Tony flicked the light on, and upon seeing the living room, his voice immediately turned to a whisper. "– prise…" What the H – E – double hockey sticks…
Mona, Samantha and Jonathan were fast asleep on the sofa, resting on each other's shoulders. Empty drink cups and plates covered in half-eaten party food and cake were scattered all over the coffee table. A partially empty bowl of popcorn balanced precociously on one armrest, with a party-sized potato chip bag opened on the other, chips spilled on the ground.
Angela exchanged a look with Tony, her fears now forgotten. "Everyone's asleep." And look at this place, did the cast of Animal House show up?
Tony removed his leather jacket and took Angela's coat, hanging them on the rack behind them. He proceeded to the sofa, crouching beside it. "Mona, Mona, wake up," he said, shaking her shoulder. "Come on, Miss Life of the Party."
Mona wriggled on the sofa, flickering her eyes until they because used to the light. "Oh, Tony, you're home," she said sleepily as she stretched her arms, yawning with her mouth uncovered. "What a great party!"
Tony scoffed. "A great party? The guest of honour wasn't here."
Mona looked at Angela, feigning confusion. "You weren't?"
"Mona…" Tony growled, warningly.
"Look dear, don't take this personally, but we had a lot more fun without you," an unfazed Mona said to Angela, cracking her knuckles.
"Thanks mother," Angela answered flatly. Only my mother could come up with something insulting at this time of the night.
Tony took a minute for his eyes to absorb the state of the house. "What on earth happened?" he exclaimed brashly for everyone to hear, startling the sleeping children in the process. Samantha and Jonathan repositioned themselves in response, snuggling up together against Mona.
"How could three people trash a room so fast?" Tony continued, waving his arms madly in rage. I can't leave the house for a couple of hours without chaos occurring behind my back. I bet they didn't turn the music down either!
"But look at them. I need my camera," Angela clasped her hands together smiling sweetly at Sam and Jonathan. Aw, how adorable they both look, sleeping side by side. Grumbling from the weight of the kids on her shoulder and arm, Mona gave them a firm nudge and stood up, their comfortable resting spot now cruelly taken away.
"Jonathan, Samantha, off the couch, it's time for bed," Tony beckoned, signalling them to get up.
"Get off me you dweeb!" Sam shrieked, pushing Jonathan away from her, making a face. She rose from the couch, dusting off crumbs and popcorn.
Jonathan shrugged, grinning, reaching for a chip. "Hey you said if I ever needed a shoulder…"
"Yeah, Dad's shoulder or Angela's shoulder or anybody else's shoulder, not mine!"
"Who needs your bony shoulder anyway?" The 11-year-old gave a dismissive wave of his hand, knocking the popcorn bowl onto the floor, creating more mess. "Uh-oh." Jonathan stared at the male housekeeper, wide-eyed.
That's it! Tony was done with their bickering and the destruction. "Whoa, whoa, enough! All my time, all my effort. If it wasn't bad enough having the surprise spoiled, now the party is spoiled as well!"
"Hey, who gave me a Groucho Marx moustache?" Angela questioned when she saw the blown-up photos of her younger self covered in black marker. The 'Angela Through the Years' photo display, so perfectly arranged by Tony, was now in disarray and defaced.
Mona raised her hand meekly. She then handed Angela something hidden in her pocket. It was the black marker. "Here, take it before I do any further damage," Mona answered like a chided teenager. Her reign of unruliness had come to an end. For tonight, at least.
Jonathan hugged his mother drowsily. "Mum? You missed a great party."
"So I heard," Angela replied unenthusiastically, frowning at her mother.
"Yeah! Cake, music, dancing…" Sam interjected excitedly. "We tried to stay up, but somewhere between your phone call, the food fight and the Beastie Boys air guitar competition we crashed."
"Sa-am!" Tony cautioned his daughter, dragging out non-existent syllables in her shortened, mono-syllabic name.
"Sorry dad, I tried my best." Sam rocked on her sneakers, hands behind her back. She took a breath to say something more, but stopped herself. The fiery glare in her father's eyes was enough to know she was in trouble.
Sensing a stand-off, Angela broke the silence. "Come on, I'll tuck you in. Go get changed into your PJs, I'll be up soon." She patted a drowsy Jonathan on his behind.
"And you, Sam – hit the hay." Tony pointed in the direction of her bedroom.
Sam started to protest. "But dad, aren't we going to –"
"It's late Sam and you need to get up early," Tony instructed her.
Sam frowned. "What for? There's no school tomorrow, it's Saturday."
"To clean the footprints off the coffee table. The sideboard. The walls. The ceiling," Tony heatedly rattled off anything he could see that was covered in grime or food or sticky patches of punch that weren't there hours earlier. Sam's not getting off lightly with this one.
"Hey, they're not mine." She gave Mona a side glance. The redhead covered her eyes.
Tony gnashed his teeth. Stay calm, stay calm. I really shouldn't be so mad with Sam. Mona on the other hand, she should know better. She's not getting off lightly either. "Good night, Sam. And take Fred Astaire with you. 6am. Sharp. The two of you. Then you can both help me clean the garage."
"Party pooper," Mona quipped, sticking out her bottom lip.
"Let's go Mona," Sam quickly uttered, taking her hand. As she reached the foot of the staircase, Sam turned around, placed her hand on the banister and smiled. "Angela, I just want to say, I'm glad you're home. Dad was really worried. And, it may not look like it, but so were we."
Angela nodded, returning the smile. Mona and Sam dragged their weary feet up the stairs. Then, once they were out of earshot, Angela fixed her eyes on Tony and asked, "How worried were you?"
"Uh…"
One hour earlier
Tony tapped his fingers on the top of the payphone. Come on, come on, pick up, what's taking so long?
"Bower residence, Sam speaking," Sam answered pleasantly, tugging on the extra-long curly cord in the kitchen to hide away from the music blaring from the living room.
He rapped his knuckles against the glass of the phone booth. Finally! "Sam! Sam, it's dad. Can you hear me?"
"Oh, hi dad. I can hear you," Sam sat on the floor in the corner near the refrigerator, shielding the mouthpiece. "I thought it might have been you."
"What's all that noise in the background?" he asked. "You sound a bit muffled."
"Uh, nothing dad." She heaved a sigh, tipping her head back against the cupboard. Dad's not gonna like what he sees when he gets home. "Any luck? Where are you?"
"No, no, not yet. I'm at this crummy gas station filling up the van." He turned his head to check on his vehicle, parked across the way from him. "There're a few people keeping an eye out for her. I've been to 31 Flavours, the Fairfield Inn, Dairy Queen. No one's seen her or the Jag." Tony swallowed hard, perspiration beading his forehead.
"Dad –"
"Sam, I'm worried. I really am." Fear splintered his voice. "This is not like Angela at all. I'm gonna check the hospitals soon. What if she's been in an accident? Should I go to the police? If anything has happened to her…"
"Dad… you're jumping to conclusions," Sam assured, trying to ease her father's distress. "I'm sure Angela is ok."
He fought back tears, pinching his lips together until they trembled. "But what if she's not? This is all my fault. If she's hurt or injured, or in a full body cast, I'll never forgive myself. I just gotta find her. I'll stay out all night and knock on every door in Fairfield if I have to." He checked his watch; it was later than he realised but that didn't matter, he just wanted to find Angela.
Sam put a hand to her cheek, crinkling her brow. "You really do care for Angela, don't you? Maybe even love her, like she loves you?"
His body tensed up. "I, uh –"
"It's fine dad. You can love someone else other than mum," Sam advised, twisting the cord between her fingers, "if that's what's bothering you. She'd want you to be happy."
"Honey, what me and your mum had, it was special," Tony reflected, his short time together with Marie now so long ago, his vivid memories were beginning to fade with the hands of time. "Angela and me, well, there're more to it than that. It's complicated."
"I understand. But that doesn't mean you can't have something special with Angela too," Sam persisted. "I've seen the way you two look at each other. Wherever your heart lies, the trail of love will lead you there."
Tony's mouth curved into a smile. "When did you become so poetic?"
"English Lit, we're studying the works of Shakespeare, Browning, Dickinson. Some pretty heavy-duty stuff there," Sam mused, stretching her legs out in front of her. "And it was the message in my fortune cookie the other night. Just bring Angela home, ok?"
"Since you're so full of wisdom, any chance you could tell me where I should look next?" he asked, rolling his shoulders, fresh energy filling him to continue the search.
"Well, you've checked everywhere you'd expect her to be, how about you try the opposite?" Sam held the receiver between her ear and shoulder, inspecting her nails. I could use a manicure, and some pretty pink polish. Ooh I wonder if Bonnie has some I can borrow?
"The opposite… the last place… that's a great idea! Why didn't I think of…" Tony stopped mid-sentence and pressed a palm against the glass, squinting at a tiny building with a flashing neon hula girl sign in the parking lot. Could it be… is that…? Holy smoke yes!
"Sam, Sam, prepare the house for the greatest non-surprise party ever!" Tony exclaimed, bouncing from foot to foot. "I love you sweetie. And Sam? Tell Mona to turn down that music!"
"I will. Love you too, dad."
Click.
Click-click-click.
Angela clicked her fingers in Tony's face. "Tony? You alright?"
Tony flinched from the sharp sound, snapping him immediately back to the living room. "Oh! Uh, yeah, yeah, there were some, uh, concerns," he faltered, brushing her question off to hurriedly change the subject. "Hey, um, why don't you go and say goodnight to Jonathan and I'll meet you in the kitchen for cake in 5 or 10?"
"Sure," Angela responded softly. She turned back to glance at Tony one more time before heading upstairs. Guilt corroded her insides at the sight of his wilted posture, the usual spring in his stride now a broody shuffle. The best-laid plans of mice and men oft go astray. I'll make it up to you, Tony. I promise.
After changing into his pyjamas, Jonathan cuddled into bed under the covers. Angela sat next to him, running her fingers through his hair and giving him a kiss on the forehead.
"Good night, Jonathan. Sweet dreams," Angela tenderly whispered to her no-so-little boy. She looked over him fondly. Where has all the time gone? He's growing up so fast.
"Thanks, you too. Uh… um, mum?"
"Yes sweetheart?" she asked.
"I lied to you this morning. I didn't sleep all night. You woke me up again and I heard what you said," he revealed, unable to hide the truth any longer.
"Oh – uh, let me explain..." Angela stammered. Good one, Angela, how are you going to explain this?
But Jonathan stopped her, taking her hand. "Mum, it's ok. It's ok that you love Tony. Because I love him too."
No embarrassing questions, no awkward explanations; a simple acceptance from her son left Angela optimistic for the future. She squeezed Jonathan's hand in hers as the panic within subsided. The inside of her throat ached in a futile attempt to impede the onflow of tears, with one trickling down her cheek. "That's wonderful to hear, sweetheart." Her index finger wiped away the lone tear, and she kissed him once more before turning off the light.
"And I love you mum. Happy birthday." Jonathan rolled onto his side and closed his tired eyes.
Angela tiptoed out of his bedroom and shut the door. She hugged her forearms, joy flowing through her. She was finally ready to celebrate her birthday.