UNFORGETTABLE (Able Series Book 3) (27 page)

THE END

2
ND
FORK IN THE ROAD: LEFT TURN

BRIAN

FIVE DAYS AFTER ADMISSION

SUDDENLY, MACHINES ARE BEEPING ALL
at once, and Tami’s face crumples in pain as she reaches for my hand on her belly. My lips instantly rest on her forehead. All too soon I’m being shoved, pushed, then I hear Tami complaining of her chest hurting.

“Page Dr. Rosenthal, stat!”

Next thing I hear is our doctor being paged, and everyone except Cody, Jake, and me hover by the door hearing everything one nurse is saying to another.

“Her BP is up 160/110.”

Dr. Rosenthal appears out of nowhere and barks out orders, “Give me the reading. What’s the protein level this morning?” As she flips through the chart, she signals to the nurse closest to the door to get us out.

That’s when my heart stops beating. Everything around me seems to move in slow motion, and I find myself in the hallway with Cody on my right and Jake on my left both holding my arms. When the door opens a few minutes later, my wife is being wheeled out.

She’s wearing an oxygen mask, her eyes closed tightly.

I don’t know why my feet move without my brain telling them to.

I don’t know why I can’t feel anything other than the tears falling down my face and the emptiness in my heart.

I don’t know why, but I do. . . .

I cup her cheeks with my trembling hands, as I tell her, “I love you. Come back to me, please.”

“Let go, Brian. We need to go,” Dr. Rosenthal sternly says as she pushes past me.

Cody and Jake pull me back both gripping my arms, helping me to stay upright as I look at her wedding ring I have in my hand. Then, I sob like a child as my world falls from under me.

“God, not my wife.”

“He’s not gonna take your girl, B. He won’t,” Jake whispers and clutches my arm a little tighter.

Then, my knees give way. . . . I fall hard.

Stand? I can’t . . . not without her.

“Dig deep, Brian. She needs you functioning at a hundred percent.”

“If one of them dies, I can’t. . . . I can’t . . .”

My father’s face is instantly in front of mine as he grabs my head, not giving me the chance to look away. “You can, and you will. Now, get up. We need to go to the waiting area close to your wife.”

I pull whatever strength is left in me to get up and walk behind Jack, Patti, and my parents to wherever we need to go. I’m walking like a zombie, listening to everything, but not understanding anything. I sit when they tell me to, answer when spoken to, and drink or eat when something is being shoved in my face.

One hour turns into two, and then a female wearing scrubs come out of the white double doors with sweat outlining the surgical hat on her head and around the edge of her scrubs. We all stand in anticipation of what she’s about to say. My mom and Patti both stand at either side of me holding my arms.

“Brian Mancini?”

“Here.” My voice solid but laced with dread.

She offers me a smile before speaking. That’s a good sign, right?

“Hi, I’m Lori. Dr. Rosenthal wanted me to give you an update. Tami is being closed up as we speak. The baby is with the neonatologist, Dr. Rosenburg. You’ll probably be called within the next couple of minutes, as soon as we stabilize baby Mancini.”

“Do . . . do I have a son or a daughter?”

Another smile escapes her, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. A cold fresh coat of fear covers my entire being while my mother’s grip on my arm tightens.

“Y-you have a very handsome son, Mr. Mancini. Please, excuse me, I really need to get back into the OR.”

Tears of joy mix with pain slips from my eyes, knowing sadness will soon come. I can just feel it in my bones like a drill creating a hole so deep there’s no mistaking the emptiness I’ll feel soon. It must have been a half hour later when Dr. Rosenthal comes out, again through those damned double doors. She’s stoic like always, not a hint of anything wrong on her face, but I know sadness and grief when I see it since I’ve lived with it for so long. It’s a stench no one can deny.

“Brian, Tami is doing well. Her BP is much lower than it has been. She’s responding well and isn’t in pain. We’ve moved her and the baby to the recovery room, and you can see her now. If you want the rest of your family to go with you, they certainly may.”

I narrow my eyes at her asking, “Why? Why does the rest of our family have to be there? I need you to level with me.” I stop only to speak with a voice so grave even I didn’t recognize it. “Now! I need to hear it, now.”

Taking in a breath and slowly letting it out she answers, “With the baby being born so early, the odds aren’t good, Brian. According to the neonatologist working on him, your son only has a couple of hours at best. I’m sorry. I’m deeply sorry.”

I nod once, then twice gritting my teeth as I go. Wanting to deny what I’ve just heard, but needing to accept the harsh truth that once again I’m losing one of my own. My own flesh and blood. I turn to face everyone around me, my eyes landing on my mother who’s silently crying, being comforted by my dad, Patti’s a spitting image of my mother anchoring herself to Jack. Trish’s face is buried in Jake’s neck as he embraces her tightly. Roxy’s covering her face with her hands while Cody’s trying his best to calm her, and LT . . . LT’s eyes are locked on mine. Resignation, but not defeat coats his eyes as it slowly coats my own.

“When we go in, I need all of your strength aimed at my wife and son. Forget about me. It’s not about me, tonight. Tonight it’s about the two people I hold close, right here.” I slam my palm on my chest once, then twice. “I don’t want it to be a loss, but rather a celebration of his life. Am I making myself clear?”

The men expectedly nod while the women continue to cry. Do I blame them? Not at all. I want to fall on my knees and cry like a baby until there’s no more tears left, but I can’t. I’ve cried . . . been weak . . . lived in the past for far too long. My wife needs me to be strong . . . stronger, not only for myself but for her.

Dr. Rosenthal excuses herself and doesn’t come back for close to an hour. An hour! Doesn’t she know we’re on borrowed time? When she makes her appearance, we follow her through the double doors with me at the head. My parents and Tami’s are behind me. Behind them are Jake, Trish, Roxy, Cody, and LT. I’m well insulated . . . me, my wife, and son are insulated with people whose strength are solid to the core. As soon as I see my wife, sitting upright, which she probably shouldn’t be post-surgery, my heart bleeds, not for my own aches but for hers. I’m trying to separate myself from the most painful, gut-wrenching loss I’ve ever faced, but there’s no amount of training that could save me.

I walk with a purposeful gait toward her. Déjà vu, I think that’s what I’m experiencing right now, and the same word that wrapped my young mind some eleven years ago now cloaks me again. Pain—
unforgettable
pain squeezes my nonexistent heart, and I’m sure the heart of everyone in this room.

TAMI

I wasn’t completely under, so I’m aware of what’s going on around me. Once I hear one of the doctors caring for my son say ‘it doesn’t look good,’ I cry in silence as my tears pour like rain on my face. It’s a death sentence he hands to me—to us. How can you accept that? How?

My sobs turn into wails, and wails turn into hysterics. I fall apart alone in this cold room with my son mere steps away from me. I can’t offer him comfort . . . can’t offer him words . . . can’t offer him anything, because I have nothing—nothing.

It may have been a couple of minutes or hours; I don’t know, but when Brian’s face comes into view, I lose it again. He embraces me hard—tight . . . comfortably hard.

“Why? I don’t. . . . do-nn’t wa-want to lose our son. God! H . . . help my son. . . . help my son.”

“Shhh, we can’t give up,” Brian says with conviction enough for the both of us.

I look at him with every ounce of hope leaving my eyes. “How can you say that? Th—ey. . . . h-he said it doesn’t look good.” I point at someone while half yelling, half sobbing at my husband.

Instead of releasing me, he holds me closer to him rocking us back and forth, wanting so desperately to calm me—to calm my raging heart.

“I was told, Tami. But, we can’t give up. It’s not done until it is.”

I push him away and start spewing hate, not aimed at him but our situation. “Aren’t you the one who was so afraid of this? You warned me this would happen. The pain will be so great I can’t live through it! Yell at me, now!”

He grabs my face as he vehemently denies everything I just said. “I was afraid, yes. I was! I wish I hadn’t been. I’d do this over and over again to get a glimpse of a child I’ve wanted for so long. Is it stupidity? No. It’s love. We love each other, and that love created a life, however, long or short it is . . . it’s a life we both love. Does it break my heart? Yes. My heart breaks for you and for me, but more than anything, it breaks for our son because I want him to enjoy life with me. I want to watch his eyes meet mine. I want to feel his arms around me. I want to feel his lips kissing my cheek. I want it all, Tami, just like you do. Deep inside, I know he wants that, too. He wants you and me. So, I’m
choosing
to be with him for however long we have. Is it fair? It’s not, but I don’t care about that now. All I know is my son needs his mother, and I need you. We.need.you.”

He sees my spirit deflate even more, and his arms catch me, again. The once jaded man who never wanted to try again is the one holding me up, forcing me to accept what is right in front of me, while all I want to do is run. I want to hide. I want to run and hide.

“I don’t know if I can survive this, Brian. I’m not strong . . . not for this,” I mumble against his chest.

“We need to be. Your son wants you to survive this. Do this for him. . . . if not for me, please. . . . do it for him.”

My crying intensifies along with the grief in my heart. We’re fighting this fight, the end of a fight we’re losing, and pain is the only thing gained. At this very moment, we’re in our fighting stance—or at least my husband is.

I’m strong—I’m weak.

I’m brave—I’m scared.

I’m a woman—I’m a wife.

I’m a wife—I’m a mother.

A Mother.

BRIAN

“IT’S TIME.” DR. ROSENTHAL SOFTLY
says as she tries to control her own tears from falling.

A nurse named Nancy walks toward us holding our son with wires and other things attached to him. She gently lays him in Tami’s waiting arms facing us both, and everyone gathers around us.

Weakly, Tami says as she stares at the bundle of joy in her arms with so much love and sadness on her face, “I want to finish the story of us. The story of Dominic Benjamin Mancini. Can we do that?”

A few whimpers and loud sniffles serves as the background music to everyone’s achy heart—including mine—including ours. So, the story begins. Hearing it come out of the mouth I love hurts all the more.

“Once upon a time, a young man fell deeply in love with a woman much older than he. Both dreaming of the same thing, though wanting it at different times. One so strong, the other so severely hurt; but both meeting at the same fork in the road, where decisions need to be made and hearts need to be healed. The amount of hurt and the intensity of the fear don’t match the love both have for you . . . my Baby Dominic.”

The tears come pouring down, so I continue the story—the most painful part of the story of us. . . .

I run my finger along his cheek. “Your daddy waited patiently though scared while your momma dreamed of the day we could hold you in our arms. We both waited for the right time—the right season . . . the season of you. When that season came, your mommy and daddy were overjoyed . . . our hearts filled with all of you and everything about you. Our world slowly turned to be solely about you.”

I have to stop because I can’t see past my own tears. My tears of happiness and sadness, tears of great joy and great pain. I hold them both as tight as I can savoring the blessing of time given to us. Until other voices that have pulled us through echo in the dimness.

“We’ve seen you grow inside your mommy’s belly each day. We’ve rejoiced greatly as you surpassed the milestone of your life. Right now, in this moment, I love how I
see
your father
in you.
I love how I
feel
your mother
through you,
” choking up, Papa stops talking.