Internal bleeding?
The words barely register as we turn a corner, coming face to face with double doors. A red light that reads Emergency Operating Room glows above them and the doctor stops.
“Unfortunately, you cannot go further right now.”
The doors swing slightly as someone exits and disappears again. I try to look past the gap, desperate for even a glimpse of her.
“But,” Dr. Ricci continues, “as I mentioned on the phone, there are forms that must be signed.”
Her gaze shifts to Zale briefly before settling back on me.
“May I speak with you alone?”
My hands are shaking so badly I don’t trust my voice, so I nod.
Zale sinks into one of the nearby chairs, elbows on his needs, head in his hands, as I step aside with the doctor.
“I don’t believe I got your name earlier,” she says quietly, sliding her hands into her coat pockets.
“Gabriel Matthews,” I reply. “Is she going to be okay?”
She looks away for a moment. “Mr. Matthews,” she begins carefully, “your partner has a strong chance of surviving the surgery.”
I feel like I should be ecstatic, but something about the way she says it only spikes my anxiety.
“But,” she continues, and I feel the ground shift beneath me, “it is unlikely the fetuses will survive.”
For a moment, I don’t understand the words that come out of her mouth.
“The…what?”
She holds my gaze. “She appears to be approximately four months pregnant. With twins.”
The hallway feels like it’s tilting as I stare back at her.
“Twins?” The word breaks out of me. “You’re saying?—”
My throat closes.
“—you’re saying she’s pregnant right now? And her babies…my babies…won’t survive?”
She watches me for what feels like a long time, a compassionate expression settling on her features.
“There is less than a twenty percent chance they will survive a trauma of this severity,” she says gently. “They would need a miracle.”
My heart splinters in my chest. Zalea is finally pregnant again, with two babies, and now she’s going to wake up and lose what she’s wanted more than anything.
I can’t breathe, or think, as I walk away from the doctor speechless and collapse on the chair next to Zale. All I know is that she’s behind those doors, and everything we didn’t get to say just multiplied into something unbearable.
* “Pronto?” = Hello?
* “Questaè l’infermiera Anna dell’Ospedale Santa Viola, parla italiano?” = This is nurse Anna from the Hospital Santa Viola, do you speak Italian?
THIRTY-FOUR
ZALEA | FLORENCE
Everything hurts.
