To the people who are reading this: Thank you! I hope you guys are enjoying this story:-D

The following takes place between season 3 and season 4 BEFORE the divorce. Events do not occur in real time. (This chapter is a compilation of seven mini-chapters)

PS: I do not own Califonia Dreamin' by the Mammas and the Papas and Mrs. Robinson by Simon and Garfunkel (just in case you made the connection between Michelle's anger against Cady's mom and the song)

A DAY IN THE LIFEThe Beatles

Chapter 5 – The not-so-Absolute Truth

The Absolute Truth, 1997 – Starring William Devane as Senator Emmett Hunter

A- The separation

MICHELLE

Over. It's over.

Something told me it was better just to leave a note and run like hell. But I didn't. I couldn't just leave without saying good-bye.

My eyes watered slightly. Good-bye? Was it really the end? The end. Bye bye. Chow chow. Adios.

I glanced at the beer bottles next to me.

Yes, this is the end.

Blinking rapidly, I refused to cry.

It's the only thing to do.

Or was it only what I tried to make myself believe?

To my relief/horror/disappointment/chagrin, Tony started stirring. He opened his eyes and looked at me, indifferent. I hoped he would maybe say something nice like 'Hey Beautiful' or at least 'Hi'.

Nope. "What?"

I took a deep breath and said, "I'm leaving, Tony."

Oh god. I don't want to leave.

I continued, my voice wavering slightly. "I just can't live like… this."

And I can't live without you. Maybe I'm the problem.

"I just wanted to tell you that I had such a good time with you."

Not enough time.

I didn't really get a chance to continue. He got up and staggered towards the fridge. As if he hadn't heard a word I just said. I closed my eyes, embarrassed yet hurt at the same time. Then, not wanting him to see me like this, I got up, took my suitcase and left the house.

The nightmare is over Michelle.

Or is it just starting?

TONY

Empty fruit bowl.

A beer. I need a beer.

Stale loaf of bread.

My kingdom for a beer!

Curly-haired little girl.

Gimme a beer, god damn it! I'll do anything, just get me a BEER!

At that moment, I woke up and rolled off the couch.

Ugh. What a weird dream.

"Ouch," I said out loud, half-aware no one was there to listen to me.

Where's Michelle?

I got up and picked up the picture frame I had knocked off the table with my fall.

Nice picture, I thought grimly. It was indeed a nice picture. A picture that came from the good times, before all of this, before jail. It was a picture of Michelle I had taken on one of our trips. This one was in Italy. She was reading and I told her to smile for the camera but she argued, saying she wasn't photogenic.

"Oh come on! If you're not photogenic, then I'm hideous."

She laughed at that. "Maybe you are. No, seriously. I hate pictures."

I put down the camera and went onto my knees. "Michelle Dessler, will you marry me?"

"Um sorry. I'm already married. My husband is coming home soon."

"Husband, schmusband. I bet he can't even cook!"

"He does, he cooks so well! Even better than me."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh yeah. That's so hard to beat."

She punched me in the arm. "Mr. Almeida! That is so rude. As if I have not been trying every single day of my life to cook one decent meal!"

"That what I'm here for, honey."

She gave me the 'dazzling, lovable Michelle Dessler Almeida' smile. "Nice try."

"Fine. Can I take a picture of you then?"

"I told you already, I'm…"

"You broke my heart already. The least you could do is let me take a picture!"

She sighed. "Fine. But this isn't a free for all. It'll be payback time soon."

Click.

Payback time turned out to be not so bad (I'll skip the details).

I put down the picture on the table and hoisted myself back onto the sofa. All night, I couldn't sleep in the too silent and empty house.

The good times.

They were a long time from now and who knew when they would come be again?

B – Month 1: Crash

MICHELLE

"Michelle, this is so good! I cannot believe you finally learnt how to cook!"

I smiled at my friend Amber. "I had a lot of free time on my hands."

Amber laughed. "So you finally gave in to the cooking gods…"

"Yeah, it kind of became a necessity. When Tony went to jail…"

There was an awkward silence. We both stood up to put the dishes in the dishwasher. I sighed. "I didn't even get to show off for him. I know he would have been glad. Well, at least the old him."

Amber took my hand in hers and smiled sadly. "You know you're always welcome here."

Damn, don't make it so hard for me. I'd love to stay but we both know it's time I get a new place to stay. To stay ALONE.

"Thanks Amber. I just need time to think, to start anew."

"Suit yourself." She yawned. "I'm going to bed. Good night."

She gave me a peck on the cheek and walked to her room, shutting the door behind her. For a moment, I stayed alone, not knowing what the future held for me.

Half of me hoped it was a new life, away from my past, away from Tony. The other half of me hoped Tony would come storming through the door and take me home.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the front door.

Oh my god.

I could hear Amber groaning and starting to get up. "I'll get it Amber." She mumbled a thanks.

I took a deep breath and walked towards the door.

"Oh hello. Is Amber there?"

I tried to say something but the words wouldn't come out. Finally, I let out a small reply. "She's sleeping."

The old woman in front of me looked at me, confused. "Oh. It's alright. I just wanted to give her back the Tupperware. She made these cookies and oh my…"

Bam. I shut the door. Then, I regretted it so I opened the door and apologised thoroughly to the poor lady for closing the door in her face. Fortunately, she was a very nice woman so she smiled and continued her speech about 'delicious cookies' and 'scrumptious brownies' as if I hadn't just slammed the door, interrupting our 'conversation', a few seconds ago. I smiled weakly and nodded every fifteen seconds so she would get the impression I was listening. Eventually, she got tired and shook my hand telling me I was 'a lovely lady' and that Amber was 'such a lucky girl' to have me. I thanked her but I didn't go back into the apartment until she was safely into hers. I stood there for several minutes, feeling embarrassed for my earlier assumptions of who was at the door even though I hadn't told anyone about them.

"Michelle?"

I turned around and pointed at the Tupperware. "Um your Tupperware… The lady… Cookies…"

Amber took me in her arms. "Shh…"

I started to cry. "I just thought… Oh my god, I'm so stupid. I don't know why…"

"It's okay sweetie." She held me hard, as if she was afraid I would crumple to the floor should she let me go. I sobbed onto her shoulder.

"I love him so much! I want to go back! I just wish he would come and get me and…"

"Michelle," she said sternly. "You are not going back."

I looked at her, surprised. From my three closest friends, Amber had been the most supportive. Cady had started hating Tony's guts the day I moved out and Val didn't even know him.

She sighed. "I know, I know… Tony is a nice guy. Hey, he's a wonderful guy. I wish I could meet someone like him. But you guys need time apart. And you shouldn't be the one running after him."

I nodded silently.

"Michelle, you're a wonderful woman. You're strong, you're smart, you're beautiful. That's why I know you'll get out of this. Everything is going to be alright."

Everything is going to be alright.

But when?

TONY

On my left side there was the ad section of the newspaper. On my right side there was the kitchen. (Kitchen  Fridge  Beer) If you ask me, I was in a pretty tight spot. If I took the newspaper to try and find a job (notice how I say 'try'), it would be a step towards recovery but it would be torture. (And who said I would get the job anyways?) But, if I went to the kitchen to get a beer, I would start feeling guilty and be right back where I started: alone.

So, what I did was scan the newspaper while drinking a beer.

Almeida, you are a genius.

Genius, yeah. Then, why did I still feel guilty?

I sighed and looked at the ads wearily. Most of them were jobs I wouldn't even have thought about when I was still working for CTU.

Need dishwashers. Good pay. Contact Sam, Gazpacho Andaluz. 516-7890.

Um, no.

Seeking bartenders. La Sienna. 18+. 500 a week (non-negotiable). 326-0495.

Hmm… Does this include free drinks?

Experienced salesrep. Must have High School Degree. $1000/week. Mrs. Andrea Martin: 342-9803.

Aha. This doesn't look too bad.

I put down my beer reluctantly and picked up the phone. 3-4-2-9-8-0-3.

After a few rings, someone picked up. "Mrs. Martin's office. How can I help you?"

"Um hi. It's about the ad. For the job."

"Of course. Do you have a high school degree?"

Yes and I also have a master's degree. "Yes."

"I'll schedule you an appointment. When is it better for you?"

"As soon as possible."

"Alright, I have a spot at two pm. Your name…"

"Anthony Almeida."

"Okay, Mister Almeida. We'll be expecting you at two. Have your resume ready."

"Thank you."

I hung up, unsure of my feelings. Was this good? Was this bad?

The rest of the day passed very slowly. A knot had formed itself in my stomach. I was obviously stressed out. This was my first 'outing'.

At one forty, something dawned on me.

"Have your resume ready."

Oh shit.

It wasn't the fact my resume wasn't ready: I could easily do it in a few minutes. It was what I would have to write on it.

Criminal charges… Oh yes. I was arrested for treason about 8 months ago.

I almost didn't write it. But, then again, it wasn't like I had just stolen a car when I was sixteen. It was TREASON. TRAITOR TO THIS COUNTRY. They would surely find out one day or another and I certainly didn't need more trouble. So I wrote it.

They probably don't even care.

They did.

At two o'clock sharp, I arrived at Mrs. Martin's office. Her secretary Gracie smiled at me and made me enter right away. It was weird being smiled at: I hadn't seen a smile for a long time.

Mrs. Martin was on the phone.

"Yes." Pause. "Absolutely." Pause. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it." Pause. "Yes, the same to you. Bye." She hung up. "You must be Mr. Almeida! Please sit down."

I sat down, looking around the office. I spotted a picture of two little girls.

"My daughters," she said.

I smiled. "They are very pretty."

"So everyone says. Do you have any children, Mr. Almeida?"

I looked at her, startled. "Um no."

"Don't have any. 'Cause your spouse can use it as ammunition against you."

"Of course, I… I understand."

"No, you don't," she said.

Hey lady. You think YOU have spouse problems? You haven't seen me.

She must have sensed my displeasure because she changed the subject. "So you're here for the job."

"Yes."

She eyed me suspiciously. "And have you read all the requirements?"

"Er yes. High School diploma. That's all, no?"

"Yes. And you do have your High School diploma?"

"Of course! I even have my master's degree!"

That shut her up. "I… I'm sorry. You just don't look like the master's degree type. And, if you have a master's degree, why the hell do you want a job here?"

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"I'd like to see your resume, then."

I handed her the yellow folder I have been carrying with me. She took and thumbed through it, obviously impressed.

"Marines… Bachelor's degree… Master's degree… Special Agent in charge, Counter Terrorist Unit… Mr. Almeida, this is very impressive." She continued reading. "I ask you again, if you have your master's deg…" She stopped in mid-sentence.

So she found it.

I almost thought she would just brush it off and hire me on the spot. I really thought it wouldn't matter. But it did.

She shut the folder slowly. "Well."

Well…

I was sick and tired of all this treason shit so I spoke up. "Listen Mrs. Martin. This isn't a government position. I've been pardoned. My wife left me. How am I supposed to live?"

"That's your problem." She handed me back the folder.

My problem? "I've been serving this country for 8 years. People don't just switch sides like that. Don't you even want to hear what happened?"

"I don't really care. Now I'll have to ask you to leave my office. Now."

I pushed back the chair I was sitting on. "Thank you for your time, Mrs. Martin."

But both she and I knew I didn't mean it one bit.

C – Month 2: A new beginning

MICHELLE

Almost. Almoooost…

I boosted myself up on the chair.

Come on… Ah.

I looked at the picture frame, satisfied. Smiling, I got down from the chair.

Home sweet home.

Home? I had put up all my pictures, I had made the apartment as cozy as possible and it still didn't feel like home. 'Home is where the heart is'. My heart wasn't here.

Stop it with your wallowing, Michelle. Get a grip!

I pushed back the chair, settled on the couch and turned on the TV but I couldn't concentrate. I was still confused about a lot of things. Deciding a walk would help me clear my head, I turned the TV off and headed out.

Outside, the sky was grey and it was wet all over (it had just stopped raining). It reminded of an old hippies song. Something about All the Leaves Are Brown and The Sky is Grey.

Ah yes. The Mammas and The Papas.

After a while, I arrived at a park. I walked to a bench and sat down, shutting my eyes.

Such calmness.

When I opened my eyes again, I saw a little girl running after a ball. She ran, she ran, she ran… Into the street. And what should have happened happened. She got hit by a car.

I shook myself to see if I was dreaming… and I was. I guess I must have dozed off for a while. But, looking around me, I felt different. As if there really had been a little girl. I looked in front of me and I saw. I saw a city that had once been my paradise but that now held no more but old memories I wanted to forget. I saw a building that had now become my home, a lonely home where no one was waiting for me after work (could I even call it home?). I saw a window that came from my apartment, a window I would look from every morning and wish everything had been different. I saw a picture through the window, a picture I had hung up a few minutes ago of a person that had long been forgotten.

I miss you Ma.

And what could I do but miss her? I couldn't bring her back just like I couldn't bring Tony back. Tony was right here in LA but Tony Tony was gone.

It started getting dark so I went home. When I arrived, I flopped onto the couch, not bothering to eat. I switched the TV on again, surfing the channels in order to find something interesting. On channel 54, they were showing Moulin Rouge, one of my favourite movies. Ewan McGregor was trying to woo Nicole Kidman.

"Love is like oxygen! Love is a many splendid things! Love lifts us up where we belong! All you need is love!"

You're wrong. Love sometimes isn't enough. What else could explain me watching TV alone on a Friday night?

TONY

It hit me like a oncoming truck. It left me breathless, shocked, miserable. It made me lose my appetite and my sleep. But, the fact was, I had suspected it for a while.

She wasn't coming back.

And that wasn't all. Life was getting worse for me every day: I still hadn't found a job, it now took me a week to finish a pack of beer ALONE, I hadn't spoken to anyone (excluding the cashier at the supermarket) since the infamous interview for the salesrep job, I barely ate (an orange for breakfast, no lunch and take-out for supper) and I slept maximum 5 hours each night.

For the past week, a little voice in my head was shouting at me.

Wake up Almeida! She isn't coming back. You have to move on.

But how could I move on? How could I leave all of… this behind? And where would I start?

Easy. Start by getting a job.

A job, a job. Everyone had been bugging me since I got out of jail. 'Get a job, Tony.' 'Do something with your life, Tony.' 'Don't sit around doing nothing, Tony.' Honestly, until now, I didn't really want to get a job back. Money wasn't a problem; I had a lot of savings. Besides, CTU was my job. If I couldn't go to work there, fine: I wouldn't work at all. But, now, things were getting out of hand.

I picked up the newspaper and flipped right to the ad page.

Looking for trustworthy baby-sitter. Two children. 15, male/female. 679-2035.

No way.

On a job hunt? Mr. James is looking for friendly, experienced, female secretary. 390-2304.

Friendly? No. Experienced secretary? No. Female? NO.

Need dishwashers. Good pay. Contact Sam, Gazpacho Andaluz. 516-7890.

A month ago, I didn't even think this was a possibility. But, a year ago, I wouldn't have been searching in for a job in the first place. Maybe this was where I had to start: at the bottom of the ladder. Even though this was a pretty low bottom.

I looked at the ad again. It said 'Gazpacho Andaluz', which was a restaurant twenty minutes by walk from her. Instead of calling, I decided to go there directly. I highly doubted they had scheduled appointments for job interviews.

Gazpacho Andaluz was a very old restaurant. I remembered coming here when we first moved to LA. I was 12 years old. At the time, it was very popular and colourful. The people working there were friendly and laughed a lot. It took a lot of time to get our food but we didn't really care. Now, though, you could call it a lucky night if they got five clients. The inside wasn't very well kept and had become just plain ugly. The people who used to work there: 1- Were dead, 2- Had retired, 3- Changed job or 4- Still worked there but weren't really friendly anymore. Most of them were option 1, 2 and a couple of them were 3. Option 4 was only true for one person: Concha. I once brought my parents back here and when we said hi to Concha, she gave us a very cold look and ignored us. Talk about grumpy!

As I entered the restaurant, I prayed that Concha wasn't here today. Fortunately for me, she wasn't (turns out she died too). There was another Spanish woman I didn't know.

"Buenos Dias," I said.

She eyed me. "What do you want?"

"I'm here for the job."

"You?" She laughed. "Why would a esnob like you want a job here?"

"Do you need someone for the job or not?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just go in the back and get started."

I was surprised. "You don't want to see my resume?"

"Resume? For a dishwashing job? Are you sure you're at the right place?"

"Yes."

"I don't want to see your resume. I don't need to see your resume. Pff… Resume. We aren't at the Ritz Carlton, muchacho. I don't care if you're a murderer or the President of the United States. Just wash the dishes. That's it, that's all." She tossed me a rag. "Go!"

I looked at the rag and headed to the back. My new life as a dishwasher was beginning. Who knew where it would bring me?

D – Month 3: Friendly encounters

TONY

"Hi Lena."

The 15 year-old girl flashed me a big smile. "Hola Tony!"

Lena and I worked at Gazpacho Andaluz. We both were dishwashers but for different reasons. I worked here because I had nowhere better to go. She worked here because she needed the money for her family. It was sad though because our pay was very low: 13 $ a day if there were clients (which there weren't often). Lena was worried that the restaurant would close. If it did, she would have to find another job. I knew it would close within the next month but didn't say anything to her. Since the restaurant rarely had clients, there were rarely any dishes to wash so we talked instead. Talked about everything. At first, I think she was a bit afraid of me. It took me three weeks to convince her it was okay to just call me 'Tony'. She told me about her family: how her dad left her mom when she was pregnant, how her mom had to work as an exotic dancer and had gotten pregnant when her boss had raped her. The typical Spanish soap opera drama. Only now it was real. The proof was standing right in front of me, telling me about the A she got in English this term. Having heard all her stories, I felt indebted to her so I told her about my whole life: my childhood, my school years, my years at CTU. Even my journey in prison, which I hadn't told anyone about. The parts she loved the most to hear about were about, guess who… Michelle of course. I seldom talked about her but when I did, you could see Lena was pleased. And, as opposed to what my other friends would have kept on telling me if I had spoken to them, she didn't trash her at all. She just said she understood both of us. 'How can you understand two people who have two completely different point of views?' I had asked, a bit angry. 'You have the same point of views. Only about different people. Give it time,' was all she said. Sometimes I wondered how a fifteen year-old could be much more mature than half the adults I knew. Then again, most of the adults I know haven't been through as much as Lena has.

I yawned. "Any clients hoy?"

"Da Vinci solamente. He's drinking a coffee and flirting with Sam."

Another thing we did was nickname the clients and watch them. For example, Da Vinci was the nickname an elderly man that reminded it us both of the painter. He often flirted with Samantha, the restaurant's owner. Unfortunately for him, she didn't return his affections.

"Is she flirting back?"

"What do you think? Of course not."

"Poor guy." I settled down on the counter. "So, Lena, what's up?"

She beamed. I could tell something was up. "Remember the scholarship I applied for three weeks ago?"

"Yes…"

"I got it!"

"No! Really?"

"Si! I can't believe it!"

"Congratulations! So what happens now?"

She grew serious. "I'm going to quit the job here."

I felt my smile fading but I kept it on my face. "Oh. Okay! That's good, no?"

"I don't know… I mean, Mama has a new job and Simón is starting school soon so that's okay but…"

Don't say it, Lena. Please don't say it. "But…"

"What about you?"

"I'll manage. It isn't as if we have too many dishes to wash." I laughed but it sounded fake.

"I know about that but… What if the restaurant closes?"

"I'll lose my job. It won't be a big loss. I have enough dinero to last awhile."

"It's not the dinero. Listen, Tony, get a new job. You have the potential…"

"I also have the criminal record," I said sharply.

"There are many jobs you could do. You can't let one stupid woman's words affect you. Who was she to refuse you, with her stupid family problems?"

"Mrs. Martin was the only one to refuse me because she was the only one I went to see. Do you think if I go see all the employers in LA, they'll give me a job? No. No one wants a traitor in their business."

"You are not traitor, god damn it! Will you stop it?" She paused and looked at me in the eye. "I'm leaving tomorrow."

I lowered my gaze.

"Look at me Tony!"

When I looked up, my eyes were damp. "What am I going to do?"

She walked towards me and hugged me. It felt strange having a teenager console me. "Tony Almeida, you are one hell of a man. There are so many things you can do. Promise me you'll do something with your life other than moping around the house after I leave."

I nodded but I knew I wouldn't do anything.

The next day, I quit and, a few weeks later, Gazpacho Andaluz closed down.

MICHELLE

I was in the middle of opening the door of my office when my phone rang.

"Michelle Dessler."

"Mrs. Dessler. Mr. Thompson's replacement is here."

"Thank you Cindy." I hung up the phone and walked back towards the entrance of the office. Imagine my surprise when I saw my 'dear friend', William 'Bill' Buchanan. In fact, he looked just as surprised as I was.

"Michelle?"

"Bill! What a surprise! Got sick of Seattle?"

He chuckled. "No, I got a promotion."

"Well, congratulations." I smiled at him and held out my hand. He looked at it and shook it slowly.

"At what time is lunch?"

"You've just arrived and you're already thinking about lunch?"

We both laughed. "No. I was just thinking you could maybe join me for lunch." Seeing my disapproval, he quickly added, "Just lunch. Don't get me wrong."

I looked at him sceptically. It had been three months Tony and I were separated but, the truth was, I wasn't too keen about replacing him right now. Or ever, to think of it.

"We'll be in the cafeteria and if I try anything, you can scream and I'll be arrested for sexual assault, okay?"

I smiled, still unsure. "Alright."

"No! She said that?"

"Yeah. She literally looked at me and spitted it at me. 'I've decided something Bill: You're not my type.'"

"And she waited four months to tell you that?"

"Uh huh."

"Ouch. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. She wasn't worth it. I'm actually glad it happened."

I nibbled at my salad. "Food sucks here."

"I agree. Hey, listen, what are you doing this weekend? I mean, only if you want…"

"No, Bill," I cut him off. "I'm sorry but… no."

"Oh. Okay." He smiled at me, obviously hurt.

I'm so sorry Bill. I just… can't.

I arrived at my apartment at nine PM. I was drained, I was upset and I was hungry so I did the only thing that could relax me these days: I cooked. To think that, a year ago, I was too frightened to even approach a pan.

I looked in my fridge and settled for a bruschetta, not wanting to eat too heavy before going to bed.

Chop, chop, chop. Mix, mix, mix. Toast the baguette. Put the tomato salad on the bread and tada! Finito!

I looked at my piece of art, very proud. Then, I sat down and started eating.

Haha! Not only is it beautiful, it's also very good!

When I was finished, I felt content. Content but not happy.

Maybe I should have said yes to Bill…

'Get real Michelle.' I looked at the empty plate next to me.

Empty. Just like me.

E – Month 4: Friends forgotten

MICHELLE

"Michelle Dessler!" shrieked Cady. "You are a naughty girl! It's been so long!"

I laughed. "I know, I know. Now, can I come in? My arms are full of gifts FOR you…"

"Oh my god, oh my god. I'm so sorry." She opened the door and took the three-quarters of my bags. I didn't even object; that's how exhausted I was.

I entered Cady's apartment.

So neat, yet so eccentric.

Just like Cady.

"Hi Chelle."

I turned my head towards the soft voice. "Hey Val!"

The three of us entered the kitchen where Amber was chopping the vegetables.

"Hello Amber. Long time no see."

"Ah! You've arrived!" She started motioning to Cady, still holding her big knife. "Did you guys know Michelle is now a professional gourmet chef?"

"Nooo!" Cady looked at me with big eyes and grabbed a piece of chopped fennel from Amber's plate.

Amber didn't let me answer. "Yes madam! She even made me poulet aux marrons."

Cady grabbed another piece of fennel. "I cannot believe this! Chelle, what happened to you?"

"She took courses. Hey! Don't touch my fennel!"

Cady ignored Amber. "I want to see this for myself. Michelle, I want you to cook for us tonight."

"But I was supposed to…"

"Shut up Amber."

I rolled my eyes. "Fine, fine. But I will need Amber's help." Amber stuck her tongue out at Cady.

Out of nowhere, Val said, "I think I need a drink."

The three of us looked at each other surprised then, at Val. "What?" Val never said 'I think I need a drink.' Val seldom drank.

Amber gave me a knowing look, as if to say 'Something's going on. We'll talk later.' I shrugged and poured four glasses of Porto.

The cooking went pretty well. Cady oohed and aahed over my progress and kept on stealing pieces of fennel. Amber kept on saying 'I told you so' and 'Don't touch my fennel!'. Val poured herself glass after glass of alcohol until we stopped her. And I, well… For the first time in months, I actually was having fun doing something. Who would have thought Michelle Dessler would one day enjoy cooking?

The dinner went smoothly. We barely talked, saving it for later. Finally, when all the plates where cleared, Cady came back with four martinis for the annual toast.

"I go first, I go first!"

We all sighed in a exaggerated manner. "Yes Cady."

"Okay, okay. Here it goes." She cleared her throat. "I, Cady Robinson,…"

"FULL NAME!"

"Fine, fine. I, Cassandra Robinson, propose a toast to my upcoming book…" She smiled at us mischievously while we all gasped.

"But… Cady! When?" Amber asked. We all knew Cady was writing a book. Now it was getting published!

She grinned. "My dear friends, let's welcome Time and time again by C. Robinson coming this November!"

We all clapped and cheered until Cady told us to shut up. "I have not finished my toast. I, Cassandra Robinson, propose a toast to my upcoming book, Time and time again. I would also like to thank my father, George Robinson for leaving this world when I was five and leaving my brother and I to my cruel mother, Alessandra Robinson, and her hideous boyfriend, Bob. Thanks a lot Dad!" She gulped down her martini.

We didn't blame her for hating her dad for dying. Her mom was VERY cruel indeed and Bob was… no comment.

Cady smiled and looked at Amber. "Your turn…"

"Okay! Hmm… Let me think… Okay. I, Amber Greshner, propose a toast to my boss, Mr. Di Ruocco, for firing me! Thank you, Mr. Di Ruocco, for screwing me then screwing me over! We all love you SO much!" She swallowed her Martini in a shot then nodded to Val.

Val looked much more relaxed than usual. She was the youngest one of us. She was 22, Cady was 29, I was 32 and Amber came last: 41. Val still lived at her parents house (or so we thought) and they were very strict catholic preachers. She always defended them when we said something bad about them but we all knew her biggest dream was to leave the house: she just didn't have the guts.

"Alright," she said. "I, Valerie Darcy, propose a toast to mummy and daddy dearest. Thank you, my dear parents, for kicking me out of the house because you finally found out I slept with my boyfriend! Oh my, what a crime!"

We stared at her, shocked. For a moment, none of us said anything. After a moment, I spoke up. "Val, we had no idea… When?"

"This morning." She smiled sadly. "I still love them and all but they hate me. I think it's better like this." She drank her martini.

They all stared at me.

"Me? Okay. Here it goes. I, Michelle Dessler, propose a toast to my husband, Anthony Almeida. Thanks, sweetheart, for going to jail for me but you know what? I think it would have been much better if I died. Thanks honey, I love you lots!" I put down my martini, not even taking a drop.

Cady was the first to speak. "He's a fucking bastard Michelle. Now drink up."

Still, I didn't touch my martini. "It's okay. Let's just get this over with."

We did the final toast, none of us really meaning it. "We propose a toast to the Sunday morning yoga class (as that was where we all met for the first time, two and a half years ago) and to its sticky blue mattresses. Amen."

For a while, I felt guilty about ruining the whole ambiance. But, then, Cady started singing an old Madonna's song. Then she said, "I think we're drunk."

"Correction," said Amber. "You only are drunk."

That did not make me happy. "No fair! I am drunk too!"

"Hear, hear! Me too!"

Amber sighed. "I guess that makes me the only non-drunk here…"

We three drunk ones whistled and cheered.

Amber continued. "This means I will have to take care of you guys. So we all sleep here!"

"YAY!" (Yes, we were really that drunk)

It took us about an hour getting ready for bed (we laughed too much). Cady and Val slept in Cady's bed (Amber and I insisted), Amber slept on the couch and I slept in the guest bedroom. We were four in the same apartment but never had a night felt so lonely.

TONY

Life after Gazpacho Andaluz was the same as it was before it. I went back to eating one and a half meal per day, sleeping 5 hours per night, zero communication with anyone but I did drink a bit less, which was an improvement.

A few weeks later, I received a letter from Lena.

Tony!

How are you? I'm fine but I miss our chats… Over here, things are fine. Mama got a promotion! She now waits tables instead of just washing the dishes! Turns out the boss likes her… a lot. I hope he will treat her well, not like that bruto Jim. Simón just started school. He's having a bit of trouble with the big bullies but I'm always there to protect him.

I love school. I'm learning a lot and I've made a lot of friends. I met another española. Her name is Juanita. She's very nice but stupid. I know, it's not nice but it's true! And the thing is, she works so hard. So I'm going to help her with her schoolwork.

There's a boy. His name is Charles. He is English. He's very nice. Oh, what the hell, that's a lie. He's not very nice. He's so incredibly nice and very lindo. I like him a lot. As in like like. And guess what? He asked me out to a party! And do you know what happened? I said no because Mama would not like it and he said 'Okay, I understand. How about we just hang out at your house? I'll promise I'll behave!'. Then he gave the most dazzling smile. Of course, I said yes. I think I'm in love.

But the bad part is he's kind of popular. So these stupid girls always look at me very coldly. They look down at me and say I don't belong. Once, I ran into one of them. Right away, I said sorry but she looked at me and said: 'Ugh.' I wasn't even hurt because I know she's so stupid but I was so disgustada. Who the hell does she think she is?

Oh yes! Remember when I made you listen to Nelly and you said it was crappy música? And then you told me to listen to Pink Floyd? I did and I really liked it! You were right: Nelly is crappy música.

I told Mama a bit about you and already she likes you. Maybe we can come and visit one day. If you want. How about you? How are you doing? Has Gazpacho Andaluz closed yet? Do you have a new job? How's it going with your love life? (you don't have to tell me if you don't want to…)

I miss you lots!

Love, Lena

PS: Write back to me if you can!

I really, really wanted to write back to Lena. But, the thing was, I wasn't motivated and didn't have any inspiration. I reread the letter three times before folding it and putting it in my office drawer.

During the past month, I hadn't really been motivated about anything. The phone rang once in a while but I never answered it. I usually just unplugged it. Once, the phone rang and I was too lazy to unplug it so it carried onto the answer machine.

"Hi," had said Michelle's pre-recorded voice (I still hadn't changed the answering machine). "You've reached Tony and Michelle. We're unavailable for the moment or we're just plain lazy and will not answer the phone. So, please leave a message and your number and if we feel like it, we might just call you back. Thanks!"

"Tony?"

Oh shit. What do you want now?

"Listen Tony, it's Jack. I've been calling you non-stop. Chloe told me you and Michelle separated. I know it's hard for you but…"

I picked up the phone and yelled, "SHUT THE FUCK UP, JACK! MY LIFE IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!" and I hung up.

Pointless to say, he didn't call me again after that. Now that I thought of it, it probably wasn't such a good idea. After all, he was the one who got me out of jail. Yes, technically, he's also the one who got me INTO jail but we all know I would have gotten caught anyways.

At that moment, I decided to call him. Whether I was motivated about it or not, I would pick up the phone to call and apologise. So that's just what I did. Only, when I was waiting for him to answer, I started getting doubts. What if he didn't want to speak to me? What if it was too late to say sorry? What if he was dead?

"Hi. You've reached Jack. I'm currently unavailable. Please leave your name, your number and your message and I'll call you back as soon as possible. Thank you."

Oof. I won't have to talk to him so if he's angry, he won't blast me in my face. And, hopefully, he's not dead.

"Hi Jack. It's Tony. I know I really blasted you the other day and I'm very sorry. I was just going through a rough period. I hope you're doing well. Also, I didn't really get a chance to thank you for getting me out of jail. Well, uh, thanks. I owe you. So, if ever you need help for anything, you can call me on my cell. Oh, and Jack, I would rather you don't call back when you receive this message. I mean, unless you need help for something or you're in a life threatening situation. If not, please don't call back. I have a lot of things to take care of. Anyways, take care."

Well. That was a pretty long message.

I hung up feeling a whole lot better. Then, I decided to call my parents. It had been too long since I'd last spoken to them.

F – Month 5: Unexpected

TONY

Yes.

No.

Yes.

No.

Yes.

No.

YES.

Fine, fine. But if she's there, I'm running for it.

It was almost sure she was going to be there. Still, I had to go. I mean, this was the funeral of someone I knew very well! I couldn't just not go. I had to at least go and offer my condolences.

Very unwillingly, I got out of bed and got dressed. Within fifteen minutes, I was in the car, still debating whether I should go or not. Finally, I turned on the car and headed towards the church.

Man, is she that popular? I though as I saw many people enter the church.

Then, I saw her. Michelle Dessler that I hadn't seen for five months. Michelle Dessler I desperately wanted back in my life. Michelle Dessler I loved to death. I quickly picked up my newspaper and hid behind it. I stayed there a good fifteen minutes before throwing it back on the car seat and driving away.

I have never felt as cowardly in my whole life.

MICHELLE

"This is not a time to mourn but to remember the good times. This is not a time to cry but to smile. Cassandra will rest forever…"

Yadda, yadda, yadda.

I felt like getting up and smacking the priest but it didn't seem like the right thing to do. So I didn't.

So much had happened in the last year. The virus, Tony's imprisonment, his release, the separation… I didn't think anything worse could happen. But it did.

I glanced at Amber and Val on my right side. Amber was staring straight ahead with a look of sadness in her eyes and Val was crying on her shoulder. Suddenly, I started laughing.

This is too funny. We didn't even see it coming. Haha! The foursome rules! Amber just got fired, Val got kicked out from her house, I almost died twice in the same day eight months ago before my husband got kicked into jail then came out so I could leave him and Cady is… dead. She didn't even get her stupid book published. Life is shit.

Everyone looked at me. Alessandra Robinson sent daggers with her eyes.

Here's to fucking you, Mrs. Robinson! Bitch.

Only Amber looked at me sadly and Val, with surprise. I excused myself quietly and then left the church.

Outside, it was still raining. Big, fat droplets splattered the streets, the roofs, the sidewalks, the cars, the windows. I briefly thought of my hair, knowing it would frizz up even more. Several cars passed. I noted some of the faces looked sad as they passed the church. For a moment, I almost hurled myself in front of a passing car but I finally decided against it. After waiting a couple of minutes, I decided to head home before I did something stupid. I knew Amber and Val would understand my hurried departure and I certainly did not need to explain anything to Cady's mother.

G – Month 6: That's it

TONY

Finally, things were under control. Life was getting much better. My parents had come and visited me two weeks ago. We talked a lot, mostly argued, and my mom did cry a few times but we did sort out our things. I was barely drinking anymore. Jack had left me a message, to tell me he was glad I had called and I was okay. Lena wrote me another letter: Her mother got fired, Simón got a gold star in school for his achievements, Charles was still just as sweet and cute, the girls were just as stupid, Juanita wasn't doing much better (but she was still at school so that was good) and she, Lena, was still as much in love and had gotten her first A! I still couldn't bring myself to write back but I knew it would come eventually.

Yes, life was good. But there still was one thing missing. And I had every intention of getting it back. I picked up our pink phone book and looked for Amber's name.

Graziano, Cecilia… Gracie, Leo… Greshner, Amber. – 769-2340

I hurriedly dialled the number and waited.

"Hello?" said a tired voice.

"Hi Amber. It's Tony Almeida."

That seemed to wake her up. "Tony. Hi."

"I'm sorry to bother you. Listen, is Michelle still living with you?"

"No. She got her own place."

Her own place. Alone. Without me.

"Oh. Right. Well, I'd like to call her. If it's okay with you, could you give me her number?"

She paused. "Okay. Do you have a piece of paper?"

"Yeah."

"859-3049. Tony, she might not be ho…"

"Thanks a lot Amber. I have to go. Bye!"

I pressed on END.

"She got her own place."

Did she consider it home? Did she even miss me? I pressed on TALK and dialled the number without even looking at the paper.

"Hi. You're reached Michelle."

"Hi. You've reached Tony and Michelle."

"I'm currently unavailable."

"We're unavailable for the moment or we're just plain lazy and will not answer the phone."

"Please leave your name and number. I'll call you back as soon as possible. Thank you."

"So, please leave a message and your number and if we feel like it, we might just call you back. Thanks!"

Where do I start?

"Michelle. Um, hi would be a nice way to start…"

MICHELLE

I looked at Amber.

Obvious bluff.

"You're bluffing," I said.

She arched her eyebrow. "Humph. What do you know? I am so not bluffing."

"Riiiiiight. Just surrender. You know I'm beating you."

Dring, dring! "One moment, I have to go get the phone! You better not cheat!"

"Ha! The phone! What a lame excuse! You're just chicken 'cause you know you're dead!"

I settled down in my chair and put down my cards. I heard Amber yawning and saying 'Hello?'. Right after, she came back with a grin on her face, with a look that said 'I know you're trying to cheat!'. Soon, though, her look changed. Then, she said, "Tony. Hi."

Tony. Your Tony is calling. After six months, he calls.

Amber looked at me with a weary look. "No. She got her own place."

Why did you tell him that? Now, he thinks I don't spend every night tossing and turning in my bed while thinking of him. But I knew it was the only thing she could say.

Suddenly, she started making frantic movements at me to get my attention. I looked at her and mouthed 'What?'. She pointed at me and said 'Phone number.' I didn't really understand so I nodded. Then, she said, "Okay. Do you have a piece of paper?" and I realised what she meant.

"859-3049."

Oh shit. He's calling my house.

I must have looked totally freaked because Amber started saying, "Tony, she might not be home." But, as she hung up, I knew he hadn't heard a word she just said.

Which is why I had to do something about this.

I grabbed the phone from Amber and dialled the too-familiar number.

Monty, please help Tony! Monty, please get Tony out of jail! Monty, why isn't he out of jail yet? Monty, Monty, Monty!

"Hello? Monty, it's Michelle."

"Hi Michelle! I'm glad to hear from you! How are you and Tony?"

"Not too good. That's why I called you."