I just have to hold it together a little longer, until their ship sails. I'm not going to ruin this for them. They've worried enough over me, and not just this past month.
I can still remember when she revealed the trip, how happy we all were. Well, most of us. It was at my college graduation party. Dad was so happy anyway, so proud of me. When we came here, almost ten years ago, this was one of his dreams, that I'd get a good public education and then go on to higher education, the first person in the family to go to college. Of course, neither of us knew then that he'd graduate two years ahead of me, become a college professor himself, first at Wells and now at our alma mater, Ridgemont.
Angela raised her champagne glass and said, "Mission accomplished, Mr. Micelli." She's in advertising, she knows how to make alliteration work. And she smiled at Dad, who smiled back.
She's not quite been my mother all these years, but she's the closest I've had since Mama died. I mean Mom. I haven't said "Mama" since I was little. I don't know where that came from. I still call Angela by her name, but maybe if they hadn't taken so long to get together, maybe I'd have found something else to call her. Not "Mother," that's what she calls Mona, and it's a symbol of how different they are, despite their love. If I had a daughter, I'd have her call me Mama. But the likelihood of my having a daughter is much smaller than it was a month ago.
OK, Sam, this isn't helping. Try to be happy for them. You were that night.
"Thank you for helping me get through puberty and everything after, Mrs. Micelli," Dad said and clinked her glass. I was 11, going on 12, when I arrived, and she did keep Dad from going too crazy as I got my first bra, first hickey, first hangover, and other rites of passage. Now it's my first— No, not a happy subject.
"You're welcome. And now that the S.S. Samantha Marie Micelli-Thomopolous is successfully launched into the world, perhaps you would like to set sail yourself." He stared at her, puzzled, not the only one. Then she took out an envelope and handed it to him.
She'd already given me my graduation gift, a shopping trip for job interview clothes, more fun than it sounds. Angela has great taste, more conservative than mine, but that was fine in this case, because I needed that classiness. Yes, I'm trying to break into the music business, but the management side.
Anyway, Dad said, "Angela, you don't have to give me anything."
"Not even an early anniversary gift?"
Dad and Angela have a lot of anniversaries, different occasions that they (the eternal romantics) observe religiously. So he and everyone had no idea which anniversary this was early for. Then he opened the envelope, took out a note, read it, and then exclaimed, "Baby, I love it!" Then he gave her a big hug and kiss.
They used to be shy about being affectionate in front of other people, but once they were officially a couple, they started acting like two teens in puppy love. I was old enough to not be bothered by it, but I know it embarrassed Jonathan at first, even though he'd been hoping they'd get together as long as and as much as I had. (Maybe more, considering I never set them up on a blind date.)
By that point, we were all very curious, but Mona (who's the most shameless person I know, which I admire her for, usually), grabbed the envelope from him and shared with the crowd that Angela had not only booked a cruise to Rome for her and Dad, but she was renting a castle in Italy for a month!
"Enchanted April," I murmured. Angela and I saw that movie when it came out a couple years ago. It's a total chick flick, but Dad enjoyed it when she got it on home video. I remember Angela and I half joking that we should leave Dad and Hank behind for a month, just soak up the sunshine on our own (OK, and we'd invite Mona, too, I guess), but we'd probably end up inviting Hank and Dad after a few days, just like the two married women do in the movie. She and Dad weren't married yet, just engaged. We were all visiting them in Iowa, right before they split up. Yeah, they worked things out. Sigh.
Angela met my eyes, a little guiltily, like she'd broken a promise to me, but I shook my head. I wished I could go. It would be the perfect way to celebrate the end of my education, but she and Dad didn't really get a honeymoon after he returned from Iowa. They married quickly and then he got the position at Ridgemont and, well, she's still sort of a workaholic. I knew it would do her, both of them really, good to get away for a couple months.
"So, two weeks' cruise each way, and then a month there? You're going to miss most of my summer at home," Jonathan said. Sometimes he can be such a little kid, even now!
"I'm sorry, Sweetheart." It's so easy to make Angela feel guilty.
"Are you kidding? It'll be non-stop parties for two months!"
Everyone laughed. I might've done that at 18, if I thought I could get away with it, but Jonathan? Too much of a nerd and a good boy. Not that that's necessarily a bad thing.
I played along. "Yeah, Hank and I will have to chaperone him." Everyone laughed. Well, almost everyone. Hank wasn't laughing much that evening. I had no idea what was bothering him. I mean, when he graduated from college, the same year as Dad, I was as proud of him as of Dad. And it's not like Hank is the kind of guy who'd be bothered by his wife getting a college degree. (It's not like I'd married Al.)
No one suggested Mona chaperone. She did when Angela was in Iowa, but this year she's got summer plans of her own. She did offer to give them up when, when everything fell apart. And so did Dad and Angela of course. But I don't want people hovering over me, worrying about me. It's like when Grandpa Nick died. I need to be left alone. At least I can count on Jonathan to not act parental.
The party ended soon after that. Mrs. Rossini made me cry when she said, "Your mother woulda been so proud of you, Samantha!" I think of her and Mona as my grandmothers, because both of my real ones were dead by the time I could walk. Yeah, I should be used to losing people by now, shouldn't I?
But those were happy tears. Life seemed so wonderful. I had a great future and everybody loved me. I thought.
I left my presents behind. I figured I could sort through them the next day, figure out what I could keep, what I could discreetly donate to Goodwill. I just wanted to go across the driveway, up the stairs, and make love with my husband, for the first time as a college graduate. And maybe, well, maybe we could start trying for a baby. Yes, I want a career, too, but I want to be a mom. Sorry, wanted.
But, Hank, who'd been eager enough when I was trying to study for finals, wasn't in the mood. Well, OK, we've been married a couple years. We're not honeymooners anymore. I'm no longer trying to make up for years of "technical virginity." Jesse was a year older and ready before I was, but nice about it. And when I was ready, Matt was too old-fashioned to do more than neck. And Fred, well, we kept it technical in that short rebound relationship. And there was of course the Catholic guilt, and thoughts of my white wedding someday (which happened, but not how I'd imagined, since I wore high-tops).
"It's OK, Sweetie, we can just cuddle," said I, the good, understanding wife.
But he moved away.
"What's wrong? What did I do wrong?"
"Nothing. I just—" He sighed and sat up. "Sam, I'm really sorry to do this to you, especially tonight. But I can't keep lying."
"Lying?" I whispered. Hank was one of the most honest, real people I'd ever met. Well, other than the puppetry part of course.
"Sam, look, this just isn't working for me."
"This? What, sex?"
"No, marriage."
I stared at him. "You want a— No, you can't!" I couldn't even say the word.
"Sam, I'm sorry. I wish this hadn't happened."
"Happened?" What had happened?
"I could say we got married too young or make excuses, but I know it's my fault."
"Fault?" All I could do was echo words.
"I've met someone else."
Clichéd, huh? And it's not like I shouldn't be used to it by now. Some people leave by dying. And some people leave by falling for someone else. I should've learned my lesson back in the days of Chad McCann, but, no, I just keep thinking I'm in love and learning that the guy isn't, at least not permanently. Why did I think a wedding ring would make a difference?
The rest of the night was a bit of a blur. Hell, the last month has been a bit of a blur. I asked who she was, even though I know by now it doesn't matter if you know the Other Woman or not. At least she wasn't one of his old friends, or mine. I had met her. She auditioned for and got the puppetry job, the one Hank didn't get, on the movie Mona's working on. But no hard feelings. Yeah.
She's pretty I guess. I know she's funnier than I am. Goofy really. But he likes that. And obviously they have a lot in common. I always forget to look for that when I fall in love, but then look at who my main romance role-models are.
I know, I shouldn't resent them. I mean, I wanted Dad to be happy with Angela. I still want that. But it seems unfair sometimes, that they got the Big Happily Ever After, and it continues to elude me.
You know what's funny? Angela told me she used to be jealous of me, because I do fall in love so easily. I said, "Hey, I'm Italian." But that's not it. Dad is Italian and it's incredibly clear he's only been in love, or even close to being in love, twice. But when he falls, he falls hard.
Me, well, I usually bounce back after a few weeks of rage and overeating. Not this time though. I've been really good about not acting too upset on the surface. Why make everybody else miserable?
But under the surface? Since Hank left—and it wasn't even that night, he slept on the couch instead—I feel like I'm walking around in a fog. At least he had the decency to wait till after graduation to tell me, even if that meant lying and cheating a little longer. Since then, I haven't had to do anything but get through each day. I even went on a couple job interviews, although I was just a zombie, going through the motions as I answered questions like "What is your greatest weakness?" But I'm glad I'm not working right now. No responsibilities really.
Of course Dad and Angela feel guilty about leaving me for two months. They keep apologizing about the timing, keep offering to cancel. But Angela rented a friggin' castle! I mean, it's a small castle, but still. And them staying in Fairfield wouldn't do me any favors. I'm looking forward to crying all day, every day. Well, not in the sense of enjoying it, but in the sense of needing it. I'll just tell Jonathan to bug off, like when we were kids.
Someone knocks. I reluctantly answer. It's Jonathan. For some reason, I remember the 11-year-old who stole geraniums out of Mona's windowbox when I didn't want to deal with Grandpa's death. But all he's holding are car keys.
"You ready, Sam?"
I nod and we head down to Dad's Jeep.