by K. A. Ware
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.
21
Frankie
Present
I want to tell him. I have to tell him, but how?
It’s been three days and the guilt has clawed its way through me, turning me into a paranoid wreck. He’s been suspicious; I could tell by the way he watched me, like he was waiting for me to drop a bomb. Of course, his intuition is completely right. I had to tell him about the baby, our baby. I just wasn’t sure I was strong enough to tell the story.
Before, I didn’t feel like I owed him anything. He’d cut me out, and by the time he came back into my life, the damage was done. After the past few days, though, I realized he deserved to know what might have been. It was only right. Besides, I couldn’t continue the way things were with a bomb like that hanging over my head.
“You want to talk about it?”
“What?” I asked, startled out of my thoughts.
Does he already know? No, he can’t. Don’t be an idiot, Frankie. No one knows.
I’d never told anyone about it. I was the only one aside from the doctor who knew. I’d even hacked into the hospital’s database a few years ago and wiped it out. The only way someone could find out about it is if they got a hold of my physical file or I told them.
“You’ve been quiet, is everything okay?” Enzo asked, briefly taking his eyes off the road to look at me.
“I’m fine. Just mentally preparing myself for wedding talk,” I said, dismissing his concern. We were headed to Carlo and Mia’s for Sunday dinner once again. With the wedding just three weeks away, she’d been in a fucking tailspin lately, stressing over the details. I’d received no less than six text messages a day asking me my opinion about this or that. Not to mention the baby questions, since she was simultaneously planning a wedding and decorating a nursery.
* * *
“Have you seen this?” Mia asked, holding up the newspaper for me to see.
“I read about it this morning. That makes what, three girls in as many weeks?”
“Yeah, all found in different parts of downtown, makes my skin crawl,” she said, her hands, like always, moving to cover her belly. She’d really popped in the past few weeks, her round stomach protruding from her thin frame, making it impossible to overlook.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure they’ll find the guy. People like that always leave evidence behind. They’re bound to catch him.”
“Just makes you think about the kind of world you’re bringing your kids into, you know?”
“Says the soon-to-be mobster’s wife,” I joked, picking up my glass of wine and taking a drink in an effort to bide my time while I composed myself. I loved that Mia was happy, but seeing her pregnant and talking about kids still sliced me deep.
“Come on, it’s not the same thing. Whoever’s hacking up girls all over the city is clearly insane. The only thing they have in common is that they look alike. There’s no rhyme or reason to it.”
“I guess you’re right,” I said, glad to be off the subject of kids.
“We’re safer with him than without him. Besides, I love him, what am I supposed to do?” she shrugged.
What’s a woman in love to do? I’d like someone to explain that one to me.
“Yeah,” I agreed, my eyes unwillingly drifting to where Enzo was standing talking to Antonio.
“How’s that going?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, turning back to her.
“Well, I haven’t seen you in a couple of weeks,” she said, shooting a disapproving look at me.
“Sorry, things have been kind of crazy,” I grumbled. It was the first time we’d been to Sunday dinner since Enzo had moved me into his place. I’d worked from the house for a solid week after what happened at my apartment. I hadn’t felt up to seeing anyone, not even Mia.
“I get it. What I mean is that you guys seem different. Is there something going on there?”
“We’re still figuring things out.”
“Well, you better figure it out quick, because from the way he’s been looking at you since you guys got here, he’s already made up his mind and there’s nowhere for you to hide.”
The weak smile I’d been managing fell from my face, and I chanced a quick look over my shoulder at him. Sure enough, he was staring straight at me, a slight grin pulling on one side of his mouth when he caught me looking.
“All right, enough ogling. Help me get dinner on the table,” Mia said, shoving a salad bowl at me.
“So did Elena help this time?” I asked as we started to load the table up.
“I’ll have you know that I did everything myself,” she said with her nose in the air.
“Is it edible?” I asked with a laugh.
“Fuck off. Elena helped me make it last week, and I practiced following her recipe all week. I can officially ma
ke Chicken Parmesan all by myself.”
“You’ve made the same dinner every day this week?” I asked, trying to hold back my laughter.
“How else was I going to make sure I got it right? Besides, Carlo only had to eat it three times for dinner; the other two times it didn’t exactly turn out right.”
“Jesus,” I said shaking my head. The poor guy probably never wanted to see a piece of breaded chicken again.
“It’s his favorite,” Mia argued.
Not anymore.
“That’s nice of you,” I said and ducked into the den to tell the guys dinner was ready.
There was something about announcing dinner to the men folk that rubbed me the wrong way, but since I didn’t actually cook, I guess my inner feminist couldn’t be too pissed.
We all settled to a surprisingly good meal. I’d have to give props to Elena next time I saw her; she was a damn good teacher.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Mia said. “Your dress came in; I’ll need you to try it on before you leave and make sure it fits.”
“Sure, sounds good,” I said, trying not to roll my eyes. Mia and Carlo had opted not to have a bridal party but she’d still insisted on me wearing a dress of her choosing. If it had been up to me, I would have worn pants or at the very least my leather jacket, but it was her wedding. If she wanted me in a dress, then I’d be in a fucking dress.
Angelo’s phone buzzed and he pulled it out, his eyes knitting into a frown when he looked at the display.
“I need to take this,” he said, quickly getting up and leaving the room to answer.
Carlo shot a look at Antonio who shrugged and shook his head. A minute later, Angelo came back into the room, only this time his face was drained of color and worry etched on his features.
“What’s wrong?” Antonio asked.
“That was Mallory,” Angelo said, looking from Enzo to me.
“The forensics lady?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Angelo nodded. “She called to warn me, well, you actually,” he said looking right at me.
“Spit it out already,” Enzo barked from beside me.
“She thinks that your stalker might be the one that’s been killing those girls in the city.”
“Why would she think that?” I asked, my stomach rolling.
“She didn’t put it together until this last one they found a few hours ago. All of the girls had brown eyes and blonde hair; if you look close, they all kind of look like you.”
“But I dye my hair red. That doesn’t make any sense,” I argued.
“That’s the thing; the killer painted their hair with their own blood to make it bright red.”
My head spun and I had to brace a hand on the table in front of me as my vision swam. I fought to catch my breath as my heartbeat thundered in my ears. Enzo pulled me onto his lap and rubbed circles on my back. I curled into him as I tried to breathe through the panic attack. I’d had them before, and I knew what I had to do to get through it, but it didn’t make it any easier.
Finally, my breathing returned to normal and I was able to pull myself together. Someone handed me a bottle of water and I downed it. My hands were still shaking as I tried to right myself. I swallowed hard and cleared my throat before I spoke.
“What else did she say?” I asked, still holding onto Enzo for strength.
Angelo looked to Enzo as if asking for permission, and the fear I’d felt was suddenly replaced with anger.
“Don’t look at him. I asked you a question,” I demanded.
“Sorry. This last one had a message carved into her forearms,” he said, giving me a worried look.
“What was it?” Enzo asked.
“It says, ‘He can not have you. You’re mine.’ She sent a picture,” he said handing his phone over.
I stared at the picture and the words sliced crudely into the skin of the poor girl’s forearm.
“The contractions,” I whispered and Enzo squeezed me tighter.
“She said his murderous rampage is escalating. It was almost two weeks between the first and second murders, and the third was five days ago. Mallory said the girl they found today was killed sometime last night,” Angelo said somberly.
“Who would do this?” I asked to no one in particular.
Enzo kissed the top of my head. “I don’t know, but I’ve got you,” he whispered.
After Angelo’s announcement, no one had much of an appetite so I helped Mia clear the table. I needed something to do because sitting there thinking about some obsessed psycho out there killing girls that looked like me was just too much. At least, if I kept my hands busy, I could pretend like I wasn’t fixating over it.
“You guys should stay,” Mia said as Enzo and I started to gather our things.
“Thanks, but we’re just going to head back to the city,” I said, pulling on my coat.
“But it’s safer here,” Mia argued.
“I’ll be with Enzo— “
“What if he comes after you there?” Mia questioned, her voice rising an octave.
“She won’t leave my sight,” Enzo answered.
“There’s only one of you. How good is your security? Do you even have a security system?” Mia rattled off, not leaving it alone.
“Mia, Enzo is perfectly capable of taking care of his own wife,” Carlo said firmly, placing a hand on her shoulder.
My heart squeezed hearing him refer to me as Enzo’s wife. We’d said it to each other, but hearing it from someone else was surreal.
“But—” Mia continued to argue.
“Can you guys give us a minute?” I asked. Carlo and Enzo nodded and left us standing in the foyer.
“I don’t understand why you won’t just stay,” Mia huffed, running her hands through her hair.
“For how long?” I asked.
“Until they find the guy,” she urged.
“Who knows how long that will take. I’m not going hide out all the way out here. Carlo’s right; Enzo will protect me. Besides, you have a wedding to plan, you don’t need house guests,” I joked trying to lighten the mood.
“I just want you to be safe. Is that so fucking unreasonable?” she volleyed back.
“Hey,” I said stepping closer. “I’m not Gina; nothing’s going to happen to me.”
“You don’t know that,” she said, tears spilling down her face.
I pulled her into a somewhat awkward hug. “I do know that, because I have Enzo and he’d die before letting anything happen to me. And trust me, that asshole is too fucking stubborn to die.”
“I know, I just can’t help but worry,” she sniffed. “Christ, these pregnancy hormones are seriously fucking with me.”
“Are we done with the mushy girl talk now?” I asked, pulling away to look at her.
“Yeah,” she laughed, wiping her face.
“We good?” I asked, eyeing her.
“We’re good,” she nodded.
“Is it safe to enter?” Enzo asked, coming back into the foyer.
“Yes, I’m exhausted. Let’s go home.”
His smile was so big, it consumed his face, and I was momentarily taken aback. I hadn’t seen him smile like that in years.
“What is it?” I asked.
Enzo shook his head. “Nothing, come on,” he said, leading me out the door.
“So everything okay between you and Mia?” he asked as soon as we were on the road.
“Like you weren’t eavesdropping.”
He just grunted in response. We drove in comfortable silence for a few miles before I brought up the subject that was weighing heavily on both our minds.
“I’m scared, Enzo. This guy’s killing innocent girls and staging them to look like me. What kind of fucked up psycho does that?”
“I don’t know, but I promise you I’ll keep you safe. Whoever this is, he’s not getting anywhere near you.”
“He already has,” I said, remembering the picture he’d taken of me while I slept.
“Not since you’ve been
with me. I know you like your freedom, but after what we found out tonight, you’re not going anywhere without me glued to your side, babe. I don’t trust anyone with your safety but me.”
“You won’t see me putting up any fights,” I laughed, but it was hollow.
“What the—” Enzo started, but was cut off by the blare of a car horn. High beams shown through the back windshield blinding us. The two lane highway that led from Carlo and Mia’s house was unlit and mostly deserted at night, but with the headlights from the car behind us, we couldn’t see a thing.
“Grab my phone. Call Antonio!” Enzo shouted as the car moved into the oncoming lane and sped up trying to pull alongside us.
“Where is it?”
“My right pants pocket,” he said gesturing with his head.
Just as I reached over the console, Enzo floored it, causing me to jerk back in my seat. I tried again, the seatbelt digging into the side of my neck as I strained, finally wrapping my fingers around the phone. I quickly found Antonio’s number and pushed the call button.
“Shit!” Enzo exclaimed veering onto the shoulder before jerking back into our lane.
“Hello?” Antonio’s voice came over the line and I could have cried in relief.
“He’s trying to run us off the road,” I shrieked as we swerved again.
“Put it on speaker!” Enzo barked at me.
My clumsy fingers fumbled with the phone until I found the Bluetooth button and switched it on. Antonio’s voice came crackling through the speakers; he was shouting orders at people in the background before he came back on.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“Headed south on the highway, about five miles from the house. This guy’s all over the place,” Enzo snapped.
“We’re in the car now headed your way,” Antonio called out.
“Fuck! Hold on, baby,” Enzo yelled, “he’s going to hit— “
I screamed again as the car rammed us from behind and we careened to one side nearly going into a ditch just before Enzo corrected sending us veering the other way. He continued to swerve back and forth, not letting the car pull alongside us again.