Page 8 of An Immaculate Deception

A flood of horrible possibilities rushes into my mind: Leandro has a spinal injury and can no longer walk. He lost the ability to speak. Or hear. Or both. A shard of glass got stuck in his brain. He lost a limb. He’s like the “curiosities” in the circus now. Maybe he’ll spend the rest of his life working in a circus. Maybe he’s in pieces.

Doctor Lobo’s throat works and he seems to hesitate. He’s become a statue of himself.

The footsteps outside draw nearer. Thump, thump, thump.

“Doctor…?”

He glances at me—eyes wide with alarm. But it’s too late now; a shadow seeps under the door. I see the knob turning.

Then Leandro stands before me.

5

I almost don’t recognize Leandro.

There’s a sunken, hollow aspect to his cheeks. Dark half-moons sit under his eyes, which lack their usual brightness. His skin is pale and dull, and his lips are a grayish purple. His hair is combed too close to his head, and lacks its usual messy charm. He gawks at me with an expression I’ve never seen before, which frankly disturbs me, as though he’s both fear stricken and eager at the same time.

I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but something is.

“My dear Leandro!” I force myself to stand, even though pain shoots from every nerve of my body as I do. I strain to make my way to him, and Doctor Lobo comes to my aid. Leandro just stands there.

The loving words I’ve been expecting—My dear Madalena! Are you well?—never come.

Leandro is stonelike as I hug him. When my arms wrap around his shoulders, he takes a tiny step backward, and for a moment I fear that he will not return the hug at all. His body trembles slightly, and when finally he embraces me, I’m relieved, even though his hands barely touch me. His breath hitches, as if coming out in spurts, warm and moist on my neck. He doesn’t speak. I feel his shoulders shake, then I hear the hiccuping. When I step back, I see that he’s weeping. I’ve never seen him in such a state.

“How are you feeling?” I venture.

“I…” He starts and stops, seeming to choke on his words. I throw the physician a concerned look.

Leandro is gaping at me, opening and closing his hands. His cheeks and lips are wet and the way he’s staring unsettles me. It’s an intense, unblinking stare, almost as though he’s not breathing. Like he wants to speak but can’t. Like if he speaks, he will break into a million pieces.

I scan his body for bruises. His forehead is swollen and red, but besides that I see no other signs of harm. But some wounds are invisible, internal, and sometimes those are the worst ones.

It’s my fault. He tried to go to the driver’s seat and I stopped him. I was so myopic about my own goals that I disregarded his safety, and the safety of the driver and the horse. If I hadn’t stopped him, if I had not chosen that dire moment to tell him about the pregnancy, maybe he would have reached the seat before the driver fell, and before the thunder roared above us and spooked the horse.

“I thought you were—”

“It’s the work of God,” Doctor Lobo interrupts.

I’m overcome by an instinct to hold Leandro and soothe him, seeing him like this, and I reach forward to kiss him.

Doctor Lobo clears his throat and I draw back, suddenly mindful of myself. I hear Mother’s censoring voice in my head: No touching! How improper it would be for me to kiss him with Doctor Lobo in the room.

“Leandro,” Doctor Lobo says, “why don’t you go fetch some water?”

Leandro nods, confirming that he at least can still be spoken to even if he can’t speak, then takes his leave.

His demeanor is odd. Even the way he so quickly obeyed the doctor, seemingly unperturbed at being ordered about in his own house, head hung and eyes downcast—something about that strikes me as wrong.

“Well,” Doctor Lobo says once we are alone in the room. “It’s been a stressful time for both of you. Madalena, will you please sit down so that I may finish the examination?”

You had better examine Leandro instead, I think.

Doctor Lobo takes out instruments from his case and gives me precise instructions. He places a cone-shaped device in my ear and listens. He presses a cold metal instrument to my back and has me take deep breaths.

My brain is a jumble of half-formed simmering thoughts. I was inside the carriage, clutching at the seat, too terrified to move. But when I told Leandro about the baby, he held my hand and looked me in the eye, and there was pure love in his gaze. His whole body seemed to inflate. I felt it: He was about to propose.

If the accident hadn’t happened, he would have proposed right there in the rain-soaked carriage.