Decisions: chp. two

Tony awoke with an earsplitting headache inside his temple. Must have gone a little too far last night, he figured. Tony looked down at himself. He was certainly a sight to see. All around him lay the residue of not leaving the living room couch for days. Empty beer bottles, Chinese food remains, dirty shirts. The whole area smelled of something unidentifiable- possibly rotten milk? Why hadn't Michelle cleaned this up yet?

Tony massaged the sides of his head, trying to remember what had happened last night. Michelle had tried to tell him something. He couldn't remember what, but it had sounded important. But who was she to interrupt him in the middle of the Cub's game? She should know better.

The agony. It felt as if his head was going to crack open. But it was worth it, physical pain is temporary, and emotional is… well, not. So he had gotten addicted to an emotional pain reliever: alcohol. Drinking was the only thing that made him feel truly numb inside. It pushed all the horrific memories of his time in jail into the back of his mind- where they couldn't surface. It was bliss, not ever really thinking.

The aftermath of the alcohol was beginning to wear off. He could feel again. Don't think about it, Tony firmly reminded himself.

What time is it? He glanced at his watch. 10am. He supposed there was nothing wrong with a beer in the morning.

"Michelle! Are we out of beer?" His voice rang through the house, but no reply came.

"Michelle?" he called again, but still no answer. Dammit, she always makes me do things for myself. I deserve a break, don't I?

He paused for a few minutes, still waiting.

"I'm here, Tony," she sighed in that calm, delicate voice of hers, appearing from behind the kitchen door.

"Can ya get me another beer? In the mug, ya know-"

"Yes, Tony, the Cubs mug."

Nothing happened. A moment passed, it appeared as if she was thinking about something. Maybe what she was thinking about what she had tried to tell him before? Or maybe she already did tell him. He had been too wasted to really care.

"Well, are you going?" he demanded.

"Actually, before you start drinking again, I think we need to talk about something. You know, while you're brain can still register what I'm saying." Her voice was cold, empty- Void of any emotion. This more than anything, scared him.

So what else could he do but evade it in the first place?

"Listen, ahh… I really don't want to talk about this. Why don't you go read or something," he shot back at her, cruelly, switching on the TV to a re-run of The Sopranos.

Clearly these words, more than anything, stung her directly in the heart. It gave him enormous satisfaction to know how much he was hurting her.

Tears began to roll thick and fast from the corners of her eyes. The same eyes that Tony had once called beautiful.

"Tony please…" She pleaded with him, her tears more frequent now, streaking her cold, pale face.

"No. I just want to get a beer."

"Tony! Just hear me out!" she choked through her sobs. "Just… a minute of your time."

He just couldn't see why she was so upset. Was it that hard to go into the kitchen and grab something for him?

"Michelle! Stop crying and help me out, will ya?"

"NO. I won't!" Her tears suddenly stopped. She looked him directly in the eye, with a piercing gaze he had never seen in her before. Hatred.

He just sat there, shocked, waiting for her to continue.

"I was going to talk this through reasonably with you, to help me make my decision. But you Tony… You just helped me make it." She paused, turning away from him, taking a deep breath.

"I'm leaving you Tony."

There it was. She said it. It was over. She was going. No.

"Don't be ridiculous, Michelle."

"Ridiculous? You think I'm being RIDICULOUS? I can't believe you, Tony. How could I ever have loved you? All you do is hang around on that couch all day, ordering me to get you another beer? Do you have any respect for me? NO. You don't," she continued, while feverishly packing her things, "Ever since you came back from prison, you've been different. But I've tried to give you a chance to come around. And then I gave you another chance, and another. Your chances are up. You've neglected me, Tony. It's over. And I'm NOT sorry," she concluded, heading for the front door.

"Who was it who saved your life?" he bellowed, leaving the couch and following her. "Who put your well-being over the lives of all the people in America? I DID. And you thank me by leaving me?"

For a few minutes she just looked at him. Then finally, she replied.

"The man who saved me has long since gone away. Drowned in alcohol."

With that she grabbed her suitcase, and slammed the door in his face, leaving him to contemplate what she had just said.

(A/N: Yes, there will be more chapters. I will go into both of their reactions to the divorce. Perhaps they run into each other one day? We'll see. R&R please!)