kingdobbs

“You’re nuts. You are literally crackers,” Gianna said, shaking herself free of the weak grip the officer had on her. “I don’t know how else I can tell you that I don’t know what you want to know, and now that I’m finding you show up on my fucking doorstep and assaulting me...” She opened up the front door, ready to walk behind it and slam it in the flatfoots face. “Just get inside here, get a drink of water, and rethink some of your choices. Say any damn thing about your investigation including asking questions, and I will literally throw you onto the street by your ear. Capisce?”

“Mama, this is so hard for me to do,” Gianna says, stabbing a few gnocchi with a fork before putting them into her mouth. “I have been totally straight for a year since I left prison. You know that too. I haven’t seen anyone from the family since prison.” She sighed and ate another bite. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I got a good job, yeah, and a good condo and I’m trying to make good. But, well you know about this whole adoption fiasco. And now that cop that put me away is literally harassing me thinking I’ve got inside info about the family. God I hate that baby faced little...” ”Oh, I know about that one. I have an ear inside the department. She’s closer than she thinks to your Mama, but she can’t see some things have changed...obviously if she’s still looking after my Gia! ” Mama Miglietti scooped another mound of pasta on Giannas plate. “First things first, Bella Gianna, is you eat. You’re getting too skinny, I’m worried about you!” Gianna smiles, knowing from just those two statements absolutely nothing about Mama had changed. ”I told you I’d do you a favor, princessa. Name it and it’s yours.” She sighed again, knowing she could trust Mama yet hardly feeling like it was even worth it. “Those are the two things honestly, get that cop off my back and help me with adopting a baby. They don’t want to give a kid to a single mom who may never marry and has a record.” Mama Miglietti smiled widely. “Oh I think I can manage that favor. You just let your Mama work her magic.” After a pleasant meal ending with Mamas famous espresso, Gianna headed back to her condo...

“Thanks for the coffee, Officer. Maybe I might have known something if you’d thought to spring for a scone, though,” she said, offering a comically obvious wink as she slid a leather jacket on her back. She was more than annoyed at the continued into her life, but at least she knew she could twist the knife a little more with a cheery attitude. She probably ought to not have poked the bear, but this harassment was getting tiresome. Roxanne had to know she was getting nowhere. Either that, or she was really desperate. She got back to her condo and drained the remnants of her somewhat ill-gotten coffee cup, still a little agitated from the waste of an hour and a half and the cost of bus fare and an unnecessary call from her probation officer. At least the coffee was good. She sat home until the urge for dinner hit her. She didn’t know why at that moment, but she suddenly got in the mood for some really good gnocchi. She picked up her cell phone and dialed a familiar number. ”Mama, have room for one more at the table tonight?”

Gianna rolled her eyes upon hearing the accusation. This stupid gumshoe doesn’t give up. She sincerely wished she didn’t have to give this woman the time of day, but “not cooperating with police” tended not to be something that someone on probation could do and stay on probation, even when the expected cooperation involved getting accused of more crimes. She was honestly and non-criminally getting her life back on track, and yet that felony record...the one this noodle-brained flatfoot got put on her...it still dogged her. “I’m going to say the same thing I told you the last five times this month you interrogated me, Officer. I don’t know anything. I have not had any contact with anyone from the family. I have lived up to the terms of my probation. You know where I work, where I buy my groceries, where I go to Saturday mass and Sunday dinner. You also know that if I did know anything about anything the family was up to, I would have sung and would continue to sing like a bird. Telling you what I knew back then still got me a year in prison, and I’m not in a rush to get back.” She folded her hands in front of her. “Any other questions I haven’t answered? Am I free to leave, Officer?” She adored her lawyer for telling her just how useful that phrase could be, especially with a sarcastically deferent tone. She had also lied a little bit. Mama Miglietti had been in contact again. No matter what she could say about the moral and ethical deficiency of being a crime boss, Gianna appreciated how sociable Mama was with her girls. Even the ones who weren’t “in the family” anymore. She knew there was an ulterior motive, there always was; no social call with Mama Miglietti was ever purely social. The words of her last call stuck with her. “Gianna princessa, you may have been in prison but you stayed true to your mama the whole time. You ever need a favor, like your unfortunate adoption situation, Mama will do that favor for you. And I swear on the Holy Mother and great grandmama Maria’s ragu, no strings attached.”

Danny nodded and was ready to head out when she gave her apology. “I love you too, Em. Did you think about...about what we talked about the other day? You know we can handle it for a few weeks anyhow,” he said. “You can’t keep up like this.”

“The book is out and doing ok. The publisher is optimistic anyhow.” He looks down at her, possibly looking the most relaxed she’s been in days, and yet it seems there’s still nothing but weight on her shoulders. “I’m gonna go make some tea, do you want one?” He shifted the subject ever so slightly to still acknowledge her stress but not to talk much more about his success versus her failure.

Danny gently opened the door, seeing a somewhat familiar scene. The mass of bubbles seemed a little excessive to him, but he paid it little mind as he sat down on the closed toilet seat lid. “Rough day?” He asked, knowing context made it a largely silly question.

Danny came home to much the same scene, but the subtle cues that Em was home were there as well. Her keys in the bowl by the front door, shoes carelessly discarded in a hurry in the same place. She was normally pretty fastidious, but lately it wasn’t just shoes carelessly left where they fell, as he picked up a shirt and tossed it in the hamper. The door to the bathroom being closed was his other cue. He softly knocked. “I’m home, Em.”

Danny nodded to himself at the text, and replied with a simple “Love you.” No doubt, he mused, she’d be exhausted and deflated, which seemed to be her default state nowadays. He took the time on the train to read some of the manuscripts he was set to edit, though these days they were manuscripts only in name. He’d wished he had a little more time to write his own works, or at least less depressing circumstances by which he had the time to write. Still, it felt good to get something out there. The train pulled into his home station, and he walked the short hop to their little house, at least aware tonight she’d be there when he got there.

Danny watched the clock as another day went by. He wondered if Emily would be home tonight or not; try as he might, he often found it too hard to keep track of her wildly erratic and unstable schedule, one that lived in sharp contrast with his own predictable nine to five at the office. Still, he knew what he was getting into when they moved in together. He worked hard to make sure the house was taken care of and the bills paid, even if they couldn’t seem to put any dents into the other debts. It was frustrating to see her talent go to waste in menial jobs one step above McDonalds (and in at least one failed attempt at trying to get her wheels spinning in any direction, AT McDonalds), a frustration he rarely voiced because he knew mostly it wasn’t her fault. Well, except on the rare days she never seemed to be able to get past the couch. As he left the office, and boarded the train back to the outer boroughs, he saw an ad he’d seen probably a dozen times the past week for a “regression spa”. And had largely the same reaction to it: “who is this even for?” It didnt even occur to him that the answer was probably “someone like Emily”; he simply paid it no mind beyond that rhetorical question in his thoughts. He sent a quick text as the train squealed it’s way from the station. “You home tonight?”

"Daddy bought some different kinds of diapies, honey," Andy said.

"Well.

Andy wrapped his arms around May and kissed.

"It's wakey time, sweetpea," Andy said, patting Mays diaper.

Andy wasn't disturbed

Andy wrapped his arms around May and felt her burrow up into him.

Andy nodded and held his little May May tightly, carrying her to the bedroom.

Andy knew what all this meant, as little girls used their toys to say what they really meant, and Pooh being sleepy meant that May was sleepy.

Andy smiled and picked up his little May May, taking her to the playpen where he'd told May to leave Pooh when they played outside.

"Ok, sweetheart, Daddy will save it for num nums later," Andy said, swapping the corner of Mays bib for her pacifier, and understanding why one ear of her Pooh bear was more well-worn than the other.

Andy chuckled and tickled his little one.

"Well, Daddy outranks the pasta May May," Andy said with a smile.

Andy was eating slowly, and nudged Mays stomach.

Andy sat May down in her chair while he served up the two plates.

"I promise, if May May follows the rules, Daddy will not yell," Andy said, standing up and holding Mays hand.