Home is where heart is

"Your name will be Johan. Johan Ortiz." I heard my mother's voice for the first time as she whispered with a smile on her lips and tears in her eyes. The first time in this life anyway.

Yeah, it happened. I regressed. I am starting from zero now in the most literal sense. There is a doubt of whether I am dreaming all of this in a coma in some hospital. But even then, I intend to make the most of this new life until they pull the plug.

There was an element of anxiety that I would wake up to find myself in a hospital room but I forgot all about that when I heard the voice speaking to me.

Hearing my mother call me by the name she gave me once again was more emotional than I had expected it to be. I couldn't control my young body and I started crying involuntarily.

In my last life, I remember she was the only one who called me Johan. It was pronounced Yohan. She probably named me after Cruyff. But maybe because it was too difficult to pronounce, or maybe because of something else, I became Rohan after her death.

Anyway, hearing her call me Johan once again brought up a lot of complicated feelings that were a little too much for a child's body. I fell asleep after crying for a while.

In the following days, while taking care of me, my mother Isabel Ortiz, would tell me all sorts of things about herself and her life. Finally having someone she could talk to and vent her frustrations to might have been relieving as she poured out a lot.

It was fortunate that I continued to learn Spanish in my later years in my past life. It was a way for me to keep a connection with my mother after her passing, but now it was helping to make an actual connection with her.

From her random stories and ramblings, I learned that my mother had run away from home due to an argument with her parents. After she completed her college degree, they wanted her to meet some guy from a family they were in business with as a marriage prospect.

Yeah, all my past life I lived in abject poverty and chased debts while I was technically an heir to some wealthy grandparents. Come to think of it, if the police had registered me and included me in the reports with my mother, would I have been found by my grandparents?

Anyway, my mother who was the only child, wanted to take over the family's shipping business instead of getting married and handing it over to someone else. There was a heated discussion and so, she left home and traveled to India to clear her head and get some space.

She was only in her early twenties so of course she tried the cheap drugs while partying with the other tourists. And before she knew it, she was too addicted and embarrassed to go back home. Add a pregnancy on top of that and her short vacation ended up becoming over a year-long stay.

Maybe they thought she would come to her senses after traveling for a while or maybe something else but my grandparents seemed to be sending money for my mother's expenses. It made sense since she wasn't even working but she still lived relatively well and took care of me.

I have to make sure that she goes back home this time. Having already lived to my forties in my past life, I can confidently say that I am not very materialistic but having money makes life so much easier. It would also be good for my mom to have stable work and family around.

Other than involuntarily peeing and pooping due to my lack of control, I am confident that I am the best child a parent could hope for. I only cry in short bursts when I am hungry or when I have soiled my clothes to get my mother's attention. And I don't make much of a fuss otherwise.

As my vision slowly cleared up, I could see my mother getting healthier. She was eating healthy because she had to breastfeed me and she would play with me and sleep when I took a nap. We would also watch football matches together.

She got excited and laughed while hugging me whenever I clapped along with her in excitement. As only a few-month-old baby, I have a mission to keep my mother healthy and away from drugs. My life is so damn hard.

In this life, I didn't want to grow up frail like the last time so I made sure to eat my fill and then some. I will take all the nutrients I can get and grow tall and strong. With a tall and muscular frame, I can play football better.

It may seem unnecessary to play football since I could easily use my future knowledge to make a lot of money. But no matter how comfortable life might become with money, after having lived four full decades already, what I want even more is to fulfill my dreams. Doesn't mean I won't make a lot of money though.

The void that I had since my last life needs to be filled. And for that to happen, I will live even harder than my last one and fulfill all my dreams that were crushed by the circumstances and my helplessness.

First on the list is to make sure mom lives a long, healthy, and happy life. I have been working hard to get control over my motor functions and vocal cords with that mission in mind every day.

After a lot of practice, in the sixth month, I could finally say the word "mama". The smile on her face was absolutely worth all the practice. "My baby is so smart. He is already starting to talk. Shit! I can't even brag to anyone." She said the first time I spoke.

"Grandma, look, my Yohan called out to me today. Baby, say mama again!" She spoke in broken Hindi to the Grandma next door, the only person in the building who spoke to Mom on account of the nasty rumors floating around about her.

Being a single mother living alone in a foreign country, who is known to have had drug problems is bound to make people talk. But the kind Grandma seemed to have some affection for our mother and son. One would think she would be the most conservative of all but no.

"Oh, young Rohan is already speaking?" Grandma asked in surprise while looking at us from across the adjacent balcony. I can see where my name changed in my past life.

"Yes. My baby is so smart. Yohan, call me Mama again. Say Mama." Mom urged me while making childish expressions.

Sometimes her antics make me think she is so adorable. Wait. Mentally I am over forty so I am older than my mom in mental age by almost two decades. Let's stop thinking about it. Damn.

******************

Today, when I got up after a nap, I didn't see Mom beside me so I went crawling on all fours around the apartment looking for her. I first checked the kitchen but she wasn't there.

She never leaves me home alone. Even when she has to go out to buy groceries, she waits for when I'm not napping to take me along. So I looked for her in the other room.

I found her on the small balcony quietly sobbing while holding a small white packet. It didn't take a detective to know what it was. I crawled faster than ever to her side and held her hand calling out to her, "Mama!"

She was startled at first but she composed herself quickly. She threw the drugs out of the balcony, wiped her tears, and held me. "My Johan came to console Mama, right? My baby is so smart."

She started talking to me in a baby voice and muttered all kinds of things but her tears seemed to not want to stop. I raised my tiny hands to wipe her tears and she smiled.

"You want Mama to stop crying? I'm trying to but I just can't. I don't know why but I feel so sad today. I miss home. I miss my Mom and Dad."

I just sat there being hugged tight by her as she poured her heart out to her son without even realizing he could understand her completely. Maybe that's what she hoped for—someone to understand her and her grief.

This time I found out about my father too. According to her, he was a lowlife drug dealer who dated her for a while and got her addicted to drugs.

"I regret ever meeting that bastard! But at least something good came out of it and I had you." She said.

When she was feeling guilty about the drugs and didn't dare to call back home to ask for more money, he abandoned her right when she was going through withdrawal. He probably thought she had spent away all her money and moved on to fleecing some other tourist.

She couldn't help crying out loud when she thought back to the time she found out she was pregnant while she was in withdrawal. "What would I have done if I had relapsed before I found out I had you?"

I couldn't answer her or console her much other than repeating the same one word I could speak and wiping her tears to make her feel better. When I had the idea of kissing her cheeks like she did every time I cried, she burst out laughing while holding me high. I think I did well.

*********************

It's my first birthday. I have started to walk even if it is still a little wobbly. I am slowly starting to have better control over my limbs. My vocal cords aren't developed enough to have a full conversation yet but I have been slowly increasing my vocabulary to not startle my mother suddenly.

The natural lisp and speaking difficulty due to my young body are helping to hide my mature mind. I have been speaking in broken sentences with the least words possible. Even then, it is not enough to hide that I am an adult in a child's body.

Well as long as mom is happy thinking that her son is smart, it isn't all too bad. Anyway, I have been continuing on my plan to coax my mother to go back to her home in Spain.

The other day when she was talking about her parents in Spain, I jumped up and down on the bed demanding that she take me to Spain. "Ispeen, go, go. Mama and Joha. Go Ispeen." It's exhausting to talk like this, but it is working.

Today when she asked what I wanted for my birthday. I answered with a straight face. "Ispen go Mama and Joha. Fly plane."

She smiled wryly and sighed. "Okay, okay. We will go to Spain to Mama's home. We will also meet (Tito)Grandfather and (Abby)Grandmother."

When I started jumping around shouting excitedly, she smiled wide and carried me to the kitchen while murmuring, "You want to go that bad huh? Maybe it's time we go back after all."

She has been considering going back much more positively in the last few weeks. Maybe it's because of my influence that Mom seems to have gotten more confident and cheerful. At this rate, it shouldn't take too long before we go back.

She has been here for over two years. Grandfather and grandmother seemed to have suggested they come to visit her on multiple occasions but she always declined them and even refused to give them the address.

They might have their considerations in not coming here looking for her and allowing her to stay away or maybe mom told some lies to them to keep them away but I plan to make them come to find us faster.

I know she calls home every week or so these days. She also only makes the calls when she thinks I am napping. Since it's my birthday today, I'm guessing she will make the call today as well, I just have to wait for it, and then I'll execute my plan.

As expected, when she thought I was taking my evening nap, she went to the next room with the landline to make the call. When I was sure that she was talking on the phone, I used all the stealth I had in my tiny body to crawl into the room and listen in on the conversation.

From what I heard, she was talking to her mom. I got as close to her as I could without getting noticed and shouted out loud, "Mama! Abby! Joha talk to Abby. Joha hello hello Abby(Grandmother)."

Mom was stunned and froze up for a few seconds at what her son was doing but the damage was done. I could hear the voice from the other side say something to Mom in a questioning tone.

Mom tried to keep my mouth shut while trying to play it cool on the phone but with me shouting out for Abby and Grandma on the other side getting increasingly suspicious, the secret was finally out.

Even though she tried to pass it off like she was just taking care of some kid she knew, Mom couldn't fool her mother either.

That night I had to hear an earful from Mom before having to console her until both of us fell asleep.

"How did you know it was Abby on the phone anyway?" I was questioned but chose to act oblivious to any questioning. I'm just a child, how would I understand a complex question?

I want to think of it as me imagining things but it felt like my mom was seriously planning to run away from that apartment before her parents came to find her. She would throw the suitcase on the bed before putting it away again over and over the next day.

And that night she seemed to have made up her mind and looked more determined than ever. I didn't get to find out what she had decided since early the next morning, instead of the regular milkman who came by to drop off the milk, my grandparents stood at our door.