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When I return, Salvatore is still fumbling with the buttons. In the four minutes I’ve spent in the bathroom, he’s only managed to fasten the top two. I watch as he tries to do upthe third, but it keeps slipping from between the fingers of his left hand, so he curses.
I walk over and shoo his hands out of the way. He stands still as a statue while I work my way down the row until the buttons are all done.
“There. All set,” I say and look up.
His eyes are fixed on mine for several long seconds. Then, he abruptly says, “Let’s go.”
When we exit the elevator on the floor below, I follow Salvatore through the door into a large room which has floor-to-ceiling white tiles. My jaw drops as I take in the sight. To the left, there are three gurneys with high-end medical equipment beside each. Toward the back, the space is separated by a glass wall with an operating table visible inside. The wall on the right is lined with large white shelves that are stocked with medical supplies.
I expected a small room with perhaps a cart holding bandages and similar first aid items, maybe an IV stand, not a miniature hospital. As I turn toward Salvatore, baffled by everything I’m seeing, the doors to a huge service elevator located on the opposite side of the room—different to the one Salvatore and I used—open, and a group of people, more than half of them covered in blood, file out.
“Where the fuck is Ilaria?” Salvatore barks at Nino, who is half dragging Alessandro as he exits the elevator. The big guy is holding his hand against his bleeding belly. A gunshot wound?
“I’m here,” A female voice announces from somewhere. I turn to see an elegant, tall woman in her late fifties coming out of the main elevator. Her perfectly coiffured hair is sandy-blonde. She’s wearing dark blue dress pants with a silkyblouse and a white cashmere coat overtop. When she reaches us, she peruses me and sighs.
“I guess this is the wife. We’ll do the introductions later,” the woman says, taking off her coat. She heads to the sink to scrub her hands, then takes a plastic doctor’s gown from one of the drawers, snaps on a pair of gloves, and moves swiftly toward the group of wounded men.
“Who’s that?” I look at Salvatore and head to the sink to scrub my own hands.
“My mother,” he answers.
I stare at his back, stunned for a moment, as he walks away to join the group huddled around Alessandro. All I can do is blink rapidly as I shake my head a bit to recover from that little bombshell.
His mother?
I finish getting prepped and run toward the chaos at the other end of the room, where Salvatore’s mother is already instructing Nino to take Alessandro into the small operating room.
“Hold this.” Milene grabs my hand, pulling my palm over the bundled gauze compressed onto the wound in Carmelo’s shoulder. “Damn it, Tore. You need to press harder.”
Carmelo looks at her, then at me, his eyes wide. I ignore his gawking and watch as Milene moves to Filippo and pulls up his shirt to inspect the laceration across the side of his body.
“Superficial. Do you want me to sew you up, or do you want Ilaria to do it?” she asks.
Filippo looks at me, and I shake my head. I won’t have my wife touching any other man unless it’s absolutely necessary.
“Doc can do it, Mrs. Ajello,” Filippo says quickly.
“Okay, I’ll go see if they need me in the OR.”
She stops to check the IV next to Alessandro’s bed, goes to change her gloves and the sterile coat, then heads into the small room where Ilaria is trying to dig out the bullet from Pasquale’s thigh. They fumble with his wound for twenty more minutes. Milene bandages his leg while Ilaria throws her gloves in the trash, dons a new pair, and opens the sliding door.
“Next!” Ilaria yells, then looks at Carmelo. “Long time no see, Carmelo. What do you have for me today, hmm?”
It takes two more hours for Ilaria and Milene to take care of the wounded, and by the time everyone’s been treated, it’s already eight in the morning. Due to his stomach wound, Alessandro will have to stay in the infirmary for a few days. Carmelo’s and Pasquale’s injuries are less serious, so they will be released tomorrow. The other four men were sent home as soon as they’d been treated. Seven wounded in total. I can’t wait to get my hands on Fitzgerald.
The service elevator opens, and Nino walks out, followed by two of the nurses I have on the payroll for just these types of situations. They’ll keep watch over Alessandro, Carmelo, and Pasquale until tomorrow afternoon, when another pair will take over.
“Let’s go upstairs. I’ve told Ada to prepare us something to eat.” I pass Ilaria her coat. “You can sleep in one of the guest rooms, or I can have someone drop you off.”
“No need. Cosimo will pick me up at nine. I want to check on Alessandro one more time before I go.”
“Does he need to be moved to a hospital?” I ask.
“No. He was lucky. The bullet didn’t damage any organs. I’ll drop by to check on him twice a day till Monday. He should be good to leave by then.”
I nod. “I’ll get Milene and we’ll go up.”
Ilaria looks at me as though she wants to say something but leaves without uttering a word. I turn around in search of my wife and find her changing Pasquale’s IV, chatting away as he looks at her like she’s an angel. It takes all of five seconds for me to reach her, scoop her into my arms, and carry her toward the elevator, signaling to one of the other nurses to take over.
