My Woman His Wife Saga (38 page)

I had a splitting headache. It seemed worse now than it did before I went to sleep. It could be from not eating or the bump I got on my head, but whatever it was drained the hell out of me. I sat up on the side of the bed just as the nurse was coming in to take my vitals. Too many events happened within the matter of a day and a half, and I was over it.

“Good morning, Mr. Cinque,” the jolly nurse said as she scanned my chart. This nurse was different from the one who was taking care of me last night. She was cuter, too. My eyes traveled her curves, but I forced my mind to go in another direction.

“Good morning,” I managed to mumble as I held the side of my head.

“Seems like you still have a headache, huh?” she replied, finally looking me in the face. “I'll get you something for that to go along with your breakfast. Sit back on the bed for me so that I can take your vitals.”

Scooting back on the bed, I chanced a glance out the door, hoping Jasmine's family was gone. I was contemplating making a dash for it, but to my dismay her brothers were resting in chairs just outside the door. This shit was like a never-ending nightmare. I felt like I was in jail, and her family were the guards making sure I stayed in place.

I closed my eyes for a split second just as a “code thirty” was announced over the loudspeaker. I could see the nurses rushing, and I wondered if it had anything to do with my wife or my son.

“What does that code mean?” I asked as she quickly took notes in my chart.

“Someone came in under cardiac arrest,” she replied nonchalantly as she continued to write in my chart. Soon after I could hear the commotion in the hallway as people started running by. I got a glimpse of a person on a stretcher, but what caught my eye was the woman running beside it.
Was that Monica who just ran past?
I shook my head and rubbed my eyes. The crowd had already passed, but I was still stunned. If it was her, what was she doing in Philly? When did she get here?

“Mr. Cinque, your tray should be arriving soon. I'll put in an order for your pain meds as well. Continue to rest, and I'll be back in a little while.”

I shook my head, acknowledging that I heard her, but my mind was gone. Was that really Monica? I had to get a look, but I knew I would have to wait. Everyone would want to know why I was looking around the hospital for a strange person.

Just as I settled back into the bed my breakfast was brought in by a dietary aide. She was even cuter than the nurse who was there, and I had to keep myself from staring at her as well.
What's wrong with me?

“Good morning,” she said with a smile. “Fill out this menu card for your lunch and dinner and I will collect it from you when I come back for your tray.”

I gave her a warm smile as she positioned my tray in front of me and made sure my bed was adjusted. I wanted to see my son, and my wife. Did I have to wait for the doctor to see them? Just as I was going to buzz the nurse she came in with a woman from venipuncture.

“Mr. Cinque, she's going to draw some blood from you this morning,” the nurse replied as she looked through my chart.

“What for?” I asked her as I held my arm out to be punctured.

“The doctor will be in shortly to discuss that with you.”

I tried not to watch because I hated needles, but I couldn't help it. The phlebotomist was quick with drawing the seven or eight tubes of blood that she was instructed to get from me. I didn't think anything of it. I always protected myself whenever I stepped out on Jazz so I wasn't worried about any disease. Once the young lady was done, I went back to eating my food, totally forgetting to ask the questions I intended. I still had to report the news on my wife, and T.U.N.N. was giving me another chance to do so, considering I didn't pass out again in the process. My wife's family, or even the doctor for that matter, could have done it but I wanted to be the one to deliver the news. She was my wife, and as her husband I felt like that was my responsibility. That's what she would have wanted.

I was done with my breakfast and watching the news by the time the doctor came in to talk to me. He had a look of concern on his face that got my attention. Pushing the tray to the side, I sat up on the side of the bed to brace myself for whatever he had to say. Maybe something slipped by that I didn't know about. I had a few wild nights, and a few broken condoms along the way. Although I'd never been burned with a sexually transmitted disease, I know enough to know that some diseases lie dormant and can show up at any time. What if now was the time? How would I explain it to everyone? I was nervous instantly, and needed the doctor to get to the point ASAP.

“Good morning, Mr. Cinque. How is the headache coming along?”

“Pretty good. Hurts less now that I've eaten,” I responded as I looked around the room. “Ummm . . . there was more blood drawn this morning. What's wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong. I just want to make sure that everything was drawn correctly. There was a mishap with your blood in the lab yesterday, and the results were tainted. In order to give your blood to your son we have to ensure that everything is on point or it could prove fatal for him,” the doctor responded as he made notes in my chart.

“Okay,” I responded in confusion. “So, how long will it take for the results to come in? Did I test positive for a disease?” I asked on the verge of panic.

“I sent your blood up stat so it shouldn't take long being they messed up in the lab yesterday. The ABO blood group typing test, which is a type of paternity/DNA test to determine your blood type and to ensure you are a match for your son, was compromised and that's an important factor to ensure that your blood type matches your son's for the transfusion process. If you are an O blood type, you are a universal donor and can donate to anyone, but only A types can go with other As and Bs can only go with other Bs, et cetera. If the blood type is not compatible very dangerous results will occur,” he responded with a gentle look on his face. “In the meantime, you should prepare for the announcement. The news team is gathering in the auditorium, and the public is being let in. Your clothes are behind the door and toiletries have been set aside. If you need anything else the nurse will get it for you.”

“Can I see my son and my wife before I do all of that?” I asked desperately.

“Sure you can. I'll have transport take you to both rooms.”

After pushing my now empty tray to the side, I made use of the facilities and got myself prepared to stand in front of the camera again. Although I wasn't being released from the hospital just yet, the doctor gave me permission to make the announcement; then I would be right back in bed. By the time I finished getting dressed, transport was there to take me to see my family. I protested about the wheelchair, but was quickly reminded that it was hospital policy, so I gave up the fight and let them wheel me around.

We went to see my wife first, and I was sad to see that she looked exactly the same, but I guess I was hoping for her to be a little better than the last time I saw her.

Bending down next to her ear I told her that I loved her, and I couldn't wait for her to wake up. Her fingers flinched a little, but her eyes remained closed. That was enough for me to know that she heard me. What if she didn't recognize me or the kids when she woke up? That was a possibility that the doctor discussed with me regarding her condition. How would the kids handle it? Especially the younger ones? How much different would Jazz be? After taking my seat back in the chair, I hung my head deep in thought and with a heavy heart as an escort wheeled me down to see my son.

The results were just the same with him. Nothing had changed since the last time I was here. I held his little hand in mine, and rubbed my thumb across the back of his hand. This was so unfair! Why didn't God just take me instead of taking my family through all this turmoil? I kissed him on his forehead and stared at him for a few more minutes with no response from him indicating that he knew I was there. Not a twitch or anything.

Taking a seat back in the wheelchair, I prepared myself for the update. It still didn't make sense to me to have to be wheeled around, and I figured I would have to get up and walk to the podium anyway. Once I got to the auditorium I could see a crowd gathering of news reporters and spectators, and I noticed that the podium was more wheelchair accessible and I wouldn't have to stand. In my eyes that painted a picture that I was more hurt than I was, but I guessed they were being cautious of my possibly fainting again.

The escort wheeled me up to the podium, and quietness went across the room as all eyes fell on me. Scanning the crowd, I saw the faces of my fellow coworkers from T.U.N.N., and the good doctor was standing in the back. As I prepared to address the crowd, I could see the reporters from surrounding news stations getting their notepads together, scribbling down questions for me to answer. I was a nervous wreck, but I took a deep breath and pushed forward. Once I got through this I wouldn't have to do it again.

“I would like to thank you all for coming back out,” I began in a shaky voice. All of a sudden this was too much to bear, and I didn't think I could do it.

“Take your time, son, and get it out,” I heard Jazz's father say from behind me, and I wondered briefly when they had all appeared.

“Thank you for coming out,” I said again in a clearer voice. “My wife, Jasmine Cinque, is a prominent lawyer here in the Philadelphia region, and I am sad to report that some time during the night a day ago she was in a really bad car accident that may have caused a bad brain injury. She is being kept asleep until the swelling in her brain goes down, and it will not be until the point that she wakes up that the doctors will be able to determine the true extent of the injuries.”

A collective gasp filled the room as pens and pads connected and my every word was recorded.

“Although she is on life support, she is in stable condition and the doctors believe that she will pull through just fine once the swelling goes down,” I continued as I held back my tears. Simply saying out loud the state of my wife's condition brought me to tears. What if she didn't make it out? What would I do with all of these kids by myself?

“Was your wife speeding?” came the first question from the audience. I immediately got on the defensive. Even if she was, that didn't mean she deserved to be where she was now.

“I can't say for sure because I was not there when the accident took place. I met my wife and son here after the fact.”

“Why was she out traveling in such horrible conditions?” Question number two came from the audience, and I zeroed in on the person who asked. He looked rather young, and may have been fresh to the reporting business. His goal, I was sure, was to get the “drama” aspect of the story to print scandal. I refused to aid in the tainting of my wife's name.

“She was picking up our kids from afterschool care.”

“Well, from my research here, it was understood that she was called out of a meeting because you hadn't gone to get them yet. Do you agree that all of this could have been avoided had you just stepped up to the plate?” the fresh-faced reporter responded as he flipped through a few pages of notes. Stunned, the audience turned from him back to me like we were in a tennis match. He caught me off guard with that one and I was sure it showed.

“I'm not too sure of your sources, nor are we here to discuss this in detail. The point of the fact is my wife is upstairs in a room fighting for her life. Those who know and love her deserve to know at least that much, and any scandal you are trying to dig up won't be addressed at this time,” I responded in an even tone, although I was ready to come up out of this wheelchair and toss it at his big-headed ass.

“Which son is it? The adopted son or the biological?” came a feminine voice that I recognized immediately. Everyone's eyes, including mine, raced to the back of the room and landed on Monica. I thought I'd seen her fly past my room earlier right after a man came by on a stretcher. Now my suspicions were confirmed, but I did not feel like dealing with her right now. What in the hell was she doing here?

I could see the pens scratching across pages, and a slight buzz could be heard as the element of surprise died down and more questions were thought up. Gripping the side of the wheelchair, I cleared my throat before answering. I had to keep my cool before I ended up doing this interview via satellite from prison.

The look on his face was priceless, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't enjoying it a little. Hell, the news weren't the only people in the world who needed answers. Did my son need me as much as my gut was telling me he did? I needed to know, and when I saw people gathering up in here, I was just being nosey while I was waiting on the verdict from the judge. Who knew I would walk in on the Cinque press conference? This was supposed to happen, and I wanted answers . . . now!

“It's my biological son,” he responded in an even voice. “One last question and the interview will be closed.”

He was pissed!

I was loving it!

I heard some reporter present him with another question, but I dipped out the back. I got my answer. It wasn't my son on his last leg, so I was okay for now. I would just need to find out where they lived so that I could make my next move. I would need the judge for that, and he needed to come out of this mess alive and alert.

After grabbing a cup of coffee from the cafeteria, I circled back around to the judge's room. I figured James would be awhile wrapping up the news conference after the last of the questions were answered, considering when it came to interviews one last question could turn into ten more, so I decided to stop past the patient information booth to see what I could find out. When I walked up I was greeted by an extremely attractive woman who looked to be in her thirties. Judging from her appearance, she definitely took pride in how she looked, even though she was sitting at a desk. She showed a bright smile through thick lips, and I briefly wondered how they would feel on my body. Deciding to test the waters, I stepped up next in line. Just in case I needed to use her later, I wanted to get her in my pocket now.

“How may I help you?” she asked with a wide smile and bright eyes. A closer look revealed a nice pair of kissable breasts. A little more than a handful . . . Made me wonder what color her nipples were.

“Hi, I'm here to see my brother. I believe he checked in yesterday. I can't remember what my mom said on the phone,” I responded with slight embarrassment in my voice, the actress in me in full motion.

“That's not a problem. What's your brother's name?” she asked as she flipped through a few screens on her computer.

“James Cinque,” I answered with confidence.

She took a few minutes to search the system, and after a second or two came up with his room number. Taking a piece of paper from a stack, she wrote down his info and passed it across the desk to me.

“Here you go,” she said with a jolly tone in her voice. “Do you have a parking ticket? If so, I can validate it for you to get a discount on your parking. It's not a lot, but every little bit helps.”

“No, I was dropped off,” I lied, “but thanks for letting me know. I love your lip gloss by the way.”

“Oh, thanks.” She smiled at me.

“Thank you.”

After tucking the info in my back pocket, I backed away from the station, deciding to leave her be. I wasn't certain about her, but if I ran into her again I would definitely give her another try. What
did
disturb me a little was that anyone could walk up and get info on you, and the people at the desk didn't ask for identification or anything. I knew not to check into U of P if I was ever hiding out.

On my way back upstairs I got off of the elevator, and took in the scenery as I walked down the hall to the judge's room. Halfway down the hall I came upon the section where the seating area for families was, and there were a group of kids sitting with an older woman who looked just like Jasmine. I almost tripped over my own feet when my eyes landed on the children. I mean, there they were . . . all of them. They were just sitting there in their own little worlds looking just as exhausted as everyone else. The scene tugged on my heartstrings something serious, and made me sad.

The last time I saw the Cinques' older two they were just toddlers. I couldn't believe how much they had grown. Just the daughter of the second set of twins was sitting there, which meant her twin brother was the one in the ICU. I couldn't believe how much they all looked like James. There were two younger children sitting there, and they didn't exactly look alike, which meant the other one could be none other than my son.

I was face to face with him and I couldn't believe it. I tried to point out features of mine, and I noticed immediately that although he looked like the rest of the kids he had my mouth and nose. He had the same complexion as James, and he and the other little boy definitely looked like brothers. I resisted the urge to scoop down and take him into my arms. My eyes misted up, and I had to get it together considering Jasmine's mother was staring at me strange.

“I'm sorry,” I apologized as I willed my feet to move forward again. “I thought I recognized these kids,” I said to her.

“It's not a problem,” she offered with a kind smile.

“It's just that,” I added with dramatic flair, “this little girl looks like the daughter of a friend of mine from a few years ago, but she had a twin brother. My friend's name is Jasmine, and I haven't seen her in years.”

“Well, if you are speaking of Jasmine Cinque, these would be her kids,” the woman offered with a sad smile.

“For real? Oh, my goodness, where is she? I haven't seen her in so long,” I gushed as I played into the vulnerability of the woman. I was going to juice her for as much information as I could before James popped up.

“Well, unfortunately she's in the ICU. I'm surprised you haven't heard because it's been all over the news. She was in . . . Well, that's not really a conversation to have in front of the children,” she stopped herself, and then looked around at their sad faces.

“I totally understand,” I offered with an equally sad look on my face. “I'm here visiting a friend as well, but if I could leave my number with you could you text me or call me later with the information so that I can maybe stop by and see her at a better time?”

“Sure, I don't see that being a problem. I'll give it to James whenever he comes back from downstairs.”

“Thank you so much,” I responded as I scribbled my phone number on an old Michael Kors receipt from my purse. This was working out better than I thought it would. James would be upset, but he would call me if for nothing else but to tell me to back off.

I thanked her again as I handed her the slip of paper, and watched as she secured it in her pocketbook. Turning on my heels, I chanced a glance at the little boy once more, taking in his face for memory one last time. A smile spread across my face as just a tear slipped from the inside corner of my eye. How could I have given up such a precious little thing? Seeing him made me happy, but I was so confused at the same time. Would I have been a good mom to him, and how different would my life have been if I had kept him? I wasn't the type of woman who could take care of someone else by myself, and I just wasn't confident that it would have been a fairytale setup.

Kids need a lot of love and attention, something I just didn't think I was capable of giving. Especially considering I never got it. I came from a broken home. We always had to be quiet and stay out of the way of our drunken father's rage. My mother was too busy trying to survive to give us hugs and kisses, and shit just got worse as I got older and other family members got a hold of me. I was damaged goods, and I felt like my son needed at least a fair chance at a good life with a loving family. Something I just couldn't give him.

Stopping in the restroom just past the judge's room, I sat down in a stall and bawled my eyes out. It caught me by surprise because I didn't think I would be so emotional upon seeing him. The last time I looked at him face to face he had a little round face that looked like James's . . . Still did, and now he was inches taller and into his features. Seeing him instantly took me back to the videos that James would send me of him crawling and eventually walking. I erased the voice recording of his first words because I couldn't handle not being there. My thought process:
he's not my responsibility now. He's with his father, where he belongs.

My question now was did he belong there, and if I did indeed have to take him how would it work out for both of us? My place wasn't exactly kid friendly, and I wasn't 100 percent sure that I was ready to make the necessary changes for him. What if he hated me, and despised me for giving him up? Did he know that he was adopted, better yet thrown on the Cinque's because his real mother was a selfish bitch who didn't want the assumed inconvenience of having a kid around? This was too much at one time, and I couldn't control my sobbing. It took me about ten minutes before I was able to control the tears that were invading my face and racking my body with grief. I had to play this the right way, and I needed to get back to business.

Coming out of the stall, I took a few minutes to wash my face and get myself together at the sink before I went into the judge's room. Just in case he was up and noticed I was crying, I would just tell him I was concerned about him and thought that I had lost him. He was so self-centered his egotistical ass would believe it.

After applying a fresh coat of lip gloss, I stepped out into the hall just in time to see James reunite with his family. From what I gathered, he must not have seen his kids since the accident. The group hug and the way all of the kids screamed out “Daddy” when they saw him was a touching moment. He looked drained and pissed at the same time when he exited the elevator, but when he laid eyes on his kids the expression changed to one of love and relief. I got misty-eyed again, but kept it moving before Jasmine's mom pointed me out to him. I wasn't ready to meet him up close and personal right now, especially considering I crashed his press conference. I knew I wasn't his favorite person in the world at this moment in time.

Stepping into the judge's room, I could see that he was still asleep. The nurse informed me that he was on private status in the system so no one would be popping up unexpectedly. She addressed me as his wife, but I didn't bother to correct her. I didn't need a scandal breaking out at this time. I needed him to do some shit for me, and I needed everything to run smoothly. There was a bodyguard at the door twenty-four/ seven, and I was simply waiting for him to wake up.

“So . . . ummm . . . how long will he be down for?” I asked the nurse to gauge how much time I had to sit in this dreadful place. Maybe I could go shopping in the meantime and check back.

“He should be waking up by tomorrow morning, Mrs. Stenton. We gave him drugs to keep him asleep until the test results come back, and to keep him comfortable. The doctor will be making rounds soon, and should be able to explain everything better,” she responded as she read from his chart.

“That sounds like a plan,” I responded as I pulled my Kindle from my bag and got comfortable. I was going to have his driver take me back to the hideout, but I didn't want to risk leaving and on my return not be able to get back in for any reason.

The image of my son's face popped back in my head and brought a small smile to my face. I was happy and nervous at the same time because I didn't know what the outcome would be.