“You got a fire and it’s burning in the rain. Thought that it went out, but it’s burning just the same…”


Back in Minnesota was exactly what Marie wanted. Back with Sofia in her arms, knowing that in a few months she’d have another baby to hold, was just what made Marie feel complete.

Marco was spending most of his time at the rink now as the team prepared for preseason. The first game was a couple days away, and Marco wanted to prove to his teammates and coaches that despite having hernia surgery, a wedding, and a honeymoon, he was still in top-notch shape. That was something Marie could attest to. He was probably in the best shape of his life, and if anything, Marie knew that she had played a role in his cardio health.

It had started out to be a very typical Wednesday. Sofia stirred in her crib around six and Marco went to retrieve her before she tried to climb out of it by herself. He entertained her in the living room while Marie made breakfast. They ate together, and then Marco was out for the day.

Marie got Sofia dressed, and they went to check on the shop. With its growing success in the area, Marie felt comfortable with hiring more personnel. She was more of a figurehead than anything; like the queen of England. Her presence was felt, but managers handled the day to day activities. Marie made sure she paid the rent and handled the logistics, and every now and again she’d pick up a shift. But it was nice to know that it could be functional without her.

When they returned home, Marie knew it was time for Sofia’s nap. She was getting antsy and temperamental, so Marie set her in her crib, and kissed her forehead. She turned on the baby monitor and shut the door, ready for at least an hour of peace and quiet. The hum of the TV in the background was the perfect volume to get her to take her mind off of everything. It was nearing one now, and Marco would return home in a couple hours.

But then the normalcy of that Wednesday ended. An hour flew by, probably faster than Marie would’ve hoped. Usually within an hour, Sofia started to call out from her crib. Naps never lasted much longer than that for her. But today, she didn’t cry. The baby monitor was silent. For Marie, there was no reason to panic. Sofia was just super tired today; no sweat. Figuring she’d check on her and let her sleep, Marie nudged open the nursery door and poked her head in. Sofia was still, and while that wouldn’t have normally called for any concern, panic did ensue.

Her skin was a little bluer than normal, and Marie snatched her up from her bed, held her against her chest and ran out of the nursery. She nearly tripped on her way to the kitchen, and picked up the phone, dialing for an ambulance. She patted on Sofia’s back, hoping that if she was choking on something, anything, she could dislodge it and get her to start breathing again. Sofia was awake, but completely lethargic.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“My baby’s not breathing, please help,” her words came out like vomit. She was frantic, “she was napping fine, and I checked on her and she’s blue!”

“Alright miss, I’m dispatching paramedics. Please stay calm…”

“I’m as calm as I’m going to get!” Marie yelled. The woman on the other end of the line was just trying to help, and Marie felt a twinge of guilt for yelling at her, but she didn’t know. She didn’t know how blue Sofia was, she didn’t know how Marie was feeling. “She was born with a heart defect, please help me!”

“Miss, I’m doing everything I can. The paramedics are on their way now. They’ll be there soon.”

Soon was not soon enough. Marie stayed on the line with the dispatcher until the paramedics knocked on her door four minutes later. They came in carrying their gear; two men working on a tiny little child. One set an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth, while the other laid her down on spineboard. Because she was awake, they didn’t begin CPR, but Marie ran behind them as they brought her to the ambulance.

Only when she was sitting down, watching Sofia look around the cabin, unable to make noise, did Marie notice she was shaking. Her hands wouldn’t stop trembling. She ran her fingers through her hair and prayed that she’d caught Sof in time.

By the time they arrived at the hospital in Minneapolis, Marie was sobbing; partially from the experience and partially from the fact that the doctors wouldn’t let her into the trauma room as they looked over Sofia. She pulled out her cell phone and searched for Marco’s number.

The one time she hoped to hear his voice, her call went to voicemail. “She’s blue, Marco. We’re at the university’s medical center, and these doctors won’t let me see her…” She trailed off, swiping her tears away, “you get your ass here, Marco. I swear to God…”

The trauma room opened up, so Marie hung up and rushed the doctors. Two wheeled Sofia off, and the third approached Marie, blocking her.

“Mrs. Scandella, we’re getting Sofia in for a CT scan right now. We have her records. We know her medical history, and for now we’re assuming the patchwork done on her heart to fix the defect is leaking. Her blood wasn’t able to saturate with oxygen, causing her to look a little blue. But we’ll know more after the scan,”

“Who’s your on-call cardiothoracic surgeon?” Her father had trained her well enough to ask that.

“Dr. Zimmermann. He’s quite talented, and I assure you…”

“I don’t want him. I want William Thatcher,”

“Mrs. Scandella, I’m not sure we have time to wait for Dr. Thatcher,”

“William Thatcher is the best. I can get him on a plane at a moment’s notice. So have your talented Dr. Zimmermann call him and figure something out. Because if my daughter is having another surgery, Bill Thatcher will be the lead surgeon, and your Dr. Zimmermann can assist.”

The doctor nodded and let her have her way. There was no leeway with her. Not on this. He turned away, and Marie picked her up her phone again, this time dialing her father’s number.

“Marie, how was Italy?”

“Sofia is blue. If she dies from your leaky patchwork, I’ll kill you.”

“I’m on my way.”

Marie hung up. She looked around the emergency room, finding that everyone had something to do. No one had time to wait on her. She set her head in her hands and sobbed a little bit harder.

She had since moved to a chair in the corner of a waiting room. Bill kept her updated on his whereabouts, texting her that he was in the air. Thank God for chartered jets. He estimated to only be in the air for two hours and after talking to Dr. Zimmermann, they agreed that Sofia would be prepped and ready for surgery the moment Bill landed. Dr. Zimmermann would keep her alive, and Bill would fix her.

“Marie,”

She jolted up from her seat and ran to Marco. He had obviously come straight from the rink, hair matted, shirt laced with sweat, but she hugged him anyways. He cradled her head against his chest and let his lips linger on top of her head. He didn’t know what to think. Her message had been vague, but he doubted this had happened because of her carelessness. Bill had told them that there was a chance his work would deteriorate. That predication came true a year later.

“Did you call your dad?”

Marie pulled away from him and sat back down in her chair. “He’s in the air. Their quack of a surgeon is prepping her,”

He sat next to her and grabbed her hand. “Shh,” he glanced around to make sure no one heard her, “I’m sure he’s a great surgeon. Play nice. Your bitterness will not convince them to help our daughter,”

“First the 9-1-1 bitch tells me to stay calm, then the paramedics mosey on in four minutes later like it’s a grand fucking time, then the trauma goons kick me out of the room as they prod my baby like a wild animal, then Dr. Quack Quack has to take the reins until my dad gets here, and now you’re telling me to play nice like I’m in the Stanley Cup Final and trying not to get a fighting major. What part of this warrants me to play nicely?”

Marco tried to hide a smile. “I know this has been traumatic for you. I know how scared you must’ve been. But I also know threatening and shaming these doctors isn’t going to help. They will be reluctant to do anything, and right now we’re relying on them. So simmer down sweetheart, please.”

She flicked her eyes to him and fought the urge to scream at him. Simmer down? Was he insane? She wanted to fight him on that so badly, but ultimately he was right. And as much as she hated that, she also couldn’t deny it.

Each hour that passed, Marie and Marco saw different sets of people come and go. A doctor, one that had kicked Marie out of the trauma room, came by to tell them that Bill had gotten in and was beginning surgery. After that, they weren’t updated at all. And that felt like a crime. Two hours passed, three hours passed, then four and five. Marie didn’t know if that much time was a good thing or bad thing. It meant Sofia hadn’t died yet, but it also meant that she could be suffering there on the table. Any scenario she thought of was awful. This was surely not a Wednesday she’d want to remember.

Marie figured it must’ve been some time around seven, because her stomach started grumbling. Her dad glided into the waiting room, surgical cap still covering his hair. He looked tired, and he sat down across from them, rubbing his hands together.

“She’s okay,”

Marie let out an audible sigh and clutched onto Marco’s hand.

“It’s hard to keep this from happening because she’s so young. Her body is growing so quickly that the patch I originally placed couldn’t stretch with it. Until her heart stops growing, this is going to be an ongoing issue unless she gets a transplant. You could put her on the list, but she’d probably never get one. It’s fixable with surgery, it might just have to happen every year.”

“What kind of life is that?” Marie sat back in the chair, and Marco placed his arm around her shoulders.

“The one she’s been given. Trust me, if it wasn’t necessary, I wouldn’t even contemplate it. No patch I place is going to stay with her until she’s fifteen or sixteen. She’ll outgrow them all. This isn’t a matter of needing surgery or not, it’s a matter of preventing a scare like the one you had today. Sofia will need surgery again; she’ll need multiple surgeries again. I can use the same incision point to minimize scar tissue, but after six or seven surgeries, that tissue is going to be chewed up.”

“So we just wait for her to turn blue again, and then call you?” Marie whimpered and brought her hands up to her mouth.

“I’ll talk to colleagues and find the best cardiologist around here. Then every six months, you’re to make sure she gets seen to check the status of the patch. It’ll be updated to her medical history, and I’ll be able to monitor it.”

“Can we see her now?” Marco stood up. It came out as a question, but he meant it more as a statement. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

Bill stood up and led them towards her room in the PICU. “She’ll be asleep for now, but ready for release in four or five days if she stays stable.”

Marie and Marco didn’t respond. Just over a year ago, they were in the same predicament, being told which hours were acceptable for them to see their daughter. They were rules they hated to abide by.

The room was not private, but for now, Sofia was the only baby in it. Just like Bill had said, she was asleep. She was on her back, and even with her eyes closed, she appeared uneasy. It wasn’t the normal peaceful expression she had during sleep.

Yet again, Marie broke down. How many times could she watch her tiny daughter so helpless and clinging to life? This was tearing her apart. And every tear that rolled down her cheek almost convinced her that she didn’t want another baby. How could she fathom putting another child through something like this?

Bill backed out of the room to allow them some time alone, and only then did Marie approach the crib. She wiped her eyes, finding that her mascara was running, and took an extra moment to shake her head. Behind her, Marco placed his hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently.

“I don’t want to have another kid; I want to get an abortion,”

“Stop that,”

She shrugged his hands off her shoulders and curled her fingers around the edge of the plastic crib. “Stop what?! I don’t want to put another kid through this. It’s not fair,” her voice cracked and she clutched at her stomach, “I don’t want this baby.”

Marie could see that Marco’s heart was breaking. His expression was indicative of that. “You’re being irrational. It’s been a crazy and emotional day, and you’re making hasty decisions.”

“No, I want an abortion!” She began to cry harder, digging her fingernails into her stomach as though she could tear the baby out of herself.

“Marie, stop! Stop talking like that!” Marco lunged at her and yanked her hands away from her stomach. He held onto her wrists tightly, watching them turn red as she tried to escape his grip.

“It’s my body, you don’t get to tell me what to do!” Marie finally succeeded in pulling her wrists out of his hands. She pointed at him, accusingly, “I don’t need your permission; you don’t own me. If I want to have an abortion so this baby doesn’t have to have a fucked up heart, then I’m going to get an abortion.”

Marco stepped forward to hold onto her, but for every step he took forward, Marie took one step back. How quickly she could turn on him. “You don’t know that kid will have a fucked up heart,”

“Well I’m preventing it,”

“You’re gonna kill that baby because there’s an improbably small chance it’ll have a birth defect?”

He was doing his best to instill the tiniest shred of doubt and uncertainty in Marie. And unfortunately for him, she recognized his tactic.

“Look at your daughter,” Marie pointed back to the crib. “Look at her. She’s suffering. How can you see that and be told she’ll need surgery every year, and still want another kid? How? What kind of monster did I marry?”

It was a dagger to the gut, and Marco fought the urge to keel over right then and there. She was being ruthless, and it was only because she was afraid. He knew he shouldn’t take it personally, but how was he supposed to do that after she’d just called him a monster?

“You want to have an abortion? You’ve convinced yourself that you want one? Fine. But Marie, I’m going to make sure you live every single day of your life in guilt for killing my child. If you were ill, or your life was in danger… or if that baby had a disease that would ruin its quality of life, I would support your decision. If I weren’t here and you were doing this alone, I wouldn’t stop you. But I will never forgive you if you kill my child because you’re scared.” He wanted to shake some sense into her, and when he grabbed her shoulders again, he nearly did that. “I’m here. We’re getting through this, okay? Sofia’s getting through this. We knew this was a very real possibility to begin with. But she’s strong, and she can do it.”

“I’m not strong enough for this,” she looked up at him. Tears still fell from her eyes. “So you better get used to hating me because I can’t do this.”

Marie pulled out of his grasp and walked out of the room. Marco turned to watch her go, seeing Bill in the doorway, side-eyeing his daughter as she passed. When the two men made eye contact, Marco was too defeated to be angry at Bill for eavesdropping.

---

When they had gotten back to the condo that day, Marco packed a bag and got a room at a hotel in St. Paul. As far as he was concerned, if Marie went through with the abortion, they were over. If she was willing to sacrifice their child’s life, he was prepared to sacrifice their marriage.

Marie watched him go; silently stared as he walked out the door. When it shut behind him, she sat at her computer and researched abortions like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Marco was trying to tell himself that he didn’t care. She could do what she wanted, and that would be that. But that wasn’t helping at all. She could get an abortion, and he could hate her, but that still wouldn’t bring back the baby.

He stayed up the entire night and had mostly gone through the wet bar in his room when he heard a knock at his door early the next morning. Part of him actually believed it’d be Marie, and she’d apologize for acting so illogically. But he opened the door and saw Bill, and he wished he had been a little more drunk.

“May I come in for a moment?”

Marco stepped to the side and waved his hand. Bill stepped in, aware of the empty mini alcohol bottles littered across the bed.

“My daughter has scheduled herself an abortion at the hospital…”

“I don’t want to hear this,” Marco sat down on the foot of the bed. Knowing Marie was still gung-ho on her plan did not help.

“If she goes through with it, it is a decision she will regret for the rest of her life.” He sucked in a deep breath like he was immediately going to go on another rant, but he paused. And it caught Marco’s attention. “Do you know the probability of that child being born with a heart defect?”

“No, but I assume you’re about to tell me.”

“Seventy-nine percent if congenital heart disease runs in your family or Marie’s. I know it doesn’t run in our family…”

“It’s a non-issue with the Scandella’s,” Marco clasped his hands together.

“I’m quite confident in saying that Sofia’s situation was a chromosomal flaw. Marie had a textbook pregnancy. Sofia’s heart defect was an unlucky draw of thousands. It’s so rare for siblings to both have heart defects unless that disease runs in the family.” Bill pinched the bridge of his nose, “she cannot begin to fathom the amount of emotional pain she’ll have to deal with if she goes through with it. She’s banking on being unlucky, but it’s not realistic.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” Marco snapped. “I told her she was being irrational. But your daughter is stubborn like an old mule.”

“You’re her husband. You promised her you’d stand by her. So go to her appointment,”

Marco shook his head, “I’m not going to watch her kill my child.”

“I’m going to see what I can do. And if my efforts don’t work, and she decides to go ahead with the procedure, you may leave. In fact, I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

“I want that baby,”

Marco stared at Bill, not knowing if he should trust him or not. He had proven to be despicable so many times in the past that the thought of putting any faith into him now, seemed completely absurd.

Notes

"Heartbeat" by The Fray.

This is taking a little bit of a turn... sorry in advance!