Chapter One
Lorenzo
I sit at my wife’s side in a plastic chair, holding on to her hand. We’ve been like this for hours, but there’s been no response from her whatsoever. I let out a deep sigh; there is nothing else I can do with this hand of cards we’ve been dealt. This is our life now, and as much as I wish things were different, I know no amount of wishing or praying can save us.
I rub my thumb over her small hand again and again, hoping to get any kind of response. But there’s nothing. Not a twitch, not a jerk. Her tiny hand rests motionless in my large one.
Sylvia is a petite woman, and I have always towered over her. With me being an ex-Navy SEAL, she used to call me her lion. She always used to say I could protect her from anything.
And of course, I could have.
Except this.
I hang my head low as the depressing realization of something completely out of my control takes over. I hate myself for not being able to save her. I hate myself for letting her down. As her partner, I should be able to help her, to make her feel happy and safe once more, but she’s so far gone, nothing I do will bring her back to me the way she used to be.
I can’t protect her.
I can’t save her.
I can’t heal her pain.
I’m worthless to her. What good is being her husband, a retired man in uniform, if I can’t protect the one I love? It doesn’t make any sense. Me sitting here beside her, not able to do a damn thing to help this fucking situation, is pissing me off.
The nurses come in every so often to check her vitals, but there is no change in her condition. I hang my head down once they’re gone, and I pray in silence.
Yeah, prayers… like they have done me any good. It’s been months, yet nothing has changed.
Sylvia has been hanging on by a thread, fighting for her life. And of course, everything hit us at once: we got married three years ago after dating for five years, had a baby girl just four months ago, and now, for the past two months, she’s been in this damn hospital room fighting every single day for her life. She hasn’t even been able to enjoy motherhood. Lord knows she wanted a baby for as long as I can remember. And then, after just six months of trying, BAM! Two pink lines on a pregnancy test confirmed we were expecting our first bundle of joy. Little did we know Gianna would be our only child together.
Sylvia was the happiest preggo around. Her pregnancy went well, although it wasn’t a piece of cake. With complicated medical history on her side, we had a few scares, but bed rest and multiple doctor visits had helped get her through.
Anyway, fast forward to August sixteenth of this past year, and out came little Gianna Michelle Trevano. She was a healthy six-pound–five-ounce baby girl with her mother’s piercing blue eyes and cute button nose and my smile. I’d seen Sylvia in the happiest of times, but none of those moments compared to the radiating smile on her face the moment they placed Gianna into her arms. The picture we had taken of her at that moment is the wallpaper on my phone.
When October rolled along, Sylvia started complaining of headaches. She’d lie down for a few hours while I took care of Gianna. Well, sooner rather than later, hours turned to days and days turned to weeks, and that was when I brought her in to see a doctor. Her headaches were getting longer and occurring more frequently. Something was up; I just knew it.
I had no idea it would be this.
And now, in the middle of December, my beautiful Sylvia is barely hanging on. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. She used to wake up for minutes at a time, but when she did, she would scream and cry out in pain. She’s lost a vast amount of weight in such a short amount of time. Her once full golden locks are now limp strands of a washed out, faded yellow. Her voice hoarse, her cheeks barren… She’s dying, and I’m dying alongside her.
What kind of life is this without her? She was supposed to be my forever, my one true love, and now? Now she’s being ripped away from me, and I can’t take it.
To see her suffering like this breaks my heart. And to think, I have a baby girl at home who needs her. Gia needs her mother. I can’t raise my daughter on my own. I’m scared, and I don’t know how I’m going to do it. I’m thankful for my parents and siblings who are with Gianna while I’ve been here alone, wondering again if today is the day I have to say good-bye to my wife forever.
I snap my head up and look at the ceiling. As I shake my head, the rage inside me feels as though it wants to rip through these damn four walls. I’m tired of being here, tired of having to stay in this room, waiting for the worst. I want to take Sylvia home so we can be with our baby girl, so we can be a family again. I want her to be better, and I want our life back.
But it’s not coming back. Not after what the doctors are telling us. She’s hanging on by a thread, and it’s only a matter of time before she’s taken from me. We’re never going back to the way things should be, and she’s never coming back to me. She’s never going to open her eyes and look at me with her warm, caring smile ever again.
A tear falls from my eye as realization kicks in. I’m not ready to let her go. I don’t want to.
I’m twenty-eight years old. How can it be possible that I’m about to lose her? We had our whole lives planned. We were supposed to grow old together. This… This fucking nightmare was never in the plans we had set out for one another.
More tears cascade down my cheeks. This is a damn horror movie, not my life. I hang my head and grab it on both sides.
“You hanging in there, sugar?”
I snap my head up, wiping my cheek, at the sound of one of the night nurses coming into the room. Cynthia, a sixty-five-year-old widow and mother of three, is our regular nurse on Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays, and Sundays. Originally from the South, she moved up to New Jersey when her husband passed a few years ago.
“Hi, Cynthia,” I respond, running a hand through my thick, dark hair. “How’s she doing?”
Cynthia checks my wife’s pulse, then takes her temperature. She frowns. “No change. You getting any sleep?”
“Sure.” I lie, and she knows it.
She throws me a look confirming she’s aware I’m fibbing, and I shrug. “How can I sleep?”
Cynthia nods. “Listen, baby. I know what you’re going through better than anyone else, but you need to take care of yourself and be there for little Gia. We’re here for Sylvia… You know she’s in good hands.”
I nod in return. “I know… It’s just difficult.”
She writes something on Sylvia’s chart and turns to face me once more. “Oh, I know it is, sugar. But you can’t let this beat you down. Sylvia needs you to keep your promise.”
“Promise?” I question with furrowed brows.
Cynthia folds her arms across her chest. “Well, of course, baby. The moment she got pregnant with your daughter, you both made a promise to one another that you’d be there and step up should something happen to one of you. It’s your turn to step up and make sure you’re putting your baby girl first.”
“I’m trying, but I don’t want to leave my wife’s side… especially not now.”
“I know that, sugar. I’m not saying to leave right now. I know how crucial her condition is at this moment. But when you can sneak in some shut eye, you’ve got to try to. And that’s the first step of how you can be there for Gianna.” She throws me another knowing look.