by Emerson Rose
We enter the small bleak waiting room and my mother nearly knocks me off my feet.
“What’s going on?” she asks.
“He’s in surgery, Mom, the surgery he was supposed to have before he and Brian got into the fight.”
“But, who’s doing it?”
“Brian.”
Her mouth pops open and she stares at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“Why would you let… he can’t …”
“Mom, it’s fine. Marcus will be OK, Brian knows he can’t make any mistakes.”
She doesn’t look convinced but there’s not much else she can say at this point. The surgery is underway and my husband’s life hangs in the balance.
She shifts her weight from one foot to the other and wrinkles her forehead. “How long will it take? Should I take the children home?” Mr. Black stands from his seat in the row of waiting room chairs.
“I’ll take them to the house, Mrs. Jefferson. You stay and be with Mrs. Castillo.” I cock my head back in surprise. Black just spoke about me with compassion and respect.
He and I have never actually had words but the tension between us has always been palpable, and I’ve never known why. Now I think I do.
Mr. Black thought I was a phase, a fascination, just another woman vying for Marcus’s wealth, prestige, and body. How he could believe that, after all I’ve gone through, I don’t know. I think he’s accepted that I’m not going anywhere and that I truly love his Boss.
I’m in this forever.
I’ll do anything it takes to help Marcus, including putting a hit out on a doctor and his staff if they don’t bring him back to me safe and sound.
“Oh yes, please. That would be perfect, Mr. Black,” Mom says. “Latoya, Kyle, would you like to go back to the house with the kids? Mr. Black here has offered to drive you. The surgery is going to take a long time, I expect.”
Latoya looks at Kyle and he nods.
“No, Kyle will go with the kids. I’m staying here with you.”
I knew my sister wasn’t about to leave me and damn if I’m not grateful. I appreciate mom staying, but I don’t think I could handle her alone. Her intentions are good, but she drives me bonkers with her bossiness and questions.
“Thanks, sis.”
“Can we take our toys with us,” Dante asks, tugging on the loop in my jeans.
“Of course, little man. Marcus gave those things to you; they’re yours.” I squat down on my haunches and hug him tight. Kimie joins us under my other arm not to be left out. God, I would love to have children of my own with Marcus. The fleeting thought brings a lump to my throat.
“Scoot now, go with your daddy, and take all your stuff. I’ll see you soon. I love you.” I kiss them both on the top of their perfect little heads and watch them trot off, each taking one of Kyle’s hands. Mr. Black follows and I’m left with my parents, Elijah, and Elena.
“Where’s Enrique?” He was here when Marcus went down, but things have been so chaotic I haven’t kept track of him. Elena pats the seat next to her, and I sit appreciatively, glad to allow some tension to escape my body if only for a moment.
“He’s in the OR,” she says.
“What? With Marcus?”
A slow, sly smile spreads across her face, “Yes, with Marcus. He works here, remember?”
“Oh my God, Elena, that’s fucking wonderful.” A little tension leaves my muscles knowing that someone we trust and love is within feet of Marcus while he is being operated on.
“Watch your language, Imani. Such a pretty girl shouldn’t use words like that. I didn’t raise you to talk that way,” Mom says. She hates cursing and especially in public. She knows I’ve got a foul mouth, and I think the circumstances call for a curse word or two.
“Mother, nobody speaks English here. They won’t even know I’m swearing.” She purses her lips together but she relents. In the scheme of things it’s not important right now and she knows it.
“I can’t believe I forgot he worked here. Thank you so much for asking him to be in there.”
“Oh, I didn’t ask, he insisted. He said he would watch Brian’s every move. He will know if there is a problem and whose fault it is.” I lean forward with my elbows on my knees and think. How much do I really know about Enrique? Could he be involved with Marcus’s family as well? Is he the person assigned to manage the fallout if there is a problem? Shit, does Elena know her boyfriend might be part of the Mafia?
“Elena, is Enrique…,” I ask.
She drops her eyes to her lap where she is fiddling with a loose thread on the hem of her sweater. “Yes, Imani, he’s involved. I don’t know exactly how deep but he answers to someone, of that I am sure.”
I have so many new things to process. I sigh and drop my head back looking at the ceiling. “Have you always known?”
“Yes, but I love him.”
“I know the feeling.” Dad is sitting on the other side of me and takes my hand. The warm comfort of his hand on mine is calming. I lay my head on his shoulder and reach for Elena. Linked together, we wait. These people love me, they love Marcus, and they will give me the strength to get through the next ten to twelve hours.
Waiting is excruciating. When I’m tired of sitting, I pace, squat, lean against the wall and fidget and twitch until my father is at his wits end with me. He likes calm, and I am as far from calm as a person can be.
“Sweetheart,” he says laying a hand on my knee to stop it from bouncing.
“I know, Dad, I’m sorry, I can’t help it. This waiting is miserable, it’s been four hours and we haven’t heard anything. I’m about to put on scrubs and barge into that OR and see what they’re doing myself.”
“I know, honey, I wasn’t complaining but I almost forgot to give you this.” He lifts my hand from my lap and covers my palm with his. Cold metal slides into my hand, Marcus’s chain and cross.
This feels too much like an ending. I’ve never seen it off of his neck, not even when he was my patient in Seattle. It always lay sparkling against the bronze skin of his chest or dangling near my face when we were making love.
I close my eyes and slip into a silent prayer, cupping the cross inside my hands, begging God to deliver my husband to me healed, free of the tumor and most of all, free from the evil sadist that haunts us both.
Then I slip it over my head and drop the heavy cross inside my shirt.
“The nurse gave it to me when you were talking to him before surgery.” I’m thankful he didn’t say telling him goodbye. I’m hovering on the edge of emotional disaster as it is, and I did not tell him goodbye. I will never tell him goodbye. A tear races down my cheek and I wipe it away. “Thank you, Dad.”
“Oh honey, I didn’t mean to upset you. I thought it would bring you comfort.”
I turn and look at him through my misty eyes. “I know, Dad, but nothing will bring me comfort until I see him alive again.”
He sighs deeply, and mom appears in front of me, thrusting a nasty cup of hospital coffee in my face. I scrunch up my nose in distaste, but she jiggles it again.
“Take it, it’s terrible, but it will keep you awake.”
“Mom, I worked the night shift for ten years, I’m good with staying awake, but thanks.”
Ignoring my refusal of coffee she sets it down on a table and looks around the room.
“Why hasn’t that nurse been out to update us?” My mom is just as, if not more, impatient than I am. An hour into surgery, she was seeking out nurses and even the admitting staff asking for information.”
“It’s only been an hour since Kayla circulated, she’ll be back soon, Mom.” Why am I comforting her? Didn’t she stay to comfort me? She’s good at distraction, however, and if being irritated with her takes my mind off of what’s going on for even a second it helps. She huffs off to hound another nurse, and dad and I exchange a relieved look.
Elena has been oddly calm, almost like she knows something I don’t. I move down a couple seats and across from her and real
ize her eyes are closed and she has ear buds in her ears listening to something. She senses me there and pauses the music.
“How are you so calm?” She removes the buds from her ears.
“Meditation.”
“With music?”
“No, Tibetan singing bowls.”
“Huh?”
“Have you ever meditated?”
“Um… no, my life was pretty boring before I met Marcus. I’ve never had a reason to meditate, I guess.” She chuckles softly and smiles a, those days are over smile. Might not be a bad idea to learn now.
“Come, sit next to me.” I move to sit next to her in the uncomfortable seat that is attached to ten other hard, uncomfortable seats in the waiting room.
“Here,” she says passing me one of the ear buds. I lean closer to her and press it into my ear. “Close your eyes and listen, try to block out any other thoughts.”
I give her a ‘yeah, right’ look. What the hell, it can’t hurt. I close my eyes and the soft hum of a gong fills my head, followed by a long drawn out bell wavering until it’s lost its strength and fades, only to be repeated.
This is nice. I feel muscles that I didn’t realize were tense loosen. I take a deep breath and blow it out. I lay my hand on my chest where Marcus’s cross is against my skin and try hard to block out thoughts of him.
It’s impossible, even in the best of circumstances I could never clear my mind of him. He is part of me, a part that occupies every corner of my brain. To forget about him would be to forget myself. No amount of meditation, medication, distraction or prayer is going to get him off my mind, not today, not ever.
Eighty-Two
Meditating isn’t for me. I remove the ear bud after about thirty minutes and lay it in her lap. She’s so far away in her mind she doesn’t even move, and I’m jealous. I wish I could separate myself from the world and forget for a while.
Mom scurries past me, patting my knee as she goes.
“Come on, I see Kayla coming down the hall.” Mom’s eagle eyes don’t miss a thing.
We meet Kayla halfway down the hall, and my heart drops when I see the grim look on her face. I grab ahold of my mother's hand and squeeze tight.
“What’s wrong?” Mom says before we are close enough to have a conversation. For once I’m glad for my mom’s overbearing bluntness.
Words form sentences in my mind, but my mouth refuses to speak them. Fear has taken hold of my senses, and I feel faint. Deep breaths, remember deep breaths, Imani. You need to know what she has to say, no matter what it is. My step falters, and mom pulls me closer to provide me with some stability.
Before she can utter a word, I know he’s not gone. I still feel his presence. It’s weak, but he’s here.
“I won’t sugarcoat this, things are more complicated than Doctor Carlson anticipated.”
“He’s OK, though, he’s going to be alright, right?” Mom says, interrupting.
“I believe so, Mrs. Jefferson, but it’s going to take longer than we thought. Doctor Carlson isn’t doing well, he hasn’t recovered from his injuries and he’s having a rough time of it.”
I don’t fucking care if he’s having a rough time of it. That bastard brought all of this on himself and now he’s paying for it. I’m surprised at my selfish attitude and lack of compassion for Brian.
Marcus has brought out parts of me I didn’t know existed. There are times when I don’t think I’ll ever know which way is up again. What I do know is the pull between us is too powerful to separate, my love for him is all encompassing and I will follow him anywhere, even into death.
“Do whatever it takes. You know what’s riding on the success of this surgery. Give Brian a stool and get on with it,” I snap and whirl around to return to the tiny torture chamber they call a waiting room.
My mother gasps at the frigid tone in my voice but I don’t care. The stress is beginning to break me. Mom has no idea the lengths that I will go to keep him alive. I feel like a woman possessed. I am Mafia wife Imani as Elijah referred to me earlier, and Mafia wife Imani is getting impatient and pissed.
I spot Elijah in the corner of the waiting room and plop down next to him with a grunt.
“Where have you been?” I haven’t seen him for a few hours, and he is the only person who provides me comfort. There is something about his physical presence that makes me feel better. Maybe it’s because he reminds me of Marcus.
These two men came into my life at the same time. I associate them with each other. They go together like salt and pepper, complimenting each other together but very different apart.
They both provide me with things I need. Marcus is my breath, my soul, my protector and my other half where Elijah is my friend, confidant, and support.
“I had to handle some things.” I have a feeling I know what he’s been handling and I don’t really want to know the particulars. I steer the conversation down a different path and give him the latest news about the surgery.
“It’s going to take longer than they thought. Kayla just informed us that Brian is getting weak.”
“And what did you say?”
“I told her to get him a place to sit and hurry up.” A proud smile spreads across his beautiful mouth, and he links his fingers with mine.
“I can’t believe you’re the same woman I met in Marcus’s hospital room six months ago.”
“Why? I’m not so different.”
He shakes his head and squeezes my hand. “Okay, Mafia wife, you keep telling yourself that.”
I guess he’s right, I have changed. I’ve grown a lot. I allowed a man to tear down the walls I diligently built around my heart and soul for ten years. He forced me to open up and showed me a love like no other. And he also taught me to trust a man, something that I swore I would never allow myself to do.
It’s shocking that so much has happened in such a short time. I stare at the blank white wall directly in front of me for a while. It’s late, I’m not tired physically, but my mind is exhausted from the day's ups and downs.
“Lean on my shoulder, Imani, close your eyes for a few minutes.” Elijah says, and I take him up on his offer. His shoulder is solid muscle, not comfortable at all, but I’m tired so I do my best to get comfortable.
“Imani, honey, wake up. It’s over.”
“Over? It’s over?” I mumble and blink away the sleep. My mom is shaking my shoulder gently, it feels like no time at all has passed but when I turn to see the clock it’s been ninety minutes.
Elijah stands and pulls me to my feet. Kayla approaches, obviously exhausted, but the strain that’s been on her face with update is gone. He’s ok, I know it. She doesn’t even have to tell me.
“When can I see him?”
“Everything went well. We had to…”
“Just tell me when I can see him, I need to see him,” I say again. I don’t want to know how it went right now; he’s alive, and that’s all that matters to me. I’m sure Kayla probably hates me, but she also knows what’s good for her.
She halts her recap of the surgery and cocks her head to the left toward where I imagine the post-op area is.
I turn to my hovering family. My mom is biting her lip to keep herself from asking questions that will delay me seeing Marcus.
“Go. Go to him, honey.” My dad shoos me away with his hands, and mom nods her approval. Elena smiles a tight, worried smile, and Elijah, well, he doesn’t need to say or do anything; he knows what I’m feeling.
I follow Kayla through frosted glass doors that slide open automatically. We walk down a short hall and into the small area where they stabilize patients after surgery.
I stop abruptly at the threshold of the room and cover my mouth with my hand. I know what patients look like after long, grueling surgeries, but this isn’t just any patient. This is my patient; the only one that matters to me now.
I didn’t prepare myself for this. All I’ve been able to think about for hours, days and months is how badly I needed him to live. Having my
eyes on him now is a mixture of relief and the realization that we still have a long way to go.
He looks so different; they shaved off all of his beautiful thick hair and his skin is sallow. He’s still beautiful to me, despite the bandages, tubes, drains, bruises, and swelling. He is still my Greek Adonis, strong and solid, exuding power and commanding attention. How does a man look so good and so bad at the same time?
I move to his side aware of nothing but the magnetism drawing us together. We’re suspended in time, and the knowledge that finally we have a starting point, we can pass GO and begin living our lives together, settles within me.
The lightness of the moment fades, however, when I remind myself that we aren’t home free just yet. The second hurdle will be seeing who wakes up. I don’t know what I’ll do if that cruel animal has been given a second chance instead of my husband.
There is no doubt in my mind there are two completely different people vying for his mind and body, but his soul is my Marcus’s alone. The other side of him has no soul, that in and of itself gives me hope. Surely my Marcus can win this war with his good kind soul in his armory, unlike the empty entity of his doppelganger.
I pinch the tender flesh on the inside of my arm to keep from crying. I focus on my self-inflicted pain instead of the devastating ache building in my chest.
I’m finished crying. I’m done fainting. No more weakness. What we need now is courage and strength to get us through his recovery.
I pull up a chair and take residence once again at his side, holding his hand. His nurse is expressionless, blank, and stiff and I wonder if every damn person in Italy hates or fears my husband.
I know he was merciless and vengeful, but there were acts of beneficence spattering his life of crime. First and foremost, there was Megan. He had nothing to gain from helping a homeless little girl in the gutter. That is proof that the man I love has always been hiding inside, waiting for his chance to be freed.
“Hey.” Enrique startles me when he pulls a chair up next to me.
“Oh, hey.”
“He did OK, Doctor Carlson got it all. Every last bit of that tumor is gone trust me. He’s really quite amazing. But I guess when your life is on the line you have no choice but to do your best work.”
