Page 48 of Unforgivable Ties

I leaned in closer to see the small, delicate cuts he was making in the tissue. His technique was flawless, each incision precise and deft. The scalpel was an extension of his hand, a tool that made the gruesome act almost seem like an art form. I marveled at the level of focus he demonstrated, so deep in his zone that the world around us seemed to fall away.

He set the right lung on a tray behind him and continued his work.

“And some need to be flushed with preservation solution,” he said, taking out a kidney.

I watched him flush the organ, his movements swift and efficient. Then, he gently sat it down next to the lung on the tray.

Cesare narrated his process while I watched in silence. Once again, seeing something in real life was so much different from what was taught in school. The sheen and texture of organs, the slick and visceral feel of them, was something that couldn’t be captured in a video or written on paper.

Teaching couldn’t convey the iron scent of blood mixed with the preservation solution, nor the soft gurgle as the solution flushed through the various arteries and veins.

“I’ll finish up here,” Cesare said. “You can go home.”

“Are you sure you don’t need help? Normally I clean up.”

He waved me off. “I’m sure Vincenzo is waiting. It’s past one thirty am.”

Vincenzo.At least the night had distracted me from the heartbreak I was experiencing. But now, it was time to go home and try not to burst into tears when I looked at him.

“Alright.”

I wished him goodnight before walking out of the operating room. As I removed my gloves and scrubs, I longed for the ability to do the same to my heart.

After packing up my things, I walked into the hall. Suddenly, I was hit with an intense wave of nausea. It was as if all my emotions from the night had suppressed themselves, and were now bubbling to the surface.

Instead of taking a right and heading towards the front of the warehouse where Vincenzo would be waiting, I took a left and ran out the back door. I barely made it outside before vomiting on the concrete below me.

We failed. We didn’t save the man’s life, and afterwards used him as a training lesson, without taking a minute to remember his life. He was a man with a family, but we just cut him open like it was just another Saturday.

I was ashamed the medical profession I loved made me feel this way. Was this even the profession I loved anymore? Or had I strayed too far deep in with the mafia, treating lives like they didn’t matter?

When I finally was done, I took a deep breath and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

I was fine. This would be fine.

Vincenzo

My stomach twisted in anxiety. There were a lot of things I had done in the mafia; gotten into shootouts, played courier for substances that I didn’t even like to think about, even carried out the occasional ‘enforcement.’ But all of that paled in comparison to what I had to do today.

I had to see my family. Not only that, but I had to pretend Stephanie was my girlfriend while I was around them, selling a picture of domestic bliss that couldn’t be further from the truth.

We had flown from New York to Boston, deciding that it would just be better to get the trip done in a day. Now, we were picking up the rental car to drive to my mom’s house. The line for check in seemed to move at a glacial pace, most likely because of the holiday rush.

“Vincenzo Lordova,” I said, handing the worker my ID as we reached the counter.

She looked at the ID, her face pale beneath the fluorescent lights, her eyes weary from a long day’s work.

“Lordova?” Stephanie said from beside me, tilting her head. “I didn’t know that was your last name.”

“You’ve just been living with me for months without knowing my last name?” I said, amused.

“Well, that’s because—” she started, but stopped. “I’ll bring it up later.”

Stephanie huffed and crossed her arms, leaning against the counter. She was in her cute puffed up angry kitten mode, and I wanted to reach out and pet her head. She might actually bite me if I did, though.

It was a few moments of tapping away at her keyboard before she finally spoke to me. “Right, we have your Honda Odyssey ready here, sir.”

Honda Odyssey?I didn’t, and would never, drive a minivan. Sports cars were my preferred method of transportation.

---