Jack stayed for a week, but then was called to Washington D.C. for an interview with the Department of Defense. Michelle went back to work the next day, feeling that her life was slightly more in her control now that she was no longer living out of boxes. The days and weeks passed by, and Michelle found ways to keep herself busy on the weekends. Michelle had never really been one for the outdoors, but she found she had grown to enjoy the silence of the woods and the smell of the trees after the rain. And it kept her out of her empty house.
Slowly, Michelle felt like she was coming back to life, during the daytime at least. She had made a few friends at work, including her boss, Bill Buchanan, and the group of them had gone out on the town a few times. She continued to write occasionally to Tony, telling herself to be content in the fact that he always sent her letters back unopened. At least, she would tell herself, he is still alive to return them. She had taught herself to sew and now had a basic knowledge of cooking. Well, as long as toast, noodles and chicken counted as cooking. She was particularly proud of the chicken part. She did whatever she could to keep her mind busy until it was time to go to sleep
At night, she was still tormented by her own thoughts. She found herself going to bed later and later, and sleeping less and less. She would lie awake for hours, the past months running through her head again and again. Finally, she had gone to her doctor, who had prescribed her some sleeping medication. Though that had helped her to fall asleep, there was nothing he could prescribe to stop the nightmares that filled her head while she slept. One night, as she wandered the hotel's hallways in her mind, the white walls turned into prison bars, and she found herself standing outside of what she somehow knew was Tony's cell. A group of guards stood inside, looking at something on the ground. Michelle pushed her way through to find her husband, lying in a pool of blood. Michelle screamed his name and cradled him in her arms, but it was too late; he was already dead. Suddenly, all of the guards were gone and she was alone. In her ear she heard Tony's voice say, "Is this how much it will take for you to be free, Michelle?" She turned around, but there was no one there. And on the floor were the divorce papers, the little red flags marking the places for her to sign.
Michelle sat straight up in bed, gasping. She was shaking all over and so tired that she felt sick to her stomach. She turned on the light next to her bed, suddenly wary of the dark. Through the silence of the room, she could still hear Tony's voice in her ear. Was it just a dream? Michelle was afraid to know the truth. She felt like her nightmare was continuing, like she couldn't escape it. Like she had really seen Tony. Dead.
Once Michelle was able to stop her hands from shaking, she picked up the phone and dialed the prison. The night watchman answered, sounding bored. "Hello," she said, her voice shaking. She cleared her throat and started again, "Hello, my name is Michelle Almeida. My husband, Tony, is he alright?"
The guard sounded confused, "What do you mean? It's 4 AM, he's locked in his cell for the night."
Michelle forced herself to sound calm, "Just tell me that he's alright, okay?"
The guard paused, and Michelle could hear him typing on the computer. "Um, as far as I can tell, Mrs.…. Almeida, he was fine at lockdown at 2200. Besides, if anything happens to a prisoner, we call the number on their contact list, which for Mr. Almeida is… actually, I'm sorry, he's requested that no one be notified. Why do you ask?"
"Nothing," she replied, "I just... Thank you," and hung up without waiting for her reply.
The nightmare ran through Michelle's mind over and over. Would he? Michelle didn't think Tony would ever be so desperate as to take his own life. But what if? What if he thought he was doing it for her? Michelle remembered what he had written in the letter he sent with the papers, "I can't continue to live with the idea of you wasting your life on me." Over and over that phrase repeated in her mind, as though she had heard Tony speak it, "can't continue to live." Would he? She asked herself again. Michelle was afraid to take the chance.
She thought knew what she needed to do, though it was far from what she wanted. Michelle walked down stairs, sat down at the desk and pulled out the divorce papers. Her head was still spinning and the paper looked far away and out of focus. Michelle strained to see the writing clearly and picked up the pen. When she put the pen to the paper, her hand was shaking so bad she had to put it down again. After a moment, she picked up the pen again, took a deep breath, silently asked for Tony's forgiveness, and signed. And blue ink marked the end of all of her dreams.
