Entry 3: Tony's Decision
Summary: Angela tries to find resolution in the aftermath of Tony's decision not to take a job in Washington, D.C.
He stayed. He was offered a premium position in Washington, D.C., working for the national parents' association, and yet he stayed. Why? He passed up a white-collar, career-building post making decisions that would affect school districts across the country in order to work as my housekeeper. What do I say to that? He could have had everything handed to him: his own home, a career most college grads would clamor for, a salary making triple what he is now, and he turned it all down. He said it was for Sam. She's doing so well here that he didn't want to uproot her again. He said it was for Jonathan, who he's helped grow up so much in the past several years. He even mentioned Mother and wanting to stay for her. But none of that addresses what HE wants in life, or what's best for him. How can someone be so selfless? What is keeping him here that he couldn't have in Washington? I guess, in a word, it would be family, which is something Tony places above all else. It's been years since I've thought of Sam and him as anything but family, but I never thought that our situation would ever be a hindrance to him.
But maybe Tony was right to put our family first. We are not two co-existing families, and Tony recognized much clearer than I did that his decision would affect more than the state of my kitchen. While I was looking out for him, he was looking out for everyone. That instant consideration says so much about his priorities and the depth of his commitment to our home, but the harsh reality is that he doesn't have a concrete obligation to stay. There are no bonds of blood or marriage tying us together, and I wonder if that single truth didn't somehow influence my perspective. Would I have pushed as hard if we were married or if Sam were my daughter or Jonathan his son? To complicate matters further, what if there is a little bit more to his decision? What if he isn't staying for just Sam and Jonathan and Mother ... No, Angela, don't go there. It doesn't matter what I thought I heard him say. But ...
We spent the night together fifty feet in the air on the billboard's narrow platform, huddled together against the cold, close enough to share body heat. And despite the forty-degree temperatures, despite the hard surface and awkward angle, I was comfortable – more than comfortable. As the night wore on, we eventually moved from sitting to lying down, neither saying a word – whether out of fear or contentment – as he slid his arm around my waist and held me so close I could feel his breath on my neck. A part of me wanted to stay awake all night, feeling his body against mine. But fatigue began to take its toll, and my mind started to drift, but in the seconds before I fell into sleep, I heard Tony whisper ever so softly, "How could I ever leave you?"
I know I wasn't dreaming, and my heart swells at the thought that maybe I have a little to do with his decision to stay. But I also know that I don't want to be the reason he doesn't take such a great offer. The last thing I want is for him to regret something because of me.
The next morning, we extracted ourselves from the sleeping bag, doing our best not to make eye contact after waking up wrapped around each other even closer than we had fallen asleep. While I'll never regret knowing the feeling of waking up next to him, our arms and legs entangled, his cheek against mine, I also know it's a secret acknowledgement to be carried silently inside my heart.
The camera crew and spectators began arriving at eight-thirty for Tony's nine o'clock descent, and when I saw Jim from Washington arrive, I couldn't resist asking Tony one more time if he was sure about his decision.
A part of me wanted to be mad at him for passing up such an amazing opportunity, but Mother's words also kept echoing in my mind: Would pushing Tony to go have been the biggest mistake of my life? But how could I not encourage him to think harder about such an offer? That would just be selfish, and I'm not going to let my feelings for him stop me from helping him see his full potential. Watching Tony and Sam leave would be nothing less than devastating. It would leave a tear in my family, and in my heart, that would take a long time to mend. But that doesn't mean it may not be the right thing to do, if not now, then someday.
But he just looked at me, his eyes so clear and sincere – and certain – and said, "Yes, I'm sure." And that was that. His words held so much conviction that I had to believe he knew he was making the right decision.
But there is still the larger problem, and that is his unwillingness to recognize his own abilities. He has so much to offer and is capable of so much more than being my housekeeper. I just wish he'd see it. I want him to see in himself all of the wonderful qualities I see: his organization, persistence, and dedication to see something through. He's written reports for the school board and balanced budgets for booster clubs. He helps with the Parents' Association newsletter and sends press releases about school events that he organized. I've come to depend on him for honest feedback on almost every campaign, and he's caught more than one error in presentations and reports, as well as budgets and cost estimates. His bookshelf holds everything from Stephen King to Charlotte Bronte. But something keeps him from recognizing his own potential, always believing he's a few steps behind me and everyone else, and worse, past the point of changing.
And yes, I also have selfish intentions in this. I'm talking about the man I want to someday share more than friendship with, and that will never happen if he doesn't see himself as my equal. It may not matter to me that he doesn't have a college degree or that his professional collar is blue and not white, but I know it matters to him. And while there may be an element of sexism to that, what's more important to me is that he is nothing but helpful and supportive and encouraging of my career. He doesn't hold it against me, just himself. What's it going to take for him to see what I see?
