Ch 37 – Sticks and Stones (1)

Super Mario escaped the dark underworld through the open beak of a large bird of prey.

Yes!

Next was another opportunity to win bonus lives at the slot machine. Getting the reels to stop on the same three symbols was difficult. But sometimes he was lucky. The first reel: cherries. The second reel: cherries. The third reel: telephone.

What?

Telephone. Telephone. The phone was ringing.

Jonathan opened his eyes and had to shield them from the bright glare of the living room lights. He kicked off his blanket and stumbled into the kitchen to take the call in there so he wouldn't disturb the other two. They were dead to the world right now: Mona lay stretched out on the couch, and Sam was reclined in the other easy chair, her head tipped back with her mouth open. On any other night, Jonathan would have teased her mercilessly for her snoring.

"Hello! Bower residence!" he gasped into the receiver.

"Jonathan?"

"Tony!"

"Hey, buddy."

"We thought you'd never call!"

"I'm sorry. Things took a while. But we're alright now."

"How's Mom?"

"Uh, she has two broken ribs. But she's okay."

"And you? What happened? Sam said you hurt your knee. Did you break anything?"

"No, it's a nasty contusion, and I got a cut on my forehead. But that's it. We were pretty lucky. The van is totaled, though."

"Oh." Jonathan didn't know what to say. Tony loved his old van. "Are you coming home tonight?"

"No, not until tomorrow. They want your mom to stay overnight so they can keep an eye on her. Philly is going to give us a ride tomorrow morning."

"Oh, okay. Do you want me to wake up Grandma so you can tell her everything?"

"Nah, I told you, and you're gonna tell Sam and Mona once they're awake. Make sure they don't worry too much, okay? Your mom and I, we're going to be fine. We'll be back sometime before noon. Until then, you're the man of the house."

It was a silly thing for Tony to say, but it also made Jonathan proud.

"Okay. And Tony? I'm really glad nothing bad happened to you."

"Me too, buddy," Tony said, and his voice sounded all kinds of strange.

ooooooooo ... ooooooooo

It was past two in the morning by the time a bed was found for Angela. A nurse helped her get settled under the covers, half reclined against the raised head and with a small ice pack against her ribs.

"We can't give you anything stronger than Tylenol," the nurse said as she placed a little paper cup on the bedside table. "But please don't hesitate to take these. You can have one every two hours. If you need anything else, just push here." She pointed at a call button mounted to the wall next to the bed.

Angela nodded. "Thank you."

"Yeah, thank you," Tony said from where he sat on a hard plastic chair in the corner of the room. On crutches, he was good for little to nothing, except making phone calls. He had done that, and he had gotten his own prescription filled at the hospital pharmacy. After having downed one of the little pills that were rattling around in the bottle in his pocket, he was now eagerly waiting for the effect to set in.

So far, his leg was still throbbing, and he wondered how he was supposed to make it through the night in this chair. Only Angela had been admitted, and while Philly had offered to come and pick him up right now, he didn't want to leave her here by herself. Also, the roads were still bad, and one accident per night was more than enough.

The nurse stopped in the doorway and looked at him. "If you would like to stay with your wife for the rest of the night, you can make yourself comfortable over there." She pulled back the privacy curtain to reveal another bed. There was only a sheet on it and what appeared to be a woolen blanket lay folded up at the foot of the mattress. Still, it looked so much better than the chair.

"Really?"

"It's late, the roads are frozen, and with your leg, you can't sit up in that chair all night."

"Yeah, I guess not," Tony said, grateful and embarrassed for her to have noticed his plight. "Thanks, again."

"You're welcome. Good night." The nurse flipped the light switch and drew the door shut behind herself.

For the first time since before the accident, they were alone. With a heavy sigh that he just couldn't suppress, not even for Angela's sake, Tony got up from his chair and hobbled to her bedside.

"Is it okay if I stay here?" he asked, wanting to make sure. They hadn't really talked since the ultrasound, and maybe Angela wanted-

"Of course," she said and reached for him. "How's your leg? And your head? We haven't talked about you at all."

The room was dark except for the light from the lamp above Angela's bed. Tony came closer and balanced the crutches against the nightstand as he perched on the edge of the mattress, careful not to bump against any part of Angela's body. Then he took her right hand in his and interlaced their fingers.

"Because it doesn't matter."

Angela cocked her head and smiled sadly. "Of course it does, Tony. You can't even walk."

"I'm alright. It doesn't hurt that much."

From the worried knit of Angela's brow, he could tell that she didn't believe him.

"What I mean is, I'm glad it's not worse," he added, feeling a wave of emotion threaten to drown his words. "That you're- and the baby- that's all I care about."

"And I care about you," she whispered.

Something inside his chest squeezed painfully, and all of a sudden, it all came back to him. Long nights in plastic chairs. Trying to sleep on little sofas that were too short for him. Hot, bitter coffee from the vending machine. Waiting for the cafeteria to start serving breakfast very early in the morning.

'Promise me you'll be happy. For Sam. And for yourself.'

It had been such a Marie thing to ask of him. In the weeks before she died, she had made him promise over and over again, and now he did his best to live up to it, day in and day out.

"Tony?"

"Hm?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah." He nodded quickly, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. Angela didn't need to watch him lose it at two-thirty in the morning.

"Are you sure?"

He snuffled and ran his free hand through his hair as he fought desperately not to let the memories carry him all the way out to sea. "Uh … this is kinda taking me back. Being in the hospital and everything."

"I can imagine," she said softly, and for a little while, they considered each other in silence.

"I don't really want to talk about it," he said finally. "Not tonight at least."

"We don't have to."

Angela looked so tired, and he could tell that she was in pain. Tylenol for broken bones was like a band-aid on a gushing wound. But at the same time, utter peace seemed to surround her.

Seeing the baby on the monitor and listening to the otherworldly sound of the little heart beating away had unknotted something deep inside of Tony, and he suspected that she felt much the same.

He cleared his throat. "So, it looks like we've got a tough little birdie in there, huh?"

She nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. "Just like her daddy."

"Says her mommy with the broken ribs."

Angela gave him a little shrug with her right shoulder. "We're a tough bunch."

"Yeah," he agreed, "I guess so." Leaning forward, he pressed a careful kiss to her lips. "I love you so much, and I'm sorry we fought tonight. I shouldn't have told Mrs. R."

"Tony, don't. That's not important anymore. And … to be perfectly honest: I told someone myself. I was about to say something to you when- right before it happened."

"What?"

"I started to feel sick in the middle of a meeting today, and Carrie was in the restroom when I came in. She asked about my ring, and then … it just slipped out. Part of me wanted to tell her, and she was so happy for us. It felt good. So, I get it. And I'm very sorry I overreacted."

Tony looked away, towards the window and the city lights beyond. Under different circumstances, his kneejerk reaction would have been to get upset. How could Angela berate him for something that she had done herself? But in light of tonight's near catastrophe, he really didn't want them to go another round about this.

"Are you mad at me?" she asked, proving once more that she did know him well.

He tore his gaze away from the window. "No," he began, unsure of what he was going to say, only to be hit by a saving insight just in time. "This is … it's our baby, but it's your body, Angela. If you feel ready to tell other people, then I'm with you one hundred percent. And if you're not, then you're not, and we wait a little longer."

"I want us to tell the kids and Mother tomorrow," she said without hesitation.

"You do?"

"I'm going to need to take it easy for a couple of weeks, and they should have the whole picture. No more secrets."

"Sweetheart, whatever you want to do. If you'd rather wait until-"

"Until when?" she asked and drew their joined hands to where the blanket was covering her stomach. "I realized something, Tony. If we had lost the baby tonight, I couldn't have pretended that nothing is wrong. That it never existed."

"No," he agreed as he remembered his own despair from only a few hours ago.

Angela exhaled and smiled at him. "Sam, Jonathan, and Mother deserve to know. You said it yourself, we're a family, and families stick together. Remember?"

"Hey, of course!"

He would never forget the look on Angela's face that afternoon in the kitchen. It had happened half by accident and half on purpose, him calling them a family. But the second the words left his mouth, he knew that it was the absolute truth.

ooooooooo ... ooooooooo

The next day dawned gray and cold, but with temperatures well above freezing, as a different doctor informed them before he performed another ultrasound that left them both just as mesmerized as the night before.

Other than that, this morning was a lot more miserable.

The doctors and nurses had warned them that whiplash symptoms might set in overnight, and Angela was feeling the aftereffects of the accident not only in her ribs and stomach, but also in her neck and back muscles.

Tony didn't seem to be doing any better. He was uncharacteristically quiet, and she could tell that in addition to the other injuries, his bad shoulder was bothering him, making him extremely economical with the steps he took using his underarm crutches. He didn't even offer to take over when a nurse came in to help Angela back into her own clothes.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the expression on Tony's face when he caught sight of the bruises all over her upper body.

Then they sat and waited for Philly. Just when Tony was about to try and call him again, Philly announced himself with a couple of rhythmic knocks on the door.

"Tony?" he asked, sticking his head inside. "Angela?"

"Philly!" Tony greeted him, making every effort to sound jovial.

"Hello, Philly," she breathed, trying to speak softly so as not to upset her ribs.

Philly stepped into the room and took off his hat. "Sorry I'm late. My parole officer came by. He likes to do that sometimes, never calls before he does." As he spoke, his eyes went back and forth between Tony and Angela.

"Don't sweat it," Tony said, trying to alleviate the awkwardness of the moment.

Indeed, Angela had no idea what he had or hadn't told Philly about the status of their relationship. Or what Philly thought about the fact that Tony had asked him to come up to Gynecology & Obstetrics.

"You two look a little rough," Philly said. "No offense."

"None taken. We're grateful, actually. It could have been a lot worse," Angela said. "Thank you for coming to get us. We really appreciate it."

"Ah, no big deal. I don't know how many times Tony had to spring me from-"

"Yeah, well, how about we get going?" Tony was quick to interject, already reaching for his crutches. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm ready to get out of here."

Angela had to suppress a smile. She knew that it must have been jail, or at the very least a police station. It continued to baffle her how a nice, sensitive man like Philly could be such a hopeless crook.

"Do you need any help?" Philly gestured towards Angela. "Tony told me you cracked a couple of ribs."

"Maybe a hand?" She did prefer to have someone to hold on to as she maneuvered herself off the side of the bed. With Tony out of commission, she might as well take Philly up on his offer.

Slowly, they made their way towards the elevators, down a couple of long, white corridors, and finally across the parking lot.

Philly unlocked the car and helped them inside: Tony into the passenger seat so he had enough room for his leg, and Angela in the backseat behind Philly, so the seatbelt wouldn't push on her injured ribs.

"Ready to go?" Philly asked and looked at Angela through the rearview mirror.

She nodded bravely, and Philly must have picked up on a hint of trepidation.

"Don't worry. I know all the potholes in all five boroughs. I'm gonna give you the smoothest ride you ever had."

The pain in her ribs was considerable following the walk to the car, but Angela still had to smile.

Among Tony's Brooklyn friends, Philly was easily her favorite, and he stayed true to his word. While driving through Brooklyn, they didn't hit a single one of the numerous large potholes, and Angela began to relax her anxious hold on the seatbelt.

"So," Philly said when they were finally on the expressway, "what were you doing out here in the old neighborhood, anyway?"

Tony cleared his throat. "Uh, Mrs. Rossini likes to have me over for dinner in the new year. And, well, it made sense to bring Angela along."

"Right, you don't cook, do you?" Philly cast a quick glance in the rearview mirror.

"Not really, no." She still couldn't discern what exactly Philly knew.

"Yeah, that, and, you know – things between Angela and me have … changed recently."

"So it's true?" Another look from Philly in the rearview mirror. Angela felt herself blush at the memory of the time he had visited her in the kitchen to ask about her and Tony doing the 'horizontal mambo'. Such a terrible, funny, accurate way to put it.

"I don't know what you've heard, but uh, we're getting married in the spring," Tony said.

Philly shook his head. "I hate to say it, but the guys and I, we called it. Way back when. Oh, and congratulations."

"Thank you, Philly," Angela said politely.

"What do you mean, you called it?"

"The first time we came over for poker night? It was kinda obvious."

"What was-"

"That you had the hots for- that you liked each other."

Angela's blush intensified. Poker night, followed by Emily and Eddie's 'excursion' for hand lotion in Tony's van was a sweet and incredibly confusing memory she had returned to often over the years.

During long, lonely nights, nothing had given her hope like 'What's not to love.' And nothing had depressed her more than the fact that Emily and Eddie had not been in touch again, despite their explosive chemistry. To her knowledge, Emily was still at Stanford, still single, still going to faculty teas in the hopes that she would meet someone; and Eddie still showed up for poker nights, but never asked about her.

When Tony didn't answer, Angela took it upon herself to comment on Philly's observation. "I suppose this really has been a long time coming."

"We haven't really told a whole lot of people yet."

"Ah, don't worry about that. Mrs. R. has got you covered."

"What do you mean?" Tony asked, suddenly anxious.

Angela wanted to tell him that it was okay. Finding out that Tony had betrayed her by telling Mrs. Rossini about the baby had hurt, yes. But what good would it do for her to hold a grudge? She knew that he hadn't done it on purpose. He put so much pressure on himself, and sometimes he just … cracked.

"Everybody who comes in the fish store gets to hear it: Her boy Tony is happy again, with a nice lady from Connecticut who's like a mother for his little Samantha, and who used to be his boss."

"That's it?"

"More or less, yeah. Why, is she missing something?"

"Oh, no. No, no. I've just- I've been wondering. You know how she is. She likes to embellish things."

For a second, Angela was tempted to tell Philly the whole truth. He was giving up half his Saturday to drive them home to Fairfield, and hearing him refer to her as a mother figure to Samantha touched her deeply. But her mother and the kids were next. No exceptions this time.

ooooooooo ... ooooooooo

All morning, Mona's stomach had been in knots. Jonathan had shared what Tony told him on the phone late last night, and broken ribs, a cut to the forehead, and a 'busted knee' didn't sound too good in and of themselves.

Add to that an overnight stay in the hospital so the doctors could 'keep an eye' on Angela, and Mona was prepared for the worst, which was wholly unlike her. Usually, she was an optimist, or at least she tried to be. What was the point in getting upset before you absolutely had to? But, like almost everyone, she, too, had an Achilles heel – and this was it.

"They're here!" Jonathan shouted from the living room where he had taken up position at the window next to the front door.

Mona took a deep breath to steel herself for whatever was coming before she pushed through the swinging door into the living room. Samantha came bounding down the stairs, and together the three of them formed a nervous little welcome committee.

The key turned in the lock, and in they came, or rather: They hobbled. Tony was on crutches with a thick brace around his right knee, and Angela walked as if the floor were covered with egg shells.

"Mom!"

"Dad!"

"Hi, Philly!"

"What happened!?"

"Did they staple your head?"

Mona left the relief and excitement to the kids and focused all of her attention on her daughter. Angela was even paler than yesterday and very clearly in pain, but the smile on her face seemed genuine.

"Guys, guys!" Tony said. "How about you give us some room for a minute? Angela needs to change, and I promised Philly here some coffee for his trouble."

"We already made coffee!" Jonathan said importantly and led the way to the kitchen.

Tony started for the stairs, but Mona interrupted him. "Tony, why don't you have some coffee, too? I can help Angela, and you look like you should put that leg up for a while."

Angela nodded at him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Tell Philly thank you again. We'll have him over for dinner sometime."

Once they were up in her bedroom, Angela looked at the double bed. "I'm going to need to sleep sitting up for a couple of nights."

"Don't worry about that, we'll figure it out. Let's get you into something comfortable first," Mona ordered gently.

She opened the bottom drawer of Angela's dresser and pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a hooded zip-up sweater. "Is this okay?"

When she turned around, she saw Angela standing there, cradling her left arm with her right and looking as if she was about to faint from pain. She rushed over and got Angela to sit down on the edge of the mattress. "That bad?"

Angela nodded amid a shaky exhale. "I can only take Tylenol. Normally, they give you OxyContin or Vicodin."

Mona was kneeling on the floor where she had started to take off Angela's shoes. She looked up. "Do you want me to ask why?"

Angela exhaled again. "Do you need to ask?"

Sitting back on her haunches, Angela's shoes still in hand, Mona felt a small smile coming on. "Well, dear, you were one deep breath away from exploding out of your yellow blouse this week. But I didn't want to assume anything."

Angela chuckled despite herself. "It was a bit of a surprise this early, but we're happy."

"It shows. And nobody deserves this more than you and Tony. Congratulations, Angela. Early or not, this is good. Really good."

Angela nodded, and then, without warning, the tears came. "I was so scared."

Mona got up from the floor and sat to Angela's right. "I know."

"Tony and I fought just before it happened. Kids ran into traffic ahead of us. There was nothing he could have done. But I know he blames himself. And I kept thinking, what if this is it? What if-"

"Shhh." Mona took Angela's hand in hers. "But it wasn't, Angela. You're here, you're pregnant, and those ribs and Tony's knee are going to heal in no time."

"Oh, Mother," Angela sobbed quietly, and even though tears and big emotions were not Mona's forte at all, she did her best to comfort her daughter.

After a while, Angela calmed down and Mona helped her put on the sweat suit ensemble. The bruises looked worse than she had imagined, but she tried not to let her shock show.

"Do you want your hair up or down?" she asked finally.

"Can you do a French braid? Maybe then I won't have to wash it until Monday."

Angela sat at her vanity, and Mona stood behind her. First, she ran the brush through her hair, just like she had done when Angela was a little girl. Then she gathered three strands and started braiding.

"So, when is the newest little Micelli going to join us?"

"August 19th."

That was about what she had suspected, and Mona couldn't let the opportunity for some gentle ribbing pass her by. "You and Tony really did have a nice Thanksgiving, huh?"

"Mother …"

"What? It's not like it's some big mystery. Anyone who can count will figure it out."

"I know."

"And how are you feeling so far?"

"Tired. Sick. Nervous. Grateful." Angela looked in the mirror and their eyes met as Mona tied the end of the braid with a scrunchie.

"Sounds like par for the course to me. How is Tony holding up?"

"Tired. Sick. Nervous. Grateful."

Mona laughed. "You couldn't have picked a better man, Angela. He's going to be a wonderful father to that baby."

"I know. We saw the heartbeat last night, and again this morning."

"What's that like?"

Angela shook her head, momentarily at a loss for words. "It feels like … a miracle."

"Well, it is. Isn't it?"