DeLuca (Mafia Romance)

Age 20

6 years earlier…

I’d messed up. I acted like an immature idiot. I was trying to make things easier for both of us by just brushing it off, acting like it was no big deal, but it just blew up in my face. For weeks, I replayed the look on his face when I’d told him it was ‘just sex,’ and the way his expression went from confused to completely blank in the blink of an eye. As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I realized it was the wrong thing to say, but it was too late to take it back.

The way he looked at me-I couldn’t get it out of my head-like I was something stuck to the bottom of his boot. Then him explaining how he and Eddie had negotiated over me like I was a toy that they couldn’t agree to share, so they put it where neither of them could have it. I hadn’t realized how easy it was for the person you loved to make you feel worthless.

It was as if the butterflies, that I felt every time I heard his voice or read one of his letters, had turned to lead, sinking into a tight ball in the pit of my stomach. I’d pushed him out of my life in a fit of anger and embarrassment and he’d heeded my words, completely disengaging. I’d tried to call, sent texts, emailed, and nothing. Every attempt I made to contact him went unanswered.

I was still pissed that he’d treated me the way he had, but as angry as I’d been when he left, I knew that I couldn’t stay mad forever. We’d been through so much together, and I couldn’t imagine any version of my reality where he wasn’t a part of my life. I decided to give him time to sort through everything that had happened between us. God knew I needed it. Eventually we would get over the awkwardness and get back to the way things had always been.

“Nothing will ever be the same again,” I whispered into the silence. I was sitting on the edge of the tub staring at a little plastic stick that had the power to change everything.

When I was late, I told myself over and over that I was smart and things like this just didn’t happen to smart girls; there had to be a mistake. I never forgot to take my pill-ever. This kind of thing only happened to girls who were careless and flakey, not girls like me. I wasn’t even twenty-one yet, I didn’t know how to be a mom, I didn’t even feel like an adult yet.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

I allowed myself to wallow in self-pity and denial for an hour before I picked up my phone and tried calling him for the hundredth time since he’d left my apartment three weeks ago. I mentally willed him to answer, hoping somehow he would know that I needed him and decide to pick up. It didn’t work. As a last resort, I dialed the number I’d memorized when I was eight, my hand shaking as I listened to it ring out. Finally, the line picked up and a familiar voice greeted me.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Frankie,” I said, my voice shaky.

“Oh, sweetheart, is everything okay?” Marcella asked, worry in her tone. Must’ve been mother’s intuition or something, but I wasn’t about to pour my heart out to his mother before I even had a chance to talk to him about my situation.

Our situation.

I had to remind myself that I wasn’t alone. Just because I couldn’t get a hold of Enzo didn’t mean he would let me go through this by myself once he knew.

“I’m fine,” I lied. “I just can’t get a hold of Enzo and I was hoping…” I trailed off, not knowing what I had been hoping for.

“Oh, I, umm. He didn’t tell you?”

The ball of lead in my stomach grew heavier. “Tell me what?”

I heard her take a deep breath before she spoke. “He left last week. He’s in the Middle East somewhere, not sure where but you know he can’t tell us that sort of thing. Security and all that,” she rambled.

The tears I’d been holding back broke through and a sob escaped my lips before I had a chance to muffle it. He’d left. He didn’t even say goodbye. He just left-again.

“Frankie? Honey, are you okay?” Marcella asked again, her voice strained with concern.

I cleared my throat and sniffed, wiping my eyes with the sleeve of my sweatshirt as if having a tear free face would make me sound more convincing when the next lie came tumbling through my lips.

“Yeah, sorry. We’ve been missing each other’s calls. I’m sure he left a message telling me how to contact him. I’ve just been too busy to check them. It’s no big deal.”

“Well, if you’re sure.”

“I am. Thanks for letting me know,” I said quickly.

“Are you sure- ”

“Really, I’m fine. I promise. Listen, I’ve got class in twenty minutes, and I have to go.”

“All right, love you,” she said softly.

“Love you too, bye,” I said hurriedly and disconnected before she had a chance to say anything else. I quickly turned off my phone. Marcella was surely already dialing my mom’s number, and she’d be calling to check on me in a matter of minutes. I couldn’t deal with lying to her right now-I’d fall apart.

It took me four weeks to pluck up the courage to make a doctor’s appointment. It was just a technicality really. I knew I was pregnant, but just the thought of another person knowing before Enzo did made me feel physically sick. Or maybe that was morning sickness, I couldn’t tell.

The paper on the exam table crinkled under my thighs as I uncomfortably shifted, trying to get comfortable while I waited for the doctor. I was surprised when the nurse asked me to take my clothes off and put on a gown. I’d thought they would just have me pee in a cup or take some blood and that would be that. I wasn’t expecting an exam. My heart thundered in my chest as I looked around the room. There was a 3D model of a baby inside the womb and several posters that depicted the progression of pregnancy. My head started to spin with thoughts of how the fuck something that big was going to come out of me.

My panic was interrupted by a quick knock on the door. It opened and a middle-aged woman, with blonde hair tied into a tight bun at the base of her neck, walked in. She smiled as she came to sit on the stool in front of the computer.

“Hello, Francesca. My name is Dr. Decker.”

“Frankie. Please, call me Frankie,” I said, my voice wobbly with nerves.

“Okay. So Frankie, according to the urine test, you are, in fact, pregnant,” she said simply, as if she hadn’t just confirmed the end of my life as I knew it. I stared at my hands in my lap, unable to meet her eye.

“From your reaction,” she continued, “I assume it wasn’t planned?”

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head.

“I see. Have you thought about your options?” she asked gently.

My head snapped up. “No,” I said again, my voice stronger this time.

“I’m sorry?”

“There aren’t options. Not for me.”

Her brow furrowed. “Frankie, honey, only you can make this decision. I’m just here to make sure you have all the information you need to make it, okay?”

I gave her a tight-lipped smile. “I know. Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not like that. I’m having it, the b-baby that is.”

She smiled kindly. “All right, so why don’t we get a picture of your baby?”

“Picture? You can do that? Already, I mean?”

She laughed. “Yes. Why don’t you lie back and put your feet in these,” she said, pulling up the stirrups from the end of the table. She must have seen the confused look on my face because she continued. “At this stage the only way to get a picture is with an internal sonogram.”

“A what?” I asked, still not understanding.

“We insert this wand,” she said, holding up something that looked more like a dildo than a medical instrument. “And the head here is placed up against your cervix. That’s the only way to get a clear picture when the fetus is this small.”

That sounded like torture, but I really wanted to see what it looked like so I just nodded and laid back as she rolled what looked like a condom over the wand. I decided it was best if I didn’t watch what she was doing and instead tried to make out shapes in the tiled ceiling while she worked.

“So, where’s the father, if you don’t mind me asking.” I didn’t like the way she made it sound like she already knew the answer before I spoke, like she’d already come to some foregone conclusion about my situation just because I was young. Not that it wouldn’t have been right; but still, it rubbed me the wrong way.

“My husband is overseas, private security,” I said without thinking. It was true anyways. She didn’t know that I hadn’t actually spoken to him since the conception of this little tadpole.

“Oh,” she said surprised.

Neither of us said anything else for a long while as she got everything prepped and calibrated the machine. My face burned with embarrassment and discomfort as she positioned the wand.

So not the doctor visit I was expecting.

“There we go,” she said as a whooshing sound echoed from the machine.

“That’s the heartbeat and you can see the baby right there,” she explained, pointing to a blob on the screen. “Looks like you’re measuring at right about seven weeks which puts your due date at January fourth.”

A stubborn tear leaked out of my eye as I listened to the galloping beat and stared at what was apparently my baby.

My baby.

Fuck, I was going to be a mother. Enzo was going to be a father. My stomach tightened at the thought. He was on the other side of the world doing God knows what, and he had no idea. I’d tell him, of course-just as soon as he returned one of my calls.

“Here, I’ll print out some pictures for you to take home,” she said, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Thank you,” I whispered and tried to discreetly wipe my eyes.

I left the doctor’s office with four black and white blotchy pictures of my baby and the first smile I’d felt in weeks pulling at my lips. It was short lived because as I drove home the thought that he might think I got pregnant on purpose to trap him had me spinning into a full-blown panic. It had never occurred to me that he might not be happy about the situation. For some reason, my fear had overshadowed any thoughts of his reaction. The more I thought about it, the more I worried about his reaction.

What if he thought he had to make right by me? We’re already married, what if he wanted to be with me? Would it only be for the baby?

The idea that he would choose to be with me just because I was pregnant had bile rising in my throat. I didn’t want to trap him, and no matter what he said, I would always wonder if that was the real reason. No, we couldn’t be together. As much as I wanted it, I couldn’t bear the thought that he’d come to resent me. We could just be friends, like before.

Friends could raise a baby together without hating each other, right?

“I’m sorry,” the doctor said, her eyes soft and full of sympathy.

I felt my heart crack in two, I actually felt it. All the air left my lungs and my vision blurred with tears.

No, this can’t be happening. I did everything right.

“How?” I asked, my voice hoarse with emotion.

“I wish I could tell you. Sometimes the pregnancy just isn’t viable and your body rejects the embryo. It’s nothing you did, sometimes it just happens.”

“Are you sure?” I could hear the desperation in my own voice. Maybe it was a mistake. If she would just check again, she’d see that she was wrong the first time.

“I’m sure. There isn’t a heartbeat. I’m so sorry, Frankie.”

I shut my eyes and turned away from her pitying expression. I didn’t want or need her pity. It had only been two weeks since I’d laid on this same table and she’d printed off pictures of my baby. They had been tears of joy then. Now all I felt was sorrow, deep in my bones. I wanted to die. It was my fault. My body had rejected my baby. I couldn’t even begin to process that.

Enzo.

I hadn’t even gotten a chance to tell Enzo yet, and now the baby was gone. I’d started to get used to the idea of being a mother just to have it ripped away from me without any reasonable explanation. It wasn’t fair, none of this was fair.

“Do you want me to call someone? There are some things we need to go over before you leave, but you probably shouldn’t be alone right now,” the doctor said, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“No, I’m fine,” I croaked.

“Are you sure? A friend, maybe?”

“There isn’t anyone. It’s fine. Just tell me what I need to do.”

She sent me home with a prescription, except this time it wasn’t for prenatal vitamins. I was supposed to take a pill that would help ‘move things along’ since it could take weeks for my body to naturally dissolve the pregnancy. She said it would be a good idea to have someone with me when I took it since the drug could cause severe cramping and it would be an ’emotional experience.’ She’d actually said that, like I wasn’t already having an ’emotional experience.’

Even the pharmacist gave me a sympathetic smile when I filled my prescription. It was as if I couldn’t escape it. The doctor had been unnervingly detached. The fact that she didn’t call it a baby anymore didn’t escape my notice. She kept using words like embryo and referring to it as ‘the pregnancy.’ It made me want to scream.

When I got home, I put on a pair of pajama pants and the sweatshirt Enzo gave me when I was fourteen, needing the comfort of it. I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and sat on the couch staring at the little pill in my hand. Taking it would mean that it was real. I stifled a sob, willing myself to keep it together for just a little bit longer. I took a deep breath and popped the pill into my mouth, chugging half the bottle of water to wash it down.

Then, I cried. I curled up on the couch and let everything wash over me. It was real. My baby was gone, and the only person in the world I wanted with me wasn’t even returning my calls.