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21
New York City, 2000
Fairytales. All so full of happiness and hope, painting the picture of a perfect life. Too good to be true, right? I knew for a fact that fairytales were real; I lived one. I got the girl and I got the child. The only problem with fairytales is that sometimes they go as fast as they arrive. My happy-ever-after was short-lived, and a couple hours later, the sky crushed on me.
Salva and I came home late after going to a jazz bar where she made me dance with her for hours. We made love on every surface from the hallway to the living room until we both came with such intensity, it was hard to recover. The day sucked all the energy out of her, so I had to carry her to bed and hold her in my arms while following her into a dreamless sleep.
It was four in the morning when I woke up with Salva’s moan ringing in my ear. My first instinct was to smile, thinking that maybe she woke up horny, but it didn’t take me long to discover she wasn’t in the bed and the sound she made wasn’t one of pleasure. I found her in the bathroom, crooked over the bathtub, spitting blood everywhere. The whole thing looked like a horror movie, or a mafia job that went wrong. The blood was everywhere – splattered on the wall and staining the marble floor. Salvatrice was crying with one hand over her mouth and shaking from every joint in her fragile body.
The fear hit me like a brick wall, bringing a vile taste in my mouth, but I couldn’t let her see. Not when she was ready to crumble.
“Baby,” I whispered softly, “it’s ok. It’s ok, come here.”
“No, don’t.” Salva raised one hand to stop me before coughing again. “You will…you’ll get blood on you.”
“I don’t fucking care, baby, come here. Calm down and let me take you in my arms.”
I walked to her with small steps, careful to be as gentle with her as possible. When she finally let me touch her, I hugged her tight to my chest.
“We’re gonna go to the hospital now, ok, amore?”
I thanked God that Romina wasn’t here to see this and finally understood what Salva was thinking when she chose to stay back in Portofino. Pools of blood didn’t bother me, I was used to the view, but Romina should never be forced to look at her mother covered in her own blood.
“I’m dying.” She croaked, her voice breaking.
“No.” My arms constricted around her like metal bars, keeping her to me.
This disease won’t take her away from me. God won’t take her away from me. I won’t let him.
I cleaned her face up with a wet cloth, wrapped her in a plush robe, and carried her to the car. I didn’t even stop to lock the door behind me, instead, I called Paul and told him to go clean up the mess we left behind. I knew he would have no problem with my bathroom looking like a pig was slaughtered there because he’d worked for me long enough. This wasn’t his first rodeo.
I couldn’t even tell what happened from the moment we left the apartment until the doctor finally came out from Salva’s hospital room because everything was a blurry daze. The private clinic we were supposed to visit later that day was ready to take her in and the doctor on call started treating her immediately because the specialist was supposed to be here at noon. Instead, I called Chicago and asked him to board a private flight as soon as possible. I don’t know what they did to her, but a nurse came around every fifteen minutes to check if I needed a sedative, and to assure me she was fine.
She’s alive. She’s breathing. It’s just a bad day. She’s alive. I told myself this mantra a million times until Dr. Robert Sullivan finally could tell me something solid.
“How bad is it?” I asked as soon as he appeared in front of me.
“Why don’t we sit down, Mr. Stefani?”
“Doctor, just tell me.” My fists tightened and I felt this intrinsic need to crush something with my bare hands. “That woman, she’s my wife. She’s the mother of my child. I need her to be fine.”
“I get it. She has the best care possible here.”
“Mrs. Stefani is not in a good state, I’m not going to lie to you. Her health is declining. When I saw her scans and blood work, I’d hoped we’d be able to manage her symptoms with high doses of steroids, but that’s not the case anymore. The obstruction in her lungs has damaged a big part of the tissue and the fact that she stopped treatment for a week didn’t help either. She needs a transplant soon.” This wasn’t bad news; this was devastating. I’d believed that we had more time and now I had nothing – no way of helping her. “I called UNOS, they have your wife on top of the transplant list, but we’ve talked about the challenges of finding a match.”
“Ok, Doctor, give me some good news. There has to be something.”
“We’ll keep Salvatrice here and I will extend my stay to be able to monitor her personally and I plan on managing these two ways. On one hand, we’ll put her under heavy medication to help her body cope, but her lungs are failing. I will try to find a method to alter that protein that would lead to her rejecting an unmatched organ. It’s risky and it might be just a temporary fix, but in case nothing shows up, it might get us some time.”
“Do whatever you have to do, Doc.”
“It’s not a promise, but I will do everything in my power.” He put a hand on my shoulder to offer me some encouragement, but it didn’t help one bit. “Let me know if you have any questions. You said you have a child?”
“A daughter. Six years old.” A daughter that just got her mother back and it was unfathomable to lose her again.
“There’s nothing more amazing than being a father. I have two sons, James and Sebastian. They’re a little bit older, but raising kids never gets easier. Mrs. Stefani is in a private room, so you can bring your daughter to visit.”
“I don’t know if…”
