Lion outside of your door, the wolf is in your bed. The lion's claws are sharpened for war, the wolf's teeth are red.
And what a monstrous sight he makes, mocking mans best friend. Both the wolf and lion crave same thing in the end.
The nervous look on Sam's face successfully unnerved me.
I just couldn't understand why Delphine would do something like this.
She knew she was pregnant... We found out four months ago, we knew we having a baby girl.
She wasn't all that thrilled, not at first, but I didn't—
I just didn't think she was this unhappy.
These days though, I understand why she's stressed. She's been knee deep in a medically induced coma for a week, and I've been home taking care of Apollo.
It's not as easy as I imagined.
All day long it's:
Daddy can I—?
Daddy are we—?
Papa where's my Mamma?
I hate that one especially.
Papa where's my Mamma...
How do you answer that?
How do you tell your son that his Mamma tried to slit her wrists?
How do you tell him that she's in a medically induced coma, because every time she comes to she has a panic attack?
That those panic attacks nearly kills his baby sister?
There's no child proof way to say that.
I remember when I was about his age, my little cousin Paulo had cancer. He was dying, on his last breathes.
I remember my Mamma said:
Close your eyes, count to seven, when you wake, you'll be in heaven.
She child proofed the cancer induced death of a six year old boy.
Even I can't understand how, for nearly six months we've been lying in bed and the whole time she's been lying.
When I married her, I hadn't meant for this to happen.
I hadn't meant for her to die.
But it seems that's what gonna happen.
And call me crazy or evil, but if she wants to go...
I can't stop her. Can't hold a grudge, I tried before. What I can't get over, can't forgive, is my daughter.
It's enough to be widower, to have a wife one day and not the next.
To sign my wife's death certificate.
Birth certificate. Death certification. One pen.
I cast my gaze to the left of the infirmary, my crumpled smiling wife in the corner.
"Please don't do this..."
My head sags when the double beep of the heart monitors answer me.
"Please don't take my baby girl..."
"Not her too..."
Three months later...
They're giving her a c-section. She's still unconscious, so she can't follow directions.
My son trembles in my arms in excitement and nervousness.
"Papa, when is my baby sister coming?"
I smile down at him. He looks just like Delphine, actually.
Down to the ombré eyes.
"Soon. Very soon now, bambino. Momma lo sta spingendo adesso—"
A scream echoes down the small narrow hallway.
"Que-! ¿Que esta pasando?"
"Signora Gambino, please calm down!"
Sam. My brow furrows.
"Papa?" His voice wobbles, "is Sorellina hurting Mamma?"
"No," I sat to the hallway, distracted. "No, it's part of the process, filgio."
"Get this baby out of me!" The anguish in her voice blended into the ambience of a chorus of Signora Gambino from a troupe of doctors made me more than nervous.
It scared me.
Ten minutes of incoherent yet aggressive yelling later, I burst into the Operating Room.
What can I say? My men get hurt a lot.
It's comes with the territory.
I shoot him a flat look as opposed to shooting him flat.
"My wife is giving birth, Verme." I intone, narrowing my eyes infinitesimally in his direction.
"This is not a circumstance in which you should answer that question with uncertainty."
"She's fine, Don."
"Then why is she screaming bloody murder?!"
Sam's beady little eyes dart about.
"Maybe because I'm about to die..."
"This is not time for—"
"My baby girl...!"
It's a beautiful moment.
Until it absolutely isn't.