Catalina’s POV
Catalina’s POV
I heard annoying beeping sounds, and felt a coolness that I knew was not from home. My hands moved lightly, feeling a rough, thick blanket. I could feel pain like scratches on my hands and arms. There was a dull ache in my stomach, and my body felt heavy.
The baby.
I could feel tears forming in my closed eyes, when I heard his voice. My husband.
“Catalina?”
I was trying to stay still.
“Baby? I know you’re awake.”
My eyes fluttered open as a tear slid down the side of my face. The bright light hit hard, making me move my hand to my eyes, closing them again. I could hear his breath and it irritated me. I don’t know why he was here.
I remembered back to the dinner party, the slap to my face, the slap to that bitches face, then me destroying the room.
I had been drinking. I should have known better, but I hadn’t cared.
I had been selfish, angry, and destructive.
The one person who I thought cared, destroyed what we had.
Or what I thought we had. My parents had been right.
Unfortunately. No one to rely on, but yourself.
My voice came out scratchy and raw. “Why are you here?”
“Baby, do you remember what happened?”
I snorted, keeping my eyes closed, hand in place. “Of course I remember. You brought your fucking whore to a dinner you told me not to come to and disrespected me.” He took in a breath. “Then your precious whore put her fucking hands on me and you sat there with your head up your ass, coglione.”
I could feel the tension in the room, but I no longer had any fucks to give.
“Again, Carlo, why are you here?”
He was quiet for a few minutes, I’m sure trying to reel in his anger.
“You scraped up your hands and arms pretty bad. When I found you, you were unconscious in a pool of blood.”
A pool of blood.
The baby.
My hand automatically went to my stomach without thinking.
I heard his breath catch again.
A light knock interrupted us.
Then a voice.
“Mrs. Garcia?”
“Yes?”
“I’m Dr. Gerard.”
I finally moved my hand away from my eyes and opened them to make eye contact with the doctor. Just because my ass of a husband was in the room didn’t mean I couldn’t be respectful to the doctor.
“Hello doctor.”
He came and stood next to the hospital bed, hands crossed over in front of him. He looked serious, but had a gentle tone.
“How are you feeling?”
I shrugged. “Fine, I guess. Under the circumstances.”
I could just make out my husband’s posture out of the corner of my eye and he was standing rigid.
“You have some nasty cuts on your arms and hands, but nothing that won’t heal. You may end up with some scarring though.”
I just nodded.
“Also,” he paused, shuffled for a moment, then continued, “you had a miscarriage.”
My hand was still on my stomach, but I could feel myself grow cold all over. I just nodded again.
“We will plan to do the D&C later, but want you to get as much rest as you can. If there is anything else you need, just let me or the nurses know.”
I numbly nodded again. The doctor had a kind face, but it was doing little to relieve my grief. I knew I had done this to myself, but I also blamed my husband for this. I would never have acted out like I had if he hadn’t done what he did.
He nodded, gave me a small smile, and left the room. The room that now was engulfed in silence, with the exception of that damned annoying beeping sound.
My husband moved towards the bed, and I turned my head away, looking at the wall.
“Catalina, baby, why didn’t you tell me about the baby?”
In a flat tone I replied back. “Like it would have made a difference?”
Silence. No, I didn’t think so.
His voice was soft. “We can try again, mi alma.”
Without meaning to, I broke out into hysterical laughter. I almost couldn’t stop, until I was crying.
With my face still tilted away from him, because I couldn’t bear to look at him, right now, or maybe ever again, I retorted, “I would never have another baby for you, coglione. And don’t you dare ever give me a nickname like that, you lying prick.”
His voice was still quiet, but hardened. “I fucked up, Catalina. I know that now. I only meant to show you that you don’t have power over me. But I was fucking wrong. You have so much fucking power over me. And we will try for a baby again.”
“If you want a baby so badly, knock up your whore. I’m sure she would be honored to do it.”
“I will not allow Emily near you or me ever again. I didn’t think she would be so stupid as to hurt you like that.”
You gave her that power, Carlo, so don’t act so wronged.”
His voice rose in frustration. “Dammit, baby, I know. I didn’t think it would get to this. I will make it up to you.”
Without looking at him, I continued, “And how do you think you can do that?”
The way I said it, I made sure he realized there was no answer to that question.
“Please Catalina. I love you.”
I felt like some had sucked all the air out of the room. Then I felt like I almost choked, like I forgot how to breathe. Then hysterical laughter again. I was on such an emotional rollercoaster right now, I didn’t care what came out.
“You love me. You love me?” Now I turned to him, tears streaming down my face.
I felt my chest clench as I saw how devastated he looked.
But, it was a little too late. “Is that how you show someone you love them? By fucking a goddamned whore, one of the biggest whores in the Spanish world? Then allowing her to take my place at a dinner in front of important people? Then sit there on your ass while she verbally and physically assaults me?” My voice had risen until I was practically yelling at him.
“I don’t want your love, Carlo. But since I’m stuck in this fucked up marriage, I will keep to my business and you will keep to yours.
Understood?” I was staring at him, wildly, ready to jump up off this damned hospital bed and punch him.
I could see he wanted to argue, but thought better of it. He stared at me for a few minutes while I continued to stare at him, challenging him to fight back, my breath coming in heavy pants. He lowered his head, then turned to leave.
As he got to the door, hand on the door handle, he stopped.
In a soft tone he said, “I do love you, Catalina. More than you will ever understand.”
Then he quietly left me to my grief.