May 1977 – Fort Stockton, TX
Angela felt that infamous Texas heat as she walked through the jetway. Still, it was an improvement on the recycled air of the plane. She'd felt nauseated since she'd boarded, and had sipped on ginger ale for as much of the flight as was allowed.
As soon as she stepped into the air conditioning of the terminal, Angela exhaled gratefully. She adjusted the strap of her cross-body purse and looked for Michael. Instinctively, she put one hand to her tiny belly as her other one perched on her hip.
"Angela!"
At the sound of Michael's voice, Angela's whole countenance brightened. He came up to her and hugged her tightly, back and forth.
"I missed you!" They both said at the same time, and laughed.
Michael stepped back so his arms were outstretched. He tilted his head to the side, and checked out her belly. "He's gotten bigger these last three weeks!"
"He?" Angela chuckled.
Michael shrugged. "Or whatever," he said with a grin.
Angela shook her head, smiling. He spun her sideways by her shoulders, twirling her little, yellow sundress, and continued to check her out. "You, on the other hand," he pulled her close and kissed her, "are absolutely adorable," he said as he gave her butt a light swat.
Angela couldn't help but smile, even as she looked around self-consciously. "Michael," she admonished half-heartedly. "There are kids everywhere."
Michael laughed, completely undeterred. "Well, our kid's gonna get used to seeing me grab your butt, so why not them?"
She shook her head in amused acquiescence, and grabbed his hand as they started walking toward the baggage claim.
"How was your flight?"
She moved to hold onto his arm with both hands, like she had that first night in the desert. "Oh, it was miserable! My stomach's not been doing too well."
He gave her a worried look and she smiled, waving it off. "Oh, it's fine. It goes away. Just that smell from the plane and the high-pitched air noise always remind me of the cadaver lab I had to visit in Bio class. Completely unearthly."
He looked at her, amused, shaking his head. "Okaaay, well let's get you some sugar, anyway. It's gotta help."
She stopped abruptly, using her inside arm to tether him, as her outer hand flew up to his neck and pulled him down to her mouth. Kissing him distinctly, she smacked her lips and smiled. "Mmmm…you're right. That does help."
He laughed, and went in for another kiss. With both their arms around each other, they kissed hungrily in the middle of the terminal. Angela's left hand lightly drug her wedding ring across the back of his neck, and she tipped up her chin to gently let go.
"I've really missed you," she said seriously, and extremely unwelcome emotion threatened her with tears. Oh, how unsexy. I don't want to cry now!
He looked down at her for a beat. "Me, too," he said quietly. Pulling her tight to him, he held her for a long hug.
Letting go, he sighed. "Come on. Let's get your gear."
At her confused expression, he corrected himself. "Luggage, I mean."
Actually, he's probably right. Now, better knowing how to prepare, Angela had opted for hard shell, turquoise, Samsonite suitcases, and lots of jean shorts. She'd been wearing looser dresses at work, and regular maternity wear at home. But coming out here, she knew she needed something a bit more durable. Her mother had suggested using a rubber band as a button extender, and tacky as it felt, it worked beautifully. I just wish I had something to make the transition this smooth at work.
Angela found herself increasingly nervous about how she was going to reveal herself. She'd known women who'd lost their jobs immediately after disclosing their condition. But I have a contract, Angela soothed herself.
At the baggage claim, Michael popped some quarters into a vending machine, and handed her a candy bar. Then he lugged both of her bags to the truck. "Two?" He said confused.
"I can't haul a carry-on," she shrugged.
He acknowledged her point with his eyebrows, and threw them in the back. Angela smiled widely, knowing her Louis Vuitton was safe at home. Michael held her door open, and helped her up.
Angela scooted over to the middle seat while he walked around the truck. She slipped on her giant, pink shades, and secured the lap belt under her belly. He climbed into the truck, and put on his sunglasses. "I love that you do that," he said smiling. "Sit next to me," he explained, putting his right arm around her. She smiled, and scooted her hip as close to him as possible.
They drove for a bit, looking at the storybook expanse in front of them. Angela broke the silence. "So, I've been looking at houses. There's this really cute one in Pemberwick."
He looked down at her. "Pemberwick?" He looked back up at the road. "That might be a bit much."
"Oh, I think we can swing it. Really."
There was a tense silence in the cab. "Angela, the baby is due in little more than five months. Aren't you going to take some time off? What if you don't want to go back? What if you can't?"
Their favorite battlefield lay open before her, and Angela just breathed. Scooting forward a smidge, she brought his arm down behind her and placed his hand under hers on her belly.
"Michael, I don't know exactly how it's going to look. I haven't been through this before... But doing what I love is just as important to me as doing what you love is to you."
"And what if that changes? What if you decide you love being home with our baby even more? I think that'd be nice, personally." She closed her eyes, and breathed. "I just don't know if we can afford a house in Pemberwick, if that happens. Shouldn't we wait to invest in something that big until we know what we're doing? I mean, how do you even know they'll let you keep working. A lot of women can't. Did you ever talk to them about it?"
Angela felt extremely tight. She'd been fighting against this in her head for months, and having to combat the love of her life on the topic always added injury to insult.
"I haven't, no. Honestly, I am afraid to bring it up. And I assure you, when I do get up the nerve to do it, you'll know - hopefully encouraging me, beforehand," she said, eyeing him from the side. She turned her head forward again. "Besides, a lot of other women don't have the ace that I have up my sleeve. Wallace & McQuade is contractually obligated to promote me in September. I'd say that gives me an edge. And even if they thought they could get away with it, they'd be stupid to let me go before the baby comes. They know what an asset I've been; I've scored them hundreds of thousands in revenue since I've been there. The only problem I have is with my supervisor, and he wouldn't like me even if I weren't the golden goose - always making him look bad. So, I think, as long as I'm still able to deliver, they'll find it in their best interest not to fight the contract. I just need to be able to show them that the baby won't interfere with my work."
Michael waited a couple of seconds. "Don't you think it could?"
Angela breathed again, and tried to look at it from their angle. "Of course. A baby is a big responsibility, and they need someone focused. But I'm not alone. This assignment won't last forever. You'll be able to help, and so will my mother." She looked up at his face, but couldn't tell what he was thinking. She knew this was a touchy subject, and truly didn't want to fight. She spoke softly, really wanting to reach him. "Don't you want to make this work? For both of us?"
Michael sighed, and turned his head quickly to kiss her hair. Rubbing her belly, he sounded kind of defeated and said, "Yeah…"
With worried brows, Angela leaned her head on his shoulder, and shut her eyes. It was times like this when she wished all their time could be just the two of them, and soon their baby, without any outside distractions. They both loved those distractions, but it was such a headache, sometimes she just wanted a reprieve. She snuggled even closer. They were so good together - when it was just them.
"I've got a surprise for you," Michael said brightly, opening his tent.
"Oh," she said coyly.
He held his arms out in exaggerated presentation, "An air mattress!"
Angela laughed delightedly, "Oh, yes, please!" She slid her hands around his waist, and pulled him close. "That's even better than what I thought."
"Hey-" he said in mock hurt.
She laughed, and shook her head, "Not even close. But this is a really nice surprise. Thank you."
He kissed her.
"You're welcome. Hey, come on, let's go. I'm hungry."
Michael took her out for another hike. This time, they went slower, and he set up a fire on the cliffs. They sat together as before, with him behind her, roasting their hotdogs on sticks. Michael placed his right in the flame. Angela spun hers near some of the hot rocks.
He retrieved his blackened hot dog, and slid it into a bun. Angela looked up at him, shaking her head.
"That's a lot of char, there, mister."
He took a giant bite, and nodded toward hers. "That's a lot of waiting there. I told you; I'm hungry," he said mouth full.
She strained her neck around, and kissed under his jaw. "Mine's better."
He tilted his head down, and kissed her mouth. "Mine's gone," he grinned. "Now what am I gonna do?" he said in a low voice, and started nibbling her neck.
She giggled, and tucked her chin down to pull away. "You're gonna be cleaning vomit off your lap, if I don't get some food in me."
He retreated quickly, both hands up. "You win!" He leaned over to reach for his pack without moving her. "Here, have this." He snagged a bag of tortilla chips, and held one up to her lips. She nabbed it quickly.
"Thank you," she said after she swallowed.
"So, your stomach has really been bothering you, huh?"
She shrugged. "It actually hasn't been bad. It's only if I smell something weird, or let my stomach get too empty. I usually just keep a packet of saltines on me, and I'm fine."
Michael nodded, and leaned his head in next to hers. Immediately, Angela was back in the department store bathroom. By far, the worst day of my life. Worse than losing Ben. Worse than losing my father. She shut her eyes, and held back the tears by force. Michael looked at her face and frowned.
"What is it?"
Angela froze. It felt so real, she forgot she wasn't still alone. With a brief shudder gasp, she collected herself. There was a pull inside herself. She wanted so much to bring him into her head, let him fight with her. But what if he doesn't understand how awful that was? What if he's mad, and thinks I'm trying to make him feel guilty? Angela shook her head, and snuggled back into him. Reaching for another chip, she said, "Nothing."
She burrowed back into him as much as she could, and turned her head more toward his chest, her hotdog forgotten. Michael didn't say anything, but silently took the stick from her limp fingers, and spun it by the rock with his right hand. He kept them propped up with his left, and leaned his face against the top of her head.
After several minutes of quiet, Michael pulled the perfectly roasted hotdog from the fire, and put it in a bun for her. He held it to her, but she didn't take it. Looking down, he saw she was asleep.
