12. Stefano
NINE YEARS AGO
Merelda, my little girl, my sweet angel, is lying in a hospital bed dying. My wife, her mother, Danica, is nowhere to be found. For days at a time, I don't leave the hospital because I'm terrified of losing even one moment with her.
Danica is out having lunch with her friends somewhere. She doesn't give a shit about her daughter or about me. She never has. And quite honestly, I have never given a shit about her.
I filed for divorce a few weeks ago and as soon as that bitch signs it I will be free of her and the negative impact she has on my life and the life of her daughter.
It was an arranged marriage and all I wanted from it was an heir. A child.
But now my child is dying.
Merelda is my entire world. She is everything to me and I would move the stars and planets for her if I could.
I sit next to the hospital bed filled with anxious dread. My leg bounces with agitation as I wait. The doctor should be here any moment with an update for me, but I can see that Merelda is not doing well. Her face is sunken, and the dark shadows beneath her eyes are a tell-tale sign that she is slowly fading away from me.
We've tested everyone in my family for the possibility of a liver transplant, but no one has been a viable candidate for a donor, even my older sister, Lisa. She doesn't live in the city, but she got tested and would've flown in if she was an option. But she isn't.
It breaks me.
It tears me down in ways I never expected were possible.
I am not a weak man.
In fact, I've been called stone-cold, ruthless, heartless, and dangerous - but with Merelda everything is different. She broke away the walls of my heart and turned me into something else - just for her.
I take a deep breath and lean away from the bed, running my hands through my hair and shutting my eyes tightly to stop the tears that are stinging and threatening to fall.
Someone clears their throat next to me.
I turn towards the sound and see the doctor standing there with a solemn look on his face. His mouth is tight, and his jaw is set.
"Mr. Amalfi, I'm sorry, we've run out of time."
"But she's on the donor list; isn't someone there viable?"
I refuse to give up. I will never give up. As long as she is breathing, I will be fighting for her.
"There's a long list of people, suffering just like your daughter. The chances of finding a match at this point are really low and I just need you to understand that at this point there is nothing more that we can do other than to make her comfortable."
"Comfortable?" I stand up abruptly, the panic and fear I feel is taking over and I can't seem to control it. "Does she look comfortable to you? Her heart is failing, her liver failed ages ago and her body is being poisoned by bile. She isn't comfortable - she's dying."
I break down -- aching sobs crashing through my chest, suffocating my lungs, tearing me apart.
My little girl is going to die and there is absolutely nothing that I can do about it.
"I - um - I'll give you a moment." The doctor says gently and then hurries out of the room. They know who I am. They know I'm dangerous. They know that right now I am very unstable and looking for someone to take this anger out on.
But I have no one to blame -- no one to point fingers at for not fixing this.
The universe chose to do this to my baby and the universe chose not to save her.
I sit for hours, listening to the rhythmic beeping of her heartbeat in that high-pitched drone of the hospital machine. Even her heart is weak and struggling at this point.
The longer I sit the more numb I feel.
Hopeless and empty and numb. I prefer feeling numb to feeling the pain of losing her.
My most beautiful thing in the entire world. My heart and soul.
The only person who ever gave me an understanding of what love is. And now she is going to be ripped from my life in a cruel twist of fate and pain.
I've watched her suffer for years, and especially the last few months and then weeks have been the most brutal.
And all the while her mother partied and shopped and paid little to no attention to her dying daughter.
"Hey, Stef," Matteo says, walking into the private hospital room where Merelda is resting.
"Hi," I say with empty emotion.
"How's she doing today?"
"It's not good. No one is a match, and the doctor tells me…" my throat closes. I take a breath. "The doctor tells me that the chances of finding someone on the donor list are low."
"He said that?"
"He said we should prepare for the worst at this point. She's run out of time."
Tears fall silently down my throat, and I wipe them away quickly.
"Ah, man, I am so sorry. Fuck that breaks my heart. I wish I was a match. I would help you in a heartbeat."
"I know man. I know that if there was anything you could do you would do it." I mumble morbidly.
"Anything man. If there was anything. I would." He sighs and pulls the other chair towards the bed, sitting down and taking her hand on the other side of me.
I watch him smile at her with warmth and love and I find myself wishing again that this was some nightmare that I could just wake up from. A bad dream. Not real. One of those dreams that haunt you for weeks after they happen because they were so emotional - and every time you remember it you are filled with relief because it didn't actually happen.
I wish.
"How long does she have?" Matteo asks quietly as Merelda stirs and mutters something in her sleep. Even in sleep, she seems to be in pain now.
"A few days maybe. A week at most."
He nods.
Then he looks up at me.
"I can sit with her for a while if you want to go grab something to eat downstairs?"
"No - thanks man - but I'm not leaving."
"OK, then I'll bring you a coffee. Two sugars?"
I nod. I don't even care about coffee or food, but I want to be alone with her, so I nod. "Yes, two sugars please."
He stands up, his body language looking as though he is as relaxed as ever. I guess I can't expect everyone to look or feel as burdened as I am. It's not his daughter. And he is here trying to support me.
He comes around to my side of the bed and squeezes my shoulder. "I really wish there was something I could do. I would do anything for her."
I nod again, my throat tight with emotion.
Matteo leaves and I sit with my daughter's small hand in mine.
Her skin is warm and soft, slightly yellowed from the disease.
Alagille Syndrome. A failure of the liver. A genetic disease that she got from either her mother or her father. I haven't been able to face testing myself for the markers because I can't live with myself if I am the one who passed this down to her.
I've tested as a possible donor and all the doctor told me was that I am not a match.
He knows I don't want to know if I gave her this pain. He knows not to tell me anything.
"I'm so sorry my baby, my sweet angel. I am so sorry you had to go through all of this. Whatever happens from now - I just want you to forget this pain and find peace. Whatever that means for you."
I can't speak anymore because again I am drowning in emotion.
Two days later my beautiful little girl left this world behind. Her heart gave up on her and her tiny body was not strong enough to keep fighting.
Her mother? I have no idea where her mother was when it happened, but she signed the divorce papers and I never have to think about her again.
On the day of her funeral, it is pouring rain. Heavy, streaming sheets of it that are falling from the sky as though the heavens were crying for her little soul.
I stand beneath the black umbrella, not even caring or noticing who is around me because I can't pull my eyes off that tiny coffin that they are lowering into the ground.
It's covered in roses, roses that will be buried with her.
Roses that will warp and decay the same way her skin is going to.
The same way her body is going to fall apart, alone in the earth.
Soon the crowds move away and while the rain keeps falling from the dark sky above me, I stand alone at the side of her grave. I can't seem to move my feet. I can't seem to walk away. My body doesn't belong to me right now and I have no control over it.
Hours go by. I don't have a grasp of time.
Why didn't I fight harder for her?
Why didn't I do more?
Was there anything else I could have done?
Could I have saved her life?
I feel crushed and defeated. I feel as though life is not worth living anymore.
I have a choice at this moment.
I can crumble. I can fall to my knees and break apart with her.
I can let my mind rot and my body decay.
Or I can turn off every emotion. I can go fully numb. Properly and entirely numb.
I choose to keep standing, but I make a vow to myself.
I will never let myself love anyone again. Not ever. Not in this life and not in the next. Not if love leads to pain like this.
I roll the stem of the rose I am holding between my fingers, feeling the thorns bite into my skin. I roll harder and feel the pierce of pain.
When I look down at my hand, thin trails of blood are running off my fingers and dripping, mixed with the rain, down into the soil.
I lift my arm, holding the rose over her grave. Then I let it go and watched it fall in slow motion onto her casket.
I have no words to say. No more promises to make. It's too late for that. She's gone and I will never hear her musical laugh or see her beautiful, gentle smile again.
My heart turns to stone as the rain beats against the rose petals.
The sky above me grows darker and colder.
When the clouds drift away in the wind and the stars begin to shine in the clear night sky, I finally find that I can move my feet.
It takes everything to turn away from her grave, and it takes even more to walk towards the car.
With each step I take I close off that little bit more.
I won't make that mistake again.
I won't fall in love.
I won't open my heart.
I won't let myself feel this broken.