who I am and not be ashamed of who I am and-” Frankie also had a habit of rambling when she was emotional. “No Francesca there is something you-” again Frankie interrupted.
“There is always something. Always something that I have to do and I have to change.” Frankie was looking for any out she could find to not talk about Grandpa Sal. Before the man could begin his words, Frankie noticed the red blink - ing light on the answering machine. “What could he want now?” Frankie rolled
her eyes while adjusting random items on the counter. “Whenever Dad leaves a message, it’s always something stupid that he thinks is im - portant. Preheat the oven for me. Start dinner. Put the clothes in the dryer. Make sure that the door is locked. Let’s see. I have money on don’t touch the thermostat. What do you think? What do you think it is today?” Frankie couldn’t stand the silence, it often screamed the truth. She awkwardly lunged forward and hit the play button on the machine. Frankie’s eyes widened. She knew something was wrong. The last and only time she ever heard her dad cry was at Grandpa’s burial. “......Principessa…..” Frankie’s heart-beats grew stronger and stronger with each pause. She could feel the beats rattling her chest and echoing in her ears. “...Nonna….she’s…she’s gone,” The next sound Frankie heard was her father’s wails, but they soon faded out as her eyes glazed over again. She was leaning on the corner of the wall and without trying she slid to the floor. Her eyes un- focused as she stared at the same green tile. Her mind went blank, she could hear her father’s voice broken and pained but she didn’t hear a single word. Green she thought. Green. Green is all she could think or see.
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