The Saint's Angel

“Hey, Da,” Enora spoke nervously into the payphone the next morning. She was in dire need of a smoke break, and as much as she was dreading it, she knew she needed to call her father to inform him of Aiden’s situation. She was expecting the call to go straight to voicemail, considering the bastard never picked up before. But luck would have it that on that fine Thursday morning, Cillian O’Connell answered his daughter’s call.

“How are ye m’dear?” His chipper voice asked. “It’s been a while since ye last called yer old man!”

Enora found herself roller her eyes at her father’s words. “I’ve been tryin’ ta call ye fer months now, Da,” She grumbled. Shaking her head, she quickly got back on topic. “But there’s a couple o’ things ye need ta know.”

“Hang on, dear,” He said. “Cliona just got home. Can I call ye back in a bit?” At the mentioning of her father’s booty call-turned-wife, Enora felt the need to hurl. She hated that woman as much as she hated the bastards that put her brother in the hospital.

Cliona McDarren was one bitchy piece of work; a woman with no class, really. She and Enora’s father met about a year or two ago, a couple months after he had broken things off with Enora and Aiden’s late mother figure, Edna. Cliona had easily torn apart the sibling’s relationship with their father, enough to where the two decided to take their chances in America rather than spend another moment with that horror of a woman.

Enora sighed, pressing her fingertips to her temple. “Actually, it’s really important, Da. Aiden’s not doin’ so well and—“

“Thanks, dear. Talk ta ye soon!” And without any hesitation, Enora’s father hung up the phone, leaving nothing but a dial tone coming from the speaker. Enora clenched her teeth angrily, before taking hold of the phone and slamming it back onto the receiver. After realizing how good it felt, she did it again.

And again.

And again.

Until someone laid a hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump.

“Enora,” A soft voice came from behind her. She spun around and through teary eyes, she saw Murphy standing there with a cigarette dangling between his lips. He wore a frown and his blue eye held concern.
“Ye broke the phone, love.” Glancing down, Enora noticed that the phone had been cracked in half. A couple of nurses were shooting her glares; others were giving her sympathetic looks.

She dropped the phone with a shaky sigh. “Oops.”

Murphy breathed a laugh and pulled the cigarette out from between his lips before tugging on the sleeve of her black sweater. “C’mon, let’s get ye some coffee.” Enora followed the Irishman into the hospitals cafeteria. He gave her a small smile and motioned to one of the few tables that were in the room, telling her to take a seat. With a small smile, she scooted into one of the booths and rested her head in her hands.

How could she have been so stupid? She knew that her dad wouldn’t care. He never had! It was always about money, drinking, or sex with her father. Anything she ever learned was from Edna—her beliefs, her morals, even her damn cooking skills all came from that angel of a woman. Thinking about it now, Enora could really use that woman in her life. Edna was always there for her and Aiden. She’d feed them, teach them, kiss them goodnight and read them bedtime stories. Their biological mother was never around, but Enora never cared. She and Aiden had Edna, and that kind woman was enough for the both of them. “Ye’ve got a strong soul, a big heart, and a bright smile,” Edna would often say to Enora. “Ye’re a beautiful piece of the Lord’s work, Enora. Never forget that.” But after Enora’s father ended their relationship, Edna had moved and eventually passed away. The autopsy claimed it was cardiac arrest, but Enora couldn’t shake the feeling that the woman she considered her mother had died of a broken heart.

“What’re ye thinkin’ about?” Murphy asked, pulling Enora from her thoughts. He placed a cup of coffee in front of her before taking a sip of his own. He pulled a face and set the coffee down, grimacing as he swallowed the bitter liquid. “Fuck, tha’s some nasty shit.”

Enora couldn’t help but giggle and nodded in agreement, taking a small sip from her own cup. “Hospital coffee always sucks,” She murmured.

“So,” Murphy sighed glancing up at the Irish beauty. “What made ye so mad that ye snapped the fuckin’ phone in half, huh?” He asked with a small smirk.

Enora rolled her eyes. “My Da,” she grumbled, taking a bigger gulp of her coffee. She ignored its awful taste and kept her eyes trained on the murky liquid in the Styrofoam cup.

“Ah,” Murphy nodded in understanding, leaning back in his seat. “Ye’ve got yerself some “daddy issues”, huh?”

“Ye could say that,” Enora replied wryly. “Bastard hung up on me ‘fore I could even tell him about Aiden.”

Murphy frowned, his eyebrows pulling together. “But isn’t Aiden his son, too?”

Enora scoffed. “Yeah, but our father’s a selfish man. He cares more about fuckin’ money and his wife then he does his own damn kids. *Mac soith.”

Murphy couldn’t help but chuckle at Enora’s Gaelic expletives. She was sometimes too cute for her own good. “How’s yer brother?”

She shrugged. “Alright, I guess. A couple hours after ye two left last night he woke up. Said somethin’ about his stomach hurtin’ and before I could do anythin’…he just started coughin’ up blood.” Enora took a shaky breath and pressed her hands to her head. “Christ, Murphy, it was fuckin’ terrible.”

Grabbing Enora’s hand, Murphy ran soothing circles over her porcelain skin. “I’m sorry, love,” He whispered. “It’ll all be better soon.”

“I hope so, Murph,” Enora whispered, meeting the man’s bright blue eyes with her own emerald ones. “I really do.”

---

Vinnie Carboni glanced down at his watch nervously as his foot tapped against the hardwood floors, his brown eyes gazing around his boss’s private office. Boss should’ve been there by now, but he was running late, and that made Vinnie’s nerves even worse.

The young Italian man knew he fucked up—big time.

It was supposed to be an easy exchange. He and that Irish kid, Aiden, were supposed to meet up with a couple of dealers near the cargo docks. From there, the two would help unload the shipment and pack it into the semi-trucks that Boss had set up for them. Little did the two young men know, a couple of Russians were there to pick up their share. A fight erupted, guns were drawn, and needless to say, Vinnie wasn’t the one who got shot. After Aiden was down, Vinnie couldn’t waste any time, so he grabbed as much of the dope as he could, fired a couple shots back, and fled the scene.

And now he was in some deep shit.

Before Vinnie could come up with a good enough explanation, the large door opened and in stepped
Vinnie’s boss, Rosario Mancini. The tall man with a slim frame and full head of black hair sat down in front of Vinnie, his beady eyes trained on the younger man. “Vincent, how are you today?” The man’s voice was like silk as the accented words flowed from his mouth.

“I’m alright, sir,” Vinnie replied. "Is there something you needed me for?"

*"Ho bisogno di sapere che cazzo è successo una settimana fa, Vincenzo." Mancini’s voiced boomed throughout the rather large room. He only spoke in Italian when he was angry , and Vinnie could feel his pulse rising quickly.

“Ah, well,” Vinnie stuttered. “You see, uh, when we got to th-the docks, there were, um, these Russian pricks, and—“

Mancini hummed in annoyance. “Why was I not informed of this, Vincent?”

Vinnie visibly gulped, his eyes searching the ceiling as if the answer to his Boss’s question would be written there in fine print. “I—sir, I thought you had already heard. I mean, it was a week ago so I figured—“

“What, huh?” Mancini growled. “You figured what, Vincent?”

“Well, I figured that you would have heard already.” Vinnie’s voice was small, his eyes locked on his hands that were folded in his lap.

Mancini sighed irritably. “Okay. Alright, it’s okay,” Mancini pressed his fingers to his temples, attempting to massage away his incoming headache. “What happened to that Irish boy? What was his name? Allen?”

“Aiden, sir,” Vinnie said. “And he’s in critical condition. Poor bastard’s got a hole the size of a damn baseball in his stomach.”

“Is his family aware of his condition?” Mancini asked. To some, he was a heartless man, but if one of his own was practically on their deathbed, he respected the dying’s family enough to let them know about it.

Vinnie sighed. “Well, his sister was the one that found him. From what I know, she was at work when he stumbled in through the doors. I’m guessing she took him to the hospital and he explained everything to her.”

“So she’s a liability?” Mancini asked.

Vinnie shook his head. “I don’t think so, sir. On the incident report it said he had been mugged but he didn’t see the attackers. I think we’re good.”

“Good.” Mancini grinned a bit but it faded when he saw the look in the young man’s eyes. “What is it, Vincent?”

“Um,” Vinnie blew a breath out from between his lips. “When I went to check up on him…there was a slight problem.”

*“Vincenzo, qual è il problema?” Mancini’s voice was ice cold.

Vinnie winced as the words left his mouth. “The Saints were there, sir. And I think they’re friends with Aiden’s sister.”

---

“Miss O’Connell?” A nurse approached Murphy and Enora’s booth. They’d been sitting there for a little over half an hour, talking and chatting. Murphy was going along with his plan of keeping Enora’s thoughts off of her brother, and for the most part, it was working.

Enora glanced up at the nurse. “Yes?”

“You’re brother’s awake,” The nurse smiled tightly, but it was easy to see the worry in her eyes. “He’s asking for you.”

“Oh, okay,” Enora nodded and glanced back at murphy who was watching her with concern. “Would ye like ta come with?”

Murphy thought for a second. If something were to happen, maybe it would be best that he was here. The poor girl needed all the support she could get. “Aye, I will.” He murmured, adding a small smile. Enora grinned and led the way down the hall, the two tossing their cups in the trash.

When they reached her brother’s room, she noticed Dr. Winrow standing next to his bed. Aiden was nodding along to something the doctor said, answering his questions. Enora took a step towards the door but she noticed a second person in the room. The woman wore all black, her hair pulled up into a tight bun and she was scribbling something down onto a clipboard. “Who’s tha’?” Murphy asked from behind Enora.

“I don’ know,” She replied quietly. “Can ye see what her name tag says?”

Murphy leaned in a bit closer, his eyes focusing on the plastic tag just above the woman’s left breast.

Catherine Banks
Funeral Director
Rapino Memorial Home

“Holy shit,” Murphy muttered, his eyes closing sadly. Aiden must have called the funeral home to make the arrangement before telling Enora.

“What? Who is she, Murphy?” Enora asked.

Murphy gazed down at her sadly, pulling her back a couple feet away from the door. “Enora…she’s from Rapino.”

Enora raised an eyebrow. “Th’ fuck is that?”

“It’s…” He sighed and winced, as though telling her the truth was physically painful. “It’s a funeral home, love. Yer brother musta made th’ arrangements without ye knowin’,”

Enora’s eyes grew wide as her mouth opened in shock. She glanced back into her brother’s room. He was chatting quietly with the two as though it was no big deal. His expression was calm and he even wore a small smile. Enora could physically feel her heart breaking. “I…” But she wasn’t sure what to say. Her brother had completely lost every ounce of hope, and she could feel her own slipping away. A choked sob escaped the brunette’s lips, causing everyone in Aiden’s room to look up. The sibling’s eyes locked and that was all it took for Enora to lose it. “You bastard!” She screams and ran into his room, her eyes furious and her mind set. Murphy tried to grab her before she could get too far, but she slipped out of his grip.

Aiden watched his sister with guilty eyes. He knew he should’ve told her first, but he couldn’t handle hurting her anymore. “I’m sorry…”

“No, yer fuckin’ not!” She shouted, slamming her fists into his chest. “Ye’ve given up, ye fuck! I’ve prayed day ‘n night for you ta get fuckin’ better and ye’ve already lost hope!” Her tears stained Aiden’s hospital gown as her hands continued their assault on his upper body. “Yer not leavin’ me, Aiden. I’m not lettin’ ye leave me.”

“Enora…”

“No!” She screamed and then turned to the funeral home director, whose face was blank and emotionless. “You! Get th’ fuck outta here.”

“Ma’am,” The woman said with a tight voice. “Maybe you should calm down and consider your brother’s wishes. He’s the one who will be leaving this world behind, not you. With all due respect, I think your actions are a bit selfish.”

Ah, fuck, Murphy thought to himself as he noticed the look in Enora’s eyes. It was the same look she got when Vinnie had shown up—rage.

“What the fuck did ye just say ta me?” Enora seethed, her hands curled tightly into fists by her sides. The woman’s face quickly contorted into a mixture of fear and guilt as Enora stepped up to her, their noses nearly touching. “If ye ever talk ta me like tha’ again, I’ll beat the fuck outta ye up ‘n down these fuckin’ halls.”

Deciding that the best thing to do would be to break up the commotion, Murphy stepped into the room. “Enora,” He murmured. “I think ye should calm down, love. Ye don’t want security ta come in here ‘n take ye away, do ya?”

“Fuck off, Murphy.” She growled but refused to take her eyes off of the now shaken woman.

“Enora, ye should listen ta him,” Aiden spoke up. “This was my choice, *deirfiúr.”

“And it’s a fuckin’ mistake, brother.” Enora whimpered, before turning on her heel and leaving the room.

There was only one thing she could do right now that would make her feel better.

And that was to get fucking drunk.