Lila
Things had just gotten a hundred times worse.
Beyond distraught, we listened to Bianca and Bruce while they told us what had happened at the hospital earlier.
“It’s called—mitochondrial disease?” In tears, Bianca turned to her husband with her hands in the air as if to check if something like that had truly existed.
“Yeah,” he whispered, tightening his fingers around her hand as they sat side by side on the couch. “Evidently, it causes a bunch of problems,” he explained with a great deal in pain in his eyes, “and it’s… potentially fatal.” His voice faded toward the end of his sentence as his eyes welled up.
“It’s also… hereditary,” Bianca snuffled from between her tears.
With my mouth agape, I turned to look at my parents who sat on the other sofa with a grim look of utter horror on their faces. They were clearly shocked. Had they never heard of this before? Did anyone in their families suffer from it?
“Oh, God.” My father shook his head, looking down in remorse.
Bruce pulled a little printed flyer from Bianca’s purse and held it up for a moment before leaning forward and handing it over to me. I took it, and in a daze, my eyes scanned the familiar letters forming unfamiliar words on the professionally printed piece of paper as I desperately attempted to focus.
Mitochondrial diseases are long-term, genetic, often inherited disorders that occur when mitochondria fail to produce enough energy for the body to function properly.
What? Mito—what?
I blinked a few times, determined to continue reading in spite of my sister’s anguished sobs and Mother’s miserable whimpers that tore through my awareness.
Mitochondrial diseases can affect almost any part of the body, including the cells of the brain, nerves, muscles, kidneys, heart, liver, eyes, ears, or pancreas.
This was too much information to take in ten seconds. Taking a deep breath, I lifted my eyes from the flyer and looked around aimlessly for a moment.
I felt like I wanted to throw up but now was not the time. Nor did I actually have anything to vomit, since none of us had eaten anything all day. My stomach, nonetheless, remained in knots as I resumed reading, pushing myself to learn more.
A number of health issues may typically accompany the disorder, including seizures, hearing loss, respiratory and vision disturbances, and cognitive disabilities, as well as specific malfunctions in the heart, brain, stomach, liver, and skin.
I barely kept myself from fainting, just as my ears caught Bruce’s voice as if it were coming from another dimension.
“You have to get tested, all of you,” he addressed the three of us, serious as a heart attack. “The… offending gene,” he explained, “they have a way to see if you got it or not. I’ve already told my family to do a screening.”
Suddenly, I realized that I had been far too concerned about what this all meant for little Lenny that I had completely overlooked the possibility of it affecting me and my life.
Heaven, where was your mercy?
Hereditary. Offending gene. Words that I never thought I would pay any attention to, now unexpectedly haunted my existence.
I might have that gene. My future children might suffer just as much as Lenny was now, if not worse.
What fresh hell was this? And what had we done to deserve it?
Once again, the combined whines and whimpers of my mother and sister floated in the space around me. As I got up and sat next to Bianca, mindlessly holding her other hand and patting her on the back, my head was someplace else altogether.
Was this how we were supposed to find out? Did someone else know and they never told us or were we the firsts to unveil it along the long family line?
How far back had it gone? And did that even matter?
Poor Bianca obviously had it worse—what it had done to her, Bruce, and their entire marriage. Their poor child’s life was hanging in the cruel limbo of uncertainty while they were abruptly expected to navigate this new and harsh reality as if they knew how to handle a situation like that.
This could be me and my future husband if I never got tested.
As awful as it would be to discover that I might never have children, it would be a thousand times better than venturing into it blindly and naively, thinking that ignorance was bliss.
Squeezing Bianca a little harder, pulling her a little closer as she cried, prompted in my mind visions of what it would be like to have no-one to hold in times of need. What man would want to hang around knowing that there was no way for us to have kids of our own? Only a man who wasn’t interested in the prospects of procreating, to begin with.
But Frankie…
I shouldn’t tell him a word of this until I knew more. After all, I may not be carrying the gene. But if he were to find out about Lenny’s diagnosis prematurely, he just might write me off for good.
Shutting my eyes, I recalled how he had said that, one day, he would like to be married and have children. Sure, he spoke of it casually, but who wouldn’t? It was, after all, our first weekend together, and he definitely was not ready to discuss such serious matters with me yet.
After the initial shock had waned, my father took Bruce and Bianca. I missed where they had said they were going, but they definitely had to bring Lenny back at some point. Mom, on the other hand, took it upon herself to cocoon in Bianca’s kitchen with the perfect distracting responsibility: getting dinner started.
While I spent the rest of the afternoon stunned and confused, my brain mustered a few comforting phrases that I wrote down and memorized by heart. Of course, nothing I was going to say would ever make my sister and brother-in-law feel any better, but the futile attempts were a social mandate, regardless of the logical outcome.
For the life of me, I couldn’t retain anything from that evening. I simply wandered through the motions of the hours with an absent mind and a torn soul.
Was that what trauma felt like?
Around midnight, I had given up my fruitless attempts at getting some shuteye. I tiptoed out of the guest room where I had been staying to find that the entire house was dark as the night, except for the front porch.
Squinting, I saw Bianca in her big, fluffy sweater sitting out on the bench with a bottle of wine and a single glass. On my way out, I made a little detour to the kitchen where I grabbed a glass for myself before gently turning the knob and opening the door without startling her.
“Hey,” I whispered, “mind if I join you?”
She silently shook her head and I could tell that she had been crying. Her lips were stained a deep shade of maroon which was enough to let me know that she had drunk more than just the one glass.
“Any left for me?” I let a slight smile curve up my lips as I held my empty glass closer to the bottle in her hand.
Scoffing, she poured me a generous portion before lifting up the bottle to her lips and drinking directly from it.
“Yeah, seems about right,” I whispered solemnly as my eyes wandered over the quiet street outside, adorned by gorgeous trees on both sides.
“It’s just not fair.” Her monotonous statement spoke volumes of her exhaustion.
“Bruce sleepin’?”
She slowly nodded without saying a word.
“How can I help?”
“Get tested, for starters?” She sounded downright hopeless.
“I guess.”
“Did you tell Frankie?”
“Uh—no.” I shook my head, furrowing my eyebrows as I did. “Figured I should wait until I know for sure.”
Much to my surprise, she smiled—a faint shadow that could have been a lot brighter if it weren’t for the disaster she was still processing.
“You care,” she said with a hint of wonder.
Shrugging, I didn’t know what to say. So, I bought myself a few more seconds by taking a long, deliberate sip of wine.
“I dunno,” I tried to sound casual, “certainly too heavy for third date material.”
“And when will that be?” She tilted her head, in her eyes a look that was reminiscent of our candid conversations about boys back in high school.
“It was supposed to be on the weekend, but I don’—”
“You should definitely still go. Don’t change your plans.”
“Why do you and Mom keep doing that?” I maintained the soft whisper of my tone. “You know I wanna be here for you.”
“And you know that when it’s absolutely necessary, I’ll ask you to drop the world and come to my rescue.” She paused. “But right now, there’s literally nothing you can do. I’m just… it hasn’t even registered yet.”
“And when it does?”
“I’ll save you a slice of the breakdown.”
Softly giggling, we both had tears in our eyes and doubts in our minds. Reaching for her hand, my fingers touched hers as I shifted closer, pressing my shoulder against hers before drawing a big mouthful of my drink. Following suit, she downed another gulp from the bottle, wiping her lips with the palm of her hand like a child learning to drink for the first time.
“I don’t know how I’m gonna get through the weekend without spilling my guts to him,” I mused, my eyes following a moth a few feet away.
“You just gotta put on your show face. Remember? The one we do when Aunt Muriel comes to town?”
“God.” I tittered and she mirrored my reaction. “Y’know what I mean.”
“Not really.” She softly shook her head once. “Didn’t know he wanted kids. Didn’t know you knew he wanted kids. Looks like you guys got pretty close.”
“It was mentioned in passing.” I couldn’t help the bitterness in my voice.
“What else am I missing?”
“Shut up,” I playfully hit her on the shoulder, “you know.”
“I know that you like him enough to think about a future with him.”
“And to wonder if I’m a good enough actress to pull the weekend off without incident.” Upon the last word, I shot her a meaningful look.
Our laughter came out bitter, but accurately reflected the current state of affairs. My being prone to saying whatever I was thinking wasn’t always devoid of unpleasant consequences. But Bianca had always said to me that she would rather have a best friend who spoke her mind than one that kept everything a secret.
The night grew colder, but instead of going back inside, we cuddled up with her large sweater wrapped around the two of us. We had both clearly missed our bonding times, and what was a better opportunity to reconnect than an emotional catastrophe?
The couple of days that followed were closer to hell than anything I had ever experienced. Mom was constantly crying and cursing her luck, while Bianca’s state was beyond heartbreaking.
Between my sister’s attempts to lighten up the mood for Lenny and Bruce and her private weeping sessions in the bathroom when she thought nobody was listening, I felt like I was losing my mind.
By Friday, all of my energy had been completely drained. When I was finally alone on the train, I closed my eyes and tried my best to relax. An old song kept replaying in my head, and I could only explain it as a defense mechanism devised by my currently fragile mind to stop me from falling apart.
When I stepped out onto the platform, the weather was hotter than I had remembered. The sun was in the middle of the sky, and everything was yellow. As soon as my eyes landed on Frankie, the world began to regain its full color again.
I proceeded toward him, but when he turned and looked at me, amber hues took over the vista again. In contrast to my expectation of a smiling face and relaxed eyes, I saw a troubled expression under his cowboy hat. Both his hands were in his pockets, and as the distance between us shrunk, he looked as though he were investing a lot of energy to muster a grin.
“Hey, beautiful.” His voice was loaded with hidden messages—an aura of unease and concern coated his tone, leaving a thread of tension that hung in the air like thick smoke in a room with no windows.
“Hi.” I propped myself up on my toes and kissed his lips. His lips were hesitant to indulge, but for only a moment, I thought I felt something good.
The feeling soon went away when he bent over, grabbing my cabin-sized suitcase before strutting over to his car, with me scurrying behind.
Had he found out about my family’s genetic curse? How could that possibly be? Who would have told him? We’re not even in the same town.
Adamant on not uttering a word regarding the whole thing, I decided to ignore the signs and try to enjoy the weekend, nonetheless. After all, it could be something at work—the ranch, his family, an old girlfriend… I kept mentally reciting to myself:
‘The world does not revolve around you.’
We got into his car, and immediately, he turned on the radio to the local country music station, blasting up the volume in a clear sign that conversation was not welcome.
As he drove away from the station, my eyes scanned the little sidewalk with shops and boutiques lined up side by side like cans of soda on a shelf.
“Hey, can we stop for a minute?” An idea popped up in my head. “At Brennan’s. I need to pick somethin’ up quick.”
Without a word, he threw me a dry smile and pulled over at the next corner.
Brennan’s was a little hole in the wall that sold an assortment of essential oils, homemade toiletries, and artisanal perfumes. My mother had always raved about how good—and pricey—their products were.
I walked into the store alone, inhaling the rejuvenating aromas of lemongrass, lavender, and peppermint. As my eyes scanned the little bottles stacked up on the racks, the owner stepped closer with his hands behind his back. He was an elderly man, bald at the crown of his head with thick glasses and a grey goatee.
“Can I help you find what you’re lookin’ for?” His polite smile soothed me.
The problem was I didn’t know what I was looking for. The cologne Frankie was wearing the day we met at the party smelled of certain distinct fragrances, but I neither had a name nor did I know if it was from town.
“A man’s cologne,” I wracked my brain trying to remember the scents, “something with… white musk and possibly a hint of spice.” Cringing, I bit my lower lip. “I’m sorry, I know this doesn’t help much.”
His smile grew bigger as he took a couple of steps away, leaning by another stand that held smaller bottles. “In fact, we only got two that fit your description. Would you like to give ‘em a try?”
As his fingers picked up the two tester bottles, my eyes widened in anticipation. How incredible would it be if one of them was really it?
He wiped a drop of his own wrist before extending it in the air for me to sniff. Closing my eyes, I inhaled, trying to recall the atmosphere. The feeling. What had triggered my mind at that time? Was it really the smell, or did Frankie have some sort of superpower?
“It’s close,” I said in a low voice. “May I test the other one?”
“Of course.”
He repeated the process on his other wrist, and I drew in a big breath.
“That’s the one!” I sprung my eyelids open, strained by an excitement I couldn’t exactly justify. “Would you wrap one for me?”
I didn’t inquire about the price, nor was I concerned. Something inside urged me to get the cologne for Frankie at once—a silent apology only I was aware of. An attempt to make amends for an offense I had not even committed.
After watching him carefully cloak the bottle with an earthy sheet of brown paper, I observed as he tied it all together with a comfortingly simple piece of beige thread. I then paid at the desk by the door while tucking my expensive gift away at the bottom of my purse.
Walking back out, I saw the back of Frankie’s head inside the car. He wasn’t impatiently watching the door for me to return. He wasn’t singing along to the music blasting from his powerful speakers. Instead, he was gazing through the open window with his elbow resting on the metal and glass edge, his chin propped over his fist. He seemed deep in thought.
“Hey,” I sang through the passenger’s side window before tugging on the handle and sliding in, gracefully swaying both legs in as I hiked up my dress. I wanted to see if his eyes were going to roam over my skin like they always did.
But this time, he quickly scrunched his nose with a boyish smile and turned the key in the ignition, driving away without a second glance.
Throughout the entire ride, I wondered if Frankie didn’t want me to come this weekend at all. If he had changed his mind, why hadn’t he called me instead? Weren’t we adult enough to speak up when something wasn’t working for us? Was he changing his mind about me—about us? Did he not want to hurt my feelings?
The world does not revolve around you.
Once again, I tried to ease my troubled mind.