38. Salvatore
thirty-eight
Salvatore
Isabella came home one week after she woke up, and I was the coward that couldn’t face her. Gabriel and Cecilia went to the hospital and drove her home.
I stayed in the shadows, watching her from afar. Watching her cry in her sleep and calling for her baby. Our baby.
I’ve watched her cry so many times in the last few days. I just watched and blamed myself because I was a coward who hurt her. I told her hurtful things instead of being kind and good to her. I was led by my hate toward my father and the things he did.
She has been home for three days now, and I’ve stayed away.
I felt pain too. Maybe not in the same way. Nevertheless I was hurt, angry.
I felt pain for us and what we could have had.
I felt the pain of the things we lost and all because of my ignorance and stubbornness. Because of the promise I shouldn’t have given.
I never wanted to be a father, and I said bad things to her. But that’s the thing; when you lose something, you know the value of it.
Was it worth it?
Was my hatred for my father and the vow I gave him worth losing everything?
I lost something too that day. I lost myself again. I lost my future and everything I could have had.
That’s why I can’t face Isabella. This is all my fault.
That’s why I started to drink, with the hope of drowning my sorrows and guilt.
It doesn’t matter if I’m a CEO or the don of Cosa Nostra. It matters that I’m the coward towards the woman I love. The woman who lost my child. The child I didn’t want. A child that could have been my future.
I need time. Time to get my shit together.
I just hope when I do, it will not be too late.