The following takes place between seasons 3 and 4 (right after Chapter 5 – The not-so-Absolute Truth). Events do not occur in real time.

A DAY IN THE LIFEThe Beatles

Chapter 8 – You've Got Mail

You've Got Mail, 1998 – Starring Reiko Aylesworth as a thanksgiving guest (not a very career defining role but who cares?)

A- A day in Tony's life

Five days before, I had called Michelle and she still hadn't given sign of life. Four days before, I had found out Lena's mother was sick. Three days before, my parents had visited me and it ended with a fight. Two days before, I had finished the beer and the stores were closed because of STUPID President's Day (who the hell closes for President's Day?). A day before, my car had broken down on the way to the now-open stores. I just thought I had had enough bad luck for a long time.

That was before today.

As you know, since I left Gazpacho Andaluz, I never really had outside contact with anyone except Lena, which was why checking the mailbox was a new 'hobby' for me (sad but true). Lena's frequent letters were often followed by bills, more bills, even more bills and, sometimes but rarely, letters from long lost friends who were congratulating me on getting out of prison, a bit late but better now than never.

Though it wasn't really something to be congratulated about.

That very fateful day though, there was nothing in the mailbox. Nothing at all. Not even a tacky get well card from my sister's childhood friend Dakota I could get a laugh out of (I don't know why but she was always sending me these cards with these very cheesy messages like 'Smile bright 'cause the bugs could bite!' or 'I love you more than a big ice cream cone'. I don't want to be vain or anything (not that it's anything to be proud of…) but I highly suspect she has had a major crush on me since we met… fifteen years ago).

Dejected, I was about to go back inside when the mailman, who was passing, called out to me.

"Hey Tony!"

I turned around. "Oh. Hey Jerry."

"Guess what? I've got some mail for you!"

I felt a glimmer of hope. "Yeah?"

"Uh huh. Big yellow envelope. From your secret girlfriend?"

Whenever Jerry made these wisecracks remarks, I got very angry but, this time, for an unknown reason, I just smiled and said, "Nah. Must be from my pen pal."

"Pen pal, girl friend, secretary… Same difference. Anyways, here you go." He reached into his big bag and tossed me a big envelope. "Oh yeah. Another small letter for you too." He held out a small white envelope.

"Thanks," I said.

I went back inside the house, closing the door behind me. I looked at the little envelope. On the upper right corner, it was written Lena Marquez.

I frowned.

Wait a minute… If this is from Lena, what is in the big envelope?

When Jerry gave me the yellow package, I thought it might be Lena sending in one of her projects (graded 'A' as usual). But I highly doubted she would send two different packages. Plus the writing on the other one was different.

I hurriedly opened Lena's letter first. It was scribbled on a loose-leaf sheet of paper.

Tony.

Mama is getting worse. I didn't think cancer went this fast. The thing is, I think she deserves it. I must be the world's worst hija but I don't care anymore. I'm serious. Since Simón's birth, she's been acting more and more stupid. She screws her bosses, she loses one job after another, she drinks like a sailor, she dresses cheap… And we're talking about my own madre here. Maybe she deserves it but I don't. We don't.

Yesterday, Simón started getting impatient. He wanted to see mama. I had to lie. Lie to my own brother about his mother's death (because we both know that there is little hope left). All while Mama was agonising in the guest bedroom (I locked the door but it's getting harder and harder to hide her). I told him she went on a trip with Danielo who, let me remind you, has disappeared from our sight since he learnt about her illness. It seems it's scaring everyone away.

I tried calling abuela but she didn't want to speak to me. Why? Because Mama didn't come for abuelo's funeral. Five fucking years ago. You'd think people would start forgiving you when you're on your death bed but I guess we live in a too proud society.

About the scaring away part, it's not just true for Mama: it's affecting my reputation at school too. Teachers never talk to me or pick me to answer a question anymore. My friends stay away from me. The stupid popular girls whisper behind my back, as if I didn't hear them. Even Charles doesn't speak to me anymore. He's a shallow imbecile.

Everyone thinks I need 'space'. That's bullshit. I need people around me, not away from me. Who do I have left? Simón solamente. And you. But I wish you would write. Are you even reading this? I need you more than ever now.

I hate mom.

I hate everyone.

I hate myself.

She didn't even bother signing. And I knew I had to write to her. After all this time, I had to let her know that I was here for her. That her letters were actually the high point of my day.

But first thing first… The other envelope.

I put down Lena's letter and opened the yellow package.

What I pulled out was a stack of paper. Like a kind of contract or something. Then my mouth dropped open. Literally.

The headline was REQUEST FOR DIVORCE.

Oh no. Oh god no. Please no.

But, whether I wanted it or not, she had sent them. The fucking divorce papers. But I would not sign them. Never, ever, ever, ever. Because Michelle was my wife. Mine only. I would never let her go.


It actually took me fifteen minutes before I did sign them. During that time, I thought about the whole thing. Even if I didn't sign them, she would still get what she wanted. She could cite all kinds of things against me and she would garner everybody's sympathy. Because, really, no one likes a traitor.

Yes, I signed the fucking papers but it did not mean I agreed. I didn't agree at all. I didn't even read the stupid requirements. I had risked all for her: my job, my life, my liberty… my marriage.

And it dawned on me. I had risked my marriage. Why was this such a surprise? I should have anticipated it. Saving Michelle meant the end of our marriage. How ironic. I had prevented the end of Michelle… but couldn't prevent the end of 'us'.

It made me so angry I threw the papers to the floor. Then, I took a paper and started writing. I wrote and wrote and wrote until my hand hurt. Then, without thinking twice, I picked up the papers and the letter and put them in the return envelope.

I couldn't bring myself to put the envelope in the mailbox. At least, not yet. This would seal my fate.

Six hours later, I had drunk myself silly. I picked up the envelope and headed outside, slamming the door behind me.

I walked to the closest mailbox, which was six blocks away. Without another thought, I threw the package in. Then, I sat down on the curb and waited.

Waited for what? I can't tell you because I have no idea. Waited for someone to come? Waited for something to happen? I don't know. All I know is that, after a few minutes, I realised something. I had put the letter in the same envelope as the divorce papers. And the letter was for Lena, not for Michelle.

Oh shit. Oh shiiiiit.

I stood up at once and tried to open the mailbox. Seeing that didn't work, I banged on it.

"FUCK! OPEN! COME ON, FUCKING MAILBOX!"

I don't know how much time the banging lasted. I just know it stopped around the time when someone opened the window and yelled 'SHUT THE FUCK UP, BUM! GO BACK TO YOUR NEIGHBOURHOOD!'.

The mailbox isn't opening. Go back home.

"Sorry," I said aloud to no one in particular. "I'm so sorry…"

I wondered what was worse: the fact that Lena would never receive my letter or that Michelle would find out how pitiful I had become.

B- A day in Michelle's life

If someone had told me Tony would sign the papers, I never would have sent them.

It's kind of ridiculous, really. I sent the divorce papers… but I really thought he wouldn't sign them. How do I explain it? Let's say you're expecting your grandmother for supper. You really don't want to see her because you know that, the whole time, she'll be nagging you. 'Why don't you have a boyfriend?' 'Stop working too much!' 'When are you going to learn how to cook and clean like a real housewife?' And you don't want to deal with that crap. At all. So you're angry and frustrated but you prepare yourself for her arrival. Then, poof! A few hours before the supper, your grandmother calls you to say she's going to play mah-jong with her friend Mary instead. And, surprising at it may seem, you feel disappointed. Maybe it's because you had prepared everything already. Maybe it's because, deep down inside, you like being fussed over. Maybe it's because, even if she is really annoying sometimes, you love your grandmother. No matter what the reason, you're disappointed and, mostly, you're hurt.

Why did I send them, then? I don't know. Maybe as a wake-up call or something. Something to push him off the couch and wake him up.

Well. My great "plan" backfired. It fucked up.

It all started when I called Monty Shapiro. Monty was our lawyer. He had stood by us during the treason case and the trials. But, as much as Monty was a good lawyer, he was greedy. He wanted money. So, when I told him about the divorce papers, he didn't hesitate. No 'Are you sure about this, Michelle?' or 'Isn't this a bit too sudden, Michelle?'. No beating around the bush. I wanted the papers, he wanted the money. That's it, that's all.

Right away, he made the arrangements. Did I want to arrange a meeting? How did I want to separate the belongings? I told him to send them by mail and that Tony could keep all the everything. I had what I needed.

So I waited. I tried to focus on other things so I wouldn't think about it too much but, in the end of the day, in bed, I would always go over my decision. It was the wrong thing to do, I knew it. And I was sure Tony would never agree. He still loved me, no?

Obviously not.

Not more than ten days after the papers were sent, Monty called me.

"Hello?"

"Hi. It's Monty Shapiro."

"Hey Monty. How are you?"

He didn't answer and the words popped out of my mouth. "He signed…"

"Yes," he said.

Damn it. DAMN IT! "Uh, that's good?" My tone wasn't very convincing but, at that point, I couldn't care less about how I sounded.

"Yes. Michelle…"

"Yeah?"

"There's something else."

My stomach plummeted. "What is it?"

"There's a letter… but it's not for you."

I started feeling very dizzy. "Wh-what?"

"I have it here. I was going to pass by tomorrow for the confirmation but-"

I closed my eyes. "Yeah. That's good. Can you bring the letter too?"

"Of course. Tomorrow, two?"

"Yes. I have to go. Thanks Monty."

I hung up and crumpled to the floor.

Now it's really over.

Monty's visit could not arrive fast enough for me. I practically had a panic attack when the clock struck two and Monty still wasn't there. At approximately 2:06 PM, my doorbell rang. I jumped up and ran to the door.

"Michelle?" came Monty's voice over the intercom.

"Yes. Come on up."

When he came up, he tried to hug me but I pulled away.

"Cut the crap Monty. Let's do this."

Monty, being Monty, understood and took out the papers.

"Okay…" he started. "So, considering Tony sent the papers right after he received them, he probably didn't read the requirements. Do you still agree with all of this? You really don't want to keep anything?"

"No."

"Alright. Just sign here and we're done."

I took the pen and twirled it between my fingers. After a while, Monty got impatient.

"Just sign it Michelle. You can't back out now!"

I figured he was right so I signed hurriedly and threw the pen on the table.

"There. Happy?" I settled down against the chair.

He nodded but he didn't smile. "I brought the letter…"

My head jerked up. "Let me see."

He sighed. "Is this a good idea, Michelle?"

Wow! That's a first! Monty Shapiro is worried about me!

"Yeah, yeah. Just let me see."

He pulled out a sheet of paper. "I don't know if this is a ploy to manipulate you or if he just wants to make you feel guilty, but don't take it seriously, okay? He's not your husband anymore, he c…"

I cut him off. "Yes. I know."

"Suit yourself." He gave me the letter.

The letter had evidently been written in a hurry. It was addressed to a certain Lena.

Lena. A girl. He had met a girl.

Bastard. No wonder he signed the papers so fast.

Lena,

I meant to write to you. I really did. I just didn't have the time. And the energy. And the will.

But something bad happened. Really bad. Michelle sent the divorce papers. It's over. At first, I didn't want to sign. But I knew I had too. What else could I do? I never thought this would happen.

I love her. And I hate her. She had no right to just leave me there. I know I pushed her away but couldn't she have given me time? I didn't tell anyone about this but a few days ago, I called her. At her new apartment. She has a new apartment, Lena. Did she meet someone? Is that why she's leaving me? The house is big and lonely without her. I still remember her curls spread on the pillow when we woke up in the morning (god I love her hair). Does she miss me? I guess not if it has come to this.

I'm sorry I didn't write earlier. I hope I will have the courage to move on. I have to.

Sincerely, Tony

The letter left me confused. Who the hell was Lena? She obviously wasn't his girlfriend. Was she a friend of his? His shrink? And why was the letter in my package?

I put the letter back on the table and closed my eyes. Monty touched my arm.

"Michelle…"

I looked at him wearily. "I'm sorry. Could you please leave?"

"Mi-"

"I said, leave."

I didn't have to ask another time. He grabbed his things and left.

All night in bed I couldn't sleep.

When I was young, I read a book I didn't like very much. Judy Blume, I think. It was about this beautiful girl every one thought should become a model. Then, one day, the doctor tells her she has a back condition and that she's going to have to wear a back brace… for 4 years. Basically, she starts going a bit crazy and the first thing she does is chop all her hair off.

When I read the book for the first time, I thought she had serious mental problems. I mean, you just don't cut your hair off. It's crazy.

But, that night, I grabbed the scissors and went crazy. Chop, chop, chop! Off it goes!

"You like my hair, huh? YOU LIKE MY FUCKING HAIR? HERE!" I threw clumps of hair at the mirror. "TAKE IT! TAKE IT ALL! TAKE MY FUCKING HAIR, ASSHOLE!"

When I was done, my hair was considerably shorter and un-equal. I figured if I straightened it and cut it equally, I could pass for normal.

So I scheduled an appointment with my hairdresser for the next day (Though, she seemed pretty pissed about receiving a call from me at two in the morning. I wonder why…)

I went back to bed, pretty shaken up and, oh, so sad.

But, in my head, all of this was a façade. Tony was coming back one day or another. And when he would, I would welcome him with open arms. Because, god, I loved him.

Next week (or eventually)… Chapter 9 – Ask Me Again: After a hard day of work, the two meet again. Have they forgottenabout their "agreement"? Post-season 2.