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“Fuck, woman, your mouth is like fucking magic. You’re gonna be the death of me,” he proclaims as I’m rising up.
“Good.” I wink at him. “Let me go wash up, and we can have dinner.”
A week later, I’m at St. Elizabeth’s Hospital for my laparoscopy. My mother waits in the waiting room while I go back with the nurse. Once in the procedure room, the nurse asks me questions to ensure I understand what is happening. Dr. Ahmed and an anesthesiologist come into the room and begin explaining the procedure. I’ll be given general anesthesia and will be asleep for approximately thirty minutes. The doctor will make a small incision on my abdomen area and will insert a tube with a camera on the end to take a look around, and images will be captured.
When I wake up from the procedure, I’m groggy, and my mouth is dry and loose. The nurse helps me to the dressing room where my mother is waiting for me. My mother helps me into my sweatpants, T-shirt, and hoodie, and we exit the surgical center. By the time we get to my mom’s house, I’m more awake, yet my body is tired. I lie on the couch and call Massimo.
“Hi,” I say when he answers.
“How’d it go with your mom today?”
“Good. She’s resting right now. I’m gonna probably take a nap too since we got up super early. You know I’m not a morning person.” The lie slips from my lips with ease.
“I know how to get you going in the morning,” he tells me in a low voice.
“Always thinking about sex.”
“I didn’t say anything about sex. You did,” he says.
“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, just wanted to check in and let you know that everything went well. I know you’re at work. I’ll call you later.”
“Okay. Bye, babe.”
“Bye.”
Four days later, Dr. Ahmed’s office calls to schedule an appointment to discuss my results. It can’t be good when the doctor wants to see you in person. Bad news is on the horizon.
CHAPTER 20
Clarity
MASSIMO
October 2012
MY FEET POUND THEpavement as I’m running the trail along the Charles River, Volbeat’s “Heaven Nor Hell” streaming through my earbuds. Running usually gives me clarity and lets me sort through the storm in my head. My legs burn from the miles they’ve carried me, but my head is still a fucking mess.
It’s been four days since Lena told me she can’t have kids.
Four days with her words ringing in my ear.
Four days and I still can’t get my act together.
Four days with a tightly wound knot in my chest.
I can’t understand why Lena would ever think she had to leave because she can’t have kids. Is there a logical explanation behind it? Even if there is, will I accept whatever excuse she gives me for shattering our lives?
I know I need to talk to her, but I’m still so upset about everything that I can’t, not yet. I need to let my anger subside. Otherwise, I won’t be able to have a normal conversation with her.
My reaction to her confession wasn’t how I should’ve reacted to the news, but I was blinded by her words, angry that she would make such a decision about my life, our life, without speaking to me first.
I know I was wrong. She probably thinks it’s my reaction to her inability to have kids, which it’s not. It’s about her ability to lie with such ease, her callousness at making such a life-altering decision on her own. Here I was expecting her to say she was with another guy or in love with someone else. I probably would have handled it better. Who am I kidding? I definitely wouldn’t have.
I check my watch; I’ve been running for over an hour but need to head back, or else I’ll be late to pick up the boys from their music lessons at the North End Music & Performing Arts Center. I run toward the Dartmouth Street Footbridge to cross Storrow Drive and jog the last few blocks to my apartment.
After picking up the boys from music lessons, we walk down to Regina Pizzeria to grab a pie for dinner. The boys love pizza, and you can never go wrong with Regina’s. Thankfully, when we get there, there’s no line. There are times the line here stretches down the block in the dead of winter; that’s how good the pizza at this place is.
As usual, it’s a full house inside. Lots of locals sprinkled with tourists. It’s a casual place, most everyone in jeans, donning their favorite sports team hats or hoodies, with a few after-work-crowd people still suited up.
