𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐞 || A Mafia Love Story

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The sharp clang of the late bell echoed through the stiff, musty classroom, snapping Marlee's attention back to the lilting cadence of Mrs. Barlowe's voice. The teacher's words, soft and smooth like silk, flowed over her, but exhaustion weighed Marlee down, anchoring her in a drowsy haze. She rested her cheek against her hand, the rough skin of her knuckles digging lightly into her face. Despite her best efforts, the fatigue from a sleepless night pressed in, and the lull of Mrs. Barlowe's voice did nothing to stave it off. Marlee blinked heavily, trying to focus on the lesson—a new subject today, something important, she thought—but the weariness gnawed at her resolve. Before long, her eyelids slid shut.

The world around her blurred and faded, until a soft shake at her shoulder pulled her back to reality. Marlee peeled her heavy eyelids open, blinking against the crust that had formed in the corners of her eyes. A thin hand rested on her arm—Mrs. Barlowe's hand. The teacher's kind face hovered over her, a gentle smile tugging at her lips.

"Marlee, dear, are you alright? You don't usually fall asleep during my lessons," Mrs. Barlowe asked, her tone laced with concern.

Marlee stifled a yawn and straightened up. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Barlowe. I didn't get much sleep last night."

Mrs. Barlowe's smile softened. "That's alright, honey. I would've let you sleep longer, seeing as it's already lunchtime, but there's an office pass for you." She handed Marlee a slip of paper, the school's emblem printed in the corner.

Confused, Marlee took the pass with a murmured thanks and headed for the door. As she reached the hallway, she heard Mrs. Barlowe call after her, "Have a good weekend, Marlee!"

She waved absently in response, her mind already buzzing with questions as she made her way to the office. When she arrived, the receptionist handed her another pass—a note to go home. Her brow furrowed as she stepped outside and spotted her mother waiting in their old Honda Civic, a broad grin plastered across her face.

"Mama? What are you doing here?" Marlee asked with a giggle as she opened the car door.

Her mother, Elenore, gave her a conspiratorial smile. "I'm breaking you out of there. Now hurry up and get in—the ice in your drink is already melting!"

Marlee's eyes flicked to the cup holder, where a frosty soda was waiting for her, condensation beading on the plastic. She slipped into the passenger seat, still chuckling at her mother's playful tone.

As the car rolled to a stop in front of Ferndale's only ice cream shop, Marlee took the last sip of her Coke, savoring the cold fizz. The quaint shop looked the same as always, its brightly painted shutters a cheery contrast to the gray sky. Ferndale, the small town where they lived, perched just five miles from Centerville Beach, a coastal speck of a town with a population barely scraping 1,300.

Stepping out of the car, a bitter wind sliced through Marlee's coat, biting at her nose and ears. She shivered as Elenore shot her a knowing grin.

"Maybe not the best day for ice cream, Mar-bar, but I know you'd eat it in a snowstorm if you could," Elenore teased, her eyes twinkling with warmth.

Marlee laughed, her breath coming out in frosty clouds. The nickname, "Mar-bar," still sounded silly, but it was one of the few remnants of her father. He had given her the name when she was five, back when she had a wide, toothless grin. He had passed away when Marlee was nine, taken by pancreatic cancer. By the time he'd gone to the doctor, it was already stage three. The ice cream shop had been their special place—a quiet tradition of sharing bowls of cookie dough ice cream after school, the sweet, cold treat a moment of comfort amidst the chaos of life.

Now, Marlee and her mother stood side by side, scanning the menu they knew by heart. Elenore ordered her usual vanilla, and Marlee, unsurprisingly, chose cookie dough. With their ice cream in hand, they hurried back to the car, the cold wind chasing them all the way.

Elenore started the engine, the warmth of the heater slowly filling the car as they pulled out of the parking lot. As the familiar streets of Ferndale blurred behind them, they began the half-hour drive to a nearby town's shopping center, the small scoops of nostalgia they'd shared keeping the chill at bay.