Ch 35 – Three Kings (2)

"Tony? Is something wrong?" Angela asked from the passenger seat of the van as they navigated Friday evening rush hour traffic in Manhattan.

"No! Why?"

"You seem … nervous."

"What would I be nervous about?" Tony realized that his fingers were thrumming on the steering wheel and made them stop.

"I don't know. About going to Brooklyn?"

"What gives you that idea?"

"You've been on edge ever since Mrs. Rossini invited us."

"Nah. I'm- Well, maybe. Not about Brooklyn, though. I've been thinking about school. Exam results are gonna be posted next week." That wasn't a lie. Winter break was coming to an end, and he was nervous about his exams.

But he was downright scared of seeing Mrs. R. What if she hadn't stuck to her promise to keep mum about the baby? What if she asked Angela about it, or gave herself away in some other way?

It wasn't all that unusual for her to ask him (and Sam) to come and see her early in the new year. Since Tony and Sam were never around for the holidays anymore, they had made a bit of a tradition out of a spaghetti or ravioli dinner sometime in January, so Mrs. R. could bring them up to speed on what was new in the neighborhood and send them back home to Connecticut with one of her famous panettone Christmas cakes.

No matter how late in January it was, she still insisted on making that damn cake. The two Micellis didn't even like it. Panettone was neither here nor there: too sweet for bread, not sweet enough for cake. Usually, Angela took pity on it once it arrived in Fairfield.

But this year, Mrs. R.'s spontaneous invitation – issued to Angela over the phone on Wednesday evening – felt treacherous.

'How sweet of Mrs. Rossini to invite us. We can tell her about our engagement in person. That's nice, isn't it?' Angela had said after she hung up the kitchen phone. And Tony hadn't had the heart to invent some kind of excuse to keep them from going. His only choice was to surrender to his fate.

"I remember what that felt like," Angela said now, bringing him back to the present, to the darkness, the icy rain pelting the windshield, the erratic flashing of brake lights and blinkers all around them.

"Oh yeah? I bet you got nothing but A's," he teased her half-heartedly.

"Not exactly …" she hedged.

In a face-to-face conversation, he would have rolled his eyes at her now. "Really? What was the worst grade you got in college?"

Tony heard her inhale and click her tongue, always a good sign that he had caught her in something. "I got a B minus on a World History final my freshman year."

"That was your worst grade? Ever?"

"Well, yes."

"Wow. That's sad. Not for you. For me!"

"You asked!"

"I know, I know."

"I'm sure you did great on your exams. You spent so much time at the library."

Tony sighed and did his best to squash down a fresh rush of anxiety. He couldn't afford to go there with her tonight. Once he knew the results, he would have to come clean about his struggles between Thanksgiving and Christmas. But not yet.

"Yeah, you're probably right. I mean, what do I know? It's only my first semester."

"I think it's a good sign that you're worried," Angela said with confidence. "After every exam or test I ever took, I was sure that I would get a C or worse. I scheduled a second attempt at the GMAT before I knew the results from my first try."

Typical Angela. "Do I wanna know how you did on the first?"

"No," she laughed. "Let's just say I went on to cancel the second one."

Tony shook his head and hit the brakes a little harder than necessary when they were approaching the next red light. "Let's not talk about this anymore. I want to hear about your day."

"London Fog came in to discuss plans for their spring collection."

"Of raincoats?"

"Waterproof outerwear."

"My bad."

She chuckled. "It wasn't terribly interesting, as you can imagine. I almost fell asleep twice."

"Hey, if you're too tired, we can just go home," Tony offered, suddenly hopeful. "I'm sure Mrs. R. would understand." After all, she did know the truth.

"I closed my eyes for a bit before you picked me up," Angela explained. "And I can sleep in tomorrow. I'll be fine as long as we don't stay too late."

"Pah! Good luck with that. Once she's got us, Mrs. R. is not gonna let us go that easily."

"Well, she loves you," Angela said with a lilt in her voice that immediately soothed some of Tony's anxiety.

"And I can see why," Angela continued. "You're very loveable."

"Oh yeah?"

"You know you are."

"Well, alright. But if it becomes too much for you, just say the word, and I'll try to get us out of there. Deal?"

"Deal."

ooooooooo … ooooooooo

Fortunately, the rain stopped just when they found a parking spot for the van. They walked down Pitkin Avenue hand in hand, and Angela took in the neighborhood as if she had never seen it before.

The storefronts and stoops, fire escapes and neon signs, the sirens and the leftover Christmas decorations in the windows suddenly meant so much more to her. This was where Tony came from, and where she assumed they would return more regularly once the baby was here.

Mrs. Rossini would want to be a surrogate grandmother to him or her, that she was sure of, and Angela herself wanted their child to grow up with a sense of the place that Tony and Samantha had called home for so long.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Tony asked, as if he had read them already.

"Do you remember the first time we came here together?"

"How could I forget that? Your black eye lasted three weeks."

The brawl at Marty's Melody Room wasn't among Angela's finer moments. But now the memory made her smile. "Well, I got it fighting for a good cause."

"Defending my honor against a cocktail waitress?"

"Noo. Proving to her that just because I'm from Connecticut, that doesn't mean I'm not tough."

Tony laughed. "Hey, you're as tough as they come."

"Damn straight."

"Look at you, slugger. Right at home in the mean streets of Brooklyn," he said with a playful growl and let go of Angela's hand, putting his arm around her waist instead and drawing her closer to him.

"I promise not to fight anybody tonight."

"Good. Because I want to be able to come back here with you."

"We'll be back here all the time."

Angela felt Tony's eyes on her. "Yeah?" It was not quite a statement, and not quite a question.

"Of course. I think it would be nice for the baby to feel at home here, too. Like Sam does."

"Mhh. It's not going to be the same. Sam grew up here until she was eleven. But I'd love to take him or her to see Mrs. R. Go by the fish store maybe, and up to the roof to check out Joey's pigeons. Jonathan couldn't stop talking about them. Remember that?"

For Angela, the memory of Thanksgiving at Mrs. Rossini's was an ambivalent one. She had felt supremely uncomfortable in the middle of the boisterous Rossini family, out of place and stiff next to Gina, the Italian beauty Mrs. Rossini had invited to wait on Tony hand and foot.

But then Tony had returned home to Fairfield late Friday night. 'I couldn't. I wouldn't.'

Doing with Tony what he hadn't been able to do with Gina that night still seemed like such an impossible dream back then, nothing more than a pathetic, raunchy fantasy in which she was really not much better than Grant Paxton, lusting after an employee.

Fast forward a little more than three years, and here they were, mere minutes away from news of their engagement going up and down Pitkin Avenue, seven months away from becoming parents together.

"We're lucky Michael never did get Jonathan that flock of racing pigeons."

"Yeah." Tony squeezed her waist. "We're pretty lucky all around, huh?"

Angel was about to agree when a familiar voice yelled at them from four stories up.

"Hey! There you are! Finally!"

Tony stopped walking and looked up. "Mrs. R.!" Tony shouted back.

"I thought you got lost along the way!"

"Are you kiddin' me? Parking around here isn't what it used to be!"

"Ahh, just come on up!"

"Alright. Ready?" Tony asked, his eyes suddenly wide again – nervous –, and Angela nodded. It was a little bit like introducing a girlfriend to your mother for the first time, she told herself. Even though she and Mrs. Rossini had known each other for years, this was new.

Tony pushed the door to the apartment building open, and a dimly lit hallway greeted them with the strong smell of someone's cooking. Angela braced herself and followed Tony up the stairs. By the time they made it to Mrs. Rossini's floor, she was completely out of breath, but their host showed no mercy.

"Tony, Angela!" Mrs. Rossini was waiting at her door and tried to embrace both of them at the same time, creating an awkward group hug.

When she was done squeezing them and rubbing their backs, Mrs. Rossini pulled back and immediately fixed her gaze on Angela, touching a hand to her cheek. "Aww, look at you!"

"Hi, Mrs. Rossini," Angela said, not quite sure what she meant. Had she noticed the ring already?

"So thin and pale!" Before Angela could attempt to protest, Mrs. Rossini took her hand and drew her into the apartment.

Tony followed right behind them, his brows slanted in a way that was full of foreboding. Angela remembered what he had told her about Mrs. R. and the 'gang of old wives' determining that Samantha was, indeed, a girl. Maybe she could tell somehow?

"Sit, sit, you must be tired!" Mrs. Rossini ordered and pushed Angela down onto the sofa. "We even took the plastic off."

"Oh, hey, yeah. I knew it looked different in here," Tony said, standing next to the sofa.

Mrs. Rossini all but ignored him. "We're having ravioli," she announced and gestured towards the table that had been set for three. Then she turned to Angela again. "I hope that's alright?"

"Oh, yes, that sounds good," Angela said. She was relieved that nobody else appeared to be invited.

"Good, good," Mrs. Rossini went on, "It's such a shame the children couldn't come!"

"Mrs. R., you know how it is," Tony said, "Sam is meeting her girlfriends at the mall, and Jonathan has a science club competition."

That wasn't true – he had asked to stay at home once it became clear that Sam wouldn't be coming along, and they had agreed to let him stay behind by himself. Under once condition: that he wouldn't spend the entire night playing Nintendo. Jonathan had promised, and while Angela suspected that the promise would be broken, she was too exhausted to do much about it at this time.

"They grow up so fast," Mrs. Rossini sighed and gave Angela a strange look.

"Why don't I help you in the kitchen!" Tony said, not without some urgency in his voice as he walked across the room and started to push Mrs. Rossini towards the door.

"Make yourself comfortable, Angela!" she managed to shout over her shoulder before the door fell closed behind them.

Angela leaned back on the sofa. The room didn't look as she remembered it. Since her husband had left her, Mrs. Rossini seemed to have done some redecorating. Angela's gaze caught on a row of picture frames on the wall behind the television. She got up to take a closer look.

Most of the photos showed members of the Rossini family, there was who she assumed was Joey as a baby in his mother's arms; Mrs. Rossini, little Joey, and Mr. Rossini's right arm and leg at Coney Island; a young Mrs. Rossini with her grandparents. And there was a photo that showed a group of boys in baseball uniforms, holding bats and gloves, posing for a team photo.

"I'm second from the right in the back row," came Tony's voice from the door. "The short guy next to me is Joey, and the big one's Pee Wee. Philly isn't on there, he probably had detention that day." He walked further into the living room and set a large pot down on the table.

Angela squinted. Tony was about eight years old maybe and looked beyond cute with his tousled hair and the confident jut of his jaw.

"Tony was such an adorable little boy," Mrs. Rossini said, echoing the unspoken sentiment. She came into the room behind Tony, carrying a salad bowl and a large basket of bread. "If that doesn't make you want to have another-"

"Time to eat!" Tony interrupted her, and Angela had to bite back a smirk. She didn't particularly want to tell Mrs. Rossini, but this was starting to get ridiculous.

"Tony was very cute. Joey, too," she said to defuse the situation.

"Ah! He looks so much like his father," Mrs. Rossini moaned, but recovered quickly. "Come on now, you need to eat," she ordered, waving Angela over.

The scent of tomato sauce filled the living room, and Angela realized that she did have a bit of an appetite. Thankfully, her stomach had calmed down since this afternoon.

When they were seated around the table, Tony took her hand and cleared his throat. "Mrs. R., this looks great, as usual. Before we dig in, there is something Angela and I wanted to tell you."

Mrs. Rossini had begun to fill their salad bowls, but stopped what she was doing immediately, salad tongs suspended in mid-air.

"Ohhh, I knew it!" she screeched excitedly.

Tony took a deep breath. "Angela and I, we're getting married." He squeezed her hand with the engagement ring on it, and it felt just as exhilarating to hear him say the words as it had the first time, five days ago, when they had told her mother and the children.

Mrs. Rossini's reaction was no less enthusiastic, but a lot more … peculiar. "Well, you better!" she said in a loud, but loving voice and slapped Tony's upper arm with her flat hand.

Once again, Angela got the definite impression that Mrs. Rossini knew more than she logically could. She tried to catch Tony's eye, but failed.

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" he asked, loudly as well, and that sealed it for Angela. Tony really wasn't a very good liar. And neither was Mrs. Rossini.

"Nothing, nothing," she backpedaled and turned to face Angela. "Let me see!"

Dutifully, Angela held out her hand so Mrs. Rossini could examine her ring. At the back of her mind, she wondered whether Mrs. Rossini had figured it out on her own, or if Tony had told her.

"Oh, you two!" Mrs. Rossini gasped, now tearful. "When's the big day gonna be?"

"Around Easter." This time, Angela managed to lock eyes with Tony. She cocked her head and raised er eyebrows while looking down at her lap, hoping to telegraph her question to him.

"Uh," Tony began, and she saw his Adam's apple bob up and down, a sign that he didn't quite know what to do.

"And there is one more thing." Angela had made a decision.

"Oh?" Mrs. Rossini said with faux wonder.

Angela didn't know whether she should laugh or roll her eyes and ended up doing a little of both. "Well, we're having a baby. I'm pregnant."

Saying it out loud like that still felt scary, but also liberating, if she was being honest. Yes, it was earlier than she was comfortable with, but she couldn't have tolerated a whole dinner plus dessert with Tony and Mrs. Rossini doing this strange dance of theirs. Mrs. Rossini obviously knew, or suspected very strongly, and subtlety had never been her strong suit.

Now she did all of them the favor of not even pretending that she was surprised. "Awww! You two are going to make such beautiful babies!" Mrs. Rossini pushed back her chair and came over to hug Angela.

"We kinda hope it's only one for now," Tony said, and Angela caught a glance of him over Mrs. Rossini's shoulder. There was guilt written all over his face.

ooooooooo … ooooooooo

"You told her, didn't you?" was the first thing Angela said to him when they were back out on the street after a nice but exhausting evening of wedding and baby talk with Mrs. R.

It was raining again, ice-cold drops coming down rapidly, and of course they had left the umbrella in the van.

With a heavy sigh, Tony reached for her hand that wasn't carrying the basket with the obligatory panettone. "I'm so sorry, Angela."

"When?" Angela asked quietly, and he couldn't tell whether she was mad or disappointed. Probably both, although she had shown great restraint all evening, not letting Mrs. R. feel her dismay. She was so happy for them, and it had been easy to get swept up in her enthusiasm.

"When I came here before Christmas." Ripping the band-aid right off seemed the best course of action under the circumstances. He didn't want to risk making this situation worse by admitting to the truth piecemeal.

"Before-" She took her hand away from him and took a step to the side, but kept walking.

"Angela, you have to believe me, I didn't mean to. She dragged it out of me. You know how she is. You saw it for yourself! The woman is relentless."

Angela shoved a wet strand of hair out of her face. "I thought we agreed that we'd keep this between us for now. You know how I feel about telling people this early."

"I know. Believe me, I know. I just needed someone to talk to, I guess."

Tony didn't know how else to explain himself. It pained him to remember his conversation with Kathleen in the coffee shop at Ridgemont. He had told Mrs. R. nothing about how much pressure he had been feeling. He had only confided in Kathleen about all of that, less than 24 hours after finding out about the baby.

"You could have talked to me?" Angela said, her voice trembling.

Tony reached for her hand, and she let him take it. "Sweetheart, you had so much on your plate already. I didn't want you to worry."

"About what?"

"About … me not being able to handle this, I guess?"

She sniffled. "Why would you not be able to handle this, Tony? You raised Sam by yourself for so many years, and now there's two of us, we love each other, we're financially stable …"

"I know," Tony said. "I think it wasn't so much about the practicalities, but about … wrapping my head around this."

They had arrived at the van. Tony unlocked the door and climbed in, then hit the roof to get the passenger side door to open for Angela. While she got herself situated, he turned the key in the ignition and thankfully, the heater started running right away.

"Wrapping your head around this?" Angela repeated. "What does that mean?"

"You know, adjusting," he said tentatively, sensing that he was venturing into sensitive territory.

"Mhm," was Angela's only response.

"Angela, I was just so overwhelmed that first week. With finals, and Sam acting out, and … What else can I say here? I'm really sorry I couldn't keep my mouth shut. I didn't mean for it to happen, but it did, and I guess I should have told you right after, but then Sam was gone with that little punk, Eric, and we told the kids about us, and … I don't know. It kind of got away from me, and then I didn't see the point any longer. I didn't want to upset you. But I know that we agreed to be honest, about everything, and I messed up big time. All I can ask is that you forgive me."

Angela looked at him, and Christmas lights reflected in her dark eyes.

"Do you remember what you said when Sam came back to the Agency after her date? We had 'a hell of a week'. You really meant that, didn't you?" She swallowed audibly, and Tony wanted nothing more than to pull her into a hug.

Instead, he tried to remember. He had talked so much that night. Talked, and yelled at Sam. "I- Angela, I don't remember saying that. But if I did – and I'm not saying I didn't, I really don't remember – it had nothing to do with you. Or with us. Or with our baby. It was all about me."

Angela nodded. "That was still a difficult thing to hear you say," she said, and he could see that her eyes were brimming with tears. "But I understand. And I'm not mad at you. I don't even think I'm disappointed. I'm just – In case something happens, I don't want to have to tell all these people that it- that I couldn't-" She moved her hands around in a helpless gesture.

"I know," Tony said simply. He felt like the world's biggest asshole. "And I'm so sorry I did this to you."

Angela inhaled and briefly shook her head. "Let's go home, okay? We're wet, and it's cold. We can finish this later."

"Yeah, okay," he said quietly, and they pulled onto the street. There was still a lot of traffic, the rain was coming down harder and harder, and it seemed to Tony that the temperature had dropped significantly since the early evening.

"We might be getting black ice. Maybe not here, but definitely out in Fairfield."

"Oh, no. I hope not."

"Don't worry. We'll just take our time."

Then they fell silent. Tony focused on the traffic around them and checked on Angela every once in a while out of the corner of his eye.

"Tony?" she said after a while, "About before. I know I said I wanted to wait until we get home, but I feel that I need to say this now. I wasn't completely fair before. I actually told-"

That was the last thing Tony heard before all of his senses zeroed in on the brake lights of the car in front of them. They came closer at an alarming speed, and he reacted immediately, stepping on the brakes with his full weight.

But it was no use, the wheels locked, and he felt them beginning to skid. Before he knew what exactly was happening, the hood of the van plowed into the rear bumper of the other car with an almighty bang and a crunching noise that was more sensation than sound.

After the first impact came a second, this time from behind. Time stopped and sped up simultaneously, and Tony felt as if they were suspended in a mysterious in-between state where something bad had happened, but everything was silent, and nothing hurt yet.

His right knee felt stiff, and he had hit his head on something. Or maybe it was the other way around and something had hit his head?

"Angela!?"

When he looked up, he saw kids running away, across the street from right to left, weaving through oncoming traffic.

Three little kings. Caspar, Melchior, and Balthazar.