Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?

Frank POV

Chapter 3

oOoOo

I could tell by the delicious morning aromas wafting up the stairs that Helen was cooking up a storm in the kitchen for breakfast. Edna side-eyed me and we knew it was definitely Phase Three today. She's plotting again, coming in for a second wind. Game on!

We needed to cancel her passport to Denial Land which was clearly evident with her tight jaw, her pursed lips and that silent manner. The silent treatment was one of her sulking strategies. This was no peace offering. Quite the opposite. She thinks the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, but that's not going to give her any edge today. Eggs, bacon, hash browns, mushrooms, tomatoes and toast, my kind of breakfast. The pièce de résistance, in her mind, was when she brought in a plate of those tasty little chipolata sausages, with a sly, smug expression on her face. But I wasn't fooled. Helen was up early having set the table, squeezed the last of the oranges for fresh juice and made a pot of coffee.

Well, Helen dear. Two can play at that game, as I winked at Edna. The silent treatment cuts both ways. Not even a hum or a mm-mm of approval. There we were, the three of us, eating in total silence. I too can be stubborn. We seem to be so in tune with one another, Edna and I, neither of us uttered a word. It was very tasty but we resisted the temptation to give her the satisfaction of hearing our expressions of approval. Fight fire with fire. Give us the silent treatment? So be it. Silence it is.

We still have our bathroom rivalry, but this Payback Mission has bonded us, especially after Helen's first admission into the clinic to dry out. She was so far gone then, it was relatively easy, but this time is going to be a bit trickier. That was initially a seven day recovery program which became three months. Helen was completely in denial about her consumption. When I showed her a phot I had taken of all the bottles she consumed in just one week, she was shocked. I had stored them in my shed, collecting bottles like people do for recycling. It became embarrassing when the neighbours could hear the large quantity of bottles clinking in the bag. I put them in boxes and drove to the recycling centre. I didn't really give a damn what the neighbours thought, but it was getting beyond a joke, especially when there were more bottles than days. It wasn't always that way.

Technically, we know she shouldn't have been drinking at all after her three month vacation, as she called it. No one was fooled by the vacation part. Buying those non-alcoholic wines didn't fool her. As a result, we hide the bottles or empty them down the sink. We even tried diluting them. She's sneaky. She pretended to go to the Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, but we soon discovered it was just a front after the first three sessions. Consequently, Edna and I are trying to out-devious her.

According to AA, there are only two sins; the first is to interfere with the growth of another human being, and the second is to interfere with one's own growth. Happiness is such an elusive state. Helen has not been happy, that is evident. But she has consistently broken both those sins.

This recent effort of hitching the Italian Jackass with my Pumpkin was a classically stupid interfering plot. Her memory is impacted. I fear many of her brain cells have been sozzled and fried, or just simply drowned. When she's good, she's really good, back to her old self, like the woman I loved and married. But something changed. Even before that callous event with Morelli.

How do you reprimand an eight year old boy? I told him, the cocky little shit, that I'd have his balls if he tried anything like that again with my Stephanie. I wanted to take Anthony Snr to task but the bastard died. I felt bad for Angie, and left the devastated family to grieve the loss of a son, a husband and a father, despite everyone knowing what a brute and a bastard he was. He taught his sons all the tricks of cherry popping and encouraged by example a womanising lifestyle. Drinking was part of the Anthony Morelli Snr training program. He was easily bought with a six pack. He was a mean drunk and that's when he became belligerent and violent.

However, I doubt he actually died of natural causes. Either Angie herself, or one of the aggrieved husbands of his sidepieces did the deed. Apparently, married women were his preferred targets because they wouldn't get too attached. Allegedly, he died while in a drunken stupor, fell and hit his head, drowning in his own vomit. He cracked his skull on the concrete. No one spoke of it, but there were conflicting circumstances like the suspicious evidence of blunt force trauma, creating doubt surrounding his death. The fact that Angie could get on with her life without living in fear of his constant beatings was reason enough to not dig any deeper. The trash had been dealt with and taken out. Those women he was involved with resumed their normal lives and the details were swept under the carpet. Joseph was on the receiving end of some of the beatings, but Angie stepped in to protect her beloved son. That's one of the reasons why she protects and makes excuses for her precious Joey, to compensate for her husband's evils. But as has been proven, time and again, the apple did not fall far from the tree. Joseph Morelli was just as notorious as his father. The violence was not evident, yet, but it certainly was before he joined the police, with his barroom brawls and drunkenness. How the hell he got into the force never sat well with me.

Something just dawned on me. Did this change in Helen coincide with the death of Tony Morelli? She always had an infatuation for him but Angie won his heart. I remember the rivalry in the early days. Was Helen one of his women? Shit! That might explain her constant wish to have Joseph Morelli as part of the family by marrying Stephanie. I stared at Helen, steely-eyed, causing her to turn her eyes away. Thankfully, I had already done a paternity test on Valerie and Stephanie. The timing was very fine, but there was always that lingering doubt. Fortunately, there was no doubt there, they were both my daughters. Edna did say Helen had a miscarriage while I was away on one of my missions. That aroused my suspicions when she hedged about the details of conception and the age of the foetus. "Private women's business" she called it and hid behind her grief. That coincided with when her tippling first began.

In fact, she's been on Stephanie's case since she was molested when she was six. That fucking asshole. It happened while I was on a mission, a post office convention as Helen called it, but I never knew about it for a long time after I returned home. I sensed a change in my little girl, but I noticed Helen's demands on Stephanie were suffocating and controlling. It's the same way she talks to Mary Alice. Edna was dealing with her own grief in losing her husband, Harry. But prior to that, I know Stephanie would run to Grandma's house for refuge. Edna told me later, when she did come to live with us, that Helen was worse when I was away. She was bad enough while I was there, but of course, a lot can happen in the afternoon, after school, while I was still at the post office.

Edna moving in with us was a challenge. However, we came to an understanding, maintaining a joint front. Edna did push the boundaries, constantly, and I'm not just talking about her crazy antics and those scary and ludicrous outfits. Her purpose was not to make my life hell, she had confided in me one day, but to protect Stephanie, by creating a diversion, like a smoke screen. Now that makes sense. The viewings, the bizarre potential man friends/dates were new since Harry died. It was part of her new social scene.

I shook myself back to the present, sipping the last of my coffee. With breakfast done, Helen started to clear the table and tutted when I offered to help. She did give me a questioning look with regard to the breakfast but I feigned being distracted, with a slight frown, as I glanced at my mother-in-law. I did notice a dejected shrug from Helen. "Just playing you at your own game," I thought to myself. Edna nodded at me as though she read my mind. It was a very fine breakfast indeed, and I couldn't find anything really to fault. Even the colour of the toast was perfect. Points to you, Helen.

Once Helen was out of sight, Edna grinned with a mischievous glint in her eye, as she pulled something round and black from her handbag. Ha. It was one of those Magic 8 Balls. Pressing a finger to her lips she shook the ball and showed me how it worked. "You ask a question, then shake the ball for an answer," she whispered. I took a few turns while Helen was loading the dishwasher. As we heard her wash the frypans and then setting them on the dish drainer, knowing that these were the last items she would do, Edna smirked, mouthing, "Here we go."

I had already grabbed my pen and today's cryptic crossword puzzle. Edna shook the large Magic 8 Ball, looking at me pointedly, asking, "Frank, should I tell Helen the windows are dirty?" It took all my restraint not to chuckle. The windows. Of course, her must-be-spotless-at-all-times-windows. Good one Edna.

Once I had my maintained my composure, tapping my pen against my teeth as if I was considering a clue, I reply quite nonchalantly, "What does the Magic 8 Ball say?"

Edna shakes it… "It is decidedly so."

We timed that perfectly as Helen had just emerged from the kitchen, ignoring us but looking intently at the windows, gloves and apron tied ready for action. I sat down in my armchair to continue my crossword. I always read the front page of the newspaper, and then go to the sports page reports. But this morning I decided to grab the crossword page first. I'm still not impressed with the Trenton Times reporting. Edna joined me on the couch, with her Magic 8 Ball. We grinned slyly as Helen disappeared into the laundry only to return with a bucket of water, some newspaper and a squeegee. I had to cough to cover up my snort with a subtle cough.

"I need a five letter word. I have no hints yet, but it says 'Damp fog hides nothing.' Hm," I said, tapping my teeth with the pen. "Ah. Gotcha. Another word for fog is mist, and nothing is just zero, or the letter o. Combine the letters and I get … moist. Ha! That sounds possible."

Edna grinned and shook the Magic 8 Ball. "It says, 'without a doubt'. You're good at those cryptic clues. Any others I can help you with?"

We watched Helen go outside and wash the windows, looking around to make sure someone saw her. She waved happily with her rubber-gloved hands. Perfect to confirm our strategy. Once Helen returned to the laundry, I was going to drive her car to the garage where I had booked it in for a service. It was close to the regular schedule. Edna would go shopping with her, in Big Blue. Here's my cue.

Edna's POV

"Is it time to go shopping?" I asked the Magic 8 Ball, shaking it to reveal, "Signs point to yes".

"Helen!" I called out as I went upstairs, "I'm going upstairs to change. We need to go shopping, before they run out of those nice crusty ciabattas and the olive and rosemary focaccia, at the Peoples Bakery. Hurry up. I don't want you to slow me down."

With a clatter, I could hear Helen putting away the bucket and rinsing the trough. Quickly she washed her hands, drying them on her apron, before tossing it in the laundry hamper. She rushed upstairs and changed. When I came down the stairs from the bathroom, I had to smile. She had the Magic 8 Ball in her hand. She shook it as she asked, "Will Stephanie and Joseph get married?". I had to stifle a snort when she nearly dropped it as she read out the response, "Don't count on it."

"Are you ready to go, Helen? Come on, stop playing with my Magic 8 Ball. Let's go." She tried to disguise the obvious but left it on the sideboard. I'll have to let Frank know that one!

"My keys are not here!"

"Tsk. Oh. Helen. Sometimes I wonder about your memory. Your car is in the garage for a regular service. Did you forget? I don't know," I said shaking my head in disdain. "Frank dropped it off not long after breakfast. You'll have to drive Big Blue today, remember? Now get a move on. We need to get a good parking spot."

We drove towards the shopping precinct where all good Burg housewives shop. Helen was heaving it slowly around the corners. I remember Stephanie saying it was like driving a fridge because it didn't have power steering. Oh goodie. I see we have a young punk right behind us honking his horn irritably. I give him the bird and that agitates him some more, so he starts to tailgate Helen, so close to the bumper bar but not touching. I hide my smile. By the time we reach the parking area she is already sweating and nervous, frantically trying to get away and find a decent parking spot. I see a good one and point it out. The punk tries to cut her off. Road rage. Now parking rage! Really? Helen brakes hard and the punk crashes into another young idiot, who was also racing to grab that same parking spot. Both cars bumped off the front fender of Big Blue, making the car shudder. Oh, this is going to be better than we expected! Helen braced herself against the steering wheel, her hands visibly trembling.

We stayed in the car, which seemed to be the safest thing to do with the idiot and the punk yelling at each other. Something was leaking from underneath the idiot's old clunker. Uh oh. The punk tosses his cigarette down and WHOOSH! The two cars are in flames. Helen tries to back the car away from the flames. Frank and some men rush over to push Big Blue safely away. Sirens herald the arrival of the cops and the firefighters. An ambulance arrives a minute later.

A sudden screeching of brakes came from an unmarked car rushing in, stopping askew the parking bays, as a plain clothes cop arrived. I could see his badge on his belt. He was wearing sunglasses so I didn't recognise him. Ohh. This is unbelievable as he starts to pace and rant. Inside I was doing a happy dance. There's only one person I know that does that sort of thing in this neighbourhood. Frank catches my eye and we both give a silent nod, trying to cover up our knowing grins. Frank made a snort to cover his laughter. His three friends beside him are surprised at the performance. It is epic, probably one of his best.

"Un-fucking-believable!" the cop idiot yelled, pacing up and down with his arms flailing around like he was drowning. He wasn't even looking at us. I looked around to see if he was shouting at Stephanie. Nope. He went on relentlessly, not even thinking about his ever increasing audience which included all the local busybodies, cops and firemen, and other shoppers and random gawkers.

"Are you listening to this, Helen? Are you alright?" She was holding her hand to her heart, quite stressed with the road rage and then this parking rage crash and the burning vehicles. She nodded. I gave her a bottle of water to sip from, still nodding, her eyes wide in shock. "Listen to how he yells so everyone can hear."

"But why is he yelling at me?"

"He's yelling at you, Helen, because he thinks Stephanie caused this scene. She didn't, nor did you. You do exactly the same to her. Shoot first ask questions later. Now, listen to his ugly disparaging words. Damn. If only I had old Bessie in my bag, I would shoot him in the balls!"

"Mother!"

"Oh! Phooey! Listen, Helen. Listen to his deprecating criticism. Do you hear the sarcasm?"

"What the hell were you thinking, parking like that? You're useless at your job and you can't even park a car without crashing into another car! No! You had to do better. Two cars! TWO! Now they are both in flames! I can't believe how stupid you are! Incompetent and a failure. How the hell do you do this Cupcake? This is pathetic. You are such an embarrassment. What about my reputation? Everyone laughs at me. You should stop all this bullshit, quit your job and settle down. Marry me and you can have my kids and live a proper Burg life like a good Burg housewife."

Frank was about to step in but stopped short when we heard the distinct strident voice we all know in this hood.

"Joseph Anthony Morelli! What in God's name are you doing?" Helen and Bella crossed themselves, as did a number of the Burg housewives outside the Italian Peoples Bakery.

"How dare you raise your voice at her! Is that how you show your respect? I thought I brought you up better than that. You're a disgrace. I am so disappointed in you. You're just as bad as your father." She slapped her son, right there in front of everyone who was watching Morelli's epic meltdown, most of whom were recording his loud-mouthed put downs as it unfolded. The looks of awe and enthralled amazement abounded.

"Ma!" he moaned, holding his face, looking around suddenly realising he had a captive audience.

"Joseph! Piccola merda! (You little shit) Shame on you! I give you the eye if you want to carry on like that again," she said, pointedly looking at his boys! Hahaha! Gotta love Bella. Morelli instinctively covered his crown jewels in some lame effort to protect them from Bella's threatened curse.

In three steps Frank slapped him on the other cheek, causing his sunglasses to crash to the ground. "Why the hell would she marry you? How dare you speak to my wife in that disgusting manner. Did you even bother to check if she was alright? No. And her passenger? No. You were all about you. Stronzo! (asshole/shit) You were too busy tearing strips off her like you always do to my daughter." I grinned as Frank flicked his fingers firmly onto Morelli's confused forehead, the Italian Stallion's mouth opening and closing like a silly goldfish.

This was golden. Two for one! Monumentally epic! Counting Bella, that was three.

The two road ragers were arrested for causing a disturbance and resisting arrest, one of whom had an outstanding warrant. It got better, since the punk who was tailgating us had stolen that car. It was not his lucky day. Morelli was arrested for interfering in police business, refusing arrest and refusing a breathalyser as well.

Then I see that gorgeous big muscular blonde Rangeman, Hal, walk over with his partner, Stephanie. Oh, this was priceless. Morelli, now handcuffed, was gobsmacked watching Stephanie out there then whiplashing to see who was driving Big Blue, then looking back at Stephanie again. I grinned and waved at him. His face paled when he saw it was Helen who was driving. Stephanie smugly stepped forward with the paperwork for their skip totally ignoring a very red-faced Morelli. Gazarra and Costanza were grinning like Cheshire cats. No one would have won this bet!

The fire had been quickly contained. I watched the tow truck and a flatbed come to take away the wreckage. In awe, as he approached us, Frank checked the front and rear bumpers but there wasn't a single scratch on them. He grinned at me his hands up and open in a sign of surprise.

Opening the door, he gently pulled Helen from the car, "Are you alright, Cara?" (dear)

It's been a long time since he called her by that endearment. She nodded and allowed herself to be wrapped in his warm hug. He looked at me. "Edna, are you alright?" I nodded with a thumbs up. Helen had tears in her eyes but now began sobbing.

"That was too scary. That bully boy driving me nearly off the road and these two banging into us and then each other. The fire. Oh, my Lord. It was frightening, Frank. I was scared. But when that man started yelling, that was terrifying. I didn't know who he was and all those horrible things he said. I don't want to marry him! He was so nasty. He had black eyes. Was that a policeman?"

"That was Joseph Morelli."

"Is that why Angie slapped him? I didn't realise. I thought she was protecting my honour, or something. She slapped her own son … in front of everybody? Why did he want me to marry him? I don't have a job? I'm confused."

"Aunt Helen, that's what Joseph does every single time at one of these scenes if Stephanie's car is involved," her nephew Eddie Gazarra explained. "It's embarrassing and a disgrace. We don't like his Cupcake Rant. He has been on report for this kind of abusive behaviour before."

"Hang on a minute," Hal said, looking at Stephanie with a raised eyebrow. "How did he know this car was involved in a collision?"

Good question Hal.

"If you were to check Big Blue," Ranger said pointedly, as he arrived with Tank and Hector, "Morelli is likely to have placed a tracker on your vehicle, Mr Plum." He looked at Helen and me, asking if we were alright. Sweet caring man. Stephanie is a lucky girl.

Frank muttered something about legality to Eddie who shook his head. I watched Ranger say something quickly to Tank and that cute Hector, who always gives me a wink. Within a minute, Hector, with gloved hands, had found two of those trackers. When he scanned them he shook his head, dropping them into an evidence bag for Eddie who was scowling by now. I looked at Stephanie.

"They are not Rangeman trackers. Illegal," she explained with a grin.

After giving her statement, and mine as well, we had a coffee and a doughnut outside the café. Helen was still in shock. Eddie said they had enough cameras to confirm our statements with the punk and the idiot rushing into that one parking bay. There were plenty more. Go figure. Stephanie joined us with Frank, Hal and Ranger. Hector and Tank left to get on with their work, I suppose.

"Why any decent-minded woman would want their daughter to marry that Italian Jackass is beyond me," Miriam Mangano remarked. "Did you hear how he yelled at Helen? That man is a disgrace."

Helen's shoulders slumped and flinched when she heard Miriam's scornful words. "Eddie said he does that to you all the time, Stephanie. Is that true? I was so frightened and also embarrassed. He made me feel inadequate."

"Sadly, yes, Mum. He's a bully and an abusive man. Even Angie said he was just like his father. Sober or not, he does that every time. It is very disparaging and hurtful, and upsetting, especially in front of everybody. It is humiliating, in actual fact."

"I'm so sorry. He had me fooled, for so long. I feel manipulated. I have a lot to think about." Helen was genuinely remorseful.

"Fortunately, I have moved on from that," Stephanie replied, instantly lightening the mood as she smiled looking at her handsome man, Ranger, who squeezed her shoulder.

We finished our coffee and everybody went on their way. We decided to shop after all and were able to get all the groceries we needed with some extra from the delicatessen, the bakery and also the butcher, like a commiseration for all the drama and trauma we experienced. Apparently, weird as it sounds, all the drama attracted extra customers. Aldo at the bakery had already put aside our favourites. So thoughtful.

Helen was tired. It had been a long day, but this was just the morning. After a nice lunch of cheeses, deli meats, focaccia, toasted ciabatta, tomatoes and olives, I cleaned up while Helen went upstairs for a lie down. She was up early, after all.

Over coffee, Frank and I discussed the morning's events. We were beyond pleased with the bonus performances by Morelli and his family.

I rolled the Magic 8 Ball in my hand with a smirk. Frank grinned at me.

… Has Helen got the message yet?"

I shook the Magic 8 Ball and waited …

"Cannot predict now."

Frank accepted the Magic 8 Ball with a raised eyebrow.

… "Do you think Morelli will come here again?"

He shook the Magic 8 Ball and waited …

"Don't count on it."

We laughed heartily and had another coffee with another slice of Entenmann's coffee cake.

oOoOo

Now, the question is … should I go on?