Chapter 2
The next morning they sat all together in the kitchen. Angela was in a dark mood. Neither of them could say why there was a grey cloud over the breakfast table.
"So Angela, did you enjoy the fair yesterday?" Sam asked.
"No, I didn't. It was boring and I was glad when it was over." Angela told her in an unfriendly way.
Tony turned around raising his eyebrows in surprise at hearing her rude tone.
"Why didn't you say anything? We could have left earlier."
"It doesn't matter; it's over and I didn't want to put you in a bad mood. At least one of us was in his element. Jonathan would you please come with me? I'll take you to school today with the Jag; there is something I have to tell you." Angela said to Jonathan in a neutral voice.
"OK, come on Sam."
"No Jonathan, Sam will take the bus; I want to talk alone to you."
"But Mom, I…"
"Straight away, Jonathan."
Angela grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the back door and without another word she was outside. Tony was shocked. She had never shown such rude manners.
"Dad, what happened? What's the matter with Angela?" Sam asked him frightened and her eyes filled with tears.
"Sweetheart, I don't know, maybe she missed some sleep." Tony tried to calm down her… and himself.
"Come on, catch the bus."
"Bye Dad." "Bye, sweetheart." He kissed her forehead. "And get it off your mind. I'll talk to her later."
Tony began to clean the kitchen. He put the dishes into the sink, but was unable to take away his mind off of Angela. She had acted so strangely, but why? Later he collected the dirty laundry from all the bedrooms. He wondered about Angela's room. It was an untidy mess; her clothes were dispersed all over the floor. Used tissues were filling the garbage pail. Maybe she has cold? But she didn't seem to be sick.
The phone rang.
"Bower residence, Tony Micelli."
"Tony, it's me. Can you please pack my suitcases? I'll have to go on a very important business trip to L.A. for 2 weeks and my flight departs in two hours. You know what I need. I'll send a driver to pick up the baggage and let it bring to the airport."
"Angela, stop! You've never left on a trip for two weeks so suddenly. Why didn't you say something earlier? And what about the children- you didn't say goodbye to them! What is this all about?" Tony could hardly believe his ears.
"Tony, I told Jonathan this morning and there is no time to discuss it. Just do what I say; remember what your job is about?"
"You told Jonathan, but not me and Samantha. Are you kidding?"
"As I said, Tony, not yet." And she hung up the phone. Tony was stunned. He couldn't believe what he'd just heard. Angela never, ever talked to him like this. But she left no choice for him. So he went upstairs, fetched the suitcases from the attic and started packing her clothes in the bags.
Later that evening, they sat together in the kitchen.
"Maybe we should call my mom," Jonathan told them. "I have the number from the hotel where she's staying."
"Good idea," Tony mocked. "Maybe we get some working knowledge. Give me the number." He dialed the number, then paced back and forth nervously.
"Hyatt Airport Hotel."
"Could you patch me through to the room of Angel Bower, please?"
"What`s your name, Sir?"
"Tony Micelli."
"A second, Mr. Micelli." Tony was already at the end of his patience.
"Sorry, Mr. Micelli, I have an order not to connect you. "
"What, that must be a misunderstanding, please try it and I'll resolve it."
"Sorry, Mr. Micelli."
Tony couldn't even believe what he'd just heard from that hotel employee. Angela didn't want to talk with him and he didn't know the real cause. He thought about the last few days, but he couldn't justify her odd behavior. At last there was nothing more he could do but wait. But he wasted his time. Angela didn't call. Not that evening, nor the next.
The days flew quickly as Tony was working and taking care of the kids, stopping their fights about all and nothing. And still no call from Angela. Tony's feelings went from anger to fear and from fear to sadness. He missed her, missed talking to her and missed seeing her in the kitchen every morning and her good night in the evening. It was as though he was parted in two pieces, one piece was always with her and the other one managed his life in Fairfield without thinking. The emotional conflict was driving him crazy and he didn't have anyone who he could talk to. Mona, who always was his first choice when he had to clear his mind, was on a short trip with her newest boyfriend. Patience wasn't his biggest strength anyway. He had invited his Brooklyn buddies on Saturday, hoping that they would distract him from the emptiness he felt. But when Saturday arrived, he wasn't able to concentrate on the poker games and the night ended sooner than planned.
Then, the last week was over; the evening had run its course and Tony switched on the TV and made himself comfortable on the couch. The time trickled and after what felt like an eternity, the door was unlocked by a key and opened. Tony immediately jumped from the couch and sighed in relief. And there she was. Their eyes locked and for a second the continual electricity was there as always and Tony wanted to do just one thing: to take her in his arms and kiss her. But he was unable to move after seeing the bitterness in her face without knowing where it came from. Maybe he should do something different: Shake the truth out of her.
"Angela, what is this all about?" He said in a low voice trying to suppress his enormous anger.
"Tony, this trip was very long, I'm incredibly tired and I only want two things: my bathtub and my bed. We can talk tomorrow."
"I didn't hear from, or see you for almost two weeks; you didn't call and the worst thing is that you didn't let me call you! And now you want to go to bed? It's only seven! I think I deserve an explanation and it better be a damned good one. And I made Lasagna Alfredo for dinner." He shouted angrily.
But without another word, Angela left and hurried up the stairs, her suitcases the only physical evidence of her presence. Tony left the dining room through the swing door and pushed the Lasagna into the stove.
