Page 118 of Capuleto

“Nothing is impossible, just look at the Virgin Mary.” My face must have been quite a sight. “Just kidding. When was the last time you had sexual intercourse? Can you answer that?”

“Just a few days ago.”

“Good thing you remember that,” she chided. “Then we’ll order a full blood workup and another test to rule out a possible pregnancy. Stay in the waiting room, we’ll notify you when we have the results.”

I was left standing there like a statue, the nurse had to prod me again to make me leave. The idea of my child growing in Nikita’s womb had disturbed me too much.

I knew it was impossible; she didn’t want kids, she was super cautious, but... what if a miracle had happened, as the nurse suggested? Where would that put us with a baby on the way?

If someone had given me that possibility a few days ago, I would have been jumping for joy.

How capricious time is, it can place us on the opposite side of the scale in the blink of an eye!

I paced back and forth, desperate. It was better not to even consider it when it was absurd. With how meticulous my still-wife was about everything, it was inconceivable that she could be pregnant. The idea of my first child growing in the enemy’s womb turned my stomach.

For my own sake, I hoped there wasn’t a life beyond her own in that body. If there was, I didn’t know what I would be capable of doing.

Demons were carrying me away. Every minute felt like an hour. The idea of a tiny heart beating inside her was overwhelming. I had even faltered and visualized her with a swollen belly and my lips tracing that now-rounded, taut abdomen.

I wanted to bang my head against the wall.

Dead! That was the only way I should imagine Nikita Koroleva.

I walked to the ICU to calm my nerves. Someone should invent a damn machine that could make time pass faster, or even erase certain people from your life, like the Korolevs.

I rested my hands against the glass shielding my friend. Aleksa was still improving, so the doctor didn’t rule out reducing his sedation and moving him to a regular room once he got a bit stronger. That man had risked his life so I could know the truth, and I couldn't falter no matter how many emotions I still felt for Nikita.

Eventually, it would pass, and only the hatred would remain, giving way to forgetting.

I stroked the cold glass and returned to the waiting room, convinced that the nurse only intended to drive me crazy. There was no possibility, however remote, that my baby was growing inside that impostor.

The only person inside her was my enemy, with a raging infection because I refused to administer even a drop of Betadine.

I spent more than an hour stuck in that chair, which could easily be used for torture. Who the hell designed them? They destroyed your back!

I waited for someone to tell me something; I needed to hear that my recklessness hadn’t ruined the entire plan.

I leaned back and stared at the white ceiling. I was never able to leave my mind blank. I doubted anyone could. They recommended it for meditation and stress relief, but what calmed my nerves was either fighting or having sex.

I thought about my cousin and how things ended the last time I was in Calabria. Each encounter was worse than the last.

Our animosity started when we were kids, sparked by a trip. One summer when I was six or seven, I don’t remember exactly, Uncle Giuliano took us on an outing to the countryside. He wanted us to explore the richness of the lands of Calabria, which he had inherited from his grandfather and where promising vineyards were anticipated.

I remember Salvatore and I spent our time picking wild blackberries. Back then, I didn’t know their laxative effect, at least on me, until I had an urgent need that almost made me soil myself.

There wasn’t a toilet in sight for miles, so when I told Uncle Giuliano I needed to go, he pointed to a spot under the third bush on the right and told me to grab a handful of smooth leaves that wouldn’t scratch my rear.

I saw some green, shiny ones that seemed perfect. When I got to the bush, there was no toilet, but I couldn’t hold it any longer.

I made my natural deposit with considerable caution, not wanting to dirty my pants. When I finished, I cleaned myself as best I could and returned to his side.

The next morning, I was taken to the emergency room. My mother brought me to the hospital because of a rash covering every part touched by the leaves, from the small of my back to my testicles, which looked like they had been lodged in a damn wasp nest.

My cousin Salvatore couldn’t stop laughing when we returned from the doctor. I could barely close my legs and looked ready for a Wild West duel. My mother, to my humiliation, casually mentioned that the problem was I had wiped my butt with nettles.

That anecdote was the starting gun. My cousin delighted in always coming out on top and seizing every opportunity to bring up the incident and ridicule me.

One day, in a fit of rage after an afternoon of mockery, I decided to go to the swamp near my uncle’s house, gather a good handful of leeches, and slip them into his underwear while he slept. With a note.

---