Monza (Formula Men #1) (9 page)

Gino looked at me expectantly, waiting for my response. “What reason should I tell them for the cancellation?”

“
I…” I momentarily halted speaking as I tried to breathe through the loud pounding of my heart and the crippling migraine that had sprouted out of the blue. It felt as though it was spreading rapidly, like a cluster of throbbing aches, and my entire head felt like it was prickled with needles in every pore.

Grinding my teeth together, I gripped the back of the chair, needing a little assistance since it was becoming unbearable to stand straight. “Can you… ask for my pain killer?” I screeched out as the pain worsened to an escalated level while everything swam before my very eyes, spinning my sight. Then I blacked out, losing consciousness.

Sometime later, I awoke groggily in the hospital, surrounded by the medical folks buzzing, making things worse. The first thing I noticed was that, even though the massive migraine was gone, there was still a dull ache inside my brain, as if the headache was in remission and would resurface if something stressed it.

Vittorio’s face stood out amongst the people in the room, and in my peripheral vision, I could see both of my parents looking rather grim. Well, the old doctor surely didn’t seem happy, either.

I was about to say something about the headaches being simply a result of me not following his orders when he decided to speak, silencing everyone in the room.

“
You have a brain aneurysm,” he stated, using his voice in a doctor to patient fashion—professional, detached.

What in the world did that entail? It sounded complicated.

“
It’s vital to get you in for an operation because, once it ruptures, your chance of survival lessens.”

Wait—what?

“
Is that a tumor?”

He shook his head. “The wall of your brain artery has a weakened section that protrudes out from its inner tube. You have a saccular aneurysm, which we believe is a result from the head trauma you got from the crash. It’s an unfortunate thing, but we must count our blessings that we found this out sooner rather than later, and since the aneurysm hasn’t ruptured, it’s highly recommended that that we perform surgery on it by clipping the tube or endovascular coiling. Once this is addressed, we shall monitor it closely in any case it comes back again.”

“
And, if I don’t get the surgery, what happens, then?” I roughly inquired just as I heard my mother’s shrilling cries in the background, accusing me of being such a selfish person.

Choosing to ignore her hysterics, I raised my brow at Vittorio, waiting for his answer.

“
If you choose not to have a surgery, we can keep a close eye on it just to make sure it doesn’t rupture. I can prescribe medication that will help alleviate some of the eye pain and relieve the cranial pressure. Regardless, I still recommend the surgery because the chances of it rupturing might not be that high, but if you’re stressed, it isn’t lessened, and if you don’t drastically change your lifestyle, it just might. Once that happens, there’s a high chance that you might die, or if not, disability is also more than likely. You’re young, Luca. If you choose to have this operation, you’ll recover quickly and still get on with your life, minus intense stress that results to high blood pressure.”

I wasn’t even thirty years old, and I was already dealing with this kind of medical issue. Life certainly loved to fuck me over once it started to detect enthusiasm from me. Hell, what should I do now?

“
Don’t be such a foolish child. Get the damn surgery, Luca!” my mother piped in with her uninvited opinion.

This was my body, my life, my decision. “If I slow down with my lifestyle and lessen the stress as you stated and decide not to get the surgery, what are the chances of it rupturing?”

“
An estimated fifty to eighty percent, roughly.”

This was a dire bet…but I suppose as long as I avoided the crap that skyrocketed my blood pressure, I should survive this ordeal. I could very well live with it without having anything drilled into my brain.

“
I’ll go with no operation. I’ll take my chances.”

My mother lost it, fainting on the spot; my father tended to his wife; and the other medical personnel scrambled to cater to the dramatic woman. Vittorio didn’t leave my side, trying his best to persuade me to change my decision, but I had already made up my mind. Nothing would change it.

Once Vittorio left, I took the chance to lie back and rest as I listened to my now awakened mother sobbing as if she was truly concerned about my welfare. It was rather laughable. I believed she was more upset that her trophy son was no more, that her well-boasted son had a possibility of being a disabled man, and she would be mortified to call me her own. My mother was superficial. She didn’t have a soul nor a decent bone in her body. That was why her artificial wiles didn’t do a damn thing to my conscience.

It took about another ten minutes before everyone cleared out, except for my parents. With my mother regaining her composure as she retouched her make-up, my father stood at the foot of the hospital bed with genuine concern etched across his face.

“
Why are you so against a surgery that will save your life?” he asked.

“
Because I am. It’s my life, my decision. End of story.”

He was none too pleased with my curt answer. “Do you have a death wish, Luca?”

Was that what they called it? I didn’t necessarily call upon death, but I was against anything going on inside my brain. Besides, it wasn’t as if my family would really mourn my death. My father might, but the rest? I doubted it.

“
If I die, I die. Why make a big deal out of it?”

Of course, my relaxed approach didn’t sit well with him.

“
Because you’re my son! I’m your father, and I’m telling you that you’re not being sensible or fair to everyone who loves and cares for you, Luca. You’ve always loved to chase experiences that threaten your wellbeing, but this time around, I refuse to see that happen! I refuse to bury my son while there’s still breath left in my body!” He slammed his fist on the small table that was close to him, disturbing everything on it.

“
Papà, that’s enough. I’m exhausted, and I want nothing more than to sleep right now. I know this is upsetting you, but for now, this is what I want. I need you to learn how to respect that.”

I needed to be alone with my own thoughts and to be surrounded by silence with no one pestering me about my decisions. If stress was one of the vital triggers for me, then my parents should pay heed and let me rest.

I fell asleep to the sound of my mother bickering about how my father should pressure me more into getting it done, while my father was telling her that he was tired and would try to speak with me again tomorrow. They contrasted each other. It was sad that two individuals remained married, simply because it was expected of them.

Playing by the rules wasn’t my forte, and everyone knew that. I was as stubborn as they came.

Dead or alive, what would be the difference, really? I would welcome either with open arms.

Diece

Gazing at the bland display of food that was set on the tray, instead of choosing any to nibble on, I chose the newspaper that was neatly folded next to it.

My mood was dismal at best, but after a few pages into the paper, I realized that life outside the hospital was still up to the same old shenanigans. What did I truly expect? People were rather fond of targeting me. Be it good or bad, they would speculate on everything until the truth was stretched out into a fabricated lie.

I wasn’t even surprised that the media had already gotten a whiff of my diagnosis. Just like during any other trivial controversy, my mother was inconsolable. There were photos of her, teary eyed, forlorn, and looking every bit of a mother who was going through a challenging time with her family. To be sure, the situation was challenging; however, for her to use the media as a tool to get sympathy and good publicity—well, it was typical Felicia Constantia di Medici style. Her little comments and short but staged interviews in the article were rather disgusting. She knew the last thing I needed was to stress myself out, yet there she was, absorbing every bit of attention she could find.

It was an error on my part, leading myself to believe I could have a hiatus from the tabloids and the gossip they liked to feed on. Thanks to my beloved mother, everyone in Italy knew about my condition. I was sure the rest of the world would soon catch up within the next few hours. Jacques, Andrés, Callum, and the rest of the lot would be lining up to see me, probably believing I might be on my deathbed.

Ah, fuck it all. Who cared what anyone thought of me? I hadn’t bothered caring before, so I shouldn’t care now.

The loud knock on the door made me tense, half hoping that it was mother on the other side of the door, because I had some colorful words to say to her. However, as luck would have it—or lack of it—it was the last person I had expected to see, seeming worse for wear with red-rimmed eyes, as if she had been crying her eyes out.

I admitted, for a slight second, I stopped breathing. Then, remembering our last encounter, repulsion immediately flooded me, hardening my stance as I gave her a hard stare, hoping she would disappear.

“
What are you doing here?” I asked her, not wasting time on propriety.

Remorseful, she sniffed before appearing as if she was about to cry again. “The news … There’s talk that you’re sick. They said the doctors—”

“
Who gives a fuck what the doctors think?” I barked out the words, unable to suppress how I loathed her and everything she represented. “Besides, it’s no one’s business but mine. You can go ahead and retrace your steps back to where you came from. You’re not welcome here.”

“
Why are you taking chances? This is your life. How can you gamble with it? You know how dangerous this is, Luca!” she gave an impassioned speech, so much so that I almost,
almost
believed it.

She made a good actress; I could credit her for that. After all, she did fool me with her sweet and charming persona. Regardless, I wasn’t to be trifled with for the second time. I didn’t make a good enemy, so she better watch herself.

“
What does it matter to you? You look so concerned that I can almost believe you, but come on, Kim. If you came here to lecture me about my life, you should go ahead and take a good look at yourself before you start looking into mine.”

It seemed that my chilling treatment of her was too much for her hormonal self. She was bawling as if she was in so much pain.

Sniffing, she hiccupped a few times before whispering, “It’s yours.”

Tensing, I frowned at her water work display. “
I beg your pardon?
What did you just say?”

Wiping her tears with the back of her hands, she lifted her chin, meeting my steady gaze. “The baby’s yours, not Anton’s.”

Horror filled me. It was as though she had doused me with ice cold water before someone threw gas at me and lit my body on fire.

“
I don’t believe you.” How could I? She was a chronic liar, and a very good one at that.

“
It’s the truth.” She somehow made herself appear dignified even though she was a mess.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

=-=-=-=

Monza: Book 2

May 2015

Monza: Book 3

June 2015

Barcelona (Andrés)

July 2015

Nice (Jacques)

October 2015

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