As dawn began to break over Huntsport, the sun began to creep across the bed of Josephine Falcone. The old woman lay there listless, barely able to move. Her body might as well have been made of stone (more so than usual). For once, she was not the first one to rise in the Falcone household.
“Josephine, what are you doing? It’s 8:00 and my breakfast isn’t even started,” said Peter, agitated, as he entered the room.
“I’m not your slave, Peter. Make some toast,” said Josephine wearily as she rolled over on to her side.
Peter furrowed his brow. “I just want something to eat, that’s all…what’s wrong with you? It’s not like you to sleep much past six–”
Josephine sat up in her bed, not in the mood for Peter’s interrogation. “I feel like someone hit me with a ton of bricks. I’ve felt it coming on for days. I’ve got no energy and I feel like I could toss up the breakfast that I haven’t made you yet!” said Josephine sharply.
“Why didn’t you do something about it when you first felt it? You should’ve–”
“Don’t tell me what I should and shouldn’t do, Peter. I know damn well I ‘should’ve’ taken care of it before, but to tell you the truth, it hasn’t been something I felt right away…just an ache here, a pain there…they’ve all gone away after a while…today though, I feel like I could die,” said Josephine. She paused, then with a sigh she said, “Peter, get me a glass of water. I think that’s the only thing I can keep down.”
Peter left the room, somewhat beaten. Josephine lay there, unaware that her daughter-in-law was finally having her revenge. It was a slow process, but Louise had a good shot of winning.
“Lou, Louise, come on, you gotta wake up,” said Michael Falcone calmly as he patted his wife’s hand. Louise Falcone stirred in the over-sized chair she found herself slumped in and slowly opened her eyes.
“Michael, please, tell me it’s not true. Look me in the eyes and tell me my brother’s not alive.”
“I can’t do that, Lou. Steve’s alive.”
Louise jumped to her feet and began to pace restlessly around her bedroom. “For God’s sake…for God’s sake! Michael do you know what this means for us? Do you? He was 26 when he died…or whatever you want to call it now…do you remember what my mother was like? My sister? Wrecks. Absolute wrecks. Annette lost so much weight…she didn’t eat for weeks. My mother wouldn’t speak to anyone…and my dad! As if his drinking wasn’t bad enough!”
Michael rose and walked towards the window where Louise stood. “Lou, your brother’s alive. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? At least you got family to go back to!”
“Why Michael, why is he all of a sudden back in our lives after two years in the ground? We buried him, Michael, shed more tears than I can ever remember over my dead brother. You can’t expect me to stand here and welcome him back with open arms when he suddenly decides to rise from the dead! He’s not Jesus Christ!” shouted Louise.
“Lou, listen, I want ya to talk to him. He gave me where he’s stayin’…just talk to him, please.”
“You actually want me to speak to him? Oh my God! Are you serious? Who else knows about this? Annette? My mother?” shouted Louise.
“Only us…Ma and Pop, as far as I know…”
“Where is he Michael? I’ll talk to him. In fact, I’ll be the only one talking. He’ll probably never speak again once I’m done with him!”
Louise stormed from the room, fuming. Steven Bains was in for painful conversation.