Sonnet
Disclaimer: I don't own Who's the Boss
Angela Robinson felt as if she were walking on clouds for the rest of her time at camp. She'd received her first kiss! She was a true woman. She almost wished she could stay here forever, dreaming of Anthony's lips.
But of course, the day came when parents arrived, and she saw Mother's shiny blue Cadillac waiting for her. Slowly, Angela packed her things, checking her list several times to be certain she had everything. Then she walked towards it, her mind still on the kiss, causing her to stumble a few times.
"Hello, Angela," said Mother's voice, and her heart pounded as she looked up to see a striking redhead that could easily have been a movie star. Mother had amazing curves and always knew how to dress to show her attributes. Angela didn't feel like a true woman any longer, with her flat chest and simple camp uniform. "Are you ready to go?"
"Of course, Mother," Angela said with a nod, placing her luggage in the Cadillac. "I've checked my list several times."
Mother sighed. "You and your lists, Angela. Please tell me you didn't spend the entire camp checking off items of another list. Or doing something equally dull, like reading poetry and conjugating French verbs."
Angela pressed her lips, a part of her wishing to say that she'd completed all her lists at camp this year and felt satisfaction because of it. Or that reading poetry could be very enjoyable. But she was beginning to think it would fall on deaf ears. Besides, she was aching to tell Mother she'd done a couple of spontaneous things this summer.
"Actually, someone at camp convinced me to dye my hair blonde," Angela said proudly, playing with her still blond ends at her shoulders. Cinthia had convinced her that blondes had more fun, and Angela thought that might be true now. Shy, brunette Angela would never have run off to kissing rock to meet a boy from the Y – camp. Especially not one as handsome as Anthony. "The peroxide hasn't even completely worn off completely."
But Mother wasn't impressed. "Angela! How could you do that to your hair?" she said as she marched around the car to study Angela's hair closer. Shaking her head, she sighed. "I suppose most of your darker hair has grown back by now, but don't mistreat your hair again. What would your father say if he knew?"
It was easy for Mother to say. Her beautiful red hair turned heads everywhere she went. Why did Angela's hair have to be so plain and brown? But instead, Angela simply climbed into the Cadillac and slammed the door.
OOOOOOOOOO
The Cadillac was silent for several moments, and once again Angela desperately wished she were still at camp. When she was younger, Angela wanted nothing more to be exactly like her mother, following her "Mommy" everywhere and attempting to dress like her as much as possible. But int the last two years, it had become increasingly clear that would never happen, causing Angela to distance herself from Mother literally and figuratively.
Things were so much easier at camp, without Mother's watchful eye.
Still, a part of Angela still wished to please her, and that's why she said, "I also got my first kiss at camp, Mother. It was amazing! We saw each other from afar at first," she paused, remembering the first time she'd caught sight of Anthony, rowing a canoe. He certainly had a nice set of arms. "And we agreed to meet at a certain spot on the lake…Oh, Mother my heart was pounding the entire time, but I did it! I met him. And the moonlight shinned like it was made just for us…And…"
"All right," Mother said firmly. "I get the picture." But could she really when she hadn't been there? How could Angela ever fully explain the magic of that night? How could anyone but Anthony ever understand it? But then Mother broke into a grin that made this entire conversation worth it. "So, was he handsome?" her voice sounded like a girlfriend eager for juicy gossip, rather than Mother driving home.
"Oh, yes!" Angela said, remembering Anthony's dark hair, firm arms, and warm brown eyes that she could drown. She'd never seen a better-looking boy in all her life.
"I'm glad you've finally got some real fun, Angela. I hope it will continue at home, rather than spending all your time on poetry and French verbs again."
Angela did too. Especially without the peroxide blonde hair. But…"Please don't tell Daddy about this, Mother." An image of her father, who still waited up for her when she spent the evening at the library, appeared in her mind. Angela couldn't imagine how he'd react if he knew she'd kissed a boy. Especially one Daddy had never met.
"Of course not," Mother said, and continued driving. Meanwhile, Angela wondered if she could look at some of her poetry when she arrived home. Certainly, there had to be one poem that described the magic of that night and the joy of Anthony's kiss. Something that would remind Angela of their kiss for the rest of her life.
Thirty years later…
Angela Miceli sighed in frustration as she removed another set of books in her study, wondering why she'd agreed to this.
Since Tony had returned from Iowa, they'd mostly settled into married life. But he had yet to find a full-time teaching job, although he'd had many substitute positions around the area through out the year. In the meantime, he puttered around the house, as usual, cooking gourmet meals and lifting the refrigerator.
It was everything she'd missed last year and more.
But Tony grew a bit restless when he had to leave a substitute position, especially the most recent one, when the local history teacher returned from maternity leave. She knew it had put babies on both their minds, but they were uncertain what to do about it. Try for their own child? Wait until grandchildren arrived? Discuss adoption?
Instead, Tony decided to make new bookcases for Angela's study. He looked too adorable when he discussed it with her, already gathering the materials he would need, and excitedly showing her how much more items the new shelf would hold. And it didn't hurt that he still looked fantastic in a pair of jeans.
Angela couldn't say no, especially when she knew how much he needed another project. It reminded her of his need to focus on renovating their new bedroom before his graduation. It seemed she'd forgotten how stressful that project had ended up being, to the point where Tony had been temporarily thrown out of the house for Joe to finish it.
Right now, throwing Tony out of the house again was tempting, especially as the steady tap of a hammer was giving Angela a headache.
Huffing, she pulled down another set of books, probably faster than she should have. The binding on a couple of them was broken, and they fell open.
Angela stared at the one on the left in shock. It was a book of Shakespeare's Sonnets, open to the page of the poem she decided to her first kiss. Her thirteen-year-old self had traced a big heart around it and written "Anthony" in the corner.
Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,
The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;
But then begins a journey in my head
To work my mind, when body's work's expired:
For then my thoughts-from far where I abide-
Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,
And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,
Looking on darkness which the blind do see:
Save that my soul's imaginary sight
Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,
Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night,
Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new.
Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,
For thee, and for myself, no quiet find. *
She'd almost forgotten about that sonnet, probably not wishing to dwell on the experience, especially after she'd discovered the boy, she'd kissed was her friend and housekeeper. And Angela had certainly never shared the sonnet with Tony when they'd spoken of that night at Kissing Rock.
But now she exited her study. The piles of books and the pound of the hammer no longer mattered. Angela said, full of excitement, "Tony! I found our sonnet!"
He screamed a couple of Italian words before he stomped into the living room, shaking his head. "Madonna mia, Angela, you're lucky I didn't pound the hammer on my thumb!" He held out his left thumb for her to see at that.
Angela shrugged. "I'm sorry, but I got so excited when I found it. You see, when I arrived home from camp, I selected a sonnet to remember my first kiss." Then she smiled at him. "Our first kiss."
His anger disappeared immediately, to be replaced by one of her favorite goofy grins. "Ah – oh, why haven't I heard about this before?"
"It was a bit too…obviously romantic to speak of in the motel. Not to mention silly, to dedicate a Shakespeare sonnet to a boy I'd probably never see again. I suppose I was afraid you'd laugh at me." She stared at the floor as she admitted that last part, hating how insecure she'd still been at that time.
"No sillier than to carve 'Ingrid's' name in a rock when I thought I'd never see her again, sweetheart." His voice turned tender, and his hand lifted her chin for an adult kiss. She placed her hands on his strong shoulders as she responded fully. His tongue felt warm and sweet. "Have I mentioned lately how glad I am that I saw Ingrid again?" he said when they withdrew.
"Not lately," Angela said, with a teasing grin. "But anyway, I would like you to see the sonnet. I remember thinking when I arrived home that only you and I could fully appreciate what happened that night, but I think the sonnet does a good job describing it."
Tony nodded, and she wrapped her arm around his powerful one as they made their way to her study. "And I suppose I would have never found it again if you hadn't decided to build me a new bookcase."
He strutted in response, still coordinated not to step on any of the piles of books all over the floor. "I won't let you forget that."
She should have seen that coming, but Angela supposed she could live with it, especially as he gave her a good view of his backside when she showed him the poem. Oh, did Tony wear a pair of jeans well.
"Isn't it perfect?" Angela said from behind, not certain whether she was referring to the sonnet or his behind.
"Yeah," Tony said, caressing his name as turned around to smile at her.
*Shakespeare's XXVII Sonnet