Alone, I made it to my door and slid my key into the lock. Genesis had wanted to go out to eat after service was over, but I had declined. I was far too tired, too upset, to entertain him. Still, he'd seemed sympathetic. I couldn't say I didn't detect a concern in his voice. Maybe he'd wanted to talk, maybe that's what he meant. But I didn't have time for it. I just wanted everyone to go away, it all to go away.

Talking. So much talking. Frankie said he wanted to talk to his brother. What was that supposed to mean? I knew how scared he was of him. Was he putting himself in danger? For me? I wasn't worth it.

I threw open my door and lugged myself through, trying to think of a way to get him to stop it. Make him not need to talk to his brother. Trying to figure out a way to make all of this go away.

I couldn't admit to the fact that I'd snuck in four more drinks over the course of the night. He didn't see, but the guilt was packed on more than his disappointed eyes ever could give. I couldn't help it. I needed those drinks, to deal with Eddie and all of it. Maybe that's what Genesis had been getting at, wanting to take me out. Maybe that's what he'd wanted to talk to me about. I knew he'd seen me throwing back some shots, trying to hide it but not very well. At least I'd been able to hide it from Cha Cha.

I felt so ashamed. Look at where Paulie was for his vices and look at me. Was I slipping back off the wagon? All I knew was I felt out of control. Just having those five drinks was out of control, going against Frankie's and my policy. Two would have been okay even though it wasn't a special occasion. Not five.

So I've snuck out of the club, out of the kitchen door into the alley. Genesis had been in the bathroom Frankie and Cha Cha were cleaning the tables. Maybe they were wondering where I'd gone right now. It hadn't been that long.

I just wanted to go to bed, forget about all of this. Forget about Eddie calling me that word, what it could possibly mean to him.

Trying not to think about it, I reached my bedroom and immediately slid back the mirrored doors of my closet. The top drawer of my bureau popped open with my effort and the slippery material of a French made nightgown met my fingers. Pulling it out, I recognized the delicate Chantilly lace on the bust, the unique shaping of the ivory silk gown, empire style but curved in to form fit but flared at the natural waist to lend womanly curves.

This was Frankie's favorite, I knew that. He loved it on me. Adored it on me.

Closing my eyes, I undressed and slipped the watery smooth feeling material over my head without looking at myself, too ashamed. Shuffling, I collapsed on my bed finally and closed my eyes on top of the too plush covers.

It couldn't have been too long later when I woke up. My mouth was completely parched, needed water very badly. I could still feel a slight buzz from my last two drinks, so this was a good indicator that not too much time could have passed. Even so, it was hard to get up. My arm wrapped over my eyes, trying to block out the blaring light from the fixture above my bed. One of the three bulbs was burnt out, making the other appear as bright eyes staring at me. Accusing.

Prompted by the guilty feeling, I slowly got up from my bed, stretching. My mouth and throat were nagging me on top of this. It felt like there was cotton in my mouth, hard to swallow.

Making my way across my living room, the bright lights from outside descending over my nightgown making a sheen. It would have been pretty if I hadn't been feeling so down. The feelings from earlier were returning with every step. The lights mixed with the yellow light from my bedroom, creating a unique glow.

The tile of my kitchen was cold on my feet. I hardly ever stood on these tiles with bare feet, usually wearing my house shoes or slippers. It was something Frankie preferred about me. Frankie. Gloom filled my heart. What was he doing now? Was he worried about me? I was worried about him. When was he going to talk to Eddie.

Maybe if he worried about me he'd come over. I wanted him here. I was so lonely, but so ashamed. I'd tell him about the drinks, tell him I was sorry and try to explain. Maybe it would be okay, maybe he'd understand. I really couldn't tell without him standing here.

I turned the on and slid my glass under it, not waiting for it to get really cold. Warm was better for the throat anyway. Satisfied with how much water was in the glass, I turned off the faucet and took a few little sips. The water was soothing, but not really satisfying enough.

Clicking met my ears. Heavy shiftings, too familiar. My eyes shot to the doorway of my kitchen, confusion filling my entire weary body.

The front door's locks completed turning and my ears were met with the squeaking of the door hinges, the door swinging open. I jumped as it closed, too loud.

Fear filled me, my hand gripped my glass. My mind went in a couple of direction, but I couldn't comprehend them.

"H- Hello?" I called out. I closed my mouth, but too late. What was I thinking?

That wasn't Frankie. Frankie knocks. Would he just come in? I was thinking about him, but for him to come in like this... It felt surreal. Was I still dreaming? Had I fallen back to sleep, not in my kitchen at all?

No answer came back to me. Frankie would answer. A thought dripped into my mind. The only other person with a key was Paulie. Paulie. Elation filled my body from my toes to the top of my head, happy tingling. "Paulie? Is that you? I'm in the kitchen," I called out, a smile teasing my lips.

I started to walk towards the living room, and like a cloud lifting, sleep left my body. With the fog of the dream-like state going away, the fear descended again.

Paulie would have called out to me.

I stopped in my tracks, the cold tile chilling me to the bone. Framed in the doorway was the back of somebody I recognized but my brain was trying to make it somebody else.

Wheat blonde hair in too trim of a hairstyle, too tidy and short. Grey suit with shoulders too wide. Stature too short to be the person I wanted him to be. The colors were familiar, the suit familiar, but this person...

Realizing, ice slid down into my belly and stayed there, melting and meeting my spine to shiver me to my core. My eyes went down his form, and saw metal glinting in the unique glow of my living room, silver color met with black.

It only took me a few seconds to realize it was a gun.

My world turned into non-reality again. No, no, no. What was happening? No, no, no.

The person in the doorway was Eddie. He took a few steps and disappeared into my bedroom. God, tell me I am dreaming. It is a nightmare. I'm asleep on my bed. I'm drunk. I feel guilty. That's why this dream is so bad.

I'm in the kitchen. I said I'm in the kitchen. He knows where I am. So why is he in my bedroom? This is a dream, right? Is that why he went in there?

My eyes darted to the left. The door. My front door. If I could get to my front door, then maybe...

I was frozen as his black oxford appeared in the doorway of my bedroom, opposite me. I was framed in my kitchen doorway. There was nowhere to hide. It appeared in slow motion but everything was going too fast for me to move.

He manifested the rest of the way in my bedroom doorway and our eyes met. Fear tumbled down my shoulders and down my hands, released my water glass and as it shattered on the floor the noise of it was so great it snapped me back to reality.

Speechless, I watched his gun, waiting for it to raise and make it all over. He was angry at me, I knew that. I'd known that. I'd done all of these things and I shouldn't have.

My mind went to the piano hammer from my old apartment. Pressed into my pillow. In my bedroom. My bedroom. Was that why he went into my bedroom? Was it him who had done it? He'd just come into my apartment right now like he maybe had before that time. He was here. He'd just come in.

Racing nonsensical thoughts. It was a stand off, staring at each other in our doorways.

His smile made a feeling I'd never felt before shoot through my body. My bladder. It made it loose, making me almost release on myself, the fear was too great. I'd heard of this happening to other people, but I didn't believe it. Not until now. My legs started to shake, my knees knocking against each other.

It was like he was some Batman villain, as stupid as that sounds. Pure evil, standing there, surreal.

"Oh there you are," he said. My ears hung on to every word, listening for them to spell out my doom. Some announcement that he was about to shoot me in the head.

I couldn't speak.

"I wanted to talk to you. We don't get to talk, do we? Come out here so we can talk."

"Talk," I choked out, my voice high like a whining puppy.

"Yes. Come on." He motioned to the right with his revolver, as he brandished it I noticed it had a revolving mechanism so it was definitely a revolver.

I was going to die by a revolver. The say when you're about to die you get filled with peace. I was having none of it. Just a strange silence within my body, like it was all over, there was nothing left.

He was pointing towards the table next to my window. It was a few seconds before I realized I wasn't moving. Wasn't obeying what he was saying. The fear dipped into my belly ice cold and made my shaking knees move forward, making me stumble almost. Like this, I obeyed him out of my kitchen and into my living room.

The white carpet looked blue in the glow. My nightgown looked blue. He looked at me and disgust crinkled on his nose.

"What are you wearing," he said, not a question but a statement. Like I was completely wrong. I was wrong.

"I- I'm sorry," my voice stumbled out like I had out of the kitchen.

"Get against the window."

"Okay."

So he hadn't been pointing at my table. Why did he want me against my window? Was he going to kill me executioner style, against the surface like a prisoner?

I was so sorry. I was so sorry to Frankie. Sorry I didn't get to say good-bye.

Tears pricked at the edges of my eyes but I had to blink them away. I couldn't cry in front of him. There had to be some dignity. I felt so silly. There was no dignity to this.

"Are you going to shoot me?" I asked delicately, pressing against my floor to ceiling window and turning around to face him. He didn't answer me, just coming closer. This I hadn't expected. I'd expected him to shoot me from far away. Did it hurt more when it was up close? Was it going to hurt? I didn't want it to hurt.

This was such a ridiculous thought. I was supposed to be asleep in my bed.

"I want to talk to you." He was responding again. Why was he dragging this out?

"Okay." I was so calm. He was so calm. It didn't feel right.

He was next to me now, getting closer. Pressing himself to me. Creepy ants went all over me, crawling on my skin. I half expected to see him, but it was just myself recoiling, not wanting to feel him. It was strange, how I loved feeling his brother on me, but him...

"What- what do you want to talk about," I whispered, finding my voice was starting to not work again at the worst time out of my fear. How were we supposed to talk if I couldn't speak to him? This surged the fear up into my lungs, causing my breath to come too fast in bursts.

"Are you scared of me?" he asked quietly.

"U- um..." What was I supposed to say to something like that?

"We're family, ain't we?"

"W- what..."

"My dad told me you're family, so I'd better respect you."

Oh shit. Was that it?

"He told me that, so I thought I better talk to you."

Was that why he was here?

"W-when did he say that?" I squeaked out.

"Few days ago. I thought about it. So I thought I better come here, talk to you about a couple of things."

"Oh..." A few days ago. Frankie. So Frankie hadn't spoken to him yet? Oh god, Frankie...

"Don't you want to know what I want to know?" He leaned into me, and I felt that gun press against my hip, painful metal against my bone. It made the entire place numb, the flesh too scared to react properly. I breathed out.

"Y- yeah," I breathed.

"I want to know why you think you can make my brother a faggot. My brother ain't no faggot, you know? He dates a lot of women. I told my father that and he told you're a woman. Is that true? That means you ain't got a dick, right? But then I got to thinking, no you gotta have one because you work at his club. He doesn't hire girls. Girls are too 'delicate' to work at his club, that's his policy. So I came over here, because I had to know."

Oh Jesus Goddamn Christ...

"Y-you mean..." My brain was going blank at what he was saying. My eyes slid over to his gun, knowing it was pressed between us against my hip bone. It was too close to my genitals, uncomfortably close.

"That's right, puttana. I know you weren't a retard. My dad doesn't hire those."

"Uh-um..." I breathed in too quickly, choking on my breath.

"Take it off."

"But I..."

I was frozen. What was he asking me to do? What was he really asking me to do? A long pause went between us, too long. I found I was too scared to shake, past that phase. My body was going numb, starting from my hip.

"P-please don't...m-make me..." These words fell from my lips and I immediately regretted them. They hadn't even gone through my brain before they fell out.

"You got something to hide?"

"Please...please..." I couldn't control my mouth anymore, horribly. Tears formed in my eyes and I watched from behind them as they exited my eyes, showing him my weakness at the work time.

"I thought so. I've been watching you, you know. We've been watching you." He shook his pointer finger at me now, accusingly. It felt like something out of a movie, not real life at all.

"Watching me?" My words came out like a caught child, ashamed.

"My buddy saw you at Carabella's. You were hanging out with that new guy, what's his name?"

"Ge-...James," I squeaked out, stumbling over what I usually called him. Calling him by his familiar name could have been suicide. I didn't know what would make him crack.

"That's right. James. He's a faggot, too, right? My buddy told me he saw him kissing on this guy at Carabella's. Right in front of everybody. He couldn't finish his dinner. A lot of people complained. What did you think, going to somewhere we all go? It was disgusting."

"I- I wasn't thinking..." I hadn't been thinking of that, it was the truth. I was so stupid...

I felt the gun slipping beyond the numb area of my waist. Moving. Oh no.

"Everybody saw. You embarrassed my family. People know you're going out with Frankie, too."

"W- what..."

"My buddy saw you coming out of the Venice Room with my brother, holding his hand. That's a little theater that shows Italian cinema, right? You'd know. When I hard that. Do you know what I thought when my buddy told me that?"

Oh god, I slipped. I slipped. I'd held his hand. I didn't even know I'd been holding his hand. I didn't even remember. I'd been so happy.

"I'm sorry."

"Not as sorry as I am. You embarrassed my family. Made my brother an embarrassment. He's not a faggot, I told you that. But you are."

"I'm sorry." This was all I could say anymore. It was the only thing left within me. I was so sorry about everything, for myself, for Frankie.

"I want you to break up with my brother. He needs to meet a nice girl. Get married. Make my father proud. What do you think you're doing?"

No words came to my mouth. It was empty. I had to say something, but there was nothing. The cotton mouth was coming back, those drips of water from the kitchen completely gone, more parched than ever.

"Even this apartment. My Pop told me you live here. He told me to respect that. I couldn't believe it! But here you are. You're here, spending my brother's money, using his money to live here."

"N- no..." I couldn't believe it. Mr. Caselotti told him...? Why would he do that?

"No?" Suddenly he wasn't pressed against me anymore and my eyes slowly followed him to my front. He was so close, but not touching me anymore. From his position in front of me, I hoped for the former pose. But he was here now, standing in front of me, his face so close to mine. I shrank like a little child.

The sound of my breathing was the only sound in the apartment for a few pausing seconds. My body went into a coldness, the cold before a sweat.

"You like shopping with his money, right?"

My mouth opened to respond, but nothing came out due to the dryness. The fear. My stomach descended to my toes as I watched the revolver rise in the air. It seemed like the only object in the whole world. It rose to level with my face, and suddenly it was pressed to the side of my head. This was it. I was dying. Oh god. He wasn't even going to give me a chance to obey what he'd asked me to do.

"I'll tell you what. This is my store. It only sells steel jackets, though. Do you want to buy one? You go near my brother again, I'll let you have one for free. You can wear it on your head!" He was shouting now, too quick of a change from the calm.

"Oh Jesus. Oh Jesus...!" Things I wasn't even aware of were scratching out of my throat. Tears rolled down my face, wetting the lace on my nightgown. The lace Frankie liked so much. The lace he liked to rub his face on, had slept with his face pressed against so many nights dearly on my chest. Frankie... Oh god, save me, Frankie...

"Don't you go near him!"

The gun pressed harder against my head, paining and oh god. "Okaay... Okaay...!" I cried, frozen and not able to do anything. My entire body was numb absolutely.

And just like that the pressure was removed. I almost thought he had shot me and it was all over, but he was still here. I was still here.

He was standing in front of me, staring at me again. Not saying anything.

And just like that, abruptly, he turned his back on me. My legs went weak, they couldn't hold me up anymore. As I slid down my window, he opened my front door, opposite me. But as he did, he said one last thing.

"Fucking puttana."

He mercifully left, closing the door in a slam and I lost control of myself at the sound, thinking he'd shot at me. Thinking he'd shot me. The warm wetness registered, though, after a moment, and I realized it wasn't blood. Instead, I'd urinated on myself in fear. Shameful, like a child.

And like a child, I shook and wept. I wept into my hands, loud and with abandon like somebody had died.