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“Orlando, language,” Katy scolds him. “What were you doing fighting anyway?”
“He deserved it, Mom,” Orlando says. “He snitched on Dante, which got him expelled. So Aurora approached him after school about it, and he called her a name I won’t repeat,” Orlando grinds out the last part.
“And then Aurora hit him. She’s the one who broke his nose,” Dante says with a grin.
“He was about to hit her back, and I wasn’t gonna let that happen,” Orlando says.
Fuck, how do you punish your kid for sticking up for his family? I know we’re not supposed to support fighting and all that shit, but he’s not wrong. That asshole kid deserved to get his ass kicked, from the sounds of it.
“Right. Okay.” Katy nods her head. “Orlando, go and pack a bag. We’re going to Italy early,” she tells him.
When he disappears up the stairs, headed to his room, Romeo instructs Dante to go wait in the car. “Why are you going early?” my twin asks me.
“Because we can?” I shrug. “You figured out what’s going on yet? With Ma and Pops?”
“No.” He shakes his head.
“You’re supposed to be the smart one, Romeo. Figure it the hell out,” I tell him.
“My kid got himself expelled from school today. I had shit to do first,” he groans.
“What’d he do?”
“Hacked the school’s network system to access admin files. Looking for a girl’s address.”
“Why didn’t he just follow her home if he wanted to know so badly?” This question comes from Katy.
“That’s what I said!” Romeo throws his hands up to emphasize his point.
I look at my wife. “Sometimes I think you should be the mobster in this marriage,” I tell her.
“Well, I would make a better one. I know how to not get shot.” She laughs.
“Burn, bro.” Romeo laughs before turning on his heel and heading towards the foyer. “Right, well, I’ll see you all in Italy,” he says, walking out the front door.
ChapterSeven
“What do you mean they’re not conclusive?” I ask the doctor.
“Sorry, Mrs. Valentino, but we can’t find any indication as to why you’re experiencing the symptoms you’ve described.”
“Well, there has to be a reason, Doc, and the most likely one is what we’ve already discussed.”
“I know your mother’s history, and I’m aware you’ve undergone the available genetic testing. But, Mrs. Valentino, your brain scans appear normal. Your blood tests are all coming back within healthy range. It could be stress. Yes, your symptoms could definitely be related to stress and exhaustion,” he says, eyeing my chart for a second time.
I shake my head. That’s not what’s happening. I know the confusion I’m feeling, the memory loss I’m experiencing. This is exactly how it started with my mother. I’m not stressed, tired maybe, but that’s not what this is. Maybe I need to get a second opinion.
“Honestly, Mrs. Valentino,” he continues but I barely hear him. “If there were anything that gave me the slightest indication you were headed down that road, I would tell you, immediately start you on a treatment plan, but there isn’t. I suggest trying to take it easy for a bit. Trying to relax.”
I nod my head. I think Iwillget a second opinion.
I know that something is happening to my brain, and if I’m right, I want—needto start treatment right away. I have to figure out a way to save my children from witnessing my deterioration from the mother they know, to a woman who they barely recognize, to one who barely recognizesthem. I’ll never forget the first time I went to visit my mother and she didn’t know who I was.
Alzheimer’s, that’s what I have. I know it. I just need to find a doctor who can do the right tests and figure it out too.
I leave the doctor’s office and make the drive home. It passes in a blur, and by the time I arrive, I don’t even remember how I made it here. My mind is all over the damn place. Before I get out of the car, I call my sister.
“Rye, how are you?” I ask her.
