Ch 27 – Tick, Tick, Tick

Angela kicked off her heels and sank back into the soft sofa cushions. With a sigh, she unbuckled her belt and undid the top button of her slacks. Then she slid one of her hands under the waistband. Today marked the beginning of the sixth week, and she was starting to feel it. All afternoon, she had fought against a bone-deep fatigue. Now she could finally give in.

Sam and Eric had left on their date less than an hour ago, and Angela was the only person still at the office. It was Friday evening, a week before Christmas, and everybody had somewhere to be.

"Are you sure you're okay staying late the second day in a row?" Tony had asked last night in the kitchen.

"I owe Sam that much," Angela said. "Besides, I have to take over for Jack on a couple of accounts, now that we know that he's going to be out until after the holidays."

"As long as you don't overdo it," Tony said, running a hand down her arm.

She leaned into him and covered his hand with hers. "I won't, I promise. I'm going to do some reading while I wait for Sam, and then we'll take the train home."

"Hey, what do you mean, the train? I'm coming to pick you up!"

"But Tony-"

"No buts. I'm not letting my pregnant wife and teenage daughter take the train in the middle of the night!" he whispered emphatically, even though they were alone in the kitchen. Sam had gone upstairs as soon as they got home, and Jonathan was asleep in his room.

They stared at each other, both immediately aware of what he had said.

"Uh, I mean- you know what I mean, Angela. I don't want you two riding the train late at night."

"Then I'll take the car tomorrow. That way you don't have to come all the way to Manhattan."

"You're gonna sit in rush-hour traffic forever going into the City. Just let me pick you up."

At first, Angela wanted to protest. The trains weren't that bad, especially not on Fridays when people were coming home from shows and restaurants in Manhattan. But Tony's protective instinct was touching, and she remembered their almost-fight in the van yesterday evening. She should probably start letting him do these things for her.

"Well, alright."

"Good. I'll make a day of it and head out to Brooklyn after my final. Mrs. R is going to be over the moon, I haven't been to see her in ages. Maybe I'll shoot some pool. And this way, I get to take a look at that kid Eric after all."

And so it had been decided.

"Did I tell you how much I like your dress?" was the next thing Tony had said in that small, cute voice he sometimes used when he wanted to get on her good side again.

Angela shook her head playfully. "Not yet."

He smiled. "I remember seeing you in it for the first time. That Christmas." He tugged on her sleeve. "And you know what else I remember?"

"The mistletoe?" she guessed.

Tony nodded. "Most wonderful, terrible thing to happen to me all year that year. Getting to kiss you, but not really."

It really had been a wonderful, terrible thing. Having to peck each other on the lips in front of Geoffrey and under the watchful eyes of her mother and the kids. Trying not to let them see how much she enjoyed it, and how desperately she wanted more.

She thought of the beautiful lead crystal vase Tony had given her, and of the exquisite pain she felt when she realized that he had sold his last baseball card to buy it for her.

"And do you remember when we broke the wishbone?" she asked, stepping closer to him.

"Yeah. You won."

"I did."

"What did you wish for?" he asked, rubbing his nose against hers.

"Something like this." Angela leaned forward and pressed her lips to his in a soft kiss.

Their late-night one-on-one Christmas dinner in the kitchen had been less than two years ago.

In her office at the Bower Agency, Angela looked down at the hand resting on her abdomen. Some wishes really did come true.

ooooooooo ... ooooooooo

Sixty-six.

Old habits. Tony could not not count the steps on the way up to Mrs. Rossini's apartment. He had started doing it when he was a young boy, coming by here to pick up Joey for games of stickball.

Before he could knock, the door to apartment number 4 flew open, and Mrs. R. stuck her head into the hallway.

"Tony!" she cried and threw her arms around him as soon as he was within reach. "It's a miracle I even recognize you! You've been such a stranger lately."

"I know, I know, Mrs. R, and I'm sorry," he said, attempting to pry her off him.

Finally, Mrs. Rossini let go and pulled him inside.

The apartment looked like it always did, but with some garish Christmas decorations strewn in among all the other knick-knacks, and blinking lights adorning the windows.

Tony wasn't quite done taking his jacket off when Fiorello showed up at his feet and started to rub against his legs.

"See, he missed you too!" Mrs. Rossini sighed, clutching her hands.

"Hey there, Fiorello." Tony reached down and petted the cat's head and back.

"Sit down, sit down!" Mrs. Rossini pointed at the dining room table that was laden with food.

"Oh, you shouldn't have," Tony said, careful not to kick Fiorello on his way over there.

"Nonsense! When you called to tell me you're coming over, I got right to work. They starve you out there in Connecticut." She looked Tony up and down with a dismayed expression on her face. "You're wasting away."

"You always say that." If anything, he was out of shape. With everything that was going on in his life as of late, he had had way too little time to work out.

"Because it's true! And you look so tired!" Mrs. Rossini took a few steps towards Tony and peered at his face.

"Well, it's stressful being in school," he deflected as he turned away from her and took a seat at the table.

Mrs. Rossini stood next to him and started filling a large plate with spaghetti.

"Mangia!"

"Mangia, yeah," Tony repeated quietly.

Now that Mrs. Rossini had pointed it out, he did feel a little tired, and not very hungry at all. It had been such a long week. But of course he knew that she would not let him go unless he ate at least one plate full of her signature pasta.

Obediently, Tony twirled spaghetti around his fork while Mrs. Rossini took a seat on the other side of the table. When he looked up, chewing, he saw her staring back at him expectantly.

"So!" she said. "Tell me!"

He swallowed. "Tell you … what?"

"Your news!"

"I don't have any news. I just wanted to say hi," Tony lied, beginning to regret his decision to come and visit.

Mrs. R. may not have been his mother, but she was the closest thing he had to one, and she certainly had a mother's intuition where his personal life was concerned. He could feel her eyes boring into him, like X-rays.

"Tony Micelli, I've known you since you were a little boy. And I can tell something is going on," she sing-songed, her eyebrows undulating.

"Wha-"

"Come on," she tried to coax him. "You can tell me."

Tony sighed. Then he shoved another forkful of spaghetti into his mouth to buy himself some more time.

Mrs. Rossini kept staring at him. Suddenly she declared, very matter-of-factly: "You're in love."

Tony stopped mid-chew.

"Bingo!" she crowed upon seeing his reaction. "You've got the same look on your face that you had when you first got with Marie. Oh, I'm so happy for you!"

She reached across the table, almost knocking over a bowl of stuffed olives, and dug her fingernails into his arm.

Tony had no idea what 'look' she was talking about. Slowly, he finished chewing and washed the spaghetti down with a sip of water. Then he opened his mouth, but before any words could come out, Mrs. Rossini started speaking again.

"Don't even try to deny it!" she warned, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

Tony hung his head. Somehow, he had not anticipated Mrs. R.'s mindreading, and so of course he had cleared nothing whatsoever with Angela.

From a technical perspective, Mrs. R. was his mother, wasn't she? She certainly loved him like a mother would, she was just as nosy, and she always wanted the best for him, even though sometimes their opinions differed with regard to what exactly that would be.

Angela's mother knew about them, so maybe it would be okay for him to tell Mrs. R. that she was right. At least about him being in love.

"I don't know how you do it," he said finally, resigned to his fate.

"Ha, I knew it!" She slapped the tabletop. "A woman's intuition, Tony. Who is it!?"

He fidgeted in his seat uneasily. "Mrs. R., I can't tell you that. Not yet. We haven't … It's still kind of …"

"She's not married, is she?" Mrs. Rossini asked, her eyes as big as saucers.

"No, it's nothing like that. We're just in a bit of a-"

"Did you get her in trouble?" She reached for his arm again and squeezed even harder than before.

The tips of Tony's ears were beginning to feel warm. Oh, no.

He knew that Angela didn't want to tell anybody about the baby yet, and he felt bad enough for having shared the news with Kathleen. But at least Kathleen and Angela didn't know each other, so it didn't really count.

Mrs. Rossini was a whole different story. Within days (no, hours!), the whole neighborhood would know. He would have to swear her to absolute secrecy.

"Mrs. R.," Tony whined, knowing that she had him against the ropes. His ears felt as if they were on fire.

She gasped. "Tony, who is it!? You need to tell me, or I'll have a coronary."

Something in him gave way, and he felt his mouth move. "It's Angela," he said quietly and looked up at Mrs. Rossini.

Her eyebrows had all but disappeared into her hairline. "Angela!?"

"Angela," he confirmed.

"You knocked up your-"

Tony raised his hand to interrupt her. "It's not like that. Not anymore. We're in love. So you're right about that, too. We've been together for a couple of weeks. But we've had … feelings for much longer." Why not tell her the whole story now.

"Only a couple of weeks!" Mrs. Rossini shrieked. "And you're not married, are you?! How can she be pregnant already?"

Tony shrugged, more than a little embarrassed. Heat began to spread from his ears to his cheeks. "You know how."

"Tony, Tony, Tony," Mrs. Rossini said, shaking her head.

But on the third 'Tony', he heard a familiar change in her voice, a little uptick in the direction of joyful hysteria. And yep, there she went: "Ah, who cares about that. You're going to have a little baby!"

Then Mrs. Rossini jumped out of her chair. If not for all the food, he was sure that she would have clambered over the table to get to him faster. This way, she had to run all the way around it before she could smother him in a powerful hug.

ooooooooo ... ooooooooo

The sound of the ringing phone woke Angela up.

For a second, she was confused. Then she remembered that she was at the office, waiting for Sam and Eric. Sitting up on the sofa, she squinted at her watch. Ten o'clock on the dot.

She padded over to her desk on stocking feet, holding her open pants with one hand as she picked up the receiver with the other. "Hello?"

"Good evening, Ms. Bower. I have a Mr. Micelli here to see you." There was a new doorman tonight who didn't know who Tony was.

Angela looked around the office for her shoes. She held the receiver between her shoulder and her ear and started to button her pants. "Yes, of course. Send him up, please."

Where were Sam and Eric? Maybe they had run into Tony in the lobby, and they were all riding up together.

Angela grabbed her keys from her desk and walked down the empty hallway. Tony was just stepping out of the elevator when she unlocked the glass door. No Sam, no Eric.

They kissed each other hello. "Sam back yet?" Tony asked, his hands coming to rest on her waist.

"No, I thought maybe you would be coming up together."

Tony looked at his watch. "You told them ten o'clock, didn't you?"

"Of course. Maybe they're stuck in traffic," she tried, but an uneasy feeling had already settled in the pit of her stomach. Rockefeller Center wasn't that far away. They could walk if they had to.

"Yeah, maybe." Tony nodded. "We'll give them five more minutes."

And then what? Angela thought to herself as she followed Tony into her office.

ooooooooo ... ooooooooo

By the time Sam made it to the Agency, out of breath and sweaty despite the cold, it was ten-thirty. She burst into the lobby and rushed past the doorman.

"Your father is looking for you," he called after her, and Sam's knees began to feel weak.

She stumbled into the elevator and pushed the button for the Bower Agency. As soon as the door opened, there was Angela's voice.

"Sam!?" Angela stood in the open glass door without her shoes on. Sam had never seen her look this shaken before, except maybe when Jonathan had broken his shoulder doing gymnastics.

"Yeah, it's me."

"What happened!? We've been worried sick! Your dad is outside, looking for you."

Sam sighed. This was going to be difficult. She was in enough trouble as it was, so she thought it wise not to add lying to her list of transgressions.

"Eric wanted to go to this party."

"But you were supposed to go ice skating!"

"We kinda … changed our minds," Sam admitted. Maybe if she told Angela everything before her dad got back, she would be on her side once it was time to confess to him. If Angela defended her, it might reduce her sentence.

"Where did you go, Sam? And where's Eric? Did he let you come back here by yourself? Did he do something to you?"

"I'm fine, Angela. Really. And I can explain. But can we go inside?"

"Yes, yes, of course." Angela put a hand on Sam's shoulder and together they walked to her office. "But you have to tell me what happened."

Sam sat down on the sofa and pushed her parka off her shoulders. "Eric said he knew this guy who was having a party. And it was really crowded on the ice, anyway, so we took a cab."

"Where?"

"North of the Park."

"North of the-" Angela's eyes went wide.

"Nothing happened!" Sam jumped in. "Just- there was no party. Not really, anyway. Only a couple of Eric's friends from school hanging out in this one guy's apartment. There were girls and boys there! It was fun for a while. But then …" she sighed heavily. It was probably a good thing her dad wasn't here to hear this. "Everybody else kinda left. And it was just me and him and we started kissing, and …"

Angela sat next to Sam on the sofa, watching her anxiously as she told her story. "And what, Sam? Did he … force you to do something you didn't want to do?"

Sam tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Nothing had happened. Why did she still feel shaky now that she thought of it again? Eric's hands on her thighs, his breath on her neck. The way he kept pulling her hips against his groin.

"Uh, he … He wanted to. You know," Sam looked at Angela pointedly.

"Oh, Sam," Angela breathed. "Did he-"

"No. No! I did what Dad taught me. 'Knee, elbow, fist!' Well, kind of like that. I didn't hurt him too much. But he definitely got the message." She was proud of herself for having asserted herself.

"I should have known you were still a little kid," Eric had spat after she had slapped his hands away for the third and final time before climbing off his lap.

Angela's shoulders sagged in relief. "Sam, I'm so sorry this happened to you. And I'm so glad you knew how to defend yourself. But are you absolutely sure you're alright?"

Sam nodded, suddenly feeling on the verge of tears. "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have gotten in that cab with him."

"No, you really shouldn't have. But the most important thing is that you're safe now."

"Dad is going to be so angry," Sam whispered.

"We're going to talk to him together, okay?" Angela said and slid her arm around Sam's shoulders. "He should be back any minute. And he's going to be so happy that you're alright. Don't forget that. Whatever he says, he loves you more than anything."

"Okay," Sam sniffled.

Angela squeezed her shoulders. "How did you get back here? Did you take another cab?"

Sam shook her head. "I kind of left in a hurry, and I forgot to take my purse, and when I noticed, I didn't want to go back inside. I'm going to tell Bonnie to tell Scott to get it back for me. At first I tried hailing a cab, but nobody stopped. And I didn't have money anyway. But there was the subway, and I jumped the turnstiles."

Angela closed her eyes for a moment. "I'm so glad you're alright, sweetheart."

"It wasn't that bad," Sam whispered. "The worst thing was knowing that I disappointed Dad. And you."

"I'm not disappointed, Sam," Angela said, also fighting tears now. "Well, maybe a little. You should have known better than to go to a party without telling anyone. But these things … can happen. Unfortunately. We all make mistakes."

"I guess so."

Angela's other arm was around her now, too, and they shared a hug.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang (the glass door?), and then her dad's voice in the hallway.

"Sam?!"

Quick footsteps came closer and closer, until he stood in the doorway to Angela's office.

"Sam! Oh, thank God!"