TELEPHONE CALL: BETWEEN CARMELA & BARBARA FROM MIAMI TO BAYONNE

FROM

THE YOUNG SOPRANOS

TYS PART 7

APPENDIX II

TELEPHONE CALL:

BETWEEN

CARMELA & BARBARA

FROM

MIAMI TO BAYONNE

Written By

Ara Fig

2026

Tuesday, August 15, 2017 – 8:05 AM EDT

A.J.’s Riverfront Condo – Upper Bay Rooftop, Bayonne / South Beach Condo – Collins Avenue

Barbara sat alone on the rooftop deck, the iron railing still cool under her forearm where the overnight damp had not yet burned off. Omerta lay in a dark, heavy comma against her thigh, one yellow eye half-open. The early light came soft and pewter off the upper bay. She drew on the cigarette; the paper crackled. Smoke mixed with the brackish smell of low tide and the sharp scent of her almost-scorched black coffee.
Her cellphone rang. She answered on the third tone.

“GOOD MORNING CARMELA!”
“Good morning, deary!—You sound happy?!”

Barbara exhaled toward the water. “I am happy—I guess?! It’s just good to have everybody back home safe and sound.”

“Good—good. That’s why I called to check in, Barbie. Rosalie and I drove a nice rental car back to Miami from Tampa yesterday down Alligator Alley. We made it home before dinner-time, but we stopped in Naples for lunch on a waterside patio. So we got naked and shared a bottle of wine in the hot-tub to unwind.”

“How did Tampa go?”

“It went OK. I guess I felt like you do now. I had all four of the children together away from there for the whole weekend. There was nothing to do but drink, gamble, and gossip.”

“Who did you see?”

“Everybody—who was there. You know how it works, Barbie. It’s never about who’s there but who isn’t—and why.” Carmela gave a short, dismissing chuckle.

“So who wasn’t there?”

“Coco and Walden left two empty chairs. Coco has been Carmine Jr.’s New Jersey audit and longtime mole working the dock warehouses.”

Barbara was quiet a moment.
“I don’t know, Carmela. I mean, I know who Coco is—Janice’s fella—but we don’t really talk. Nica keeps me filled in on that front when she visits and tells Caitlyn, who tells me. And Nica never mentions Coco or acknowledges him. Sofi is the same way.”

“I know. Who knows with those two? They could’ve dragged whores to the Poconos.”

Carmela’s voice softened. “Then… how did Franny look?”

Barbara’s face changed. She set the coffee down; the ceramic clicked against the glass. Her free hand stroked Omerta once.

“Oh—good Lord, Carm, she was glowing. Apparently Italy fresh air and sunshine suits her. She had that rosy color back in her face.

This place went up when Franny and Meadow arrived after A.J. and Vito. Caitlyn and Nica jumped A.J. and Vito until Franny came barreling in loud and bearing gifts for them from abroad.

Alle got all teary-eyed hugging Franny.”
On the other end Carmela sniffed—short, involuntary—turning her head from the receiver to catch her breath.

“Ahhh, that’s so nice. You’re going to tear me up, Barbara.”
A short silence held.

“I’m so jealous of you, Barb,” Carmela admitted without shame.

Barbara suddenly laughed.
“What?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Carm—it’s this dumb cat!”

“Omerta?!”

“Yes! I put you on speakerphone and he’s turning his head side to side hearing your voice like you're here somewhere.”

Carmela gathered herself, the laugh still in her throat. “He’s so bad. I know—I catch myself looking for him down here in my condo like he’s here.”

“Sounds like you need a companion cat down there.”

“Oh hell no!” Carmela laughed outright. “That’s the last thing I need—another companion in my house. I learned my lesson, Barb, booting Little (-Dick) Carmine out.”

“I hear you, Carm.”
“Besides, I’ve spent more time up in Newark this summer between funerals and emergencies.”

Barbara’s voice gentled. “There’s no place like home.”

“Yea—but this hollow condo hardly feels like a home after being in Bayonne with the children.”

“You can always come home anytime you want, Carmela.”

“I know. A.J. makes me genuinely welcome there, and Meadow is making an effort to at least tolerate me in the same room—”

“Oh, Carm—”

“—Vito is still distant but respectful, then Franny and I have warmed up.”

Carmela hesitated half a beat. “Did Franny mention any boy?”

“No. Not to me. But Caitlyn and Nica told me Franny has a new boyfriend with a helicopter.”

Carmela’s voice brightened with recognition. “Those two girls sure know how to get the skinny!”

“Yes, they have a gift of hearing what they shouldn’t.” Barbara laughed in agreement.

“I assumed it was that young Carmine III when he visited Franny in the hospital with the helicopter.”

“Yes—one and the same. Franny was with him and his sister Carrie the entire weekend.”

“That explains her glow.”
“Mmm—yes indeed.”

Carmela’s tone shifted, quieter. “Did Meadow mention George?”

“No. Not once that I heard.”

“Good. It’s hardly been a week since he’s been in the ground.”

“No—Meadow seemed happy and glad to be home and have Omerta back in her arms.”

Carmela paused, her voice turning casual as she smoothed the side of her silk robe.

“Oh—did you happen to catch the news on the radio yesterday? About Bitcoin?”

“I did, actually,” Barbara said, tapping a soft flake of ash off her cigarette into the tray.

“Heard it on the midday report while I was getting the kitchen straightened up.”

“I couldn't believe it,” Carmela said, a quiet glint in her tone. “Peaked right past four thousand dollars a share yesterday before the market close.”

“Yeah, I heard,” Barbara replied plainly, leaving the statement right there in the air without touching what A.J. or Tommy planned to do with their position.

Carmela drew a breath.

“I intend on returning to Bayonne in September for Franny’s mystery birthday party location and see her off to music school—unless someone dies before then.”

“CARMELA?!”

The two sister-in-laws laughed, low and wicked, the sound carrying cleanly across the line.

At that moment the sliding glass door on the South Beach terrace scraped open. Rosalie walked out, messy dark hair, sleepy eyes, silk leopard-print robe hanging sideways off one shoulder. She shielded her eyes from the already-bright Florida daylight.

“What’s so funny?”

Carmela only laughed harder. She spoke into the phone one last time, still grinning.

“I gotta go, Barbie. Call me! I love you!”

“I love you too—Carm—?”
The line clicked dead.

Carmela dropped the phone onto the cushioned seat, stepped forward, and framed Rosalie’s face with both hands, leaning in to kiss her on the lips.

“Don’t!” Rosalie covered her mouth at the last second. “I haven’t brushed my teeth yet. Who was that?”

“Barbara. I called her to check on the children returning home.”

“And?”

“And all is well in Gangland.”

“CARMELA?! What’s got into you, Girl?”

“Come on.” Carmela tugged her by the wrist back inside, "Lets get you some Coffee!" sliding the heavy glass door shut against the morning heat and pulling the thick curtains closed until the bright Florida light narrowed to a soft, private gloom.