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Massimo remained in that headspace, comingled with Alessandro even after the doctor and his mother left the room. Then his focus shifted, not away from Alessandro but shifted to include what Alessandro had done to Isotta. Massimo wanted to hate Alessandro for abusing her. And he did. He hated Alessandro for humiliating his wife the way he did, and that was part of the impetus behind the ass-whooping he’d put on Alessandro. Massimo shook his head, trying to distance himself from the other thoughts he had about his wife and his enemy.
The more he tried to distance himself from the thoughts, the more invasive they became. He wished he could just get up and get out, drive, work out, or do something to take his mind off what Alessandro did to Isotta. But he couldn’t. The more Massimo allowed himself to linger in that head space, the harder his dick got. His thoughts focused on how Alessandro bent Isotta over and how he fucked her hard, relentlessly, and how she took it. His eyes stayed fixed in that moment, seeing her ass plundered through the shadowy light, seeing how Isotta’s breasts bounced under Alessandro’s thrashing.
Massimo’s dick jumped again as it got harder and harder despite his efforts to distance himself from it. It was impossible to do so, and Massimo found himself reliving each of those sexual moments, relishing in the pain and pleasure, and then substituting himself for the man that pounded his wife’s ass. A part of Massimo hated that he derived pleasure from the visualizations, but he did.
They waited again.
That’s what they found themselves doing a lot of waiting. Carmine bided his time by making business calls and planning for what he knew was coming next: retaliation. At times, he stepped out of the waiting room to get some fresh air and to talk about the violence he knew would ensue. He didn’t want his wife to hear all the gory details he had planned. His son had been attacked. His family his legacy had been attacked. There was no way in hell Carmine was going to let that slide.
Sofia, being the devout Catholic she was, took every opportunity to pray to appease Hail Mary and even Mary Magdalene, beseeching on behalf of their son for divine mercy and grace. She kept her rosary readily available and counted and stroked the beads as she bowed her head in prayer. But even praying proved difficult. Sofia wondered why her son had to suffer so. She silently questioned why Mary Jesus and the Creator would allow such a fate to befall her son. What horrible thing had Alessandro done to deserve it? What?
Sofia felt her eyes getting misty as bile-filled anger rose in her gut. She allowed that feeling to linger just for a moment, as Catholic guilt wouldn’t allow it to remain for much longer. She had to push those feelings down because they were angry feelings coming from a selfish place. Yet, that feeling felt right. Her son was hurt. That fact was undeniable. Still, that just wasn’t the Catholic way to respond.
She still held the beads in her hand and stroked them obligatorily, but fervent prayer didn’t return. Sofia could no longer focus on hope in the skies. The last meeting with the doctor wasn’t as promising as she’d hoped. Now, all she wanted to do was see her son again. Sofia stood up after having remained seated for what felt like an eternity. Her eyes drifted to the clock in the waiting room that marked time very, very slowly. Sofia walked to the door and looked out both ways, hoping that the doctor or one of the nurses was heading their way to bring them some information, hopefully, good information. But that wasn’t the case. Still, Sofia stood at the entryway to the waiting room, eying the hallway in hopes that someone, damn near anyone, was coming or at least the nurse would come to tell them they could see Alessandro again. Her husband and her son noticed how antsy she was. They also understood her and understood why.
Sofia finally returned to her seat, frustrated that no one had come to tell them they could visit her son. She didn’t want to pray anymore. It seemed useless anyway. There was no point in it, apparently. Her basic prayer had not been answered, so why bother?
Sofia reluctantly picked up an old copy of Mademoiselle Magazine and absentmindedly thumbed through the pages, anything to take her mind off her frustration. When she heard a rap on the glass wall in front of her, Sofia looked up, daring to be hopeful.
“You all can visit now,” one of the nurses advised.
Everyone in the room stood to their feet, ready to see Alessandro again. They followed the nurse as far as his door. Sofia rapped on the door lightly as a courtesy before pushing it open. They all entered quietly, unsure as to whether Alessandro would be awake or still be under. Sofia turned the corner first. She peered directly at her son, hopeful that there would be returned signs of life. There weren’t. Alessandro still lay there as lifeless as he had been the first time they’d entered the room. Still, Sofia meandered over to her son’s hospital bed with her eyes fixed on his chest and the rhythmic rise and fall. At least that was reassuring. As she sat down in the chair closest to his bed, Gabriel and Carmine stood behind her.
There really wasn’t much to say. Being at the hospital was probably the most time the family had spent together in the same space in forever. They’d done all the small talking they could do, and when the conversation was focused on Alessandro, they talked about that to ad nauseum. But as they stood and sat in the room with Alessandro, there was very little to talk about. They had to be comfortable with the silence as they entertained their own individual thoughts.
And then, their eyes focused on Alessandro. They saw movement. He moved. It was slight at first, just a flittering of his eyelids, but then it quickly became sporadic and violent. Sofia bounded from her seat as Alessandro’s eyes flew open wide. He started coughing and choking on the tube that had been put down his throat to help him breathe.
“Oh God! Help! Somebody help!” Sofia screamed.
Gabriel moved into action, bolting out of the room and heading right for the nurses’ station. He didn’t wait to get anyone’s attention. He spoke loudly, demanding.
“My brother needs some help!”
Carmine moved around his wife and spoke to his son.
“Hold on, Sandro. Just hold on.” He looked around the head of his son’s bed for the emergency button. When he found it, Carmine pressed it repeatedly, all while consoling Alessandro. Gabriel refused to leave until he had medical staff in tow. Suddenly, they came racing to Alessandro’s room. Carmine and Sofia had to move back so the medical team could attend to him.
“Mr. Esposito, we need you to calm down,” the lead nurse said. “We are going to remove the tube, so we need you to relax your throat and keep still.”
Alessandro heard what they said, and he tried, but feeling the tube in his throat felt invasive, and coughing, trying to jar it, was the natural response. But he tried, quelling his impulse and focusing on what the nurse said. It was hard, though.
The other medical staff helped him out by holding him down, not aggressively, but enough to help him keep still.
“One,” the lead nurse began. “Two,” she continued. “Three.”
When she said three, she pulled the tube from Alessandro’s throat. Gabriel couldn’t believe how long it was. No sooner than the end of the tube cleared Alessandro’s lips, he leaned over, pushing past the press the medical staff had on him, and threw up, choking and gagging and spewing.
It was all red.
It was all blood.
A lot of blood.
Sofia’s eyes widened as she saw her son choking and spewing. Carmine and Gabriel were also concerned. They didn’t know what was wrong, but they knew it was something, something serious.
The flow of blood seemed endless, and Sofia winced when she heard her son continuing to choke on what his body produced. She also looked to the medical staff to see what they were going to do to help him. The lead nurse was running vitals and barking orders. Finally, Dr. Descartes entered the room. The lead gave her a quick rundown of what was happening. The Esposito’s expected the doctor to take control, and she did. Alessandro finally stopped heaving. Dr. Descartes used her stethoscope to examine him, listening to his heart. She then used her palms to press on certain areas of Alessandro’s body. The doctor looked to see if the patient physically reacted to her stimulation. When he did, the doctor barked a definitive order.
“Let’s move the patient to the operating room, stat.”
