by Mario Lopez
Mazza just smiled at me and looked down. She was too talented not to stay busy with work and I knew she was going to be just fine without me. She’d probably forget about me in a week or so.
• • •
Work consumed me when I went back to LA and for the first few weeks my life picked up its pace and everything rushed forward as usual. Except, no, something was missing. I missed Mazza. This can’t be, I thought. We would talk on the phone and keep in touch, but we never discussed or intimated wanting anything more from each other. Neither of us mentioned flying to see the other. Yet I wanted to see her face, not just hear her voice. But I had every intention of adhering to my rule: no long-distance relationships.
Skype saved this relationship because, when we were video chatting, it was almost like we were together in the same room. It was great to be able to look into her eyes from so far away. She began to admit that she was missing me a lot too, and so the longing for each other began. I didn’t want to miss her because I knew succumbing to the romantic melancholy of being in love with someone far away was impractical. She lived in New York. I lived in LA. You can’t get much farther apart in the States. She might as well have lived in Outer Mongolia. Even if she lived just a state away, it would have been complicated.
Our Skype video chats weren’t enough after a while, however. Before long I couldn’t handle wanting to be with her in person. So I finally asked, “Hey, why don’t you come out and visit me on your day off? I’ll get you a ticket. Come on. I know it’s a quick turnaround, but I miss you. It’d be great to see you.”
Yes, it was extremely romantic and passionate and wonderful and exciting and didn’t make any sense at all. On paper it was stupid, but in our hearts it was perfection. She flew all the way out and was literally here for twenty-four hours, not even two nights.
Rinse and repeat. We became hooked on each other and it got to the point where she was coming to visit me almost every other week. Something magical does happen when you only have so much time to be together. Making the most of every minute, we were in my bed when I first told her I loved her. It felt really right, even though the logistics were so wrong. Love may not conquer all, but when a man falls in love, he’s conquered. Seeing each other in person once every week or so didn’t make up for how much I continued to miss her the rest of the time.
And then it happened. Mazza came to a crossroads with the show she was in. It wasn’t as gratifying as she had hoped, for various reasons, and she was unhappy. She was going to quit.
“Why do you want to quit?” I asked. “Working actresses should keep working. You’re still on Broadway—starring on Broadway. It’s awesome! Why would you want to quit?” That was the input I would have given to myself or anyone I loved.
“I just need a break.” Her plan was to leave the show at the beginning of the summer and take the summer off.
My wheels began spinning with possible scenarios. It wasn’t as if we could go on and on with this flying back and forth once every other week. It was taxing and not fair to either of us. Damn. I had promised myself I wouldn’t be foolish enough to get into a long-distance relationship, and somehow I found myself smack in the middle of one. I asked Mazza, “Well, if you’re going to take a break, can I convince you to come take a break and spend time here in LA? Let me take care of your apartment expenses back in New York for three months so you don’t have to worry about it. You’ll come out here and we’ll spend the summer together. By the end of the summer, we’ll know if, you know, this is really serious. You may not be able to stand me after a week! And no harm, no foul—your apartment’s already taken care of and you’re going to take a break anyway, so you’re not missing out on anything.”
There was a brief silence on the other end of the phone. But finally she agreed to take me up on the offer to come out and give us a try.
Looking back on that summer, I remember that everything flowed like a dance, as if we were moving in sync to a rhythm that filled our days with laughter and the little things of life that make it sweet. I remember her picking up on my quirks and starting to tease me.
“What are you doing?” She laughed at the movies when I opened my pack of Twizzlers and put it under my nose. So I like to smell everything before I eat it. So what?
I’ve done that since I was a kid. She thought it was hilarious and mocked me for it from then on. But that to me was a sign. Those are the little quirks that only someone who really gets you happens to notice. That is the stuff of love.
One of the best times of that summer was introducing her to my parents. Everybody loved her! Of course, I introduced her as Courtney, but before long my family started calling her Mazza too.
In my life, I had made some of my biggest mistakes by not following my instincts. This time I needed to listen. You know how sometimes when you’re in a relationship there is some getting used to each other and it feels a little awkward at first and there are adjustments and all that? There was none of that in this relationship. It felt like we had been going out for years. It was so comfortable from day one, from the beginning. Being with her felt so natural, so right. The summer flew by and at the end of the three months I said, “I don’t want you to go.”
And Mazza said, “Well, I don’t really want to go either.”
And I said, “I can’t go to New York. Can you stay here?”
She looked up at me, softly smiled—the kind of smile where you don’t show your teeth—and said, “Yeah, I’ll stay here with you, Mario. Why not?”
She had to give up her apartment in New York, and for anyone who’s ever lived in that city, you know that giving up a coveted apartment is a scary prospect because finding a new one is beyond difficult. I alleviated her worries by saying, “If for some reason things don’t work out, I’ll find you another apartment and I’ll take care of it and get you started again.”
I also did not want her to give up her career for me or move to LA for me—this had to be her decision entirely. I had to be one hundred percent certain that this was what she wanted. I wanted her to be at a point where she was ready to make a change, to take the risk, but I didn’t want to feel like I was coercing her into it. I wanted her to be at peace with walking away from her life in New York City and not regretfully thinking, “Why did I come? I shouldn’t have given up my Broadway career. There’s still stuff I long to do professionally.”
I’m a performer and I know that everyone in my field has a list of things or benchmarks they want to achieve before they get out of the business. I couldn’t live with the idea of convincing her to walk away from all that if she wasn’t one hundred percent in. And I would feel guilty if she regretted her choice.
It just so happened that the timing was perfect for her to make the transition and for us to spend some quality time together in California. She had worked consistently and gone from show to show to show over many years. She had lived her dream of being a successful singer, dancer, and actress on Broadway. She had nice runs on big shows and was certainly accomplished in her profession. She didn’t have a “Been there, done that” attitude, but I think she was comfortable with the idea of some downtime and was happy to spend time on growing our relationship.
The timing was right for both of us. Again, it’s not always just about finding a great person with whom you can connect on a spiritual, sexual, and emotional level; it’s about the great person coming into your life at just the right time. It did seem that the planets had aligned at the right time for Courtney Mazza and me. She stayed true to the plan and chose not to get an agent and start working out here. She could have easily pursued jobs in film and TV and landed roles, although she was looking forward to growth as a person in other ways. I thought maybe she would get antsy after a few months, but she didn’t and we merged our lives seamlessly.
I wasn’t scared, nor did I have any apprehensions about committing to Mazza. The only aftershock of what happened wit
h my first marriage was that I was reluctant to get married too quickly. My thought was that I didn’t need to get married to be happy. While that was in conflict with my Catholic beliefs, I believed that I personally could be happy with someone and even have a family without having a matrimonial contract. After all, doesn’t commitment happen in the heart more than it does by signing on the dotted line?
Whether I could argue these points well or not, I knew that I wouldn’t be getting married right away; I wanted to fully and soberly explore our new relationship. I just thought we could be happy together. She could be my companion, my partner; I could be hers. That was the plan and her decision to take me up on my offer to stay in Los Angeles worked out like a fairy tale. The relationship kept growing and our bond tightened as the days and weeks and months passed. My “little mermaid” and I have more or less lived happily ever after—from that day on.
• • •
Are the best things in life always planned? Sometimes. Can amazing things happen when you least expect them? Without a shadow of a doubt. In fact, the story of one of the most amazing blessings in my and Mazza’s life is the proof.
I should mention that during the early months of setting up house together Mazza and I were in no hurry to try to start a family or rush anything along. We were head over heels—absolutely—but we were just settling in and wanted to enjoy each other. Then again, as we both had agreed, if it did happen we would be thrilled. None of these conversations changed my stance on getting married. We had a great thing with each other, true love by all accounts. I still didn’t feel I needed to get married to prove to anyone that my love for Mazza was solid. Why mix it up if it was already a happy situation? Would that change if we found ourselves expecting a child? Not as far as I was concerned.
As it happened, I had been having some lengthy discussions with a friend of mine who was trying to get pregnant. It was extremely difficult for her. She had tried just about everything, but, unfortunately for her, nothing seemed to be working out. She’s Hispanic too, which surprised the hell outta me—I’d always thought if you stared at a Latina long enough, she’d get pregnant. I’d never heard of a Mexican woman not being fertile.
Obviously, I was clueless about the issue of infertility. Not having been around that particular block, I had thought my whole life that women could easily get pregnant and we must take the necessary precautions if we don’t want that to happen. My friend confided in me, sharing all the trials and tribulations she had gone through in her effort to get pregnant. I listened intently as she educated me on this technique or that medicine, this procedure or that method. As I learned about the intricacies of many ob-gyn concerns, I would often get Mazza’s opinion and ask her what she thought.
I didn’t get into too many specific details, out of respect for my friend’s privacy, but I did say to Mazza, “My friend is struggling to get pregnant and spending a lot of money, and it’s stressing her out and kind of depressing her.” I didn’t think it would be so difficult for my friend, who was young. But the reality for her and her husband at the time was worrisome—besides the cost of the fertility specialist, the need to get pregnant can monopolize every waking hour of your thought process and put a strain on the relationship if it’s not handled properly.
After hearing about all this, Courtney and I started to think about our lack of hurry on getting pregnant and wondered if we could have this same problem. Up until now, we had never considered infertility a possibility; it was the furthest thing from our minds. Mazza and I had just passively begun talking about a family someday. You know, you get into those conversations about how you both want kids, you don’t want kids, you want kids but only two, you want kids but they better be cute and not brats. We both agreed that we would like to build a family together someday. And we also decided that it didn’t need to be anytime soon.
We talked more about my friend struggling and I told Mazza that my friend said, “If you’re ever interested, you should meet with my doctor and he can check out Courtney just to be on the safe side—you know, just in case, whatever. It’s best you find out now if there is anything you have to do or if there are any preventative measures you may need to take.”
Mazza agreed it was a good idea and set up an appointment. She was going to get checked out anyway, but she didn’t yet have a gynecologist in Los Angeles that she trusted. This just seemed like a proactive thing to do and we were both grateful for a positive referral from my friend.
When Mazza returned from this appointment, her face was ashen as she met me at the door. Nothing whatsoever could have prepared me for the news that what they discovered was heart-wrenching and alarming.
She had tumors and cysts on her ovaries. According to the doctors, the way things were inside, she would never be able to get pregnant. We were both in shock. Here we were feeling bad for my friend, only to find out we were in dire circumstances ourselves. We could have tried and failed for years and never known why if Courtney hadn’t done her impromptu checkup. The truth is, despite our lack of hurry to get pregnant, we had quietly been trying to have a baby. We didn’t tell a soul because we wanted it to be a surprise.
After Mazza told me the worst of the news, we took a few minutes to acknowledge our shock and worry. Then I asked, “What did they suggest we do?”
“Well, they suggest surgery right away.” But even then, they couldn’t guarantee anything; because of the scar tissue that would result from such invasive surgery, she could go through the operation to remove the cysts but still not ever be able to have kids.
A major, major blow to both of us. That was a tough time for us, but as any strong couple knows, these are the moments in life that can take a relationship to the next level and strengthen the bond. That’s exactly what our crisis did.
My thoughts were mainly focused on Courtney’s health and well-being. I was trying not to be selfish and think of the dreams of a family that could be shattered. It was just unbelievable news, like being smashed in the gut with an unseen uppercut. I felt dizzy and my face was going flush. My head swam with many different thoughts all at once. All I could do was tell Mazza, “I love you, and we’ll get through this together.”
Mazza quietly explained that the doctor advised getting the tumors out of there no matter what. It looked fairly safe if they did it right away. Imagine if she had not gone for that checkup, or if she’d gone to the doctor later on—it would have been worse. The odds would have been even slimmer for the love of my life to be healthy again.
As much as I tried to keep a stiff upper lip for Mazza, I became really sad and needed to spend time by myself to deliberate. In the process, I sank into a fleeting state of depression. Finally I said, “Let’s get the surgery right away.”
The ordeal actually seemed to worsen when we met with the doctor and were given a range of outcomes that focused on the worst-case scenario. “We don’t know, we don’t know, we don’t know” was all we heard from them. I felt really helpless in that moment. I wanted to say, “We’re paying you because that medical degree on your wall is saying that you do know.”
Mazza had the surgery as the doctor suggested, and then we just had to wait. She was the best patient she could be, and recovered quickly from surgery. But the last thing I felt was patient. Yet all we could do was wait for recovery and wait to see if she would ever get pregnant. The doctors replayed their broken record: “We don’t know what’s going to happen.”
Mazza and I decided we would let nature take its course. We assumed the odds were astronomically low that we had any chance of bringing life into this world, but we never lost hope. The way the doctor painted the picture, we should know that the time would come to think about adoption or other options.
We were grateful, though, that she had come through the surgery without any of the worst-case outcomes and that she was otherwise healthy. Within no time, Mazza was back to her high-energy, passion-filled self, and within a
couple of weeks we were able to resume our love life as before. We had so much to be thankful for.
And then, a short time later, I came home from a hike to receive shocking, life-altering news. When Mazza heard me come in, she yelled from the top of the stairs, “I’m pregnant!”
I stood there paralyzed. Had she just told me she was pregnant? If that was the case, boy, I guessed that pregnancy announcements sure didn’t happen the way they do in the movies. Nope. Courtney Mazza had just made this earth-shattering announcement with no more of a grandiose delivery than if she’d yelled, “Hey, your mother called.”
My head began to spin. Was this a trick? Just to be sure it wasn’t, I yelled back up the stairs, “What?”
“I’m pregnant!”
Then I had to sit down to steady myself. I even remember what I was wearing and I’m sure it will be etched into my mind forever: red shorts, sneakers, and a black headband on my head. At long last the news registered and I stood up. “Whoa, really? That’s awesome! Oh my God, come here—I want to hug you right now.”
And she did! We hugged and hugged and wept happy tears.
This was a miracle, in defiance of the odds. As it turned out, only three short weeks after the surgery—bam—Mazza had gotten pregnant, at a time when we weren’t even trying! Mazza is obviously as tough as a marine and apparently I’ve got some Michael Phelps–swimming sperm.
Nine months later—actually closer to ten months, which I know because of the expertise I’ve gained—our miracle arrived in person. Not exactly planned, but also no accident. More like divine intervention and now we’ve got this little blessing of a little girl we thought we’d never be able to have.