The Unwieldy Façade

I’ve never been so content. Well at least as far as I can remember back to a year ago. Aaron and I are on our 5th child after 10 years of marriage. I haven’t told him yet because it’s been a year since my accident, and I am not sure how he will take it. He’s the dream of women here in Anderson. A nice, well-mannered country boy with a full-time job in the military. He is 10 years my senior but that doesn’t seem to matter.

Our oldest children are 6-year-old fraternal twins, next is our 4-year-old daughter, and our 2-year-old son. I must be crazy at 31 years of age deciding to have a 5th child, but it seems right. My family is from Italy. My mother is black, and my father is half Italian, half African American. They fell madly in love and decided together they will be. They moved to the US permanently when I was 18 years of age. I’m fluent in Italian and I am teaching our children the language.

The more Aaron and I embrace, he always whispers to me, “Promise me you won’t leave me”. I can’t understand why he does this. Every time I ask him why he says that he looks at me with watery, loving eyes and says, “I love you, Amore.” Love in Italian is amore and he thought it would be a cute pet name for me. Whatever his reason, I am smitten with love for him. I can’t see myself without him.

His parents and my parents live about 4 blocks away from our home. Every day, he goes to work as a recruiter for the US Army and he drops the twins off at school. I usually clean the house, wash clothes, take the younger kids to the park or to grandmas. I never thought being a housewife was so appealing. I wake up refreshed every day. My sisters, Aurora and Martina are married but do not have children yet. My eldest sister Chiara is married with a 16-year-old daughter whose beauty would shame the Greek Goddesses.

We have dinner at my parents’ home every other week on Saturday. During that time, they tell me how lucky I am to be with Aaron and how much he loves me and the children. It feels like they overdo it, but I am not sure what to think. I can tell, they really like him.

I finally get up the courage to see my doctor so I can begin prenatal care. Dr. Gina asks me am I sure I want to proceed with the child after only 1 year of recovery from my accident. I ask her what kind of question is that? She replies, “Well, I just think you want to sleep on this due to discussions we have had before.” I say, “Before?” She rushes me off in frenzy and says, “I am sorry Ilaria, never mind. Don’t forget your prenatal pill prescription. Please start right away!”

I rush off to get the prescription filled so I can begin to properly nurture this baby. I went home to cook Aaron’s favorite soup for dinner and to get the younger children ready for bed. As soon as Aaron comes in, he grabs me around my waste, kisses me passionately, all while professing his love for me. I’ve gotten so use to this routine; I no longer wonder why.

I prep his uniform for the morning and begin to read while Aaron gives the twins a bath and prepare them for bed. I always seem to fall asleep on the couch around 10:00 p.m. just to awake to Aaron carrying me in his arms up the stairs to place me in our bed. He doesn’t like to sleep apart, ever. It bothers him a lot if I spend the night at my parent’s home or if I fall asleep on the couch or in the children’s room as I put them to bed. He’s so overprotective but I love it. It comforts me.

The next day as he is off to work, I make a southern breakfast the way he likes it. This includes grits, pork sausage links, biscuits, and fruit. As I hand him his uniform jacket, I call his name. I am frozen in place. He calls to me, “Amore, what’s wrong?” I blurt out, “I’m pregnant!!” I shiver a little because I am not sure of his response. He doesn’t make a whole lot of money and it’s already 6 of us plus my therapy and medical bills.

Aaron smiles at me with the most amorous eyes. He then towers his 6’2 frame over my 5’0 frame while slipping his arms around my waste and kissing me and whispers, “It’s ok Amore, thank you.” Then he walks out the door. I stood there in my satin robe with furry sleepers in amazement of this man! He really does love me. He really wants me. I go on with my day as a devoted house mother but and an extra veil of comfort from my adoring husband.

By evening, Aaron returns home with flowers for the dinner table. He is elated about my pregnancy. I asked that we keep it between us until I reach the 2nd trimester. With my accident only being one year prior, I am not sure if I am healthy enough to bring this pregnancy to full term. He agrees. Every night, when we lay in bed, he makes it his business to rub my stomach until he falls asleep. If I ever had any doubt about his acceptance of this pregnancy, they have been lifted.

Midday, I take neighborhood walks with my 4-year-old and my 2-year-old. We usually end up at the park where I meet other housewives. They are always saying to me how great of a woman I am to have been through so much. They say things like, “Oh my God, I wish I was as strong as you” or “How did you make it through”. I simply say by my faith and love in my heart. I leave it at that. I don’t trust many people.

I fall into routine easily. Aaron spends time at his parent’s house on Sundays because he helps his sister out by watching her 5-year-old son. I use that time to visit my sister’s house who lives in Raleigh. When he’s finishes the visit, he picks me and the children up so we can go home and have our own family evening.

As months go on, I finally make it to my 2nd trimester. With Aaron’s permission, we plan a barbeque at our home. Our house is small and modest but can hold both of our families. We decide it’s time to officially announce the 5th pregnancy. Plus, I am starting to show. Saturday morning, we get up and begin. My sisters know and come over early to help me fix dinner and decorate. Oh, this mix of Italian foods and the finest Southern cuisine is better than any restaurant.

By 3:00 p.m., all our family has arrived. I’m in the kitchen, Aaron is out back with our children. I notice his brother at my front gate arguing with a woman. No one else seems to notice this but me. As I walk to my front door to get a full understanding of what’s going on, my head starts to hurt, my sight gets a little blurry. As I open the door, my eyes focus and locks on a young lady whose ethnicity looks to be Korean and Black. At her knee level is a little boy around 5 years of age clinging to her. She immediately stops talking when she sees me. I say, “Hello”. She replies but in a trembling voice. At that moment, I can hear Aaron’s sister yell for him like the front porch was on fire.

Aaron runs up and grabs the little boy and starts also going back and forth with the mother. Aaron’s brother turned to me and mouthed, “I’m sorry.” I have no idea at that moment why Aaron’s brother is sorry. I step further out on the porch, and I hear Aaron say, “We have been through this, you know you can’t drop him off at my house, you have to go to my parent’s home.” As Aaron hands the little boy off to his brother, I am amazed at how comfortable this child is with him. Aaron then pushes the mother down the street.

I look at the girl one more time. I study her face. I listen to her and Aaron arguing. My hands are trembling. My legs are weak. My sisters are on the porch by now and they run to catch me as I am falling. I don’t know if it’s the pregnancy, the mix of Italian food and soul food I ate together, or I am dehydrated from this sweltering North Carolina heat. As they move me into the house, I can hear Aaron say over and over again, “I’m sorry Amore, I am so sorry baby, please don’t leave me.”

Just like that, my brain delivers the identity of this lady. She is Seo. A woman Aaron met in North Korea when on assignment years earlier. He was assigned there when I was 5 months pregnant with the twins. He returned when they were 6 months old. Exactly two years after returning home, Seo shows up on my doorstep with this son that Aaron fathered.

As I stand up in pure rage, I look around the room. My sisters, his brothers, and both sets of our parents. I say to them, “Tell me the damn truth, what is going on!!!” My mother walks up to me and says in Italian, “La mia figlia più giovane che amo così tanto. Non posso alleviare il tuo dolore, ma posso darti la verità.” She begins to cry and continues in English, “A year ago, you attempted suicide. We found you in time to take you to the hospital where you laid in a coma for 2 months. Once you awoke, it was determined you had amnesia.”

I can’t believe this lady’s words. What are you saying? What is my life becoming right now? She states, “You and Aaron had been on rocky terms for years due to you finding out, he fathered a child in North Korea. You went into a clinical depression and that night; you took sleeping pills. I could only assume you were tired. You were estranged from Aaron mentally for some time.”

My sister then approaches and says, “You know our family values marriage. Despite us encouraging you to forgive Aaron for his mistake and make it work, you fought us. Once you came out of the coma and we saw you fall in love again with Aaron because the amnesia took away your ability to remember certain circumstances, we vowed together, both families to keep the child hidden and encourage you to love your husband.”

I was sick. Disgusted. To the core. How could they keep such a secret from me? The fact I had amnesia; I didn’t even know!!! I was told I suffered a brain aneurysm. And I couldn’t remember anything about this child Aaron fathered. I told them, “Had I known all of this, you think I would have given Aaron a 5th child!! How about I wouldn’t have slept with him or lived with him.”

At that moment, Aaron mother’s replies, “Exactly. For our grandchildren’s sake, the reputation of both families, and my son’s deep love for you, you see why we had to do this. We kept the child at our house on Sundays so Aaron could have a relationship with him, and it does not interfere with your family being rebuilt.”

As I looked around the room, I begin laughing hysterically. Because the memories of that night and my life prior to a year before are NOW here, vivid as day! Pandora’s box has been opened and I am the fool. Today’s family event was to welcome and new child into this world, into what I thought was a loving marriage. Instead, a side chick’s appearance unlocked my pretty little brain.

It’s funny how life works. You believe what you see on the surface first and never question those second guesses you have. The heavens have a comical way of allowing the truth to unfold. No matter what your good intentions are from creating an unwieldy façade of life, truth prevails. Amnesia couldn’t even keep me away from myself. The truth is everywhere you go, there you are.