so tired, mi amor," she says. "I'm so tired of fighting."
"No," I say. The room is getting darker. "You can't leave me. You promised."
"I know, mijo. I know," she whispers. Her hand is slipping away from mine.
"Mami, please—"
But she's fading. The dream is breaking apart.
Then a man appears in the doorway. My father. He's just... leaving. Walking away. My mother is dying and he's just walking away.
