Last to Die

stare. “What do you mean, two against one?”

“I’m all on my own here. Your dad and Frankie keep hammering away, trying to get your mom to dump me.”

“What does Mom say?”

“Who knows what she’ll do? Any minute now, she’s gonna snap.”

Kicking all these guys out of her house would be a good first step, thought Jane as she followed the sound of voices toward the kitchen. Of course this battle would have to be in the kitchen, where a sharp knife was always handy.

“It’s like you’ve been taken over by pod people, and now you can’t think for yourself,” Jane’s father said.

“Ma, we don’t know you anymore,” Frankie chimed in.

“I just want my old Angela back. My wife and me together, the way we used to be.”

Angela was sitting at the table, clutching her head as though to shut out the voices assaulting her.

“Dad, Frankie,” said Jane. “Leave her alone.”

Angela looked up at her daughter with desperate eyes. “What do I do, Janie? They’re making me so confused!”

“There’s no confusion here,” said Frank. “We’re married, and that’s that.”

“Last week, you were getting divorced,” said Korsak.

“That was a misunderstanding.”

“And her name was Sandie,” muttered Angela.

“She meant nothing!”

“Not what I heard,” said Korsak.

“This has nothing to do with you,” said Jane’s brother. “Why are you still here, asshole?”

“ ’Cause I love this woman, okay? After your dad walked out, I was the one who stood by her. I was the one who made her laugh again.” Korsak placed a possessive hand on Angela’s shoulder. “Now your dad needs to move on.”

“Don’t touch my wife.” Frank slapped Korsak’s hand away from Angela.

Korsak bristled. “Did you just hit me?”

“What, you mean that little tap?” Frank gave Korsak’s arm a hard shove. “Or did you mean that?”

“Dad, don’t,” said Jane.

Korsak’s face flushed a dangerous red. With both hands he shoved Frank Rizzoli backward against the kitchen counter. “That was assaulting a police officer.”

Jane’s brother shoved himself between the two older men. “Hey. Hey.”

“You ain’t a police officer now!” Frank Senior yelled. “And no wonder! Fat ass with a bad ticker!”

“Dad,” Jane pleaded as she swept the nearby wood block of kitchen knives out of his reach. “Stop it. Both of you!”

Korsak gave his shirt collar a tug. “I’ll overlook what just happened here, for Angela’s sake. But don’t think I’ll ever forget it.”

“Get outta my house, asshole,” said Frank Senior.

“Your house? You walked out on her,” pointed out Korsak. “That makes this her house.”

“Which I’ve been paying the mortgage on for the past twenty years. Now you think you can just horn in on my property?”

“Property?” Angela suddenly snapped straight, as if that word had driven a spear down her spine. “Property? Is that what I am to you, Frank?”

“Ma,” said Frankie. “Dad didn’t mean it that way.”

“He most certainly did.”

“No I didn’t,” said Frank. “I’m just saying …”

Angela shot him a thousand-volt look. “I am nobody’s property. I am my own woman.”

“You tell him, babe,” said Korsak.

Frank and Frankie snapped simultaneously: “You shut up.”

“I want you out of here,” Angela said, rising from her seat at the table, a Valkyrie ready for battle. “Go,” she ordered.

Frank and Korsak looked at each other uncertainly.

“Well, you heard her,” said Korsak.

“I mean both of you. All of you,” said Angela.

Korsak shook his head in bewilderment. “But Angie—”

“You’re giving me a headache with all this tugging and yelling. It’s my kitchen, my house, and I want it back. Now.”

“Ma, that sounds like a good idea,” said Frankie. “A great idea.” He gave his father a pat on the back. “Come on, Dad. Give her time and she’ll come back to her senses.”

“That,” said Angela, “will not help your father’s case.” She glared at the interlopers in her kitchen. “Well, what are you all waiting for?”

“He leaves first,” said Frank, pointing at Korsak.

“Why should it be me?”

“We’re all leaving, Ma,” said Jane. She took Korsak’s arm and pulled him toward the front door. “Frankie, you get Dad out of here.”

“Not you, Jane,” said Angela. “You stay.”

“But you just said—”

“I want the men to leave. They’re the ones giving me this headache. I want you to stay, so we can talk.”

“Take care of this, Janie,” said Frankie, and she couldn’t miss the threatening note in his voice. “Remember, we’re a family. That doesn’t change.”

Sometimes to my regret, she thought as the men left the kitchen, trailing a cloud of hostility so thick she could almost smell it. She didn’t dare say a word, didn’t move a muscle, until she heard the front door shut, then the sound of three car engines simultaneously revving up. Sighing with relief, she slid the block of kitchen knives back to its usual space on the counter and looked at her mother. Now, this was a strange turn of events. Frankie was the child Angela always seemed proudest of, her Marine Corps son who could do no wrong, even while he was tormenting his siblings.

But today Angela hadn’t asked for Frankie, she’d asked for Jane, and now that they were alone together Jane took the time to study her mother. Angela’s face was still flushed from her outburst, and with that color in her cheeks, the fire in her eyes, she didn’t look like any man’s property. She looked like a woman who should be clutching a spear and a battleax, steam hissing from her nostrils. But as they heard the three cars drive away, that warrior seemed to wilt, leaving only a weary middle-aged woman who slumped into her chair and buried her head in her hands.

“Mom?” said Jane.

“All I wanted was another chance at love. Another chance to feel alive again.”

“What do you mean, alive? You didn’t feel that way?”

“I felt invisible, that’s what I felt. Every night, putting dinner in front of your father. Watching him suck it down without a single compliment. I thought that’s how it’s supposed to be when you’re married for thirty-five years. How was I supposed to know things could be different? I figured that was that. My kids are grown, I have a house with a nice backyard. Who am I to complain?”

“I never knew you were unhappy, Mom.”

“I wasn’t. I was just …” Angela shrugged. “Here. Breathing. You, you’re still a newlywed. You and Gabriel, you probably don’t know what I’m talking about, and I hope you never do. It’s a terrible feeling, to think the best years of your life are over. He made me feel that way.”

“But you were so upset when he left.”

“Of course I was upset! He left me for another woman!”

“So … you didn’t want him. But you didn’t want her to get him, either.”