The first week was bound to be rough. Angela had braced herself for it – all the questions from friends and neighbors, people at work, and living each day without Tony in general. She got through it, though was far from being okay. Being back at work and reassessing her role at least made for a good distraction. When week two came around, the adrenaline began to cool. Now three weeks in, she felt worse off than she'd been in Iowa.

No, that wasn't true. Not entirely true. While she was certainly lonely, she wasn't isolated. She had her mother and the kids and, of course, her work. Those things kept her from a complete collapse. However, when she was alone in her room at night, and lately, every evening as well, the loneliness hit her like a truck. In Iowa, she could focus on the time until Tony would be back and take her away for a little while. Now all she could do was turn to was her paperwork. As much as she'd missed it and was relieved to be under creative stress again, it didn't replace snuggling in his arms.

Though Mona had been sympathetic for the first couple of days, now she was beginning to push. She bought theatre tickets, made reservations at her favorite restaurants, tried dragging her to the country club… None of them worked. When Angela was around anyone she knew, all conversations began and ended with Tony.

"I'm so sorry to hear about you two!"

"We heard about Tony… how are you doing, hon?"

"Oh, you must be having a terrible time."

"You were together so long!"

"Let me know if you need anything, dear."

Everyone approached her as if she were scorned or widowed. Each time she smiled through their sympathies and waited for the first opportunity to change the subject or walk away. It happened at the club. It happened at the gym. It happened if she went for a run. Work and the train were the only safe places on that front. People at the office knew not to mention Tony. After their initial curiosities, they stayed away from the topic. Whether Mona had said anything to them she didn't know, but she didn't care. It was somewhere out of the house where people didn't treat her any different than before.

The only other person who treated her normally was the new housekeeper, Mrs. Morrison. Albeit, she used the word 'normal' loosely. A grouchy old woman who wanted everything just so. Angela hadn't cared much at first, hiring the first person the agency recommended without an interview. Replacing Tony made everything final, but not hiring someone wasn't an option. She could hardly keep her eyes open past eight o'clock. Doing chores was out of the question so long as she had the means to have someone else do it for her. She didn't anticipate this woman staying on for much longer if Mona kept locking horns with her. Her disposition didn't make much difference to Angela, though it was growing tiresome. It was refreshing having someone snipe at her rather than coddle her.

After a particularly long day at work, Angela came home and wasted no time going upstairs to her room. Dinner could wait until she inevitably woke up at two in the morning. Mrs. Morrison chewed her out for it, but it was in one ear and out the other. With her usual Friday martini, she changed into her pajamas and spent the evening combing through another book. Or attempted to, anyway. It turned into one of those nights she couldn't dull the sense of missing Tony no matter how hard she tried.

The phone taunted her. His voice wasn't as far away as he was. Even if she called and hung up as soon as he answered, she'd have a hint of him for a second. She resisted, ultimately, knowing she wasn't strong enough for it. She knew she'd say something to him, and she wasn't sure if he wanted to hear from her. She'd hurt him more than she'd probably hurt anyone else. He wasn't ready to give up, willing to suggest something as ludicrous as getting a house together in some halfway state. Now that she'd had time to settle down, she began to wonder if maybe she hadn't been ready to quit either, but it was too late now. Besides, it would only be another band-aid solution for a problem that was bigger than them.

Unplugging the phone and kicking it under her bed, she started pacing her room in attempts to quell her nervous energy. If she hadn't already showered and changed, she might have braved the gym. Frankly, she wasn't up for facing Mrs. Morrison, either. She had to let her go – a decision made more as an attempt to try and give her something else to perseverate over than on behalf of the household. It worked for a little while, but it didn't take long to refocus on Tony.

Turning on the radio, she got into bed and tried to sleep despite it only being seven-thirty. The only way she could fall asleep these days was with music pounding into her ears. It worked most of the time, but in keeping with the fashion of her day, she was woken from her doze when she heard Frank Sinatra's voice broke through the airwaves and into her dreams. Jolting up, she nearly knocked the radio to the floor turning it off. She'd never been one to get overly sentimental from a song, but Sinatra was different. Memories overwhelmed her at the sound of his voice. Tony singing his songs as he did housework, listening and dancing to his records both before and while they were together, watching his films and debating which was his best, and of course meeting him had been a once-in-a-lifetime moment they'd shared.

After nine, Angela noted as she looked at the clock. Mrs. Morrison should be long gone now. Hopefully, she'd left a plate for her in the fridge. Probably not. That was a Tony thing to do. Mrs. Morrison was too hung up on food getting ruined when reheated in the microwave. No matter, she thought as she put on her robe. There would be something she could eat.

When she stepped into the hall, Tony's door caught her eye. It usually did, but in her present mood, it stung a little more. She hadn't opened the door since before she moved. It would always be his room. She didn't have the heart to clean it out. It was like Sam's room after she moved into the dorm. It was Samantha's. No one could think of any other use until she and Mona traded places. Of course, the difference then was that Samantha could always come home. Now Tony's home was a thousand miles away. She hoped in his heart he still considered Oak Hills Drive his home, but given their lack of communication, she deemed it unlikely.

While it wasn't as forbidden as a phone call, she felt guilty for the way she was gravitating toward his room, curious to see what he'd left behind. She hadn't thought of all his other things when they broke up, but it didn't matter much with Sam around. She'd take care of it if he asked for anything. Really, she didn't consider that part of the house hers anymore. It wouldn't be right to go in there. She had no business going in there.

That logic alluded her until she'd already stepped inside.

He hadn't left much. A few things in the closet, an open box here and there. There were a couple of photographs on the walls. Anything else, she realized, was likely in the attic. He had planned on coming back, but not to this room. It figured, she then thought, that he'd driven everyone insane trying to get the master bedroom to his liking and he never got to use it. It only became another reminder of what should have been.

Angela's eyes filled with tears as she shut the door and wandered further into the room. The air was stuffy from being shut up for nearly a year, but scents of him still lingered. Emotionally, this had been a bad idea, and yet, she felt a sense of comfort. Food was forgotten. Instead, she busied herself looking through his things, no longer caring if it was wrong.

Nothing he left was of any importance. Some ticket stubs, knickknacks, a few books, school papers, a couple of records that hadn't fit in the box packed and driven across the country… meaningless objects that she never would have glanced twice at in the daylight. However, in the moonlight shining through the window laced with her bout of melancholy, she was able to clutch them and pretend he was still around.

She stayed on the floor for a while, mostly daydreaming at this point. She wondered what Tony was doing and if he was struggling with this as much as she was. She wondered if he'd rebounded to another woman yet. As much as the thought pained her, it wouldn't be a surprise. She'd fought that battle with him beforehand. Her leaving wouldn't keep him away from anyone else. Getting out and meeting someone wouldn't be the worst thing for her, either, especially seeing how low she was sinking. Still, she didn't see that happening any time soon. Not if tonight was any indication of how little she'd recovered. It was worth a call to her therapist in the morning, that was for sure.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting there. Long enough for her back to ache and her legs to cramp up. Her appetite was lost, replaced with a touch of nausea. As she started to leave to go back to sleep, she paused at the foot of Tony's bed. It was still made, untouched since his last morning in the house. Not wanting to leave the cocoon she was in, Angela opted to rest here. She crawled under the blankets, pulling them tightly around her as she nestled into his pillow. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, taking in his memory. If she focused hard enough, she might be able to drift back to a moment when he was sleeping beside her. She had to stop fighting. She needed him tonight.