The Conversation
      Chapter 13
 

"Danny…" she involuntarily whispers as she brings herself back to the present.

She instinctively reaches out for him before focus can be found on his beautiful face. His hands are in hers before she's even able to turn his way. His eyes. She sees them clearly though the rest of the room is in a glossy haze. They're swimming in ubiquitous love, now being joined by the passion and fear she knows so well. They embrace her very soul as her mind begins to clarify the events of that afternoon. She has doubted her actions numerous times since they've met, but never did she doubt the feeling in the pit of her stomach that had never deceived her, that persistently fed her need to be with him… to drop everything and run… in his direction. This was the nucleus of her love for him, the unstoppable force, the very center of gravity that she had come to know and trust with her life.

But this feeling was wrong that day.
This feeling betrayed her that day.
On that day, she betrayed herself.

"Baby… are you ok?"

"I…I don't know," she breathlessly replies as she strokes the side of his face to ensure that he is not a mirage, that her faculties are in working order.

"Did you hear what I said? You kind of spaced out there for a second… are you ok?"

She releases his face and adjusts herself comfortably, but not before finding his hand again and gripping it firmly.

"Yeah, I heard… you said you were going to kill me. I’m sorry, I just was thinking back… about everything you said… how you looked at me… everything… I can see it now. I just couldn't see it then."

"I don't want to put you through this again, honey."

"No, it's ok. Hey, my husband was gonna kill me, but uh, let's look on the bright side, huh? He didn't, and you know, that's… that's the important thing."

Her voice quivers as she tries to break out a smile. She falters.

"This isn't funny."

"I'm not laughing."

"Okay…"

"Okay. So… after you talked with your mother…"

"No, wait. You don't wanna talk about it?"

"Talk about what? I was never scared of you. I never felt like you were threatening me or that you were… you never scared me. As far as I knew, you were suspicious because of the FBI thing, but that was it. Next thing I knew you were packing your bag and driving us over to Rick's."

"It wasn't that easy… I mean, yeah, for you maybe… but have you thought about what I was going through?"

She hadn't. She lowers her head in shame, unaware of the pain that her husband must've suffered. She looks back up to him with open eyes, eager to listen, afraid to hear.

"I'm sorry, go ahead… what was it like?"

He takes his time, clearing his throat before he continues. His words come at a slow pace, trying to make sense of it all as he goes.

"You know, as much as you never wanted to die, Michelle, I never wanted to kill you. Never. Yeah, I hated you for calling them, and yeah, I can say that I would've done it, but it was killing me. I loved you with everything… good inside of me and if I had given in to my mother, to that other side, I … I don't think I could've done it."

"You don't think?"

"I can't possibly know, Michelle. It was taken out of my hands."

"What do you mean?"

He doesn't hear her… he continues with his train of thought, never releasing her hands, and never leaving her pools of compassion and query despite the tears forming inside of him that threaten his voice.

"The one person who I felt… complete with… who I connected with in a way that I couldn't possibly describe… she… you wanted me in jail. You can say all you want that it was about Carmen and it was never about me… I understand that, I do… now. But you don't seem to be understanding me here. I didn't know it then. I didn't know you wanted Carmen gone and not me. And I knew I could never force you… I needed you to love me because you wanted to love me… and every minute that passed knowing that you never would… and even worse, that you wanted me out of the picture so bad that you would set me up to go to prison… dammit Michelle, it killed me… it killed me more and more every second."

"But, that's not a reason…"

"To kill you? Maybe not in your world…but in mine, it's what was done when you were betrayed, when someone turned on you. I’ve tried to listen to you, to feel what it was like for you to live in that house, with my family, with the violence, but I don’t know if you’ve tried to understand what it was like to actually grow up with that way of life drilled into you every day. There were things that were done simply because of tradition, simply because that’s how it was always done. Revenge, retribution, honor, that’s what we lived by, that’s all I knew and that's what was done."

"But you didn't…"

"No, I didn’t. Michelle, I never could’ve hurt you. Part of me wanted to, yeah, I did, and I was so close. And you know what? If it wasn't you, I would've done it… if it was anybody else… if anyone else had turned me in… maybe I would've done it… maybe…"

"Don't say that. It's not true."

"Yes it is! That's who I was!"

He breaks all contact and gets off the bed hurriedly. He walks about until finally settling by the window. He gently opens the drape, flinching at the biting sunshine that invades the room. He closes it just as quickly and turns to lean against the wall instead, crossing his arms against himself. His voice turns inward, becoming barely audible to her.

"You never wanted to see that part of me, you never wanted to accept it…but it was there… it was real. I could've been like every other gangster's son… I could've killed. Maybe I never had before, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn't have done it. If it was anyone else…"

She rises gingerly from the bed, closing the gap between them. She stands before him, hands resting on his taut forearms, silently demanding him to look at her.

"Do you know why I never saw that part of you? Do you? Because I know you…"

"You know me now."

"No. I…know…you. I know your heart. I know your soul. I've known it since you walked into Millennium the first time we met. That night changed my life… because all of a sudden, something inside of me knew that I would never be alone again. Are you listening to me?"

His head stays down.

"Yeah, but you don't know what you're talking about."

"Do you think I would say this just to make you feel better? Don't you know me better than that?"

He allows himself to smile in spite of himself.

"Don't you know every piece of me? Don't you sometimes know me better than I know myself?"

He nods and begins to look at her.

"Do you trust me?"

He doesn't answer. Instead he gets lost in her being. He's given this woman his every fiber, his every emotion, his every fear, and she has held them in her heart and protected them with her life. She's also trusted him with her life, which has made him feel like anything he wants to do is possible. She's believed in him, she's comforted him, she's taken care of him in more ways than he can possible describe. Does he trust her? With every beat of his heart…

"Do you trust me, Danny?"

"I do."

"Then listen to me. With everything in me… everything… I know you. A person's heart never changes. Their feelings do, their perceptions, their thoughts might, but never their heart. You know… it wasn't about me, either time. You didn't spare my life because you loved me."

He starts to object before she places her fingers over his mouth.

"You didn't… you didn't kill me because you… are not… a killer. You couldn't have done it because you knew that I was innocent. The night at the docks, you knew that killing me was wrong, and despite every consequence that faced you, you did the right thing."

"The right thing…I've never been accused of doing that before. But, baby, with the FBI…it wasn't about right or wrong."

"I don't know what happened there… you can tell me if you want to. But you will never… look at me…you will never convince me that you are just like `any gangster's son'… that you're like Mick… Danny, you were my angel, you still are. Your heart is pure, your heart is good… and it's mine. And as long as I live, I will take care of it. And I will never let you believe this about yourself, do you hear me? And neither will she."

With tears cradling along her eyelashes, she takes his hands and places them on their daughter. He pulls them into a lasting embrace as he continues to thank God for putting this woman into his life. She pulls away without leaving any space between them.

"Okay? Do you believe me?"

"Yes, ma'am" he laughs before kissing her nose and lips gently.

They slowly extricate as he leads her over to the empty fireplace and sits her down into a large and plushy mustard yellow chair he had to talk her into buying, a chair that quickly became her favorite. He pulls the ottoman in front of her and sits down.

"Okay, so you wanted to know what changed this time."

"Yeah. After you left, your mother came in and started the same song and dance she usually did and then you came back. Next thing I know I hear you screaming…"

"Right. Well, I overheard some information that led me to believe that you… heh… had nothing to do with the FBI raid, actually."

"What? What did you hear?"

"I overheard Dietz on the phone with his girlfriend congratulating her on a job well done. Seems she had called the feds pretending to be you and tipped them off about the shipment."

"What? Dietz's girlfriend? I didn't even know he had a girlfriend…"

"Yeah, well, apparently my mother did and asked him to do it."

"Well that I can believe."

As if to reassure himself of her presence, his hands find her knees and stroke them softly in a repetitive pattern.

"She wanted me to find out it was you so that I would get rid of you. She wanted me to kill you. Me. Not Dietz, not Jimmy, not by some accident, she knew it had to be me."

"Oh Danny, I'm sorry…"

"Yeah, me too, for ever believing a word she said to me since my father died. Anyway, I overheard Dietz and wanted to apologize to you. It was just coincidence that she was in the bedroom too, so I confronted her."

"What did she say?"

"Oh… she admitted to doing it, kept saying it was for my own good or something, then you came back. Actually, I'm trying to forget every conversation I ever had with her, so you'll forgive the missing details."

"Of course."

Her smile lights up the room, relieving any tension that had invaded their sanctuary in these morning hours.

"Remember showing up at Rick and Abby's with your suitcase? The looks they gave us?"

"Classic. I bet I was the last person he expected to show up at his doorstep ready to move in."

"With his little sister, even. I remember… oh yeah… that night, I remember wishing that my bed was just a little bigger so that you could sleep in it with me."

"Ah, but I didn't sleep. That rock hard floor was a lullaby compared to the effect your little dangling foot off the side of the bed had on me. Kept me awake all night."

He leans in and nuzzles her neck. She tips her head to the side to give him more room to graze. They laugh at the memory as she squeals…

"I had no idea…"

He backs up and lets out a sigh in jest as his fingers roam through the forests of hair behind her ear.

"You know… sometimes I really wonder how it was physically possible for us to stay away from each other as long as we did."

A blush reaches her cheeks as she remembers staring at the top of his head in equal admiration until she drifted off. She smiles at her little secret.

"I felt so normal with you for those… 18 hours. Waking up, eating breakfast with you, even if Rick ignored you…"

"He wasn't so bad. I think he looked at me once, maybe even grunted…"

"Awww."

"Hey, I saw it as progress."

She laughs as she strokes a single curl away from his forehead.

"Yeah… and getting ready that night, before we went to Millennium. It felt so perfect, so right. We were married and we had our own little bathroom routine and everything by then…it was a perfect night."

"Until…"

"Until we danced."