October
Tony continued to support Angela as best he could. If she wanted to pretend nothing had changed, he would go along with it. This was a strange new dance they started, even stranger than the one they had been dancing for the past seven years. The poles of the magnetic field that usually surrounded them were switched, so instead of coming closer, they were repelling each other. They were still attracted, but with their communication shut down, they could not connect. Tony wanted to bridge the gap, find some way to break through the invisible force field keeping them apart but every attempt was rebuffed, leaving him confused and alone.
Mona, not bound by any invisible force, continued to hound her daughter for answers, but Angela remained adamant that nothing had changed. Every once in a while Mona would throw her hands up in frustration at Angela's absurd claims. She'd vow to stop interfering, let Tony and Angela work out whatever had gone wrong between them, but it was always a short lived vow. If there was one thing she could see, no matter how much Angela denied it, deep down, her daughter was hurting. Mona's maternal side was riled, she couldn't stand to see Angela in pain. She didn't let her know this, of course; instead she was her usual devil may care self.
One day she brought a file Angela requested into her office. Without looking up from the work she was buried in, Angela held up her hand for the file and said, "thank you." Mona wanted to ask about the missing mementos right then and there, but knew timing was everything and right now Angela was not to be disturbed. She dropped the file in her hand and bided her time. The removal of those trinkets was key to this ugly situation; she knew it, and if she could discover their whereabouts, she might be able to unlock the mystery of what was going on with Angela.
Late in the day, later than most people anyway, Angela surprised Mona by breezing past her, saying she was going to lunch. This in itself was unusual. If Angela didn't have a lunch meeting scheduled, she would often eat at her desk. Going out for lunch was another tidbit of evidence to add to the growing, "What's Angela's Problem?" file. Mona now had a decision to make; should she follow Angela, see where she was going? Maybe she had a date. Mona dismissed the idea as a pipe dream, Angela did not have a 'date' look on her face. She had an 'I have to get out of the office for some air' look instead. Which was true, suddenly her sanctuary had started to suffocate her and she needed a break.
As disappointed as she was by her daughter's lack of male companionship, there was a silver lining; Mona finally had a chance to rummage through Angela's office. A wicked smile crossed her face, she was going to find that little Jefferson Memorial and baseball no matter what. She was certain Angela hadn't thrown them out, they meant too much to her for that, no matter what her current feelings for Tony were.
Mona called Lisa to come cover the phones and swore her to secrecy as she slipped into Angela's lair and shut out the rest of the world. Angela's office was a quiet, desolate place; it was as if the room had taken on the demeanor of its usual occupant. Mona shuddered at the coldness of the room.
"Think like Angela, think like Angela," ran through her head.
"Why would I want to do that?" she mentally argued back, "the woman probably has the most boring fantasy life on the planet."
"This is not about Angela's fantasy life; this is about Tony and Angela," her thoughts reminded her.
"Well, that's been a fantasy for years," she grumbled out loud.
"You're wasting time," was the final admonition, spurring Mona into action. She pulled open every drawer, quickly scoured the contents, and came up empty. Next was the closet, she checked all the corners, found nothing, then got up on a chair to check the back of the shelf. She flipped the lids off the few boxes stored on the shelf to check in them too. Again, nothing. Finally she went to the file cabinet, four drawers; she started at the top, sliding the files back and forth to make sure they weren't hiding anything. Still nothing, she was losing patience. She opened the bottom drawer, the files were thickly packed, but she managed to move them just enough to gasp, "there you are. Fascinating." She didn't touch them, she shut the drawer, took a glance around the room to make sure everything was as it had been when Angela left, then hurried back to her desk. After sending Lisa back to her office, she called Tony and to update him on this very important development, but the call ended in frustration as he was not home.
Disappointed, she put off telling him until later. When Angela returned from lunch she was none the wiser to her mother's attempt at playing Sherlock Holmes, she went back to work refreshed from her time outside and once again poured herself into her work, blocking out the pain of her reality.
After another awkward dinner in which everyone pretended nothing had changed even though they all knew something had, Mona finally grabbed her chance to regale Tony with the current location of two very important pieces of memorabilia. Jonathan had retreated to his room to focus on homework, it was a testimony to the current tense situation in the household that he preferred the solitude of homework to spending time with family. It was obvious to him that the family was disintegrating and as it was so painful to watch, he removed himself from the front lines as best he could.
Angela, as had become her recent custom, excused herself to her den after dinner. Although she tried, work did not comfort her this evening. Dinner had been too strained; everyone was being overly polite, including her mother; it scared her, it was unnatural. She knew her mother's curiosity was reaching a boiling point and she had no idea how she was going to respond the next time her mother confronted her about her behavior. She was unsettled and worried. Instead of working she flopped down on the window seat and stared out into the darkness, there was no moon tonight, which was just as well, she couldn't have handled the thoughts of how much she would have liked to spend time in the moonlight with Tony. She sat there for a while, hugging a throw pillow to her and idly picking at the seam, unaware that in the kitchen one of her deepest secrets was being revealed.
Mona picked up a dish towel to help Tony finish the dishes, or at least that's what she wanted Angela to think should she happen into the kitchen while she had an important conversation with Tony. She pulled a pan out of the drainer and half-heartedly dried as she leaned against the counter next to him and asked, "where were you this afternoon, I called but you weren't home."
"Had to run some errands," he shrugged as he wiped down the sink.
Mona glanced toward the swinging door to the living room. It was stationary. This encouraged her, "I found them."
Tony stopped paying attention to the sink, "is this a code? Found what? The perfect pair of dates?"
She lightly hit him with the towel, "are you listening? Them, as in two formerly missing pieces of the puzzle."
The penny dropped; the sponge dropped. Tony turned around to look at the door, it was still unmoving. "Are you going to tell me or are you going to wait until Angela needs a break and comes back in here?"
Mona acted like she was a top secret spy passing vital information to her boss, "filing cabinet, bottom drawer, hidden by files. They're both there," she said out of the side of her mouth, her eyes never leaving the all important door.
Tony mechanically picked the sponge out of the sink and placed in the holder. He didn't know what to say. He was staring out the window, looking at the driveway, but seeing nothing.
Mona was worried, she put the pan back into the drainer and carelessly threw the towel on top of it. She waved her hand in Tony's face, "hello? Anybody home?"
"Huh? What?"
"Just checking to see if anyone's there."
"Bit of a shock. Damn it, what is going on with her? If she's angry with me, why doesn't she just come out and say it? It's not like her to be so...so...closed off."
"I don't know Tony, all I get out of her is that nothing has changed."
"I get the same answer."
"So what are we going to do?"
"No idea."
Tony picked up Mona's discarded towel and put it in its proper place; his relationship with Angela might be in disarray, but his kitchen would remain pristine no matter what. Maybe it was his way of trying to control a situation he had no control over.
Her work here done, and it certainly wasn't the dishes; Mona excused herself to her own home. She could see Tony needed some time alone to process this information and she hoped he would take the opportunity to confront Angela once again. He waved good night to Mona per their usual custom, then put away the last pan from the dish drainer.
He was numb. The fact that he had been relegated to a corner of a bottom drawer hit him harder than any punch he had ever suffered in a boxing ring. He sat down at the kitchen table and tried to collect his thoughts. Somewhere, sometime, he'd obviously done something that had so bothered Angela that she had effectively cut him out of her life. But what had he done? And when? More important than anything else, what could he do to fix the situation? Things had just gone from bad to worse; he now had proof that Angela was mad at him, but he couldn't confront her with this proof. He couldn't betray Mona and ask Angela why she'd buried their stuff in a dark, cramped, forgotten corner. Forgotten and buried, it was a definite metaphor for his current relationship with Angela.
There had been many nights recently when he spent long, lonely hours going over his relationship with Angela. Sometimes those nights were spent in solitary sleeplessness as he watched moonbeams sear his floor with light. He wished he could share the moonlight with Angela, but she was as distant to him as the moon itself. He could only enjoy the ethereal glow of the moon just as he was only allowed to enjoy the ethereal presence of Angela. He could not engage with the physical Angela in any way; least of all, the way he wanted to most of all.
Other nights he stayed up in the kitchen after every one else had gone to bed. Although there was little cleaning to be done other than putting away the dinner dishes, he found the quiet to be therapeutic. Alone, he could give the past few months not only a once over, but a twice or even third over. There had to be some reason for her distance; and no matter how much she continued to deny it, there was a distance between them he wasn't sure they would ever bridge.
The door swung open, startling Tony so much he almost jumped out of the chair. He recovered quickly and got up as though nothing had upset him, "you need something, Angela?"
So many answers ran through her head; yes, she needed something, his arms around her was at the top of her list, but as that wasn't going to happen, she smiled a sad smile and said, "I wanted to say good night."
"Good night? It's early."
"It's been a long day, I'm tired, going to try and relax with some reading."
"Ok, night, sleep well."
"Thanks Tony, you too." The door swung shut.
This was it, this was his chance. Why was he not running after her? He wanted to; but no matter how much he willed them to, his feet were stuck to the floor. That invisible force keeping them apart was at work again. Tony sighed in frustration, even if he did run after her, what would he say? Direct confrontation hadn't worked, and he couldn't come up with any other ideas.
Tony paced around the kitchen, trying to work through his frustration he decided to clean the coffee maker. It was clean already, but that didn't matter to him at the moment. Finishing this pointless exercise, he carelessly tossed the sponge into its appointed home, still more than a little frustrated. After all this introspection he still hadn't come to any conclusions. Angela seemed fine over the summer, their relationship was status quo. If she wasn't happy with that anymore, why didn't she say anything? A little voice in his head reminded him, "maybe she did."
All right, so maybe she did. But missing that one moment couldn't mean the end for them, could it? Just because he hadn't responded in kind didn't mean he didn't love her back.
"But how was she to know that?" the nagging voice continued.
"Angela knows how I feel about her," Tony said out loud, a little too emphatically. He looked around quickly and a little sheepishly, just in case anyone had snuck in on him. He was safe, there was no one there.
"Does she?" that annoying little voice was back.
"Of course!" this time he answered silently, but firmly. But did he 'doth protest too much'? Tony had to start being a little more honest with himself. Did Angela know; really know, how he felt about her?
He had to conclude that maybe, just maybe, she did not. He deemed the idea ridiculous when it first hit him. How could Angela not know how he felt? Didn't they celebrate an anniversary recently? Didn't that say something?
Remembering their anniversary made Tony smile. It was a fun night for him, he thought Angela had enjoyed herself too, she seemed to anyway. That was the last good night that they'd had. Was there a connection? He thought about it, but Tony couldn't come up with anything that had happened that night that would have caused Angela to pull away. She had new seat covers for the car and he won her a stuffed ladybug. Weren't ladybugs supposed to portend good luck? So why had his luck with Angela run out? He couldn't find any fault with his behavior that night.
He looked further back. Were there moments when Angela had reason to doubt his feelings? Some glaring, and painful, examples jumped into his mind. Christine. He should never have even given Angela one second of worry over her. He knew Angela was still insecure with him over the Kathleen fiasco, and that her insecurity when it came to men was deep-rooted. His betrayal, and he still saw it as such, had only agitated Angela's insecurity when instead it should have been long put to rest.
It still didn't make sense to Tony. Angela couldn't doubt his feelings after he had been so honest with her on the train to Washington, could she? Why did she have to fall asleep on that train? If she had stayed awake she would never have questioned his devotion again. And he would have slept well, very well; eventually. Even if he didn't sleep at all he still would have been a lot happier the next day. Tony shook his head, there was no sense in trying to change the past. What happened, happened. What didn't happen, didn't.
The truly sad part was that he didn't have any real interest in Christine. The glamour, the power, the clothes; sure, they were all trappings of success. It was wonderful to feel part of such a different world from the one he had been living in. He was accepted; and yes, his ego was flattered by Christine's attention. What man on this planet wouldn't be flattered by her attention? Had it come down to it he would not have slept with Christine, he knew that in his heart. Angela was back at the hotel room with the kids - their kids, and he wouldn't choose a fling with a beautiful woman over the family he and Angela had created. Not this time, anyway.
He remembered Angela's appearance at the dressing room, he was glad to see her. He'd crashed and she was there to pick up the pieces; again. How could she doubt the truth? But then again, how did he miss seeing that Angela was threatened by Christine?
"I'll tell you how, stunod, you weren't paying attention. You were too wrapped up in the fake friendship of Christine to notice you were hurting your best friend. Didn't you learn anything from your time with Kathleen?" Tony was talking out loud again, angry with himself for his treatment of Angela. If any other guy had treated her that way he'd have knocked his lights out. A little guilt crept in as he remembered he had punched someone recently for harming Angela; but he absolved himself, it wasn't his fault Stanley couldn't drive.
Tony needed an escape, some way to let off some steam. A workout; a punching bag sounded good right now, he could just pretend the bag was himself. It would be the only way he could confront a part of his past he still hadn't come to terms with: Kathleen. The garage provided the necessary solitude to figuratively beat himself up. Tony's thoughts while repeatedly hitting that bag were severe.
He'd hurt Angela, one of the last people on this planet he'd ever want to hurt, and he still hadn't forgiven himself. Now that he thought of it, he wasn't sure if Angela had really forgiven him either.
Maybe that was it. Maybe Angela hadn't been able to forgive him. Maybe he'd only been fooling himself this past year, thinking that Angela had moved past Kathleen. Then he had to go and throw Christine into the mix. No wonder Angela wasn't speaking to him. Speaking to him? It was more like Angela was acting like he didn't exist even though they lived in the same house. It was weird, uncomfortable, and he most definitely did not like it. He'd lost his best friend. It was a terrible revelation, one that made him stop beating up on the punching bag. He walked away, a little stunned. He'd lost her; his inattention and his belief that their relationship was something that needed to be continually pushed into the future had combined to create a black hole where their friendship used to be.
How could he have missed it? Angela's heart had been broken too many times in the past; and he had only added to the broken heart count, only he hadn't just broken Angela's heart, he'd shattered it. The guilt came rushing back to him; he had his reasons for dating Kathleen, at least he thought he did at the time. He was trying to come to terms with the new life he was creating, it helped to have someone to talk to who was at the same point on the path. But, it wasn't worth the pain to Angela. He had to talk with her, let her know how much he loved her; but how? She barely acknowledged him. Other than discussing household expenses and exchanging cursory pleasantries they didn't talk. Angela kept herself in the office for as long as possible and she hadn't planned any dinner parties. The whole situation was wearing him out.
He had to find a way to make her forgive him. Then he had to forgive himself. Angela may not have had an easy time since his break up from Kathleen, but he hadn't had an easy time either. There were times, when Angela was upset about something completely unrelated, that he still blamed himself for any pain she was feeling. He was blaming himself too much; but the self-flagellation was his self-imposed penance for having hurt Angela. Now it seemed that the waves of the consequences of his actions were still crashing against the shore, washing away friendship and trust as they relentlessly hounded him.
Tony forced himself to face the pain he'd caused Angela. He wasn't proud of himself. He closed his eyes in remembrance; he'd taken the love offered to him by an angel and crushed it, trampled it under his feet. No wonder she didn't want to be anywhere near him.
But why now? He'd thought they'd reached détente. There had been a rift between them, certainly, but he was sure it had been repaired. His surety was now wavering. Maybe he'd been too wrapped up in his schoolwork and Billy to really notice the depth of Angela's heartbreak. He forced himself to be more honest, there was no reason to blame his schoolwork or Billy; he was just using them as excuses for not looking at the full depth of Angela's heartbreak. No wonder she was avoiding him.
Tony sighed and sat down on a stray chair in the garage. It was obvious to him now, he wondered why it had taken so long for him to figure it out: Angela hadn't been able to get past Kathleen. He'd been kidding himself for the past year; telling himself that Angela was a strong woman, she'd been through worse, she'd get through Kathleen. He now came to the conclusion that he was wrong in some of that assessment. Yes, Angela was a strong woman, but there were some mistakes even a strong woman could not forgive. Desperate, he tried to think of a way to fix this. He couldn't lose Angela forever, he just couldn't. She meant too much to him for him to let her go completely. He was at a loss; what could he do? How could he get through to her? He'd tried and she rebuffed him. Was it too late?
A horrible thought seeped into his mind, "it's too late Tony, you've lost her forever." Tony walked around garage like he was trying to avoid an opponent in the ring; this realization had sent him reeling.
Angela had cut him out of her life, she no longer wanted him around. Unfortunately Tony believed this incorrect conclusion. He thought she was only keeping him on until he graduated as a courtesy, and out of love for Jonathan.
Numb and exhausted, Tony finally went upstairs. He paused outside his room with his hand on the door knob and turned back to look at the door to Angela's room. For so long it had seemed that someday that door would be welcoming; now it seemed fortress-like, a castle wall that this prince could not surmount. "Sleep well, Angela. I love you," he whispered, although it wouldn't have mattered if he had said it at full voice, Angela was asleep and wouldn't have heard him. Tony went into his room, but didn't shut the door completely, just in case Angela wanted to talk in the middle of the night.
It was a hope that would remain unfulfilled.
As if this month wasn't bad enough already, October 18th made its annual appearance. The day always looked so innocuous on the calendar, just another white square on the page with the 17th on one side and the 19th on the other. To millions of people it was just another day; to Tony, it was a date to be dreaded, feared, bargained with, and even though he very much as he wanted to; could not be ignored. This year the cold October air was nothing compared to the chill in Tony's heart. Although today was usually devoted to Marie, thoughts of Angela kept creeping into his mind. He felt like he was being unfaithful, but he wasn't sure if it was to Angela or to Marie. This annual event was creating even more of an emotional wringer than usual for him. Marie had held his heart; and even though their time together was far in the past, she still had a treasured place in his heart. Today was usually the day he acknowledged that; it was her day.
But this year, Angela's recalcitrance was weighing heavily on him. He was lost between two women; the spectre of his past and the trauma of the present were crashing together, creating doubt about his future. He missed Marie; he mourned the life he thought they were going to have together when they were young. What innocents they were. How could two people who grew up in one of the toughest cities in the world have been so naïve? It was ludicrous. He missed their callow plans for the future; he was going to be a big baseball star and would provide his wife and kids with every wish their hearts desired. But his career was over in an instant; his adored wife gone, leaving behind a beloved daughter and two splintered hearts.
Why had it all gone so wrong? Why had so much been taken from him? And why was so much still being taken from him?
"I miss you, babe," he said as he leaned down to put the gardenias on her grave. He scrunched his face to keep from crying; this was a public place, he was a grown man, but even he had his limits and as much as he tried to keep the tears away, some still fell. He surreptitiously wiped them away.
He'd lost Marie; he was losing Angela. The feeling that he once again had no control over his fate overwhelmed him. It was torture, like his soul was being battered in a tornado of fear and anguish. The forces beyond his control were clawing at him, ripping his psyche to shreds. Once again, life was taking away the one he cherished the most and he was powerless, helpless to do anything about it. He hated this feeling, hated feeling so useless, so lost. There should be some way to fix this, there had to be some way to make it all better. Some way to get through to Angela. In his mind he called out to her, why, he couldn't really say. In the past, when her name drifted across his thoughts, it brought warmth and happiness along with it. Now there was only gray hollowness, like she couldn't hear him; or worse, was ignoring him. He tried to grasp the sweet moments he'd shared with Angela, hoping that by clinging to them they would somehow manifest and fix their current relationship.
Nothing worked.
Tony was in a hell no one should have to live through. A beloved wife, buried far too soon, her grave silent and cold; while a potential love slipped away from him just as inexorably as Marie had. Why? Why had he lost either one of them? Doubts pummeled him; was he being punished? Did he not deserve to be loved? Had he offended God to the point of no return? Why was the rug always pulled out from under him when he thought he had happiness in hand? It was like he was God's personal sucker. He made it to the Major Leagues, but was injured. He could just hear God laughing at him, "ha ha, you thought you were good enough to play pro ball? Not even close, you're just a loser." He had a good marriage, but over far too soon. Again he saw God taking away something he loved, "Oh, so sorry, Tony; did you love her? Too bad, so sad. You didn't think you were ever good enough for Marie, did you? You should have listened to her father, he was right. Maybe if you'd stayed away from her, she'd be alive today." Tony winced at that last thought; would Marie be alive today if they had never been together? Was it his fault she was dead? Catholic guilt was running high in Tony today.
Tony looked to the sky, for what he didn't know. He wanted to yell at God, tell Him to knock it off; but what would be the point? It felt like God was mocking him, "you thought you had a chance with Angela? Your boss? Psyche! Sucker!"
Even after his worst loss in the boxing ring, Tony had never felt as beaten up than he did at this moment. Never before had all his losses been so prominent in his thinking, they were combining to create a negativity in Tony that he had never felt before, a terrible question stunned him: was he a loser? It couldn't be; but as he looked back over his past he picked out the worst moments to back up this new hypothesis and he came to a conclusion that was difficult to accept; when one has been through as many losses as he had, it makes one a loser. Plain and simple. It was an incorrect conclusion, but he wasn't thinking clearly enough to see that at the moment.
It was ironic; he'd never had trouble attracting women, but what he had never noticed up to now was they none of them had stayed. He'd lost every woman he had ever loved; starting with his mother. He loved her and she died young. Marie: he'd loved her and she died young. Maybe he was a jinx, maybe it was better if he stayed away from Angela, he might be toxic to her too; he didn't want any other woman he loved to die young.
Tony stared at Marie's headstone, but he wasn't really seeing it. He was seeing the images of every woman in his life he had lost. Frankie, so beautiful, so smart; she'd been the one who got away in his youth; but even though they connected in adulthood, he'd still lost her. Were his feelings for Angela already so strong that he couldn't put them aside? Frankie had it all; and he'd let her go, lost her to an insight that Frankie had perceived and which he tried to deny: Angela. He'd lost Frankie because of Angela. It was ironic.
Betty. Betty was a one of a kind, thank goodness. Not a serious thought in her head, who needed one with a body like hers? They both knew neither was looking for a long term commitment; and she'd been obviously very willing to take up with him again in St. Louis had he been willing; but he'd turned away. There was no question that Angela was a big part of that decision even if he couldn't express it at the time. He certainly didn't regret the decision, Betty was part of his past, and it was best to keep her relegated there. Still, she was another tick in the loss column of his life.
Kathleen. Tony took a deep breath. He'd wronged two women; he'd betrayed Angela, a woman with whom he had a vague understanding of a possible nebulous future and he'd dallied with the affections of someone who had no real chance to take the place of Angela in his heart. What had he been thinking? He had no idea. The bottom line was he'd lost another woman due to his inability to be honest. If he had been honest with Angela in Jamaica, Kathleen never would have happened. As it was, the pattern repeated itself, he lost Kathleen, it didn't matter that she had never been foremost in his heart. He'd lost her and now he was paying the price.
He couldn't even think about Christine, she wasn't in his life long enough for him to consider her a loss. However, he did feel the loss of the lifestyle. After the high life of Washington, going back to being a housekeeper was difficult. It was almost as if he had been Cinderella at the ball, but now he was back to cleaning out the ashes of the fireplace. He winced at a very bad memory of fireplace cleaning, and then chalked up his time with Christine as another instance of a better life being dangled in front of his face and then pulled away.
Was he God's favorite punching bag? Should he change his name to Job? Tony's reflections on his life were causing a turmoil he could not control, his thoughts were tormenting him on his new found loser status. He had no career, no relationship and almost no family. Although he had some friends, they were not as close as they once were. He'd in effect lost them when he moved to Connecticut; they were more evidence to add to his loser tally. As for the person who had been his best friend in Connecticut? She might as well be a stranger to him for all the friendship they'd shared recently. A hollow, cold ache seared his being; he was alone. His daughter was grown up and on her own; the losses of parenthood were traumatic, that little girl who smiled so sweetly was gone. She'd been replaced by a beautiful woman, but she would never again be as dependent on him as she was. He missed her, missed that little girl who was the spitting image of her mother.
He had to get out of the cemetery. This journey was never fun, but this year it was worse than it had ever been, all the demons of his past were converging on him. Mocking him for thinking he could ever have a successful life, laughing at him for thinking he could ever be more than a fish monger. Tony's usually extra healthy self-esteem was taking a beating and as it had never been attacked so violently before, it had no recourse. It had never acquired the skills required to counterattack such brutal negativity. His self-esteem surrendered to his mind without a fight.
Tony bid goodbye to Marie and wandered the streets of Brooklyn, it was a good place to lose himself. Millions of people and not one of them gave a damn that his world was falling apart, it piled more negativity on his negativity. He thought about stopping by Marty's, but didn't think a game or two of pool would help at the moment; he'd probably lose the games and all it would do is remind him of...what the hell was that jerk's last name...Petardi; just the thought of that day make Tony cringe. He'd thrown the game; another loss, and this one intentional, what had he been thinking? At the time it hadn't bothered him, much; because he'd done it for Angela and Darlene. He'd been their knight in shining armor who'd slayed the dragon of Petardi's petard, and it had all been worth it when Angela looked at him and declared him her hero. Now he felt like a chump. If he had the chance to do it over again, he'd wipe the floor with Petardi; crushing his ego with no remorse.
Tony abruptly stopped walking; causing several of the people behind him to curse him with great New York style. Tony ignored them, although it was difficult, he really wanted to respond with a few well-chosen words of his own, but his location forced him to be more pious. Tony found himself at the doorstep of his childhood parish. Dare he go in? Would he be able to find any answers? Was there a salve for his wounded soul within? Did he even trust God enough at the moment to cross the threshold? The answer to the last question was definitely no; but something was pushing him, so in he went.
The church was as it always was; quiet, a peaceful sanctuary struggling to provide harmony amongst the cacophony of the busy streets which enclosed it. Tony genuflected and sat in a pew. He stared at the adorned altar, hoping for any sort of a sign that God was on his side; but God was silent. He turned his gaze to the statues that graced various locations throughout the church, "Mother Mary, comfort me," he silently pleaded as he encountered a statue of the Blessed Mother in one corner. Her eyes were lifted to Heaven and her head was surrounded by a halo, she could give no solace either, in fact he had to turn away from her because all she did was remind him that his last thought was a Beatles lyric and that reminded him of "Hey, Jude," which, of course, only reminded him of Angela.
This was pointless, he knew it was a bad idea to come in here; it was time to leave. Tony left the pew and stopped by the tiered rows of candles at the back of the sanctuary; deep red glasses held flickering votives. He dropped a nominal donation into the basket nearby and picked up a taper to light another candle. He thought of Marie and offered a prayer of thanks for her time in his life. His obligation to Marie today was complete; but he still felt listless and lost. Turning away from the candles he noticed a possibility he hadn't considered: confession. It may be good for the soul, but Tony wasn't so sure of that at the moment. However, he was desperate and it had been a while, so he forced himself into the confessional.
He sat down and crossed himself, "forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."
"How long has it been since your last confession?"
"Uh, do I really need to answer that?"
"That answer is sufficient in itself." The priest made a mental note of the answer, feeling that it was best to move on to whatever was troubling this man, "what are your sins?"
"I'm not sure."
That was an unusual answer, "how do you mean?" he asked, trying to clarify.
"I hurt someone, but I didn't mean to."
"God understands that unwilling hurts happen; this is an occasion for an apology, not penance."
"I can't apologize to her if I can't get her to admit I have done anything wrong."
Ah, woman problems, so often the source of disclosures in the confessional, thinking this would be a piece of cake, the priest continued, "if she hasn't said you did anything wrong, why do you doubt her?"
"Father, she says nothing has changed between us; but she barely speaks to me. It's not the same, I can feel it."
"Is this your wife?"
"No."
This was a surprise answer, the emotion he could hear in this man's voice clearly denoted a woman very precious to him.
"Your girlfriend, then?"
"No." Tony realized he was going to have to help the embattled priest out, if only he knew how to describe his relationship with Angela to him. "Father, this woman...is...was...my best friend...and my boss...I mean, she still is my boss; but I'm not sure if I am still her friend."
The priest was trying to understand this; it didn't seem that complicated on the surface, but there was obviously more to the story and it was his duty to find the source of this man's suffering and free him from it. "How long have you two known each other?"
"We celebrated seven years together last month."
'Together?' That was an interesting choice of word which the priest decided was a good avenue for exploration. "So the two of you celebrated an anniversary recently? That doesn't sound like a lost friend."
"It's complicated, Father. It was a family anniversary, marking the day we met." Tony had mercy on the confused priest and explained the unusual situation he had been living in for the past seven years. The priest had been long on the job, but even he had never heard a story like that one before.
After Tony finished, the priest only saw two people unable to say the words, "I love you," to each other. It was a sad situation, but not a sin. Delicately he tried to point this out to the lost soul in the confessional, "my son; God only wants what's best for you..."
A sarcastic huff greeted these words. The priest decided on a change of tactic; if a congregant was not in a place to trust God at the moment, it was best to go to another plan. "Love is the greatest gift we can give one another. Since you haven't been forthcoming with your feelings for this woman in the past; perhaps now is the time to do so." The priest was a little out of his comfort zone; this was not a situation he was used to dealing with in the confessional. "My son, your situation requires a different method of resolution than the confessional can grant. If you would like, I can set up a meeting with a counselor..."
"No, thank you; Father." Tony had been to a therapist often enough in the past year or so to know that although that approach may work for Angela, it did not work for him. He had to work out this mess on his own; how would a therapist ever understand it anyway? He barely understood it himself. There were no answers for him anywhere. Dejected over the fact that an idea he thought wouldn't work really didn't work, Tony addressed the priest, "thank you for your time, Father. What is my penance?"
"This is not a situation for penance," the priest answered, as he privately thought that this man had been self-flagellating enough to qualify himself to be a Medieval monk; he'd consider penance to be time served. "It may be more appropriate to pray for guidance."
Tony didn't care; if the priest thought a prayer would help, he didn't have any objection to the action. He didn't think it would help at all; but he didn't think it would hurt either.
The priest started praying and Tony closed his eyes to listen to the prayer. He heard the words, but they did not sink in; he was too numb to hear the message of God's mercy and grace. The priest whispered, "amen." Tony disinterestedly added his own "amen" then left the confessional, somehow feeling worse than he did when he'd wandered into the church in the first place.
Tony continued to drift through the streets of Brooklyn, going over the priest's advice. Why had he even bothered to try and explain his relationship with Angela to a stranger? They were so many times they couldn't understand it themselves, how could he have possibly thought that an outsider would be able to discern the core of their problem? It was absurd. He was grateful for the priest's time and compassion, but he couldn't put his advice into action. If one thing was certain; he couldn't say the words, "I love you" to Angela; their current strained relationship would not tolerate any such ridiculous pronouncement. He wasn't going to put himself on the line like that. He couldn't bear the potential incredulous look Angela might give him if he ever did say the words. He was right, coming into the church was a bad idea; he felt more lost than ever.
Tony's wanderings eventually led him to a pay phone. He called Mrs. Rossini and begged off coming over by telling her he'd lost track of time and he had to get back to Connecticut. She didn't buy his excuse for one second and if she'd had any idea where he was calling from she would have gone there, grabbed an ear and marched him to her place for something to eat. Stubborn, he was always so stubborn. Fine, if he didn't want any of the feast she'd prepared this year, she'd share it with the neighbors; but Sam was going to get a phone call the second after she finished this call with Tony. Sam had been telling her about the tense relationship at the house and she wanted to make sure this deviation from the day's usual events was noted. She didn't know what was going on between Tony and Angela any more than they did, but she knew she didn't like the chasm that had developed to the point that she could feel it a state away.
Tony hung up the phone and started wandering around Brooklyn again; this was his past, but thoughts of his future kept hounding him. Was it possible that he and Angela might never get together? That there might never be a future for them? For so long a future with Angela was something he took for granted; but not anymore. What would his future be like after graduation? Would he be able to find a job? What if the job he had now would be the best job he could ever get? Should he resign from that job right now? Get out of Angela's way, let her get on with her own life? They were all troubling questions, and he didn't have answers for any of them.
There was one question that terrified him more than all the others combined: How could he face a future without Angela in it?