by Kim Pritekel
She tapped the end of the pen against her knee to click the business end into place and began to record the numbered matchbooks she’d given to Liv and Squirrel a few nights before. Oscar used to give her crap about them until three deaths had been solved directly because of the matchbooks, one murdered and the other two from drug overdoses. He never said another word.
“Do you think they were killed in a car accident?”
Catania glanced up again at her brother’s unexpected voice. “What?”
“The pizza delivery guy. Do you think he was killed in a fiery crash while on the way to deliver our dinner?”
She smirked and grabbed her cell phone, which lay on the small table next to her recliner. She glanced at the progress bar of their ordered pizza to see the driver should be there any time. “Soon, buddy,” she said, setting the phone down. “I know it’s taking longer than usual.”
“So far three hundred and sixty-eight seconds longer than last time,” he complained, never once tearing his attention away from his game.
“Do you want a juice box to curb your appetite until they get here?” she asked, setting her notebook aside in preparation to get up and head to the kitchen. At the sound of a loud buzzing, Catania realized there must be a new delivery person because they hadn’t gone around back as requested on her online order, but instead the front door. “Be right back, Matty. Pizza’s here.”
Grabbing the cash she’d taken from her wallet earlier, Catania padded to the front door of the apartment that led to the narrow staircase and trotted down, unlocking it and opening it to the cold evening air.
“Hello. Large pepperoni and two-liter of Coke?” the older driver asked, his branded baseball cap slightly askew atop snow-white hair.
“Yup.” Catania handed over the cash and took the hot pizza box and cold bottle of soda, then hurried back up the stairs, passing the archway that opened into a narrow hallway to another flight of stairs that headed up to the other two apartments on the third floor. Before she entered the apartment, she removed the single-page menu with coupons and shoved it into her pocket as she needed Matteo’s attention for her planned discussion during dinner and knew he’d get immediately distracted.
Glancing to the living room, she saw that Matteo was still engrossed in his game, so she headed to the kitchen and left the food and drink on the island before gathering plates and glasses, setting two places at the table after she cleared off the unopened mail.
“Dinner, Matty.”
Catania slapped two pieces onto her plate and poured a glass of Coke, leaving the box open and cap off for her brother to do the same. Once they were seated and eating, she studied the man, younger by three years. He was a very handsome man with dark, naturally wavy hair and dark, penetrating eyes. No matter how often he shaved, he always had a shadow of stubble on his strong jaw and upper lip.
She’d always thought it sad and a waste, as his family and doctors felt that likely he’d never be able to participate in the formalities of life as a romantic partner or father. His intelligence was off the charts, and though he could do your taxes in five minutes no matter how complicated, he couldn’t remember to shower or even change his clothing without daily reminders.
“So,” she began, taking a quick sip from her drink. “Papa tells me you’re interested in having some space. Of your own, that is.”
He eyed her for a moment. “Do you have any idea how annoying it gets when Mamma continually goes through your things?”
Catania smirked and nodded. “Yes, yes I do. Why do you think I live here?” She took a bite of her pizza and chewed thoughtfully, trying to decide what tack to take. “So,” she began, grabbing the paper towel she’d placed beside her plate and wiping her mouth as she swallowed. “What exactly are you looking to do? What’s the goal?”
Matteo took his time chewing on the bite of pizza he’d taken, opening his mouth to pop in a piece of pepperoni. “Well,” he finally said. “I want all my things to be where I want them to be. I want them all to be where I left them when I return.”
Catania chuckled at that one. It drove her absolutely insane when she came home from school or work only to find her bedroom rearranged. She never understood how her mother couldn’t understand her anger or irritation at the total lack of privacy in the d’Giovanni home.
“I want to eat dinner if I want to or eat a donut instead if I want.”
“Makes sense.” She wiped her fingers on her paper towel and cleared her throat. “Matteo, Jason—”
“I don’t like Jason.”
“I know, but you do like Miss Karen, right?” she prodded, knowing full well that the wife of their older half-brother had always been good to them.
“Yes. She makes good chocolate cake.”
“That’s no lie. Well listen, Miss Karen runs a place called Aberdeen House—”
“No!” He began to retreat, terror in his dark eyes.
“Hey,” she said softly, reaching out and covering his hand with one of hers. “It’s okay, Matty. It’s not the bad hospital place. It’s a house, a big house divided up into a bunch of apartments.” She waited for her words to sink in. When she saw him begin to relax, she continued. “You’d have a place for your bed, a little living area, like this,” she said, indicating her own living room where his video game was paused on the mounted TV. “We could get you a little fridge and microwave so you could keep all your juice boxes in there and heat up your mac ’n cheese cups you like for lunch. And, you’ll have your own bathroom.”
He mulled over what she’d told him, chewing on his bottom lip before sipping from his Coke. “And, I’d be left alone? I could work?”
“Absolutely. You can still do your job on the computer, and yes, you’d be left alone. I think she’ll come and make sure everything is okay once a week or so, but other than that… You and the other tenants would eat breakfast and dinner downstairs.” She grinned and added, “If you want to.”
He screwed his face up in consternation. “When they ‘make sure everything is okay once a week or so,’” he said using finger quotes. “What all does that entail?”
Catania shrugged, picking up her second slice. “Probably just making sure you’re keeping the place clean.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Like your place?” he drawled.
“Hey, mister,” she said, pointing a finger at him. “Unopened mail and a couple magazine lying on a table isn’t exactly not changing my sheets for six months, now is it?”
He sat back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest as he started off into thoughts Catania couldn’t join him in. Finally, he gave her a side glance. “Can we still do our visits here?”
****
Catania stood at the center of the bedroom portion of the apartment with hands on hips and looked around. She reached up and adjusted the baseball cap she wore, tired and hungry after a long day of moving her brother into his new apartment. She and the two youngest d’Giovanni boys, twenty-four-year-old Dino and high school junior Leonardo, had essentially moved everything from Matteo’s bedroom at the family home into his new digs.
“What do you think, boys?” she asked, satisfied with this new chapter in her favorite brother’s life.
The house they’d moved him into had been built in the thirties and still held a lot of the era’s charm, even as it had been renovated and turned into various residences and businesses over the years. It had been bought a handful of years back by a group that owned nursing homes and assisted living situations—much like this one—that was extremely reputable and in good standing with the state. Having Karen d’Giovanni run the place certainly helped.
The six apartments were just under five hundred square feet each, plenty of space for a single person with only their most important possessions, like Matteo, to stretch out their legs and make a home for themselves while still having discreet supervision
The apartment was set up nicely, including the gifts the family had come together to purchase for Matteo: dorm-sized fridge with a microwa
ve sitting atop it; a small, intimate table for two in the corner; and, the cherry on that sundae, a brand new forty-two-inch flat screen that the electronically gifted of the brothers, Leonardo, had hooked up to cable as well as Matteo’s beloved gaming system.
“Well, what do you think, Matty?” Not entirely surprised, she turned to see Matteo already seated on the love seat positioned back from the entertainment center where the TV sat, playing one of his video games. She glanced at the screen to see zombie-like creatures ambling toward the point-of-view character only to have their heads or some other body part blown off in a bloody gore-fest. “Ew,” she muttered. She turned to her youngest brothers. “Come on, guys. I believe our work is done here.”
“Finally,” Dino said, running a hand over his ever-perfect hair.
“Stop whining,” Leonardo said, giving Matteo a fist bump before pushing his older brother toward the door.
“Matty,” Catania said, getting no response. “Matty, I need you to listen to me.”
The young man paused his game and looked up at her, splattered zombie brains frozen on the large screen.
“Okay,” she began. “You have more than enough mac ’n cheese in the fridge to get you through the next few days, as well as juice boxes. I showed you how to use the microwave earlier. You remember where I showed you all the dishes and things are stored, right?” At his nod, she continued. “I’ll be back on my day off and we can go grab some groceries, okay?” Another nod.
Catania walked over to the door where she’d mounted a three-hook hat rack to the wall. Hanging on the middle hook was a black carabiner with a silver key dangling from it.
“Matty, this is your key and you will always hang it here when you’re at home, okay? Just like you had the fish bowl at Mamma and Papa’s house in your old bedroom. Always clip this to your belt, okay?” she advised, knowing her brother’s fondness for always wearing a leather belt.
“Alright,” he said with a firm nod, letting Catania know he’d etched it into his incredible memory, which was a steel trap when he chose to use it.
“Okay, good. And,” she said, walking over to him. “This is your address, Matty.” She handed him a note card with the address written in clear, bold letters and numbers. “Put it in your wallet.”
“Done,” he said, retrieving the brown leather billfold from the back pocket of his khakis.
“Alright,” she said, releasing a long breath. She felt like she was leaving her little boy to ride the bus to school by himself for the first time. She knew they’d left her mother to cry all afternoon as she cleaned the empty bedroom that her second son had occupied for his entire thirty-five years on the planet. “Are you going to be okay?”
He nodded, grabbing the control for his game system, quite obviously not as emotionally moved by Catania’s exit as she was.
She leaned down and placed a kiss on his cheek and hugged his shoulders from behind. She was the only person in his life who could hug him freely without sending him into one of his “episodes.” “I love you, bud. Get some sleep and I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Without another sound from Matteo except the screams and music from the game he unpaused, Catania left the apartment, making sure the door was locked behind her. She had the second of the two keys he’d been given after signing his lease.
****
“And, uh, can I have a side of hash browns to go with that?” Leonardo asked, looking up at Lizzie with a charming smile.
“You got it, cutie,” she said through smacked gum. “Regular for you?”
“Yup,” Catania said, handing the waitress her menu. “Let’s go with American instead of cheddar this time.”
“Med-well, USA, side of mayo,” Lizzie murmured as she scratched out Catania’s order on her pad. “Okay. Be back in a sec with your drinks.”
Just the two of them, Catania looked across the table at her baby brother. “I’m glad Dino went home to get ready for his date with Gina.” The second-youngest was constantly in heat with his carousel of “dates.” “Last time we were together you mentioned you wanted to talk to me about something.” She eyed him, Leonardo the spitting image of Matteo, though taller and with deep dimples. They’d always been his ticket out of trouble with their mother. “Remember?”
He let out a heavy breath, taking a moment to shrug out of his high school letterman jacket before responding. “Yes, I do.” He reached out and began to play with the chrome-and-glass straw dispenser, his dark gaze focused on it. “I think I’ve made a decision…finally.”
“Okay,” she said, sitting back in the booth. She studied him, feeling she knew what he was going to tell her. It was the same thing she hadn’t been able to tell her very Catholic parents nor any of her brothers. Only the few women that had been close to her heart or in her bed knew. “Hit me.”
He took a deep, steadying breath then blurted,
“I faked an injury to get out of wrestling and am going to try out for the school play.”
She blinked several times, her brain trying to parse out what she’d just heard. “Wait, what?”
“Okay, here we go,” Lizzie said, placing Catania’s Coke in front of her and Sprite in front of her companion.
Catania glanced up at the sudden interruption and someone caught her eye. Looking past the older waitress, she noticed someone scurrying around in the kitchen that she’d never seen before. It was a woman who looked to be in her thirties somewhere. Her blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She stopped at the order window where waitresses could pick up their orders.
“Order up!” she called, tapping the bell that sat there before she disappeared farther back into the kitchen.
“Who’s that?”
Lizzie glanced over her shoulder to look before returning her attention to her table. “Ally.”
“She replacing Louis?” Catania asked, casting one last glance to the kitchen before grabbing a straw and tearing off the paper.
“Nah.” Lizzie smirked, hands on apron-clad hips. “Randy is too much of a sexist for that. He thinks women in the kitchen is bad luck.”
Leonardo smirked. “What, was he a sailor in a past life or something?”
Lizzie grinned, blowing a small bubble with her gum. “Yeah, right. Women are bad luck or something.” She rolled her eyes, two of the fake lashes attached above her left eye fluttering slightly with the cold breeze as a patron entered the diner. “Nah, she was hired as a waitress, but we saw she was a short order cook at her last job, so we needed her to help out today.” She shrugged. “Folks seem to like her food, so…” She gave them both a smile and walked away to greet the new customers.
Catania dropped the straw into her drink only to watch it bob up slightly in the bubbles. “Okay, so can I have that again, this time in English?”
He sighed, ripping the paper off his own straw. “I told the coach I had a pulled hamstring and I couldn’t wrestle,” he said, sparing her a glance.
Catania’s eyebrows lifted. “What did Dino say?” she asked, knowing full well that their brother had been Wrestling State Champion all four years at Pueblo County High School.
“He doesn’t know. Nobody does.” He glanced over at his letterman jacket, heavy with pins and medals of his achievements in sports. “I want to do something different.”
“And, I believe I heard the words ‘school play’ in there,” Catania said. Though it hadn’t been what she’d thought he was going to say, there was a part of her that wasn’t entirely surprised. She met his gaze with a raised eyebrow.
“I knew I shouldn’t have told you,” he muttered, looking down at his folded hands resting on the table before him.
“Hey, Leo, I didn’t say anything bad about it, bud. Don’t you remember my friend Clarice? The ultimate drama queen in school?” At his nod she continued. “Well, now she teaches musical theater at DU.”
He grinned. “That’s cool.”
“And hey,” Catania added with a smirk. “It makes perfect sense. You’re the ultimate
drama queen yourself.”
“Oh, aren’t you cute!” He laughed, throwing his balled-up straw wrapper at her.
“Okay, who gets the omelet?”
Catania turned at the sound of the unfamiliar female voice. The blond cook stood next to their table, three plates stacked awkwardly up one arm while a bottle of ketchup and mustard were balanced in the opposite hand.
“Here,” Leonardo said, pushing his drink away to make room for his plates.
It was as though time slowed down and Catania saw the plate that her cheeseburger and fries were on begin to wobble horribly as the plate with the omelet was removed. As if in slow motion, on instinct her hand reached out in perfect timing as the cheeseburger slid from the teetering plate, landing top-bun-side down onto her palm, a sea of French fries falling onto her wrist and the floor.
“Oh god!” The waitress gasped, the plate clanging loudly to the floor along with the small plate that held Leonardo’s hash browns.
Time was back at its normal level as Catania caught up to what had happened. She brought her hand up and looked in awed curiosity at the upside-down burger in her palm. The sleeve of her hoodie was splattered with goops of mayonnaise and juices from the sliced pickles and tomatoes that had garnished the plate.
“I’m so sorry. Here, let me take that.”
“No, no it’s okay. This was saved,” Catania said with a chuckle, snagging a napkin from the chrome dispenser and placing the cheeseburger right side up on it.
“God.” Ally gasped again, sounding like she was about to cry. “I’m so sorry.”
Catania met her gaze and for a moment couldn’t breathe. She found herself looking into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, dark blue, like the sky before it turned fully black. She shook herself out of it. “It’s okay, really,” she said as the blond waitress began to wipe at the mess on her arm. “In my line of work, dinner spilled on me is the least of my worries.”
For just a moment Ally’s gaze met Catania’s again, the tiniest of a smile brushing her lips before she returned to cleaning.
