“I can't come by. What if they're watching your house?”
She noticed his arm kept twitching as he talked, and at first, she didn't understand why. Then she got it. With one hand attached to Rebecca, the other holding the phone, and him being Italian, he was finding it difficult to communicate. Frustrated, he stood and tried to pace again, only to be hauled back by Rebecca. He scowled at her and sat again. “I'm fine, really. Yeah, somebody's taking care of me. Don't worry. Okay. Okay. Five o'clock. I'll try, Ma. Really. Don't cry! And stop worrying. It'll be … I know. I know. Love you, too.”
He hung up and glanced at Rebecca. He looked sheepish, then he shrugged. “Mothers,” he said, then jumped to his feet. She found herself dragged towards the refrigerator.
“Hey!” she protested, but it q
