Sold to Mr. Giordano

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Antonio took me to the hospital as frequently as I could. He wanted me to sleep in my own bed at home so I’d be comfortable. He especially wanted me home after long days so I didn’t put too much stress on myself and the baby.

When Angelo first regained full consciousness, we asked him who took him and his frustrating answer was that he doesn’t remember. He seems to have amnesia over the entire event and the pieces his does remember, there are no faces to the perpetrators. It’s been a long and grueling process and everyday I’ve been asking him if he remembers anything new and every day the answer is no.

While at the hospital, Antonio had one of the doctors on his payroll do a sonogram and provide me with prenatal vitamins. Afterall, I never confirmed my pregnancy officially with anything other than a ninety-nine percent accurate pregnancy test.

Waiting in the private room sitting in the examination chair with Antonio at my side in a regular chair is weird. The atmosphere feels strange and by the looks of Antonio bouncing his leg impatiently with his hands folded seems uncomfortable.

I always thought this moment would be one of the most exciting of my life, but I feel neutral. I’m also scared for the life this child will have—especially if it turns out to be a boy. I’ve seen the way my dad raised his heir, Luca was conditioned to be just like my father, cold-blooded and cold-hearted.

Antonio is the same. Although I didn’t know Antonio growing up just knowing the man he is today and from stories I’ve heard, Lorenzo raised his son the same way my father raised Luca. They are born without empathy and without remorse. They are born to rule and get what they want while they instill fear on all who dare double-cross him.

I’m frightened for a daughter to have the life I was forced to have. I’m mournful of whatever hopes and dreams she will develop. A daughter is a means bind ties in the Famiglia solely for political reasons. Antonio will likely pick out a man—a Made Man—one who is worthy, but also one that our daughter didn’t pick herself. She will be forced into a marriage with a man who could be any horrible options of crude, ugly, violent, abusive or vicious.

“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Giordano. I am Doctor Jane Conti and I will be performing the sonogram to make sure everything is alright with the baby. First, I’d like a sample of urine to confirm the pregnancy. Here is a cup, the bathroom is through that door.” Doctor Conti hands me the cup with a large smile on her face. The doctor a woman possibly in her mid-forties. She is tall with shoulder length black hair and dark brown eyes and her skin has an olive complexion.

Antonio stands as if to follow me into the bathroom but I shoot him a look to stay. Instead he stands outside the door. I squat over the toilet and try to will myself to pee, but I can’t. Nerves, I guess. Antonio knocks on the door and asks if I’m alright and I snap at him that I’m fine.

Within the next few minutes I’m able to give Doc Conti her sample and she leaves my husband and I to our silence in the room while we wait for the results.

“Do you not want this baby?” I chew at the bottom of my lip.

“Abortion is not an option and you know it,” he barks. Of course I know it, it’s against our religion.

“So, if it were an option, you’d want to get one?” I stare at him sadly.

He sighs. “I don’t know. I didn’t expect to have children this early in my life. To be honest I never really wanted any. I was hoping maybe Rocco would have a son and I could just pass on the title to him.”

“Oh,” I quickly wipe away a tear escaping from my eye.

Antonio shakes his head adamantly. “I didn’t mean—”

A knock on the door interrupts him and the doctor enters. Her smile has only seemed to grow.

“Congratulations, you’re pregnant!” She sits down on a wheeled chair and grabs a bottle of what looks like gel. She wheels the chair over to me so she’s at my side. “I’m going to lift up your shirt and I’m going to put this gel on your lower stomach. I’m going to use the sonogram machine to see if we can see the little one and hear its heartbeat.”

My pulse races with anticipation and excitement is now coursing through my veins. I’m anxious to see the baby and learn it’s gender, I’m also anxious to hear it’s heartbeat and know that it’s okay.

The gel is cold but I get used to it quickly. I rest my hands on my chest as I keep my eyes glued to the expression on the doctors face. The screen is turned toward her and she’s analyzing whatever she sees intently. She moves this wand on my belly trying to find the baby on the screen so she can do what doctors do—count all ten fingers and ten toes.

She turns the monitor toward Antonio and I and begins to point. “This right here is the head and then this the body. You’re about sixteen weeks pregnant. Which means we can tell the sex. Would you two like to know?”

Antonio answers yes at the same time I say no.

“I don’t want to know the sex. I just want to know it’s okay and nothing is wrong,” I frown.

The doctor keeps the same warm smile plastered on her face. “Everything is wonderful, Mother.”

Mother. The word makes my stomach twist in knots. I’m going to be a mother.

“Can we please hear the heartbeat?” I ask.

The first sound of the baby’s fast heartbeat causes a swell of emotions within me and I start to cry. Tears streak my face and I laugh.

Happy tears.

“There’s really a person growing inside of me?” I whisper and sniffle, wiping my nose with a tissue the doctor hands me.

“The miracle of life,” she beams.

I look over at Antonio who looks just as breathless as I do, but I also seem to notice that there’s also a great deal of fear and uncertainty in his gaze.

At the end of the appointment she sends me on my way with the first ever sonogram pictures of my child along with prenatal vitamins.

I ask Antonio if we can stop by Angelo’s room to see if he’s up for a visit. He’s been in the hospital nearly two weeks now. Antonio nods his head silently and I can tell something is wrong.

When we reach the elevator and the doors shut, he turns his head suddenly toward me and opens his mouth to say, “Why didn’t you want to know the gender?”

“I don’t know,” I avert my stare from his menacing one. “I’m scared.”

“Scared of knowing if our child has a dick or not?” He raises his eyebrow and looks at me skeptically.

“Scared to know if it’s going to be a cold-blooded murderer or a pawn in some political gain.”

Antonio frowns for the briefest moment before regaining his usual stoic look and keep his eyes locked in front of him. He doesn’t utter another word the entire way to Angelo’s room.

I’m surprised to see Angelo awake and looking alert. He’s been doing a lot better and with time he should make a full recovery with his broken bones. The only permanent repercussion seems to be with what happened to his eardrums. He’s completely deaf in his right ear and his left ear suffers with loud permanent tinnitus.

“How do you feel?” I sit at the usual chair by his side and grab his hand. The nails on his hand still haven’t grown back yet.

Communication between us has been a challenge given the only ear he can hear in has some lost frequencies along with a high pitched ringing. He’s been reading lips and when things get too complicated we’ve been writing on a whiteboard. His doctors have been talking about either learning sign language or thinking about hearing aids.

“Alright,” he answers in a hoarse voice. “How are you?” He frowns. “You look like you’ve been crying.”

My eyes meet Antonio and I give him an unspoken look that tells him to let me tell my brother about our news.

“Fine, but if he tells another soul I’ll kill him,” Antonio says with blunt seriousness.

“He’s not going to tell anyone. He’ll still be in the hospital for the next few weeks recovering and no one visits him,” I scold.

“What’s going on?” Angelo says warily as he looks between the two of us.

I reach into my pocket and hand him a picture of the sonogram. I wait for him to look at me before saying, “You’re going to be an uncle.”

For the first time since before the hospital I’ve seen him smile. “Jesus Christ! I’m going to be an uncle!”

“You can’t tell anyone,” I say slowly to make sure he understands and gets every word.

“Of course,” he nods. “Am I going to have a little niece or nephew.”

I shrug my shoulders. “We don’t know.”

“I want a niece,” his smile is so wide his cheeks must hurt.

I chuckle. “I have no control over it.” In the corner of my eye I swear I catch Antonio smiling.