“My daughter?” Pnina’s voice found me. Scarlett’s mother had arrived, along with her father, Maggie Beautiful, Aberto, Lola, Violet, Mick, Mitch, Rosaria, Carmen, and Eunice. “Scarlett Fausti.”
The woman at the desk told her to take a seat, she would find out more, if she could, or have the doctor speak to her when he came out.
Pnina screamed, “Tell me dammit!” She pounded on the desk with her fist.
“I am sorry, Signora. I do not have any information.”
Pnina visibly crumbled into herself, Everett leading her to a seat. Maggie Beautiful started to sob, a noise close to a wail. Lola fell into a chair, pulling out a rosary, crying over it. Violet turned to Mick, crying into his chest, while Mitch started to pace. Eunice started to worry her hands, her mouth working but no words coming out.
Everyone wanted answers, and time showed no mercy.
Tito seemed to come out of nowhere, lips pinched, looking around the room. Someone, a nurse, called his name before he could get to me.
“You!” He pointed at me. “Sit!” He motioned to a chair. “Before I have to bring you to a room and lock you down! I will be right back!” He left with the nurse, leaving me with time once again, my greatest adversary or friend.
“Brando?” Maggie Beautiful hiccupped.
I moved my hands from my face. She took a step back and crossed herself, but then stood taller, bending down to look into my eyes. Touching my face gently, she asked, “What happened to our girl, son?”
I shrugged, not even knowing what to tell her.Our girl. No. My wife. I have no idea what happened tomywife.
“Margherita,” Tito said, putting a hand on her shoulder, appearing out of nowhere again. How long had he been gone? No fucking telling. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. It all felt the same to me. “Go and sit with Scarlett’s parents, ah? I need a word with your son. I will speak to you soon.”
Maggie Beautiful nodded, wiping tears from her eyes. Before she left, she kissed my forehead.
Before he could utter a word, I handed him the paper, blood-smeared and battle-worn from my angry scrawl. His beady eyes read over the words. He took a deep breath and sighed it out, making the paper crinkle. “You will go to the Lord without the heart he gave you in your chest?” He lifted the paper, as though he was a preacher on the pulpit. “Is that what you mean to tell me with this?”
“I don’t need the one in my chest. My heart will be with me. There are instructions there for the both of us. She goes where I go. I go where she goes.”
“I see.” He rubbed his lip, considering. “Sit down.”
Was I standing? A moment of realization washed over me. I looked toward the doors he had come through, knowing she was somewhere on the other side. Fighting the urge to be close to her was a battle I was rapidly losing.
“Sit!” he snapped, and then pointed to the seat. “Sedersi!”
I did as he said and wondered absentmindedly how this skinny old man with sweat stains under his arms somehow held authority in my life. He took a seat next to me, situated his glasses, and looked me straight in the eye. “Your wife was hemorrhaging, nephew. We arrived in time. She is not out of the woods yet, but we have progress.”
I nodded. Or maybe I didn’t. “What—” My voice sounded remote. “Tell me what happened to my wife.”
“Ah.” He cleared his throat. “Scarlett was pregnant.”
Pregnant. The word seemed to balloon and float away. I had to keep repeating it in my mind to remember what it was, what the word meant.
“No, it could be,” he said, in response to whatever I said. “She did not know. She had her first course after the incident with her medicine—the birth control. That can be normal, or not, but she took it that she was not pregnant,sì? I cannot be certain if the pregnancy would have been viable, regardless of what Nemours did. Her dance schedule is grueling and vigorous. That alone would give me cause to worry. But I do not believe the pregnancy would have been, no matter what she would have done. These things just are, from time to time.” He adjusted his glasses again and wiped a hand along his head. “She had a fever before the incident, which can be a sign of things to come. Of course, she could have had influenza. No one will know for certain now. Nemours sealed his fate. He came close to sealing his mother’s.”
“His?”
“Yes, nephew. I believe the baby was a boy.”
“She couldn’t have been that far—”
“Intuition.” He patted my back, murmuring soft things. “I took the liberty to name him Matteo, after Scarlett’s grandfather. I thought that would please her. But I need your word.”
I looked up at him. “My word?”
“That if you shall ever have another son, you will name him the same.” Whatever he saw on my face urged him to explain. “So his life was not lost in vain—to honor him.”
He stood, looking down at me. “This is quite the shock,mio nipote. I am sorry for it.” He sniffed, holding a hand to his heart. “Now we must worry about Scarlett. We must not run from her.”
