Ch 52 – Kintsugi (3)
Tony took a cab home from the train station. By the time he got out in front of 3344 Oak Hills Drive, it was completely dark outside. The early evening air smelled like snow again.
Slowly, he made his way up the slippery front walk. He would have to ask one of the kids to spread some salt, they could do without the mailman breaking his neck tomorrow morning.
The light was on in the living room, and he found Angela on the couch, asleep under the peach-colored quilt. The television was on mute, some news show. As quietly as possible, Tony closed the door and put away his backpack and jacket.
Even though he could barely feel the beers in his system anymore, he was sure that Angela would smell them on him, not to mention the cigarette smoke. A shower was in order, and he needed to brush his teeth.
He made it almost all the way to the top of the stairs before knocking one of his crutches against the banister. The next thing he heard was Angela's voice, hoarse with sleep.
"Mother?"
He stood still. "Uh, no. It's me. I'm home."
"Tony?" she asked, tentative. "What time is it?"
"Almost six. Sorry I woke you." He turned around on the stairs and hobbled back down, careful not to stumble over his own legs or the crutches.
"That's okay. How was school?"
"You know," he began, and the lie would have come easy, it was already taking shape on his tongue. "I- ah, I didn't go, actually."
"What?" Angela was sitting up now, a confused look on her face.
Tony hesitated. She would probably be disappointed to hear that he had spent the day at Marty's Melody Room instead of going to his classes or coming along to her doctor's appointment. Not that he believed she would have wanted him there, necessarily. They hadn't talked about it at all since the weekend. After what he had said on Monday night, Angela seemed especially protective of everything having to do with the pregnancy, and he couldn't blame her.
She wrinkled her nose. "Did you smoke?"
After leaning one crutch against the armchair, he scratched his neck. "Uh, no. Not me, I mean. Some of the other- Philly came and picked me up. We spent the day in the old neighborhood."
"Oh."
Tony couldn't read her expression but decided to stick to the truth as he explained himself further. Honesty had gotten him into this mess, maybe it would help him get back out now.
"I know this doesn't look great, but … I had to try and get my head back on straight."
"And did you?"
He swallowed, then forged on ahead. "I think so, yeah. We talked."
"You and Philly?"
"He's a good guy," he ventured, hoping she would understand.
"I know," she said, softly now, which he took as a good sign.
"I smell like an ashtray, huh?"
"You could say that."
"I was just gonna go and take a shower. I know you're-" He interrupted himself. They both knew she was sensitive to smells, he didn't need to tell her. There was also no point in beating around the bush any longer.
"Hey, Angela?" He sought out her gaze and was glad when she didn't evade him. "I heard you when you said you needed space. And I'll give it to you for as long as you need. But … I would really like to talk to you. Tonight. That is, if you'll listen."
After a small eternity filled with the sensation of his rapidly accelerating heartbeat, she said, "Okay."
"Okay," he echoed. So, so relieved. "After I take that shower?" If they were going to get anywhere with this, he needed to feel less like some sorry barfly and more like himself again.
"Sure. Have you eaten yet?"
Tony shook his head. The hotdog he had scarfed down before getting on the train didn't count.
"There should be leftovers from last night." Right, Sam and Mona had made lasagna. "If you want, I'll heat something up for you."
"Only if you feel up to it."
"Otherwise I wouldn't have offered," she said and began to rise from the couch. The pained expression on her face didn't escape him, but he decided that she was the best judge of what she could – or couldn't – do in her condition.
"Yeah, of course. I could use some real food. Those mixed nuts at Marty's- well, you know."
Angela gave him a small smile as she gingerly adjusted her tracksuit jacket. She was wearing a pair of gray leggings, and for the first time, Tony thought that he saw the beginnings of a small bump below her waistband. Or maybe it was just the light. He didn't want her to catch him staring and looked back up, but it was too late.
She pulled the hem of her jacket further down, asking, "Twenty minutes?"
"Twenty minutes. And thank you."
Then Tony went upstairs to shower and brush his teeth as quickly as possible, silently praying that his resolve wouldn't leave him.
ooooooooo
Coming down the stairs, Tony felt like a new man. A very nervous new man. More nervous even than before he had proposed to Angela. But back then – less than two weeks ago, even though it felt like a lifetime – he had been sure that she would accept.
The delicious smell of lasagna greeted him when he pushed through the swinging door. Angela had already set the table, and he was glad to see that there were place settings for two. Throughout the years, they had had some good conversations over leftovers in the kitchen. Hopefully they could have another one tonight.
"Sit, it's only going to be a minute," she said.
Reluctantly, Tony took a seat. Angela was leaning against the kitchen counter with her right hand holding her left elbow, and it took everything he had to fight the impulse to try and help her somehow. It would be pointless, anyway, because he really couldn't. He didn't even have a hand free to carry a plate or a glass.
"Where are the kids?" he thought to ask.
"Sam is at Bonnie's. I told her she could stay for dinner. And Mother took Jonathan to the mall. So … it's just us tonight."
Tony watched as Angela slipped on the oven gloves to check on the lasagna. The domesticity of the gesture felt at once strange and familiar.
Marie had cooked for him every night that he was home, and he had never questioned the division of labor in their household. Angela, on the other hand, had served him dinner only a couple of times, mostly on special occasions.
Like the night when she had made Beef Wellington to celebrate their second anniversary. Sometimes he still wondered what would have happened between them if his appendix hadn't acted up.
He had meant it when he suggested they take the bottle of champagne over to the fireplace and 'talk', and he had had every intention to throw his fears overboard – only to realize that he was all out of liquid courage by the time he woke up from surgery and learned what he had said to Angela under the influence of some pretty strong sedatives.
And then there was the night during his 'wild man' phase, when he had come over to check on the pilot light, and Angela had insisted on making them tea, seeing as it was after hours, and he was her guest.
Tony was sure that he and Angela had both been aware on some level that they were playing an elaborate game of charades. His phone call about the pilot light had been a ruse, just like her call back to inform him that it had suddenly gone out. But neither of them had cared. He could still recall the little jump of his heart as soon as Angela asked him to move back into the house.
"A letter came for you," she said, and he returned to the present.
"Hm?"
Still wearing one of the oven gloves, Angela pointed at an envelope that was tucked under the upper left corner of Tony's place mat and that he hadn't noticed until now.
The paper was thick and cream-colored. At first, neither the handwriting, nor the return address meant anything to him. He didn't know anyone in Houston.
Except – he did, Tony realized seconds later. The letter was from Davey. He picked up his knife and sliced the envelope open. Inside was a birth announcement. He studied the photo of a tiny baby lying in a bassinet, and his stomach lurched.
Not long …
Michael David Thurmont, elegant cursive letters at the bottom of the card read. Tony flipped it open.
"What does it say?" Angela asked.
"Davey and Chrystal's kid came early," Tony summarized after he had skimmed over the text. He held up the card. "Three weeks. Right before Christmas."
"I hope nothing is wrong?"
"No. He was just in a hurry. Michael David Thurmont," Tony read, "six pounds, three ounces. 18 inches. Happy and healthy."
Angela brought their plates over to the table one by one, and when she had taken a seat, Tony handed the card to her. He watched, first as she took in the sweet photo, and then as she read what Davey had written. When she was done, Angela looked up, and he saw in her eyes that she was thinking it, too.
Not long …
He wanted to take her in his arms and never let her go again. But they were sitting in their usual places of ten and two o'clock at the table, and the next best thing he could do was to reach for her hand. Her skin under his fingertips was warm and soft and he almost couldn't get the words out.
"Next one's ours."
"The next one is Michael's," she said, sounding regretful.
"Oh, right. Yeah. Of course. I didn't- Well, you know what I meant," he backtracked.
Angela nodded and cleared her throat. "I know. We'll send them a gift." Then she withdrew her hand with a gentle tug. "And we should probably eat before it gets cold."
"You're right." Tony took the card from her. "Thank you." He gestured at the food, hoping she understood that he meant much more than that.
ooooooooo
They were silent for the first couple of bites. Tony wanted to ask about Angela's doctor's appointment but was afraid he might step over some invisible line.
"How's Philly?" Angela asked suddenly.
"Ah, the same. You know. He says congratulations. I hope it's okay that I told him."
Angela smiled mildly. "Of course. You two are close."
"He thinks it's great. And he suspected it, anyway. Because of Saturday. The hospital."
"Tony, really, it's okay. You can tell your friends. If that's what you want."
Again, silence settled between them.
"So … how'd it go in the City?" he managed after a while, sure that she knew what he really meant to ask.
Indeed, Angela's gaze took on a specific softness that it only ever had when they were talking about the pregnancy. But there was also an air of caution, which was new.
"Dr. Solomon said everything looks just the way it should."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Good. That' good. I'm glad," Tony said, his hands and feet tingling with a sudden warmth.
"Me too."
He put down his fork and knife and didn't know where to look or what to do, whether he should take Angela's hand again, or maybe try to get close enough so he could kiss her on the cheek.
"They give you a picture?" he asked instead, hoping to build them a bridge somehow.
Angela shook her head. "The printer was broken. But it hasn't changed that much."
"Still a little gummy bear, huh?"
A light blush rose to her cheeks. "Mh-hm. I thought it looked bigger."
"Well, it's been a few days, right?"
She nodded, eyes glistening.
Then, another silence. In between bites of lukewarm lasagna, Tony snuck glances at Angela.
"Your doctor, did he say anything else? Not about the baby, I mean. But about you? You know, with the accident?" he asked eventually, unable to shake the feeling that there was something she wasn't telling him.
Angela hesitated for a second before reaching for her water glass.
"Actually, he wants me to stay home for all of next week, too. I'm supposed to avoid any unnecessary stress." As she was speaking, her blush intensified, and hot shame pricked at Tony's ears. He had been her main source of stress as of late.
"How do you feel about that?" he asked, not wanting to make any assumptions.
"I agree," she said simply, almost businesslike. "I'm really not feeling well, and to be honest, it's as much the pregnancy as it is my ribs and … everything else."
"I know." Their gazes bounced off each other like stones skipping on water.
After a sip from her glass, Angela continued, "Mother and I went by the office today, and I talked to Jack and the others. They have everything under control."
"It's a good thing you hired him." Tony was still embarrassed by how he had acted when he had first met Jack. Now he couldn't have been more grateful that the guy existed, and that he was working for Angela. "And you know I want you to do whatever you need to feel better. That's what's most important right now."
Angela smiled shakily. "Who could have guessed I would need to take a step back so soon, huh?"
Tony caught the reference to their conversation at the diner in Manhattan last fall, when she had revealed to him that her decision to hire Jack had, in part, been motivated by their movie night conversation about babies.
He knew how much Angela loved her work and how high her ambitions were for the Agency. Seeing the far-reaching consequences that the pregnancy had for her, and how willingly she accepted them – how thoroughly she had planned for them, even – made him feel like that much more of a jackass.
It was now or never.
"About that, Angela."
"About what?"
"The 'who could have guessed' part."
He gave her what he hoped was a meaningful look and pushed his plate away. There hadn't been enough time for him to come up with a grand speech, he would have to wing it.
"I know how much I hurt you with everything I said. That's the last thing I wanted, but I did."
"Tony-"
"Hear me out, okay? Please," he said gently, his heart now beating in his throat. Finding the right words had never been more difficult. "I hate that I went off on you like that. There's no excuse." He reached for her hand, and she let him take it. "Because Angela, you're the best thing that ever happened to me. Sometimes I wake up in the morning, and I still can't believe that this is real. That we're getting married, and that we're having a baby. Yours and mine! I couldn't imagine anything better than that."
It was true, he couldn't. And that was what had made all of this so damn confusing right from the start.
"It didn't feel like that on Monday," Angela whispered, so vulnerable that it almost broke him to look at her
"I know. And I'm sorry."
Angela sniffled. "I was so afraid that maybe all this time, ever since we found out about the baby … you were just telling me what I wanted to hear."
The dull throbbing behind Tony's breastbone was back, or was it in his stomach? It didn't matter, he wouldn't give in to it. Not this time. Angela deserved so much better.
"Sweetheart, no. I would never do that to you. To us. I love you, and I love the baby. All the more because it was a surprise." He turned her hand over in his and rubbed the pad of his thumb across her open palm. "It's romantic, if you think about it. That it happened that night. The first time. Like it was meant to be. First Kissing Rock, then twenty years later I find this job ... And when we finally get it together – boom! There's a new little person."
Angela didn't say anything, she just held his gaze, her eyes brimming with tears.
"Remember when we watched those movies last fall?" he continued. "I guess I can tell you now. I kept thinking – 'Man, I want that to be us.' And now it is. It's us. And I'm happy. You gotta believe me. But I'll be honest, it's also scaring the living daylights out of me."
"Being happy?" Angela's voice trembled with emotion.
Tony hadn't thought of it like that, not exactly. But now that he heard her say it, it felt true.
"Maybe. I don't know. It's … You, and the baby, Sam and Jonathan, our whole family – I guess that's so much more than I ever thought I'd have. Not after Marie- not after Sam and I lost Marie. But then you and I met, and- I want to do right by you, Angela. More than anything. But sometimes it feels like the part of me that's scared is just waiting for the other shoe to drop." He stopped, only to add with some reluctance: "Or for me to drop it."
"But you won't."
Tony leaned forward and locked eyes with her. "What I'm trying to say is: I never meant to make you feel like this is not what I want. Or like anything is your fault. This is on me, Angela. I feel insecure about some stuff, and on Monday, I took it out on you. I'm very sorry, and I hope you can forgive me."
"I want to," she said earnestly. "But I think it's going to take some time." Tears spilled over onto her cheeks.
Tony wasn't surprised, but it was still a difficult thing to hear. "I understand."
Angela closed her hand around his and took a shuddering breath. "Thank you. And I'm sorry, too. I didn't mean to make light of what our … situation must be like for you. I know a thing or two about feeling insecure myself. And I know it's not something that someone else can fix for you."
"No, it's not," he agreed. "But I'm working on it. I promise."
They looked at each other for a long while, long enough for Tony to gather the courage to ask, "Can I kiss you?"
And Angela just nodded silently, near tears again.
"Come here," he said while he moved his chair closer to hers, ignoring the throbbing of his bad leg. Carefully, he cupped her left cheek with his hand and drew her into a chaste kiss. No tongue, just the feeling of their lips pressed softly against each other. It was the last push ne needed.
"Angela?" he asked after they had parted.
"Hm?"
"There's one more thing I want to talk to you about. Kind of the main thing, actually."
"Oh? What is it?"
He sat up straighter, not sure how what he was going to say next would land, but surprisingly confident that it was the right thing to do, no matter how fast his heart was beating right now or how shallow his breathing felt.
"Uh, I've been thinking. What would maybe need to change for me to … you know, get over some stuff. And to move forward with you the way I want to."
Angela looked at him, puzzled, and he tried – and failed – to suppress a bout of nervous laughter.
"Jeez, I'm putting this badly. What I mean is- Ah, look: I've loved being your housekeeper, Angela. Best job I've ever had. But if I'm going to be your husband, I can't keep working for you. Not for one more day, not even on paper. You can't keep writing me checks, and I can't keep cashing them."
"Tony, what-" She looked alarmed, and he knew that he needed to come to the point quickly.
"Sweetheart, I've thought long and hard about this." Well, all the way home on the train. "And I think- and don't take this the wrong way, okay? But … I'm going to have to hand in my notice. Right now. And I would like you to accept it."
"What?"
He clasped her hand tightly between his. "I haven't written a letter or anything. I figured, since I got this job by showing up at your door, I might as well quit sitting down at your- at our kitchen table."
"Does that mean you'll be looking for another job?" she asked, her voice little more than a whisper.
Tony shook his head. "No. Not unless you want me to. I was thinking, at least until the baby comes, things could stay as they are? I'll take care of the house, and I'll take a full course load. Maybe some summer classes, too, so I'll have more time once the little one gets here. And about money, well … we could help each other out. It's what couples all over America do, right?" he finished, his last sentence recalling their conversation in the car before Christmas, when Angela had first suggested that she could cover some of his tuition once he stopped working for her.
"Tony," she gasped, incredulous. "Are you sure you're going to be okay with that?"
"No," he admitted honestly. "But I love you enough to give it a shot."