WHEN BELLA WOKE IN the musty cottage on Cape Cod, the moon was still pushing its silver light into the room. She was still alone in the squeaky bed and Melvin was still snoring in his chair, his big book still open in his lap, his gun on the table next to him. The radio was still softly playing, “They Can’t Take That Away from Me.”
Under the romantic warbling, Bella thought she heard her name. She sat up and switched the radio off. As the tubes died, there it was again. A tortured howl.
Belladonna Marie! Come home to me!
“Francis?”
The call was coming from somewhere outside …
Belladonna Marie! Come home to me!
Bella slowly eased herself out of bed. She padded past Melvin and cracked open the creaky door.
Dino’s car still wasn’t there.
She listened.
There it was again!
Belladonna Marie! Come home to me!
The call was coming from behind the cottage. From somewhere out near the sea.
Bella ran around to the back of the honeymoon suite, where the broad expanse of a moon-kissed beach spread to a rough and tumbling ocean.
Belladonna Marie! Come home to me!
Suddenly Bella saw, standing at the water’s edge, a familiar silhouette. It raised its arms in a classic Strongman pose. Then it turned and dove in.
“Francis!” Bella bolted across the sand.
Belladonna Marie! Come home to me!
This time the mournful wail was followed by the distressed cry of a baby bouncing across the waves. Then Bella saw him, swimming away from her, lapping along like a little puppy.
“Billy?!”
Belladonna Marie! Come home to me!
Bella ran into the sea, but before she was able to charge through the shallows, she was brutally grabbed by a strong pair of hands and reeled back onto the sand.
“You crazy bitch!” Melvin hollered. “What the fuck are youse doin’?!”
Bella’s arms flailed. “My baby! I’ve got to get my baby!” She was hysterical, punching and kicking and screaming. “Francis! Francis is calling me!”
Melvin shook her hard and brutally slapped her across the face. Then he scooped her into his arms and carried her back to the Crab Trap.
In the cottage’s bathroom, he threw her into the shower, cranked on the cold water, and gave her a good dousing until she collapsed, exhausted and sobbing. After he pulled her out, he stripped her, rubbed her shivering body down with a clean towel, and threw her into bed. He collapsed back into his chair and took a few minutes to steady his breathing. Then he opened The Odyssey.
“So, surrender to sleep at last,” he read out loud. “What a misery, keeping watch through the night …”
As dawn crept into the room, Dino’s Cadillac rolled across the Crab Trap’s parking lot. He slithered into the cottage like the Shadow and quietly dropped his suitcase on the musty carpet. Then he padded over to a snoring Melvin and eased The Odyssey out of big brute’s hands. For a moment he looked at his sleeping wife. Even in repose she looked like a bombshell pinup.
“I wish I could be dat beautiful,” he sighed.
After scrubbing his face and brushing his teeth, he dropped a flannel nightshirt over his head and crawled into the bed. “Goodnight, Belladonna Montebologna. Sweet dreams,” he whispered. Then he settled onto his pillow and promptly fell asleep (dreaming the outrageously gaudy dreams of a Provincetown drag queen).
As Dino and Melvin snored in unison, Bella’s eyes fluttered open. For a moment she wasn’t sure where she was. She heard ocean waves lapping in the distance. Was she in Coney Island? Was running away and her marriage to Dino all just a crazy dream? For a second her heart swelled with hope. Then she looked over at the man snoring next to her.
“Francis Anthony Mozzarelli,” she hoarsely whispered into the darkness, “please forgive me.”