My Heart Lies in Pisciotta

by Cate Nielson Raye

  My hand shot to my stomach instinctively, suddenly worried that I’d hurt the baby, but I felt no pain and all seemed ok. Our baby. The life I had made with Sam, a married man. I glanced up at the driver of the SUV. His mouth was open in shock as he threw off his seatbelt. As he clambered out of the driver’s door I bent to pick up my bike. “Are you ok?” The driver yelled. I held up my hand to signal I was fine and nodded. As I pulled my bike from the ground and straightened out the handlebars I heard it. Thumping music, a revving engine and a sudden loud screech. A car was speeding through the junction, impatiently pulling around cars and cutting people up to get by. I had enough time to realise the driver could not see me behind the large SUV. I raised my arm, my eyes locked on the driver’s shocked expression, then the impact came. My legs lifted from underneath me, my outstretched hand made contact with the windscreen then, finally, everything fell into darkness.

  Chapter 22

  The strip lights flashed above me as I opened my eyes, just a fraction, and realised I was moving. The white and grey walls faded in and out of focus as I struggled to regain consciousness, a stab of white-hot pain was shooting through my skull threatening to overwhelm me. “The baby…my baby…” A face appeared above me, his eyes were dark and kind, his expression was calm but I could see the concern in the furrow between his brows. “Ana, you’re in the hospital. You were in an accident but it’s ok, we are taking you through to surgery now.” I tried to lift my hands to my stomach but a sharp ache shot through my left elbow and made me drop it back onto the hospital bed.

  “But my baby…Is the baby ok?” The doctor didn’t react to my question. Perhaps I wasn’t making much sense, I felt the words slurring from my lips. Although it pained me to do so I lifted my good arm and reached over to grab at his scrubs. He looked down at me concerned. “You have an open fracture in your left arm so we’re taking you to theatre to fix it.” I grabbed at his hand and placed it on my stomach. He eyed me warily. “The baby?” He asked. I tried to nod but my head began to spin. “Don’t worry about the baby. We are doing everything we can to ensure you are both ok.” With those words I allowed my consciousness to sink back into the darkness.

  “Open fracture of the left ulna and radius.” I reopened my eyes and made out the large circular lights above me. With a slight moan, I managed to turn my head slightly and noticed the X-rays on a display nearby - it did not look good. “Patient is approximately twelve weeks pregnant. She was struck by the vehicle on her left side.” As the doctors spoke my senses slowly returned and I noticed the numerous masked people rushing around the room. The agony in my arm escalated and stirred me from my weary daze. A scream tore from my chest and I tried to writhe away from the piercing ache. Cool hands pressed down gently on my shoulders, holding me in place.

  Blue gloved hands appeared in front of my face and lowered a mask in place over my nose and mouth. A monitor beeped loudly in the background, the lights grew brighter and I heard the gentle hiss of gas as I took deep steadying breaths. As my muscles relaxed and my body stilled the glare of the lights increased until I saw nothing but bright white. The sounds of the operating room seemed to vibrate in my ears and I could no longer resist the heaviness of my eyelids. My eyes closed for a few short seconds and the white light was replaced with a black abyss that unsettled me. The growing unease made me force my eyelids back open, I was afraid of the dark.

  The operating room was gone, there were no bright lights. I was lying in a hospital bed, monitors to my left, a small table, and a jug of water to my right. A blue curtain was pulled around my resting place except for a small section near my feet that remained open. I peered through the gap and could barely make out a dimly lit hospital ward with a row of three beds opposite me, the occupants sound asleep under white sheets. The faint beep of my monitor increased in pace, I tried to sit up but a throb of pain brought the heavy, white plaster cast on my left arm to my attention. I fingered it gingerly with my good hand before pressing the call button that was glowing from the other side of the bed.

  After a few minutes, I heard the sound of approaching footsteps before a young nurse appeared at the foot of my bed. She pulled the curtain closed fully and gave me a warm smile. “You’re awake, that’s great,” she whispered and pressed a couple of buttons on my monitor. “Where am I? What happened?” The nurse approached my bedside and poured me a cup of water, pushing it insistently into my good hand. I drained it gratefully, suddenly realising how parched I was, before handing it back. “You’re in post-op recovery. You were hit by a car after falling from your bike. Do you remember that?” I closed my eyes and recalled my mad dash from Sam’s office, tumbling from my bicycle at the junction and the thumping sound of the music coming from a car speeding through the traffic lights.

  I didn’t remember the impact itself, just the intense fear I had for myself and my baby. My hand shot to my stomach and came to rest on the curve of my emerging baby bump. “My baby…” The nurse tapped my hand soothingly and smiled once more. “Your baby is fine. It’s a miracle really that all you came out with is a broken arm and a concussion.” I relaxed back into my pillow, tears threatening to spill over my lashes as my heart flooded with relief. “I will send the doctor in to see you in a few hours. It’s only three a.m now though. You should try to get some more sleep.” I nodded slowly and closed my eyes as she left me.

  I thought of Sam, of his face as I fled from him and the revelation that he had a wife. All the times that he had skimmed over his past or grew awkward and nervous at any mention of his life in Brighton. How could I have been so foolish to not question it? I didn’t believe that he had been completely unfaithful, I didn’t trust Helena and her insinuation that they were still an item. Sam had spent an entire summer in Italy. He had been in York since before the start of the academic year. Only a very cold, unfeeling man could have a wife in Brighton and spend so much time away from her. She had said herself that he never answered her calls. They must at least be separated.

  Even so my mind at the time had shattered from its loved up state and, in a sheer panic, I ran. Every sense in my body had told me to flee, to not give him the benefit of the doubt, to escape his betrayal and protect what little dignity remained. Really it was my own fault I was in this hospital bed injured and in pain. I had stupidly risked not only my own life but the life growing inside me by jumping on that bike when I was in such a state. I gently stroked the swell of my stomach. “I am so sorry little bean…I’m so sorry,” I whispered as the tears that had previously threatened now spilled over and ran down my cheeks. I swiped at them with the back of my hand, relaxed back into my pillow and let sleep claim me.

  * * *

  I was tired. I wanted to escape. The constant stream of doctors and nurses to my room was making me weary. I had been moved from recovery and, after receiving a snazzy new cast on my injured arm, the orthopaedic surgeon was happy to release me to the care of the antenatal ward. I had to remain in the hospital under close monitoring in the event the baby had suffered complications from my accident. I had been strapped to a monitor, lying uncomfortably on my bruised hips in the hospital bed for hours at a time. Nurses entered my room every 20-30 minutes to check on my readings and every now and then I would be wheeled to the ultrasound room to check the baby was doing ok.

  It wasn’t all bad, I suppose. Given the complex nature of my injuries I had been given my own private room away from the main ward. The many scans also gave me a number of opportunities to see my baby. I had always wanted Sam to be present at the first scan so we could experience seeing our child for the first time together. It hadn’t worked out that way in the end. The morning after my operation he had tried to visit me in the recovery ward by stating he was my boyfriend and the father of our child. Yes, he knew about the baby.

  Soon after I had fled his office Sam had jumped in his car and was rushing to my flat to meet me. As traffic crawled slowly down the main road he came upon the accident, immediately recognising my crumpled bike a
nd abandoning his vehicle. The ambulance arrived and he insisted on riding along with me to the hospital. During my physical examination my pregnancy became clear, he refused to leave my side after that. Until they wheeled me off to surgery anyway. After the doctors had left my cubicle the following morning he approached my bed, nervous and subdued, his head hung low in remorse. I didn’t want to hear from him, my heart was still more broken than my body.

  I frantically pushed at the nurses call button before he had a chance to open his mouth. “Leave,” I gasped weakly, unable to scream at him, the concussion had rendered me too exhausted to fight. His face was haunted, his previously golden skin was pallid and his boyishly handsome face was stress worn, he looked much older than his years. I jabbed at the call button again and heard the nurse approach. He plead with me to hear him out, to let him sit with me, until the nurse pulled back my curtain. “Get him out of here,” I sobbed. “Please, I don’t want him here.” The nurse looked nervously from me to Sam and took his arm gently. “Ana, please don’t shut me out,” he begged and resisted the slight tug on his sleeve.

  I couldn’t look at him, I stared at the ceiling willing my tears to subside. “Make him leave…please.” She pulled more insistently on his jacket sleeve and he staggered back toward the door not taking his eyes off me. From that point on I asked them to confirm visitors with me in advance. When I had transferred to the antenatal ward he had been waiting outside, his face was stubbled with at least three days of beard growth and he looked as though he had barely slept. I ignored him as he trailed behind the nurses transporting me. On arrival to my new ward I informed them that I did not want him to come in with me. The midwife’s assistant gave him a sympathetic smile and pointed to some seating in the corridor outside the ward doors.

  That had been two days ago and, as far as I knew, he was still there. The nurses let me know his whereabouts whenever they came to check on me. Other than toilet and food breaks he remained seated outside the ward, nervously bouncing his knee and watching the door every time he saw somebody approaching. I knew he wouldn’t leave even if I told him to. It was mid-afternoon on a particularly tiresome day that I finally caved. The student midwife had entered my room to take my blood pressure and chatted away casually as she wrapped the cuff around my arm. “He’s still out there you know. He seems very dedicated.” She smirked to herself and pressed the button for the machine to start.

  “Mm-hmm.” I did not rise to her attempts to start conversation about my love life. I was in no way ready to discuss the messed up situation I found myself in. I pulled out my phone to browse Facebook until she went away. I tapped the screen and it lit up showing my lock screen. A lump rose in my throat as I stared at the picture of Sam and I, post-coitus, lounging at the back of his uncle’s boat. We were so carefree back then, it seemed like years had gone by since our happier days in Pisciotta. I sighed and shoved the phone under my pillow. “A lot of men find themselves in the dog house when it comes to their pregnant other halves.”

  The student midwife removed the pressure cuff and smiled suggestively at me, one eyebrow raised in amusement. “It’s not like that,” I replied stoically. I needed to be angry at his indiscretion. I needed to hate him in order to find strength in myself. Especially for what I was about to do. “Could you tell him to come in please?” She grinned at me excitedly, almost clapping with happiness at the thought of us getting our happy ending. As she left the room I adjusted my bedsheets and attempted to tame my hair. I still cared about how I looked around him. The thought annoyed me and I stopped fussing over myself.

  A few minutes passed before I heard the main doors to the ward swing open followed by the dull thud of it closing again. I heard the midwife explaining where my room was and braced myself as his footsteps approached. I made myself as tall as I could, wincing slightly at the stab of pain in my bruised ribs. I stared out of my window at the cloudless, blue sky and waited. After a minute I heard the shuffle of his brogues enter the doorway and remain still. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and braced myself. “Tesoro mio…” My eyes snapped open at his sentiment and I turned my gaze to the doorway. Looking slightly worse for wear, but still as handsome as before all this heartbreak, was Sam.

  * * *

  I couldn’t speak, I didn’t know what to say to him. Hello? How are you? How’s your wife? I could not blame him for my current state of health, that was completely on me and my stupidity, but I could not see him how I once had. Pure and untarnished, a man who would never lie to me. My mind refused to connect with my mouth so I turned back to the window and stared out at nothing in particular. “Ana?” He approached the bed and placed his warm palm over my cold hand, so much smaller than his. I used to feel so safe in those hands, but not anymore. I snatched my hand out from underneath his and placed it on my stomach, stroking absentmindedly.

  “Ana, please let me explain…there’s been such a huge misunderstanding.” I didn’t respond so he continued, wringing his hands nervously. “Helena is not my wife…well, she was at one point but she isn’t anymore.” I still did not respond. He began to pace up and down at the foot of my bed. “I met her five years ago at an exhibition. She was older and attractive. As an upcoming, well-known artist she wanted to be on my arm and I…well I fell head over heels.” I winced at the thought of him loving another woman but allowed him to continue, still not meeting his eye. “I proposed less than a year later and we had a relatively quick wedding - she didn’t want to wait.”

  He wandered over to the chair next to my bed and sank into it, resting his elbows on his knees and hiding his face under his splayed fingers. “Things were fine in the first year when I was taking big commissions, attending lots of parties and making a lot of money…but then I hit a bit of a slump. I didn’t paint anything good for months…the art scene soon left me behind.” As his voice became melancholy I turned my gaze to watch him, he stared at his shoes. “It became painfully clear at that point that Helena was only with me for the status and the money. She grew bored with me, frustrated that I wasn’t exhibiting. Then she began looking elsewhere for what she craved.”

  My eyebrows raised in surprise at this. I couldn’t imagine anybody wanting to cheat on Sam. To me, he was a catch. Handsome, funny, and talented, who could want more? “I tried to turn a blind eye at first. She wanted to live in Brighton so I agreed to move down there. I convinced myself that if we settled down somewhere she liked, started a family, she would change…that we would be happy…but she didn’t.” I burnt with curiosity, wanting to know more but not really wanting to hear it. “Did you start a family?” I threw the question out there, terrified that he had been hiding more than a wife from me. Sam sat up in his chair, relieved that I was finally talking. “No! Of course not! That opportunity is something I’ve only ever shared with you.”

  He looked pointedly at my slightly protruding stomach where my hand lay. I could sense he was craving my touch as I craved his, but I went back to staring out of the window. “We went on like that for a little under three years, gradually growing further apart until we could no longer stand each other. We formally separated a year and a half ago and I applied for the divorce a few months later.” He stood abruptly making me flinch but he was pacing once more. “She didn’t make it easy. She fought every step of the way, trying to get as much out of me as she could. In the end, I told her to take it all,” he sighed sadly.

  “I was pretty depressed at that point…I needed to get away from Brighton so I flew to Pisciotta to stay with my grandmother. I…considered ending it all. More than once…” I gasped and he met my gaze for the first time since he had entered the room. “Then one day someone else nearly did the job for me.” My brow creased and he smiled knowingly. “A beautiful woman on a bike, an angel really, nearly knocked me down in the street. She turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me…From that moment on there was only light in my life, I’d found my purpose.” I smiled sadly remembering that first fateful meeting, we had been thro
ugh so much since then. My smile faltered. “Why didn’t you tell me about her?” I sobbed.

  He was on me in an instant. His hands either side of my face, his lips kissing away my tears. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m sorry for this,” he kissed at my watery eyelids, “I’m sorry for this,” he placed a gentle kiss near the cut on my forehead, “and I’m sorry for this,” he gingerly lifted my cast and kissed the fingertips that were peeking out of the end of it. “You are so young, Ana, compared to me. I didn’t think you would see me the same if you knew. I didn’t want to bring her into what we had, she doesn’t matter.” A spark of anger flared in my chest, somewhere between my aching heart and the butterflies in my stomach.

  I pushed him away sharply with my good arm. “Of course she matters!” I spat. “She’s part of your history, part of what makes you who you are. You’ve been sneaking around hiding it for almost a year. I barely know you at all.” He grabbed my shoulder firmly, one hand behind my head, holding my face close to his. “Ana, you know me better than anyone.” He spoke forcefully, his eyes intense with the strength of his sincerity. I stopped fighting him and gradually he released his grip on me, slid further down the mattress, and placed a hand over mine on my stomach. “How long have you known about the baby? Our baby?” He wasn’t looking at me again, instead he concentrated on winding his fingers into mine over my baby bump.

  I sighed and closed my eyes, we both had our secrets. “A few weeks now.” His eyes snapped up to mine. “Weeks?” His voice was raised and a slight red flush spread up his neck. “You’ve known for weeks and you didn’t tell me?” I removed my hand from his and wrapped a protective arm around myself. “I didn’t know how you’d react. I was going to tell you during our weekend together…but that got messed up a bit didn’t it?” He bit his lip and shook his head in disbelief until he finally sighed as if exhausted. “So what now?” I whispered almost to myself. His expression softened and he turned to me again. “Everything is different now…I’m going to be a father, Ana.”