Page 10 of Rise
6
Antonio
I gritmy teeth and straighten my back, taking another few steps inside Vinny’s room. The air is heavy with the rhythmic puffing sound of his ventilator. The noise interrupts the overlapping beeps of more monitors than any one person should be attached to.They’ve also connected a mass of so many different colored wires to him, it’s hard to tell where any begins and where others end. The ventilator machine has a large blue hose connected to Vinny’s mouth by straps that cover half his face. Seeing my friend this way, his skull wrapped in bandages, his eyes never opening, his face pale, haggard and gaunt, his body wasting away in that dingy blue hospitalgown, fuck, it doesn’t get any easier with time.
I just want him to be better.
Back to normal.
But the doctors don’t think that’ll happen. They’re saying otherwise. They don’t see a happy ending for Vinny. All they keep repeating is that it’s out of their hands. That all they can do is keep him stable, push air and oxygen into his lungs and liquids through his IV, continueto monitor him, and have his nursing attendants turn his lifeless frame on the bed to avoid bedsores.
Vinny has to do the rest.
Vinny and prayers.
Because according to the head surgeon, it’s in God’s hands.
God’s hands.
It’s the bullshit line medical professionals give to their patients’ loved ones when modern medicine falls short and can’t put broken peopleback together again.
It’s the excuse they use when their hands are tied, and a patient is beyond saving.
God’s fucking hands.
He hasn’t given me any breaks in this lifetime, so I can’t imagine him stepping in to help Vinny now.
Maybe Nonna Romano’s prayers might reach the man upstairs.
And if not, Vinny needs to keep fighting.
“I… I’m sorry, Nonna Romano.I didn’t realize you’d be here,” I tell her, stammering through a muffled groan of a whisper.
I’m not at all surprised when I hear no reply from her as she stands beside Vinny’s hospital bed, leaning against one of the raised metal side guards, her head lowered. The two harsh fluorescent ceiling lights shining down from almost directly above her head, casting ominous shadows on her facethat make her seem darker, colder, more disappointed in me. The old lady can be so stoic. Stubborn too. Her command of English might be a bit weak, but she knows her way around body language. She’s a master. I notice her mouth moving but no words are coming out. I’ve seen her like this before more than a few times. She’s praying. The sight of her small, slightly crooked, wrinkled thumbs padding slowlyover each faded wooden bead of her rosary necklace confirms it. She has probably repeated a dozen ‘Hail Mary’s’ and a few ‘The Lord is my Shepherd’ prayers since she’s been at Vinny’s side today. No matter how badly she responds to me, I can’t be upset with the woman. I refuse to hold it against her. By putting in a good word to God, Jesus, Mary, or whoever the higher power might be, if there’sone at all, Nonna Romano is doing her part to help my closest friend. My only real friend.
“I can leave if you prefer,” I mumble, filling the awkward silence when I see her lips have stopped mouthing whatever prayers she was repeating.
“No,” she answers, her thick Italian accent stronger than ever from the extensive amount of time she spent in Italy this year. She carefully slipsthe rosary beads into the side pocket of her black leather purse tucked into her side under one armpit. “I go now.”
“You really don’t have to,” I offer, my voice low and uncertain, feeling awkward and unsure what to do with my hands all of a sudden. It’s exactly how I used to feel when I first started working for Romano. I stuck out like a sore thumb in his organization back then, eventhough he and his family did everything to make me feel more at home around them.
“It’s late. I go,” she barks, and turns toward me but doesn’t make eye contact. “You need to find her,” she adds, her voice flat as she takes a few steps away from Vinny’s hospital bed.
“I’m doing everything I can,” I answer pleadingly. But no matter how much I do, it hasn’t been enough. The lack ofresults proves that. Natalia’s still somewhere out there. But I want Nonna to believe me, to believeinme. I’ve always sought this family’s approval. Their validation means more to me now than ever. Hers and Romano’s. The boss hasn’t made contact with any of us since he left. And even though he left me in charge, Nonna Romano is still the unofficial head of this family. I need her to stand withme and trust that I will find her granddaughter.
“You need to do more,” she huffs. “How did this happen?”
“I don't know, Nonna R—” I start to reply but she lifts one hand and motions for me to stop talking.
“No!” she shouts. “I’m not that… not for you… no more Nonna. You call me what I am now. Mrs. Romano.” She lifts a cold, piercing stare to meet my gaze, a look that sendsa chill straight to my spine. “You work for thisfamiglia. Do your job. Understand?”
Her words hit me so hard in the chest that my gut clenches. But I don’t show it in my face. She has a point. She’s only saying the things that have been echoing through my thoughts night after night after night. The Romano family has treated me like family since the first day I met them. And all I’ve donesince the boss put me in charge is fail. I didn’t hit the ground running when I became the interim boss. I’ve fallen flat on my face. Natalia is gone and I’m barely holding the organization together. I don’t deserve to be a part of this family. I need to earn it with results, and so far, I haven’t.
I nod. “Yes, Mrs. Romano.”
“You’re the new boss. My son said that you are, so youare. And bosses need to know something. You need to give me answers, not excuses. We have to find Natalia, do you understand?”
“Yes, Mrs. Romano.”
