I moved what little I had into Fran's place. Correction--mine and Franās place--and sat on the bed with my leg elevated to help ease the throbbing in my knee.

The only noise in this place was the creaking of the bed.

*****
The oil felt warm on my back.

"Ready?" asked Greg.

His fingers started kneading the knotted muscles in my back.

"Ow. Shit," I yelped.

"That hurt?"

"No, I always scream when it feels good."

"Relax," he said. "Let me do the work."

Greg's hands worked their way up and down my sore body. Some- times gentle, sometimes rough. I started to loosen up. I forgot everything else and just thought about the hands massaging my body.

*****
"Shut your pie hole, you stupid whore!"

This was my Pop's way of showing Ma affection.

"Why'd I ever marry a drunken bum like you!"

Ma sayin' "I love you" back.

Then the sweet nothings would start.

"Bastard!"

"Bitch!"

"Asshole!"

"Dago cow!"

"Dirty spic!"

Next came the slapping, punching and biting, the two of them beating each other bloody.

Ma once had to get thirty-four stitches in her scalp.

Ma cracked two of Pop's ribs with a stick ball bat.

It was after the fighting, that it got noisy, though.

The sounds that came from their bedroom were something-the moans, shouts and screams of two people making up. The bed straining, screeching, like every spring was about to burst and the bed itself would go crashing through the floor.

And then quiet.

Ma and Pop softly talking.

"Shush, Miguel," she'd whisper. "You'll wake the children."

"Come here, Carmella."

The bed would begin to creak again.

*****
"All done," said Greg, waking me up.

"Huh? No, not yet,ä I said, rubbing at my eyes.

"Yep. Time to get up."

Problem. If I get up, he's going to see just how much I enjoyed this.

"Uh, I think I'll just lay here for a few more minutes," I said. "If that'sokay?"

Greg: "Well, I know I did my job right, then."