April 1979 – Fairfield, CT

"Oh, Michael, would you please get that meatball?" Angela said, pointing to Jonathan's food. "It's a little big."

Michael looked up. "Hmm?" Lagging, but still following, he looked down at the highchair tray. "Oh. Yeah, sure." He cut the meatball in to quarters, and went back to twirling his own spaghetti.

"Are you okay?" Angela asked.

Michael's mouth opened a little, his tongue propped on one side of his teeth. He sighed, but got up and went to the mail on the counter. Plucking an envelope from the short stack, he handed it to Angela.

She frowned a little, but then read the return address.

"Your parents? What is it?" she said, pulling out the card.

"Their 40th Anniversary party. We're invited."

Angela's face brightened before she remembered this topic was painful for Michael. She squelched her smile quickly, and read the invitation.

"So, next month, in Illinois," Angela said as she looked up at Michael. "What are you thinking? Do you want to go?" She put the card on the table.

"No. …But I don't know. I guess I kind of want to see if anything's changed. They were happy we got married…"

Angela paused, trying to tread carefully. "They seemed supportive at the wedding." Angela thought back to the few minutes she'd spent talking to them. They were very interested in her job, and she didn't sense any negative vibes toward them. In fact, none of Michael's family seemed bothered by anything that day - particularly how they'd seemingly appeared out of thin air, and - other than savings bonds they'd sent Jonathan for Christmas and his birthday - disappeared just as quickly. Everything seemed fine, and Michael never brought it up. She was a little afraid to, but then, she was embarrassed to admit, she usually forgot about them.

Michael was leaning against the counter, staring off in to space. Angela tiptoed toward the possibility, "They haven't met Jonathan yet. But how are you doing?"

Again, pulled out of his thoughts, Michael adjusted his attention to her with his brows up. "I dunno. I guess it's kind of nice to be invited," he said, picking up the invitation. "Of course, accepting means we have to go there…We could pretend it got lost in the mail," he laughed.

She smiled softly, but scrunched her face. "I feel like that's been done," she played along.

"Yeah…" he tossed the card back on the table.

Angela just listened.

Michael rubbed the back of his neck, and started to walk around the kitchen. "I mean, it'd be fun to go on a little trip, and maybe…I don't know. A lot has changed." Michael lightly brushed a hand over Jonathan's hair as he walked behind him. "Maybe things will be different this time."

"How do you want them to be?" she asked.

He snorted, "I'd like my family to not be a bunch of assholes, and just talk to me directly without any kind of motive behind it. I'd like to walk in there not feeling like a screw up."

Angela looked at his nervous pacing with compassion. I wish I could fix this. He's so hurt. She nodded.

Jonathan took a wide-mouthed bite of spaghetti, and tried to get the leftover fistful off his hands by shaking it. Angela flinched as some saucy bits of noodle flew up to her eyelid and cheek. Michael didn't say anything, but grabbed a damp rag from the sink, and squatted down to wipe his son's hands and face. Angela used her ring finger to wipe the sauce prints from her face, internally congratulating herself for not making an issue of the germy rag. Definitely not the time, she thought, was far more enamored with the way her husband was naturally taking care of their son.

"No!" Jonathan grunted, and turned his face away from the rag.

Michael was still squatted, looking pensively up at Jonathan, who was now growing more and more irritated. The toddler pulled his knees up, one at a time, scootching himself out of the seat. "Whoa, there, little tiger." Michael stood up, grabbed him around the waist, and put him on the floor. Angela was mesmerized by the whole scene, and smiled dreamily up at her husband. How can they not see how wonderful he is?

Michael watched Jonathan try in vain to pull the bib over his head. "I guess we could see how it goes," he said, and untied the bow at the back of Jonathan's neck.


May 1979 – O'Hare International Airport

Angela picked up Jonathan as they exited the jetway, while Michael trudged ahead with the carry-ons. Angela was used to crowds. But Jonathan seemed clingy, and she patted his back as they walked. But it was Michael who was the most on edge. Even her question of if they were getting picked up, or renting a car, was apparently outrageous.

They would most definitely be driving their own car.


Michael got their two suitcases, and both carry-ons, while Angela put Jonathan down, exhausted. He pulled at her arm like a bell ringer in a cathedral. "Up! Up!"

Angela looked down at Jonathan with compassion, but she was in a dress and heels and couldn't toddle around anymore with his 23 extra pounds. "Come on, Jonathan. You can do it," she said, gently shaking the little hand she was holding.

"He's fine," Michael said a little softer, but still ready to go. "Let's get a car, and get out of here."

She nodded, and followed after him to the rental counter.


On the drive to St. Charles, Michael was mostly quiet. Angela didn't feel like striking conversation would be helpful; she knew he was having a hard time. But she reached up and lightly stroked the back of his neck as she looked out the window, and it seemed well-received.

But several minutes into driving, Michael got off of I-90. "So, things are obviously strained with my family. …I could use a few extra minutes. Want to see a couple places?"

"Absolutely," she said softly, still rubbing his neck.

He nodded and turned south on I-83 but didn't say anything for a long while.

Then, he just started talking. "I grew up in Oak Park." He shrugged. "I thought it was a nice place. But my parents always seemed in transition, ready for something better, ya know? Always working."

Angela nodded, trying to follow.

"Before I was born, my mom was a secretary, and my dad worked in a steel mill while he was going to school. They didn't live in the best neighborhood." Michael looked over at her. "It was a slum." He returned his gaze to the road. "Anyway, they finally saved enough to get out, and my dad got a teaching job at a junior high school while he finished his doctorate. They were kind of old when they had me and Ben. My mom farmed us out to neighbors and kept working and saving." Michael let out a steady stream of air, and Angela was pretty sure he'd given her a side-eye.

Ahh…

Angela noticed she was holding her breath, and tried to exhale, too. She tried to focus on what he was saying. It actually explained a lot. But she still bristled – not just because of the precedence his parents had set, but also thinking how adamant Michael was against naming their baby, Ben. Once he'd told her why, she, of course, understood. But she was still a little wrenched about it. At least she'd gotten to use Lawrence for his middle name. It might not have been exactly what she'd wanted, but Ben's last name was still an acceptable tribute. When Michael started talking again, she refocused.

"As long as we got good grades, they didn't bother with us. But when I was in the 8th grade, I remember my buddy telling me when he wanted his parents to give a damn, he'd just get into trouble…" He bit his lip and shook his head. "Didn't work the same for me. Next year, I was in Lake Forest Academy for the remainder of my time 'at home'," he said with sarcastic finger quotes from his left hand.

Michael turned onto to a tree-lined street with sidewalks and yards. He drove down a couple more streets, and pulled up in front of a two-story, red brick, bungalow with a covered front porch and white trim. He just stared at it.

"This is it. My room was that one, up at the top, facing the side," he said pointing.

She ducked her head to look up at it through the windshield. "It's charming," she said gently.

"Yeah. On the outside."

She gave him a compassionate smile. "Do you want to get out?"

He took a breath, looking up at the house for a few seconds. "Nah. Let's just go."

She looked at him sadly, and rubbed his shoulder. "Thank you for taking me here."

He looked over at her, and tipped up a half smile. "Yeah," he said, and drove away. When he got out of the subdivision, he looked over at her and smiled. "I want to show you one more place."

Angela smiled back, feeling a shift, and squeezed his shoulder. "Sounds great."

They drove for almost 20 more minutes in silence, then pulled up to Brookfield Zoo. Michael smiled widely at her, and thumbed out his window. "I spent the best summers as a kid at this place."

Angela's brows dipped a little, not understanding. "What?"

He chuckled a little. "Yeah, it didn't cost anything to visit, so I'd hang out here almost the whole summer. Lots of poor kids would do that. I don't think we were exactly poor or anything, but my parents were always careful with money. But my dad would go out of his way to drop me off here on his way into work." He nodded, acknowledging. "That was nice."

Angela smiled a little, "So that's how you came to like animals so much." He must've had a really rough time.

He smiled. "Yeah."

She leaned across the seat, and kissed his cheek. "I'm glad you had that."

"Me, too."

Michael sighed, at looked at his watch. "I guess it's time to go." Angela had nothing she felt she could say, so she buckled her seatbelt again and put her hand back up on his shoulder.

Those few extra minutes he'd wanted ended up being a couple hours, but Angela was very happy to have taken the long way. And while she felt significantly closer to her husband, and was grateful he was wanting to bring her into his past, she was also sad and embarrassed that she hadn't known about any this until now. She was mad at herself that she hadn't bothered to dig. She was hurt he'd never brought it up, and she started to wonder how little about each other they actually knew. She knew there was a whole lot about herself she hadn't told him, and she started to wonder why.

By the time they arrived in St. Charles, it was getting dark. Michael stopped at a gas station, and got out. He bent back over so he could look at her through his door. "I'm going to call them, and let them know we're here…see if it's a good time."

Angela nodded, hesitantly. Ouch. This is strained. She was suddenly very grateful for her own mother.