MASKED INNOCENCE!
Marco pushed the door of Milani Corner open and the bell chimes above his head as he did so. Two customers busied themselves with reading the backs of shoe polish cans — comparing the ingredients. His father sits on his stool in his usual corner — overseeing the store. His nephew, Vito plays with a toy car on the floor by the counter. Delilah sits with him — combing her fingers through the child's hair. He smiles happily at the sight of them two, though kept his glaze glued to his sister-in-laws side profile for a moment too long.
A steady streak of sunlight shines down on Delilah's chestnut brown hair. The sun creates shadows near her cheekbones and lips. Marco's breath hitches as she stares up at him. She waits for him to greet her, though he continues to stare blankly.
"Marco!" Giovanni chimes from behind the counter. "What brings you here, my son?"
Marco adverts his gaze to his aging father and smiles softly. "Morning, Pop'."
"Uncle Marco!" Vito smiles up at his uncle and hugs his legs. Marco smiles tightly — watching as Vito embraces him.
"He's always so happy to see you," Delilah hums. Marco adverts his gaze from the small boy to his sister-in-law. Before he speaks he takes a deep breath — hoping to be rid of his sinful thoughts regarding his brother's wife and a bedroom.
"Well I am the favourite uncle," Marco smiles slyly and ruffles Vito's hair.
"The only uncle!" Giovanni corrects as he lifts his right hand in the air. "Now what did you need Marco? Or did you just come to waste my time?"
"Sheesh, give me a pack of Luckies," Marco mumbles as he throws a dime on the counter.
Giovanni hands his son the pack of cigarettes and shews him away. Delilah lets out a short laugh.
Marco stuffs the box in the inside pocket of his jacket. Delilah stands as Vito begins running around the shop — toy car in hand. Giovanni shoots a glare Delilah's way and grunts.
"Here, let me walk you two home," Marco insists as he adjusts the collar of his coat. Delilah agrees willingly and scoops Vito up into his arms.
"Ciao, Pop'!" Marco calls as they exit the store. As they leave, the two customers who ponder over shoe polish finally make a decision on which brand of grease to buy.
The walk to his brothers home is joyful. Though Delilah and Marco exchange few words, there was no awkward silence — mainly since Vito talked their ear off. He blabbed about race horses and pancakes, about grandpa Giovanni's funny hair and the smell in the air. Marco half-listened to the boy as Delilah was completely fixated with her son's knick for chatting.
Tony was not home when the door to their apartment swung open. His leather briefcase and loafers were no where to be found in the front vestibule.
"Tony should be home in an hour or so," Delilah announces as she heads straight into the kitchen. "How 'bout I make some coffee?"
"Sure," Marco says unsure of his words. He wrings his hands and takes off his coat. He had not been alone with Delilah since she and Tony had Vito.
Marco made himself comfortable in the kitchen chair closest to the washroom door. Delilah focuses on pinning her hair back and begins pressing the coffee in the pot.
"So, you going out tonight?" Delilah asks — in attempts of making conversation.
"Yeah, I think Lorenzo wanted to hit the town. I'm not sure if Reina is gonna' tag along. I'll have to give her a call," Marco replies. His eyes concentrated on his hands.
YOU ARE READING
MASKED INNOCENCE - (marlon brando)
أدب الهواة"it is evident that she belongs in a place so destructive as this. she's masked her desire to relish in life - it is simple to see. he, on the other hand, wants to be in this world so desperately as it is the guilt that steers him on th...
