AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Don’t mind them,” Lucio said, setting a cooler on the ground next to the bed and moving the second chair visitors usually sat in closer, while his father carefully moved flowers around to make room for the ones in his hand. “She takes Sunday dinners seriously.”
“And this must be Issac,” Nona said suddenly in English, leaving Felinus grimacing at Lucio and his uncle behind her back as she approached the bed and reached for his face. “So skinny! Are they not feeding you?” She pinched at his cheek, smiling. “Not to worry, topolino. Nona has brought you proper things to eat.”
“Nona, lascia stare la sua faccia,” Felinus said in exasperation. “Hasn’t he had enough without you bruising his cheeks, too?”
“Ah, gattino is very protective of you, topolino,” Nona said, letting go of Issac’s cheek and kissing each of them wetly. “Come, poccolini, let’s eat.”
“I-I think I’m supposed to only have the hospital’s food,” Issac said, looking to Felinus as something he didn’t have a name for threatened to overwhelm him. White had agreed to remove the feeding tube, but they were still monitoring his diet carefully.
“Bah, hospital food,” Nona said, starting to reach for the cooler. She was beaten by Lucio picking it up to carefully set on the edge of the bed to avoid any of Issac or his wires. “Hospital food keeps people in the hospital, topolino. You need energy to heal and energy comes from pasta. The best energy comes from Nona’s pasta. Eat, eat. All of you.”
“I’d just roll with it,” Lucio said in a soft voice that apparently his grandmother couldn’t hear and handed Issac a container. “She’s not gonna leave until you eat it all and she fusses at you and Felinus for at least an hour.”
“Each,” Vinny Drago added, grinning at Felinus from behind Lucio. “Who wants drinks from the vending machine?”
Issac tried to ignore the pressure in his chest. It didn’t feel like any of the things the doctor or nurses said to be aware of with his healing ribs and lung, so he wasn’t going to mention it as he kept his eyes on the pasta dish Felinus’s grandmother had made him. The other men had also gotten containers pressed into their hands, obediently eating as Nona chattered in alternating English and Italian. Topolino was said more times. Felinus had told him after he asked about the Don saying it that it meant “little mouse” which was meant as a play on his last name. But there was something different in how Nona said the word. She said it the same way she said gattino to Felinus, though maybe with less scolding. Each time she did, the pressure seemed to build until-
A drop fell into his empty container, followed by another. He heard it again, topolino said with the loving affection he’d only ever heard from other people’s grandparents speaking to them. He cried harder even as he tried to shove it all back behind the broken dam.
Felinus’s arm was around him in a moment, pulling him gently towards his chest as the container left his hands. There was a low conversation, pretty words said in concern around his head as he tried to hide in Felinus’s shirt. “It’s okay, baby boy,” he whispered, lips pressing against his temple. “It’s okay.” There was a beep, the now familiar sound of Felinus activating the morphine pump as Issac’s chest ached with his sobbing. Then the world grew quiet and dark.
