Part 3

My cellphone rang at seven fifty-eight. "Hi, Ethan," I said. "Nice timing."

"You like it?" he asked. "I was watching the clock."

"Your clock's two minutes fast," I said dryly, rolling over on my bed. "But that's okay."

He laughed a little, and I heard what was probably the creak of a screen door. "So what are we going to talk about?"

"Is working at that gas station the only thing you do?" I said lazily.

"Only on weekends," he said. "I've still got school for another week."

"School and the Stop-and-Go, huh?" I said.

"School and the mathletes club. Used to do Boy Scouts, but I got my Eagle badge, so I'm done."

"Wow," I said, privately amazed. I wasn't really sure I'd met anyone who was so… forthright. In my world most people had a knife ready to stick in your back. "Mathletes, huh?"

"Should I not have led with that? Too nerdy?" he asked.

I laughed. "No, I like math. I help the accountants. I got my dad to teach me about income tax when I was twelve. What do you do?"

"In the club? Differential equations, working on tricky math problems… you know, nerd stuff. I learned calculus a year early for fun."

"Wow." I smiled. He had a brain full of numbers like me, just different numbers. "That's really impressive, not gonna lie. So what about home?"

"My mom's a secretary and my dad's a cop," he laughed. "They're not home much."

"Ohhh," I whispered, laughing. "A cop's son. Should I be on my best behavior, then?"

"I don't know, should I be worried about the Mob showing up to my house?"

"Fair point," I granted.

"How did you end up getting adopted into a crime family, anyway?"

I sighed, knowing the answer would me tangled and complicated. "You sure you want to know?"

"…If you want to tell me," he replied. "I didn't mean to pry —"

"You're not," I said, rubbing my chest where the stretched, shiny scar still showed. "I don't mind. I was born with a broken heart," I said. "At least, that's how the explained it to me at first. Cardiomyopathy. Or something." I stared at my ceiling. "My bio mom —her name was Candace —she split when I was like, one. I don't know why. Maybe it had to do with my bio dad's gambling debts. He had a lot of them, borrowed money from the wrong people. Weak hearts run in the family, I guess."

"Oh, please don't tell me that you're some kind of weird collateral or a payment for your dad's debt," Ethan said, sounding slightly horrified.

"What?" I exclaimed, sitting up. "No! Nothing like that! That's ridiculous; let me tell the story."

"Okay, sorry. It was the first thing that popped into my head."

Stung, I replied, "Well, then you shouldn't let it come out your big mouth."

"Sorry."

"Anyway," I sighed. "Well, bio dad Sam has these debts, right? But then they figure out I've got this heart thing. And then there's meds and hospital bills and doctors…"

"More debts," Ethan said.

"Exactly. So by this time, I'm like four, and need a heart ASAP, but he can't pay for it, and nothing's happening on the donor list front. So Sam turns informant on his moneylenders, hoping if they get arrested, he won't have to pay." I swallowed. "They didn't think much of that."

"So, what? They…they kill your bio dad and adopt you?" Ethan exclaimed.

I pressed my palm to my scar. "Basically."

There was silence down the line.

"It's not like I thought I was normal until one day I got the 'you're adopted' speech," I said. "Four's old enough to remember that these aren't the people you usually live with."

"Holy crap, Oh," Ethan whispered.

I knew Ethan was shocked, and justifiably so. When you say it like that, it felt like cut and dried murder. But Mob life was about… well, about justice. If you break a deal or go back on your word, there were consequences. But with justice also comes mercy, and John Abruzzi was no stranger to the two.

I could vaguely remember being in the hospital, and I could still hear my dad's —Sam's —voice above me:

"John, it was all for her, I swear to God. Before, yeah, I —I had it bad for the tables, the races, but man, when she got sick… it was all for her, you gotta believe that. Please, John." The tears were real, the pain visceral. A broken man with a weak heart.

"I know, Sam," John said. "And that's why I'm letting you do it this way."

"You swear you'll get her a heart?" he begged. "John —"

"None of this is her fault, Sam," John Abruzzi said. "I wouldn't punish a child for the sins of her father. She'll be okay; I'll take care of her."

Sam was crying. "Thank you." A hand held mine. "Baby, I've got to go away for a while," he said, voice shaking. "But you'll be taken care of. When you go into surgery, you'll come out with an all-new ticker, okay? Not that piece of crap I gave you."

"Okay," my thin voice replied.

"I love you baby, I want you to know that."

"Love you," I whispered.

"Your daddy did a lot of bad things and made some bad choices, but he loves you. It was all for you."

"Love," I whispered again, sinking into a drug induced sleep.

"Let's go, Sam," John said quietly.

I felt a hand on my hair, the whisper on lips on my eyebrow, and then nothing.

I wiped my eyes suddenly, and I realized, I was crying.

"Oh, are you okay?" Ethan said. "Oh?"

"Don't say things like that," I said, voice choked up. "You don't get to say things like that. You don't know how hard it was." I blew my nose. "Taking responsibility for a kid that wasn't yours, who was in the hospital for weeks after a heart transplant, on a ton of meds and immunosuppressants, who was old enough to know that you weren't her parents, who was tired and cranky and cried every time you visited.

"And then bringing that girl home and loving her unconditionally. Putting off having kids of your own to give that girl the support and care she needed. I don't think you know." I sniffed. "John Abruzzi has done some terrible things, and I don't excuse those things, but he loves me and always has. He's never lied to me. He has always been there. Okay?"

"Okay," Ethan whispered.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," I informed him. Then I hung up.

"Can I talk to Ethan, please?" I said, when a man answered the phone.

"Sure, one minute," the man said. "Ethan! Phone."

The receiver changed hands, and soon I heard Ethan say, "Hello?"

"Hi. It's me," I said. "Sorry I was so… you know. Last night. I never really told anyone that story before."

"It's fine," he said. "He's your dad, and you care about him. I should have seen that."

"Sorry I yelled, anyway," I mumbled.

"I don't remember you yelling," Ethan said.

"Well, it felt like I was yelling."

"I forgive you for whatever you feel bad about," he said dryly. "So tell me about your brother and sister. When did they come a long?"

I settled back against my bed's pillows and started talking about the long and very engrossing subject of Sophia and Tony.

"Oh, have you seen this report on TV?" Mom called, halfway through my dissertation. "Come look."

"Hang on a sec," I told him. "What is it, Mom?"

I walked downstairs, and on the TV, big as life, was Philly Falzone's picture. Arrested for parole violation, crossing state lines, intent to kill.

"Yes!" I exclaimed, punching my fist into the air. "Yes, yes, yes. You won't believe this," I told Ethan on the phone. "But Philly finally got his. They did it! Yes!"

Ethan and I talked every night for the next week, and kept talking even when I brought the kids up to see Dad. "So how come your mom never visits?" Ethan asked, as the kids played hide and week between the food aisles. "No running, guys!" I said. "She does, every couple of months. But mostly she tires to pretend he's away on business. They talk a lot on the phone."

"How come she never comes with you or the kids, though?"

I shot him an incredulous look. "Why would she?"

He said, puzzled, "Well, I mean…."

It clicked in my head. "Right, you mean why we don't visit as a family," I said, smirking. "Gotcha."

"What'd you think I meant?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes and made sure the kids were out of earshot. "When she misses him too much, she comes down for a conjugal visit," I murmured. "So, no kids."

He turned beet red. "Ah, okay… right. Sorry."

I laughed. "Maybe I didn't explain well enough. It's just kind of our reality. Also, I stay with the kids when she goes, so she doesn't need to get a sitter."

"That sounds really hard. Not to have your family all together," Ethan sympathized. "I'm sorry, Oh."

"Not your fault," I said with a half-smile.

"Still," he said. "That sucks."

"Yeah." I leaned over the counter and kissed his cheek. "Thanks."

His beet colored turned a little more tomato shade. "What's that for?" he asked faintly.

"For listening," I said. "Come on, kids, we gotta get on the road!"

I rounded them up, and as we left, he was still blushing.

"Daddy! Daddy!" Sophia and Tony exclaimed, jumping up to give him hugs when he walked through the gate to the visitor's room. "Hey, how are you little rascals?" he said, sitting so they could hug him more effectively.

"Good," Sophia said emphatically.

"Well, good. You been behaving?" Dad asked, shooting a look over their heads at me.

I smiled. "Tony, tell Dad about the big fish you caught last week with Marco."

As Tony regaled him with the story, I bit the inside of my mouth and sighed quietly. John Abruzzi was easy and natural with me, but slightly awkward around his own blood children. I knew the change was from only seeing them every couple of weeks —missing crucial points in kids' development was scary, especially because they changed so fast at that age.

I felt guilty about that, sometimes. But then I took it upon myself to be the best big sister ever, and take care of things. I hoped that would be enough.

" —And then we had it for lunch!" Tony exclaimed.

"I don't like fish," Sophia commented. "I didn't eat it. It was looking at me," She stared up at dad, distressed and disgusted. "It was icky."

Dad laughed and bounced her on his knee. "That's okay, Sophia; most people don't like it when dinner stares back at 'em. What else has been going on?"

I said, "The kids went to a VBS this week; they made a lot of crafts and stuff."

"Macaroni picture frames or Macaroni crosses?" he said.

"Both," I said with a smile.

"Did you have fun?" he asked Tony.

"Yes. We played games," Tony said. "I won dodge ball!"

"Well, good job! What about your sister?" Dad asked. "What's she been up to?"

I smiled. "Just chilling. Not much going on."

Sophia confided, in what was supposed to be a private whisper but didn't quite hit the mark; "Oh was kissing that boy at the gas station."

On second thought, I was open to negotiation on that "best big sister" thing. I glared at Sophia, avoiding my father's sharp glance. "It's very rude to tell tales," I said severely.

"What boy?" Dad asked, gleaning from the statement what he clearly deemed the most important part. Though I was sure we'd get to the kissing later.

I sighed. "His name is Ethan, he works at the Stop-and-Go between here and home, he's very nice, and I only kissed his cheek."

"And how long have you been seeing Ethan?" Dad asked with faux-nonchalance, since there were tiny ears in residence.

I decided to tread carefully, remembering that, as a former Mob boss, Dad does still have a good number of strings to pull when he needs to, even if he is incarcerated. "The last two months, I suppose, when I visit. We chat," I said. "Last week I gave him my number and we talked a lot on the phone."

"Every night," Sophia chimed in.

Tony poked her. "Big mouth."

"What did I say about telling tales," I warned.

"And, when were you going to tell me?" Dad asked, raising one eyebrow.

"If and when he says he likes me," I said. "But he hasn't said yet, so I was keeping things under wraps." I frowned at Sophia, who giggled. "No Slurpee for you on the way back," I said firmly.

Her lips pouted. "Aww…." she said, whine warming up.

"Nobody likes a tattle tale or a squealer," Dad told her. "You keep your business to yourself and don't go poking your nose into other people's."

Sophia sniffed, duly chastised.

"Abruzzi! Time's up!"

I glared at the guard, whom I recognized from my many visits. His name was Bellick, and I was sure time was not up, but Dad shot me a look that clearly said, Just leave it and we'll talk about this later. As the kids said goodbye, I muttered under my breath to relieve my irritation, and gave Dad a hug. "I'll call you to get the whole story," he warned.

"Okay," I laughed. "Maybe I'll have the whole story by then. Love you."

"You, too, Oh."

Sophia did not get a Slurpee on the way back, but I did let her have several generous slurps of mine.

"So the cat's out of the bag," I told Ethan, when I paid for it. "The small fry have spilled the beans."

"Beans about what?" Ethan asked, raising an eyebrow.

I blinked. He obviously didn't think this was a secret. Maybe other people didn't have secrets the way we had secrets. "I kissed a boy," I whispered sarcastically.

He still looked puzzled. "But why… ah, they told your Dad," he finally said, understanding.

"Right."

"So… should I be worried?" he said, handing me my change and crossing his arms.

"No, I kissed you," I reminded him.

"Yeah, you did," he said, reddening.

"Oh likes you," Sophia said, popping up unexpectedly. "Are you her boyfriend?"

Before I could descend and muzzle her, Ethan laughed. "Well, if she'll have me."

I stared at him. "Really?"

He smiled. "If you want. Why do you look so surprised, Oh?"

"Well, I —I thought —"

He came out from behind the counter and kissed me, which was, admittedly, very, very nice. "You believe me now?" he asked.

"Yep," I breathed. "So, just to be thorough, we're dating?"

"If that's what you want," he said.

"Good," I said, and kissed him again. And that's why Sophia got about half my Slurpee.