October 1982 – Williamsburg Bridge, NYC
Angela squinted into the break lights of the car in front of her. Rain and hail pummeled her car that evening, and even though she felt guilty thinking so, she was almost glad for the crash that was reining in all this weeknight traffic. Still, it was taking forever, and she needed to move.
Michael leaves so much, I'd almost rather him take a cab home. Her feet hurt. She was tired, and she had to get to work in the morning.
But Michael was right. Him coming home was one of her favorite things, too - even in their present circumstances. She softened, thinking back to March, when he'd flown in from Iceland. She remembered how excited he'd looked the split second before he'd kissed her. I love his smile…
The fantasy was short-lived. That was only seven months ago. Seven months; when everything changed for them. She'd spent the first four months buried in her work. But even after talking with Wendy, and making a few coffee dates with her and Isabel, isolating with work was still Angela's go-to escape. Every so often, her guilt over not giving enough time to Jonathan would spur her to spend an afternoon with him, doing whatever he wanted. And she'd made a point to read with him every night before bed. But mostly Angela had kept to herself. She'd always processed things alone. Well, I've dealt with things alone. I process them with other people. Angela took a breath, and tried to set the pain aside for the time being. I've got to focus on the road.
But an uncomfortable thought bobbed to the surface. It didn't just happen seven months ago. Everything was bad before that; it just hadn't exploded yet. Angela's exhaustion bore down on her. They really were in a mess. It was so easy to pin all their problems on one moment, but a lot had led up that. If it weren't that, it would've been something else.
Pushing her thoughts away, Angela leaned over the steering wheel, and scrunched her forehead in tight concentration. It's so hard to see out here!
At last, Angela rolled passed the ridiculously innocent crash that had kept her under 5mph for the past 20 minutes. You've got to be kidding me… Shaking her head, Angela refocused on seeing the car in front of her. Exasperation wouldn't help the situation. I don't want anyone to be hurt, but crap – all this hubbub for people who can't even agree where the scratch is! Irrational, overreaction! She glared. Like Michael.
Angela had started out tonight already on edge about seeing her husband again. But when she'd gotten to JFK, they'd explained that Michael's flight had been diverted to Newark because of the hail. She'd checked in with her mother, who'd insisted that everything was fine, and that she could get Jonathan to school the next day. Just remembering her mother was in her corner had helped calm Angela's growing irritation.
But her familiar swirl of emotions around Michael picked up speed the closer she got to the airport. She rarely felt just one thing with him. She was elated and annoyed, impatient and wishful, cold and hot. The only thing they had in common was their ability to increase her pulse.
Traffic finally gained momentum after passing the "wreck", and Angela steadily made her way to Newark.
Huddling in through the automatic doors of the baggage claim, Angela stomped off the rain in her dainty heels. She looked up and around for Michael, even as she caught her breath and shook out her soaked umbrella.
She saw him from a distance, leaning back in a row of chairs, and smiled. He was talking casually with some other men, duffel bags all around them. Must be his new crew. Angela stopped and watched him. The echoey room was mostly cleared of other people, and their voices carried. All the guys looked exhausted, but she could tell from their tones and expressions that they were still animated and lighthearted. I sure wouldn't be in that good of a mood if I'd been in the dirt for 5 months. It was a foreign concept, but it felt good. For all she thought she knew about Michael, she realized he had something to teach her. Michael said something, gesturing, and their whole group laughed. She felt a different value for him increase as warmth spread from her wistful face.
He's a really cool guy, isn't he? Why does this have to hurt so much? That ripping feeling was gaining weight with his nearness.
One by one, the guys noticed she was staring at them from afar. She made an awkward smile, and started walking again, her Italian shoes clicking on the hard floors, her tucked umbrella dangling from her wrist.
Michael stood up, and she could see the steps he took to meet her were cautious. His eyes revealed nothing, but she thought she saw a little smile in his parted mouth.
As always in these moments, her reserve was no match for the nostalgia; she couldn't help it. His wrinkled clothes and tanned face, his well-worn smile lines and well-worked body...like he'd washed up on shore, and was only looking for her. WOW- I've missed him... The tingling behind her nose sparked tears in her eyes as she stopped in front of him. Taking a shuddery breath, she looked like she was going to speak, but just stood there, her deep breaths more like gasps. She was going to wait for him.
Michael dropped eye contact, and took a half-step forward. Tilting his head, he slowly thumbed away her tears. He looked back into her eyes, and spoke softly.
"Well, one of us has got to make a move, 'cause I'm gonna die if I don't kiss you."
He unleashed his smile on her right before going in for a deep kiss. His arms overlapped behind her waist, and he held her tightly. She gripped the back of his shirt with her right hand, while the fingers of her left slid through his hair. The guys behind him cheered loudly, and Michael's and Angela's own grins only slightly interrupted the intensity of their reunion.
Then, Joel stood up and brushed off his shirt. "Alright! My turn!"
Angela's eyes shot open, and she gagged Michael out of her mouth. Michael spun around and flew in a fury toward Joel. All the guys got up, and in a loud, cussing ruckus, managed to make a barrier between the two.
Angela felt the life drain through her body as she stood there, feeling totally exposed. What did he tell them?
The men pulled Michael's arms behind him, and Kevin stood widely in front of him, trying to get him to calm down.
It was all so cloudy to Angela, her own heart beating like a war drum. Rough voices now filled the large, hollow room. Shoes squeaked on the floor, and Michael watched through squinted eyes as half of the men walked Joel away.
"I am not done with you!" Michael screamed as he shoved his whole weight in the direction of his words. He shook the rest of the crew off of him, but they continued to obstruct the escalation with their words and presence.
Two security guards had trotted into the skirmish, and Angela noticed she'd been walking backwards. Coming to, she turned around into a run.
Some of the crew slapped on Kevin's shoulder and pointed to Angela's line of retreat. Kevin got in Michael's face, yelling for his attention. Grabbing his shoulders, Kevin spun him so he could see her go. "She's leavin', man!" Kevin said, now pointing, too. Michael shoved him out of the way and grabbed his packs before bolting after her.
"Angela! Angela, wait!" Michael yelled.
The downpour outside confirmed more than competed with Angela's gushing tears. Even in Panama, she'd never felt so cheap. Bright beams of light sliced through the darkness, and she could see a shortcut to her car across the pick-up lanes.
Wiping her nose on the sleeve of her Burberry trench, she sniffed the rest up and got into her car. Never having bothered with the umbrella, she was now crying, drenched, and shivering.
The backdoor on the passenger side flew open, and Michael dove in with his gear. Angela was shaking in fury, humiliation, and cold. She whipped her body around to face him.
Angela coughed out a sob, "How could you!?"
Michael's pleading brows dipped to anger, and he yelled right back. "I didn't do anything!"
"What did you tell them!?"
"I told them what happened. It was a big deal, Angela! I had to deal with it somehow! What? You never told anyone!?"
"I told people I trusted. People who've been there for me! They cried with me; I knew they wouldn't hurt us with it!"
"Well, these are the guys that were there!"
"What? Just anybody will do?" she screeched.
"Oh, yeah, 'cause you're real known for your intense vetting process!" he mocked. He squinted his eyes, and rose a couple of octaves, 'Got a dick? Can I spin on it?'"
Angela dropped her forehead onto the headrest to sob under the crushing weight of pain. He is so mean!
"As if it's not bad enough that you fawn all over your boss all day-" Rain droplets flew off Michael's hands and hair as he flung them around, emphasizing his point.
She flashed her sopping wet face up at him, "I told you I was sorry for that! I didn't mean to hurt you! You did! You let that drinking buddy hang all over you!"
"Well, you made good time – parking your ass in someone else's lap! You and your girls can cry all you want, but we both know you took us from zero to sixty in six blocks! You think that wouldn't affect me? You think I wouldn't be scrounging for any kind of help at all!?"
With significant effort, Angela swallowed her sob, and shook out a response. "Zero?" she piddled out. "Zero!?" she continued to shake. "I think you forgot to carry the one- hundred fucking thousand! You can claim I brought us to the speed of light if you want, but don't you dare say we started at zero! I have bent over backwards to placate you. All these years! You fly off the handle and blame me for everything! Do you have any idea what it's like to live with you? Never knowing who I'm going to be talking to - unless it's about my job, of course, and then I know for sure you'll be unreasonable!" She took a breath, then switched into mockery mode. "You can't leave for Alaska on-time? Yell at Angela. Your family's mean? Yell at Angela. You father a child? Yell at Angela! I'm the answer to all your problems, aren't I?"
Michael kept glaring at her, but his deep breaths had steadied. He answered her quietly, "Well, I sure seem to be the answer to yours." He pulled on the door handle, and stuck one leg out. Turning his head to look at her, Michael said, "I'll start moving out this weekend." He pulled his packs out of the back, and shut the door.
Angela stared at his closed door in silence, her barely-open mouth releasing tiny, jagged breaths.
A/N: Hey, guys. I'm going to be without a computer for a bit (hopefully not more than a week or two), but, even now, I'm not done with this story. I will get back to writing/posting as soon as I am able – and, I'm sure, making notes in the meantime. Thank you, all, for continuing to read it!
