The Mafia on 6th Street

No Hard Feelings

-Unedited-

The end of summer.

It felt as if they were still in the middle of the summer. Yet fall would be at their doorstep but summer reined. Of course not until winter.

"I want to go to the hospital with you to meet your abuelo."

It had blurted out her mouth without thought. It had left Oliver dumbfounded and unnaturally blank.

Was it too early? Angelina thought, internally cringing.

She witnessed Oliver swallow, what seemed to be a melancholic throat. The loquacious Oliver had now fallen reticent. It was an unsettling pause that made Angelina squirm in an apprehensive state. Eyes dropped to the ground, tense fists, short breaths, bitten cheeks.

But she had truly meant it. She wanted to visit Oliver's dying grandfather. She wanted to support him and be a good friend she never thought she'd attempt to be. Neither did she mean it as a piteous deed or any other petulant notion.

"O-Oliver?"

He finally glanced at her, his eyes low. "I'll take you."

It was quite depressing to see an aging man in a coma, unresponsive, and an Oliver who took his grandfather by the hand and read to him Hamlet. It was heartbreaking. Angelina sat in the corner of the room in a metal chair, watching Oliver's touching exchange, breathing in the pristine air, taking in the pale walls and the dreadful grey specked floor.

"To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man." Oliver croaked, folding the top of the page to mark where he left off for the next visit. If there was another visit to begin with. He stood up, kissed the forehead of his abuelo, and made his way to the door, his footsteps echoing.

"Thank you," Oliver said on the way out.

Angelina nodded, not meeting his eyes. "No, thank you."

She had learned a lot from this visit.

For one, that she was a little ungrateful bitch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Angelina can taste traces of sea salt in her gelato, once it melted into a puddle of goodness in her mouth. It was in these times of the day where they would stroll around the coast, hike, and even have small talk in the cafe they accidentally had a reunion in. Mid-afternoon or early morning.

"How are things doing with your cousin that is about to wed?" Oliver inquired.

Angelina sighed, her gelato not so appealing anymore. "Static."

"Any action between her and her brooding fiancé?"

"No progress at all. A marriage of convenience to hell, I shall call it." Angelina grunted, offering the gelato that's left to Oliver. He gleefully accepted it and dumped it into his plastic cup.

"Fair enough. What is her current worry?" Oliver asked his nose scrunching at the gelato.

Angelina took a lengthy some inhale. "Let me recite this for you – "

"Does he care about me, even a little?"

"Does he have the decency to respect me?"

"Does he even know what I want to do after getting married?"

"Is he even going to communicate with me like a civilized man?"

Oliver dreadfully licked the shaved ice from his spoon. "Oh dear. So basically he walks right past her and talks to her when he needs her?"