"Get in. Excuse the mess," Marcella smiled awkwardly placing the shoes she wore the previous day in the shoe rack.
She looked at her congested living room. She couldn't afford a bigger place as she valued safety over comfort. This is a safe neighborhood for her. No one knew who she was here.
She picked up the fashion magazine that was sprawled on the couch. "Make yourself at home," she smiled at Tony and gestured for him to sit. "I'll put the kettle on for you," she said walking to the kitchen.
He has helped her a lot in the past. This was the first time Tony was in her house and she wanted to give at least something back to him.
"You're a lot like…"
"Like?" Marcella paused and turned to look at him. He was standing with his hands inside his trouser pocket. As she met his eyes, he scratched the tip of his nose.
"Don DeAngelo used to prioritize others over him too," Tony sighed. He placed the plastic bag on the small table to the side. "Come sit on the couch. Let me look at your wound."
Marcella gulped. Her throat felt sore as she tried to hold back the emotion that rose from the bottom of her heart. She rarely hears anyone talking good things about her father. Her father was not all bad.
"My tea can wait," Tony added, bringing her out of her reverie.
"Yeah, one moment," she wetted her lips. He was about to speak but she interjected him. "I'll have to check on Mellissa."
She needed to check on her sister first. It could be a coordinated effort to take them both. Tony nodded understandingly.
Marcella walked to the hanging landline phone on the wall. She picked up the headset. Her slender finger rotated the dial out of muscle memory. Her sister is the only person she calls often. She even pays for the phone connection just for talking to her sister. Even after their father forbade her sister to talk to her, Mellissa never stopped talking to her.
Mellissa surely was sweet like honey, true to her name.
Marcella's heart pounded as she heard the ringtone. She hoped it was Mellissa answering the phone. If it was the housekeeper, it would get tough.
Mellissa's in-laws—the Romanos, didn't like her after she was disowned by her father. They did so mostly to pander to her father. They tried to forbid Mellissa from talking to her, and that caused some friction in the family when Mellissa refused openly.
But Andrew Romano—Mellissa's husband supported her so much that he encouraged her to do what her heart wanted.
After all, after their mother's death, the girls only had each other.
Marcella nervously tapped on the headset as the ringtone went on for a while. Then the call ended without a connection. She sighed and dialed again.
She had a doubt that Mellissa might have gone out with her husband. Andrew is an impulsive guy and he was raring to take her out after childbirth. He must have found the time tonight.
Ah, I hope they are safe.
"Hello, Romano residence."
The raspy voice made Marcella sigh. It's going to be a struggle.
"Mrs. Murphy, it's Marcella. Is Mell~"
*Ding*
As she was talking, the call ended. Marcella pressed her forehead against the wall. The wound in her abdomen had stopped bleeding but it stung a lot.
She dialed again. The call didn't connect. If it was any other time, she wouldn't have called again. But she wanted to tell them that Mellissa's life might be in danger.
Sure, it might be an isolated incident and those men only came for her life. But she didn't want to take a chance. The last time she was pursued relentlessly, she found her mother's dead body. She didn't want history to repeat itself.
She dialed and dialed. The fifth call connected. She heard the cry of the newborn but Marcella hurriedly decided to pass the info.
"Mrs. Murphy, Mellissa might be in~"
"Do you hear him? Does it make you happy knowing that you wake up a sleeping baby?"
"I'm sorr~"
"You're mannerless! I can see why your father wished you dead!"
"Mellissa might~"
"Do not call here ever again!"
*Ding*
The call ended. Marcella hung the handset back. Leaning against the wall she took in a deep breath. Her eyes clouded.
She could have at least listened to me.
The stinging pain in her abdomen reminded her that she had a guest in her house. She sucked in a deep breath. Or tried to. She couldn't take much of a deep breath as she felt a pulling pain that stopped her.
Tony was sitting on the couch. He was not smiling as usual. He must be pitying her state. She knew he wouldn't pry.
"Mellissa's not home," she smiled awkwardly. Her palms had gone cold and she was nervous. Something didn't feel right. She was scared. "I'll… she'll surely call me after she gets home. Mrs. Murphy will inform her. Ah, if only there are ways to talk to her… If only there was a small phone that one can carry everywhere… Ah, I am being so…"
"Lie down," Tony pointed at the couch.
Marcella stood staring at the floor. She wished for her sister to be safe.
"I have heard that Andrew Romano never sends his wife anywhere alone without security. She will be safe," Tony said. "You, on the other hand, are on the verge of losing consciousness. I'll call a doctor."
"No need," Marcella shook her head. "It's not necessary."
She wondered if it would be better to take a taxi and visit her sister. But what if she puts them in danger? Wouldn't it be better to leave their security to handle it? If only she can give a warning to them… But how?
"You are not thinking of leaving anywhere, are you?" Tony asked.
"What? No… Why?" she asked.
Can he read minds?
"You still haven't removed your coat. Come on," he held out his hand. "Your sister will be safe. Don't worry."
Marcella was not convinced but she had no other choice. She has already shown her vulnerability to Tony and didn't want to act more pathetic. She removed her coat and sat on the couch. Tony told her that it would be more comfortable for her if she lay down on the couch, and she did.
Only when she was about to pull up her shirt did she realize that the wound was closer to her lower rib and that means she will have to pull her shirt up, like REALLY up.
Can she be any more vulnerable in front of him?
Hello lovely readers, just want to say that this story is happening in the early 80s. Only landline phones were predominant then. There was no internet.
What do you think of Mrs. Murphy? Isn't she a tad bit too much?
Creation is hard, cheer me up!
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