August 1983 – Fairfield, CT
"Say, cheese!"
"Cheese!" Jonathan and Michael grinned.
Angela put the camera down. "Oh, I bet that's going to be a good one! Can I have one with you, honey?"
Jonathan sighed, but at his father's encouraging look, gave her a smile. "Sure."
Michael traded spots with Angela, and took the camera from her. She forced a smile as much as Jonathan did, and squatted down primly next to his desk.
"Cheese," came from the subdued duo.
She stood up and looked around the classroom superfluously.
"Okay, well, it looks like that's it," Angela sighed.
Jonathan sat down in his chair. "Yup."
"Bye, little tiger," Michael said, ruffling Jonathan's hair.
"Will you pick me up after school, Daddy?" Jonathan said with round eyes of hope.
"No, you're going home with Jenny. But I'll see you soon, okay?"
Jonathan turned his head toward the name tag taped to his desk, and traced over the letters with his finger. "Bye," he said quietly.
"Goodbye, Jonathan," Angela said hopefully.
Jonathan turned his head to look at her blankly, then looked back at his name tag. "Bye."
She barely heard him, but even a sound was something. He'd been mad at her for months, often disobeying her. Sometimes she'd get mad, and other times, like now, she was just sad. He didn't get here on his own.
Angela stared at the ground as she left the classroom with Michael. They walked out to their cars, which they'd parked next to each other.
Michael shoved his hands in his pockets. "Thanks for inviting me. It was good to be here on his first day." Angela nodded, but didn't look up. "And I think this new school is going to be good for him - no reason to send him to a private school when he lives in this neighborhood."
Angela looked up at him for a moment and tried to be kind. "Thanks for coming. He really liked that you were here." She couldn't sustain even a flat smile through the last part.
Michael's head tipped to the side in defeat. Sighing, he stepped forward. Instead of accepting the impending offer, Angela instantly put on a smile, and turned toward the sidewalk. She looked back at him over her shoulder.
"Do you have a little more time? Want to go for a walk?" she asked walking away. They'd both taken the morning off, but she didn't want to assume.
Michael quickly, but gently, grabbed the fingers of her left hand. "Hey."
She stopped, and plastered her smile before looking back up at him. "Yes?"
"Would you stop it? Come on, let's go for a drive."
The cloud returned to Angela's face, but she held eye contact.
She took a couple of seconds to decide, but never changed her expression.
She didn't say anything, but moved with him, giving slack to their arms.
Michael let go and put his arm around her shoulder. Walking her to his passenger door, he opened it for her, making sure the folds of her long skirt were in before shutting it.
They drove down the quiet roads, and Michael turned into a shopping center. "Let's get some ice cream."
Her gratitude bragged a small smile, and she looked up at the sign to the ice cream shop. "It's 9:30. They're not open yet."
"Hmmm…" Michael put the car in reverse, and drove wordlessly to a grocery store.
"I'll be right back." He got out and went in by himself. Angela sighed and looked out the window. He came out a few minutes later with a pint of Häagen-Dazs in French Vanilla.
He got back in the car, and handed her the treat. Shaking her head to herself, she almost informed him of her preference. But she remembered Isabel telling her to decide if something was worth it to her. Some day it will be. But not today. Smiling slightly, she took the gift, and looked back out her window. It was a sweet gesture, and I just don't have it in me right now. I don't even want ice cream anyway.
Michael drove to their house and parked behind the kitchen. Walking around the car quickly, he opened Angela's door. Silently, she trudged the ice cream in, and got out two spoons. Sitting down at the table, she left the container shut and stared at it.
Michael sat down in the chair next to her. He looked at her, then at the ice cream. Reaching out for it, she interrupted him and smiled with effort. "I'm not really hungry, Michael, but thank you."
"Who eats ice cream 'cause they're hungry?"
Her eyebrows acknowledged his observation, but she shrugged. "I just don't want any right now. But thank you."
"What do you want?"
Angela scoffed. She shook her head and looked down for a few seconds. Then her teary eyes met his. "I couldn't even tell you. See, you - you always know what you want. I only have that at work. Everywhere else, that's just…too much of a luxury."
"The fuck it is," Michael's eyes narrowed. "I said, 'What do you want?'"
She laughed. After a moment, she looked up and said, "I want Jonathan to know I love him, and not hate me because I'm not you."
Michael's face softened, while hers tightened.
She kept going as she stood up and walked around. "I know he's just a kid, and he's probably like this because we haven't been stable - but that's what I want! This hurts and I hate it! Why isn't he mad at you, too!?"
Michael bent a sad smile and rose to meet her. Shrugging, he said, "You're the one here? And he's a boy. He thinks he wants his dad, but he really needs his mom."
Angela had a hard time with that one. She stopped and looked at him. "You mean, he needs someone to take good care of him?"
Michael nodded, considering. "Yeah…his mom."
Not liking where winning that argument could go, she redirected. "And I want you. I want you to want to be with us, and not just if we're sleeping together." She tipped her head, and her smile turned coy, "I mean, I do want that…You wouldn't believe all the things I want to do with you."
He matched her look, and her smile dropped. "But I don't want that to be what's keeping you from being mean to me."
He stepped forward, annoyed. "Hey. I do want to be with you, and I think I've proven that. We've had sex twice this last year, and I'm trying to help you, as we speak. Just last month, I held you all night, with you laying all over my chest, and did nothing but hug you. You think that was natural? Maybe you haven't noticed because you've been so booked up with bitterness, but I've been pretty patient, Angela. It's not fair to say you have to have sex with me for me to be nice. That's just wrong."
Angela sighed. "Michael, the last thing I want to do is negate that night, because I can't even describe what you did for me. I had nothing, and you got me through the night. And that got me through the next night. But you could also be weeping naked on my chest, and then start screaming terrible things at me. I haven't been able to get that out of my head. Sometimes I'm mad. Sometimes I'm sad. But I'm never not scared of that happening again. That was a fall I don't think you understand. But I need you to - before I can get any closer."
"What part of all I just said to you makes you think I don't understand? Why do you think I've been okay with this arrangement? This is ridiculous, Angela! Up until that night on the couch, I wasn't allowed to touch my wife!" Michael's voice softened. "And even now, it's…careful. And I don't even blame you. I know what I did to you. It hit me hard, too. Once I realized what I had done, I wasn't sober for a week straight. I kept seeing your face…" He took a few seconds to himself. "I just know I botched it. Bad." He scoffed, "I deserved that night on the couch with you. But something's gotta give, here, honey. Doesn't it? I mean, don't you want it to?"
"You 'deserved' that night?" Angela looked down to shake off the fog, before looking back up at him again. "That was one of the nicest memories I've had with you. I needed you, and I thought you were there for me because you cared about me - not because you were trying to punish yourself."
"I do care about you! How is that not clear?"
I'm not really sure how to answer that… Even riled up, Angela felt better, having a real conversation with him. But she also wasn't ready to relax, and felt the need to ping. She decided to switch topics. "Why are you okay being away so much."
"What?"
She spoke softer, but just as sincerely. "We hardly see you. In three months, you'll be gone for six. I barely catch up with you on the weekends. I just want to know …does that bother you?"
"This again," Michael rolled his eyes and tossed his hands in the air. "You never asked me to come home, not since before I left for India. I was under the impression we were just figuring things out."
Angela answered even quieter, "I was under the impression you were comfortable like this. And I'm scared. But I want you to want to be home. I want you home, even if I'm too scared to ask you yet. Do you remember when you moved out, and were hurt that I didn't ask you not to? I guess I understand that better now. I didn't ask you back…but do you want to come back?"
His nose crinkled, "What the hell kind of a question is that?"
She didn't blink or raise her voice, "Sounds pretty scared to me."
Michael stared at her for several seconds. Then, looking to the side and nodding his head to himself, he repeated her question quietly, "…Do I want to come back?" He scoffed, then shook his head with just a hint of a smile. He stepped forward slowly - slowly enough for her to back away, but she didn't.
He put his hands around her waist and placed a soft kiss on her lips. Her eyes shut like a butterfly landing on a flower, and her heart exhaled in relief.
Michael opened his eyes, but barely moved back from her mouth. Smiling obnoxiously, he said, "Well, if you're not going to say it, neither am I."
Angela laughed, and Michael took the opportunity her open mouth provided. With a sense of relaxation she hadn't realized she could still remember, her arms flew around his head. She pushed herself up against him. She was tired of thinking about it. What had it gotten her? Everybody more miserable, that's what.
She felt his hands all over her, down her back, around her butt, and back up to her waist where he pressed them together. Meanwhile, he devoured her mouth; she could barely get a breath. And she didn't want to.
Finally. Her sense of well-being went through the roof, and she was flooded with the difference. Her hands slid down to his face, and she kissed him back, determined for him to understand how much she wanted him with her. He pulled sections of her blouse free from her waistband, and his hands slid up her bare sides. She gasped and her hands fell down to brace against his chest. After a moment, she realized she was noticing more about what she was feeling than what he was. That feels a lot meatier. In a sorrowful awakening, Angela opened her eyes and stopped returning his kiss. She blinked slowly as she looked down to where her hands lay.
"Angela?" Michael said, breathing heavily.
She thumbed the ridge of his now more-defined pects, and it started to sting behind her nose. Her sinuses swelled and her eyes filled.
"Angela, what's wrong?" Michael said, sounding nervous.
She looked up at him, and shook her head, starting to cry. "I'm sorry, Michael. I am so, so sorry." She wanted to elaborate, but it just would've sounded like an excuse. This is what she meant.
"What do you mean?" he breathed, his brows dipping up in confusion. "Sorry for what?"
Her body kept shaking. Her eyes wrinkled, and her voice cracked, "For Panama. All this time. I never apologized." She pressed her hands flat against his chest. "But I want you to know, I am so sorry I hurt you like that."
Michael dropped his hands, finally having caught his breath. He stepped back, trading glances between her and the floor. "Fuck. I really didn't want to do this now…" He exhaled and looked back up at her. "I knew you were sorry, Angela… You practically carried me back to the hotel. I mean, I was wiped out and trashed, but it wasn't just the pain that kept me up that night. I heard you crying for hours on the floor next to me. You got me ice and bandaged me up." He looked down, "You didn't have to do all that… I don't know what would've happened to me if you had left with him..." He shuddered out a breath and shook off the memory. Looking back into her eyes, he regrouped. "I knew you were sorry."
Her grateful smile let out a little voice, "I should've said it, even if I didn't think you wanted to hear it."
He scoffed, "I didn't; you're right… But you probably didn't either." He shrugged and let his hands slap against his sides. "This really never seemed like the kind of thing we could apologize for."
"No," she agreed. "But we should've."
Michael sighed and shifted his weight, "I just don't know how much it matters. I mean, it's done. We can't take that night back."
She nodded and looked at the ground.
Michael stood still for a few moments. Then he sighed and stepped forward, running his hands down the backs of her arms until he reached her hands. Bringing them up to his chest, he looked in her eyes. "I'm sorry, too. I never wanted her – well, either of them." The emotion only allowed for a breathy exit. "I was just fucking pissed."
Angela nodded, staring at what used to obviously be a lean, runner's chest. She looked back up into his eyes. "Me, too," she whispered.
They stared at each other, just feeling out this new situation. She felt different. Closer. Sadder.
She didn't exactly like it, and relief was inches away. Feeling tears starting, she leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his lips. That closeness she liked. Michael kept his eyes open, but accepted it.
Angela opened her eyes along with her mouth, advancing even as she was requesting permission. After a second, Michael closed his eyes, and kissed her back fully.
She followed suit and brought her hands back up to his chest, appreciating all that he had been, all that he was, in spite of her. Trying to be sensitive, she kept her hands mostly still, but pushed against him hard and worked her mouth hungrily.
Michael put his hands to her hips and pulled her backward into the living room, pushing the swinging door open with his butt. She'd follow him wherever he wanted to go.
Once through, he turned them around and walked them forward to the couch. He smiled widely in the middle of their kiss run wild, and braced one hand behind her back. "I've really missed you," he laughed into her mouth as he shot his eyebrows up. Tipping her backward over the armrest, a tiny squeal escaped her. He fell partly on top of her, but most of his weight fell on the elbow crooked behind her and the hip just to the side of hers.
"Me, too!" she grinned. She arched to scootch them higher up on the couch, but he held her in place with his hips. She liked feeling pinned underneath him. She'd missed it, the encompassing heaviness that muffled her striving.
Still unsettled, Angela squirmed and pulled him closer by his belt loops. Her long skirt had gotten caught in the fall, and tugged on her hips. He pulled her shirt up and scootched himself backward, leaving her endless torso open to his perusal. His right arm was still under her, but his left hand felt free to roam. He started kissing by her ribs and moved to the middle, his warm lips moving downward. When he got to her belly, he blew a gigantic raspberry into it, and she let out a mighty laugh. "Stop that!" she managed, dipping her hips and pushing his shoulders down farther.
He laughed and let his chin rest on her stomach, looking up at her. "You are so beautiful," he marveled. At this point, his lower body weight was mostly leaning on the armrest, over her knees and shins, giving him a solid view of her long, trim body.
She smiled appreciatively down at him, and ran her fingers slowly through his hair. But the pressure of him between her legs distracted her, and both her hands attached to her forehead as she stretched back.
"You're right," he said in playful calculation, and undid the button on her skirt. "Places to go, people to see…it's past ten already."
Angela groaned and tipped her head back into the cushions, "I dunno…" she breathed. "I think I'm feeling a sick day coming on…"
Michael stopped kissing her pantyline, and looked up. "What?"
She laughed a little and did a sit-up, propping herself up on her arms behind her. "Wanna play hooky?" she said with a saucy look.
Michael blinked blankly, "You'd skip work?"
She smiled.
His expression didn't budge. "Why now?"
There was a pause to the room Angela didn't understand, but it felt all too familiar. "What?" she tried to laugh, always in hopes of an alternate ending.
Michael's eyes narrowed and tilted his head. "For six and a half years, I've tried to get you to pay more attention to me than your job, and you never would. Why now?"
Angela breathed, and looked to the side, thinking. "I don't know. I just want to."
"You didn't before?"
Angela had to put a lot more effort into her laugh this time. "Michael, that probably has a complicated answer. But I really just want to."
Michael breathed a few more times, looking into her eyes. "Does that answer have anything to do with you feeling me up?"
Now her fear was as unavoidable as her confusion. What in the…? This is getting weird! And weird with Michael could go any which way.
Exasperated, she let out, "What!?"
"You felt the difference in my chest earlier. Is that the difference for you now? Is that why you'd finally be okay to skip work after all these years. I just had to stoke the fire a little hotter? Be a little more familiar to what really got you going?"
Now she was mad. Angela pushed herself back, and pulled her legs toward her. Michael let her. "Are you kidding me!? Do you just want to screw this up?"
His whole face tightened, and he answered in ice. "I'm not screwing anything. I just want to know why, after all this time, you're finally willing to put us first? What changed, besides the obvious?"
"I am so sick of you assuming the worst of me! Did I just imagine that conversation in the kitchen? Didn't we just have it!? We finally said we were sorry! We really hurt each other, and we actually owned that! It felt closer, didn't it? It did for me!"
Michael stared at her for a few seconds. Slowly, his face softened, and he sighed in defeat. Plunking down next to her on the couch, he stared straight ahead. After a good half a minute, he answered her. "I guess it still just hurts."
Angela wiped fresh tears angrily from her eyes and leaned against the back of the couch, completely disappointed. "Yeah…"
Michael looked down at the ground for a little while. "You know, my opportunities for lifting in the field aren't as reliable."
Tears of frustration and grief fought their way to the front of her eyes. "I never wanted you to!" she squeaked furiously.
He turned his head to look at her, and his face looked…fragile. "You looked like you were having a pretty good time that night …new worlds, and all..."
Angela dropped her chin to her chest, "Damn it, Michael..."
All alone, she just let herself cry. Then she sniffed up the remains and pulled five years onto the skin under her eyes. I don't want to push down what he's saying. I know I hurt him. But shit! I was hurt that night, too! Nothing she could formulate didn't sound like an excuse, even to her. Defeated, she re-made her small and tired offer. "I'm sorry I hurt you." She looked him in the eye, "I truly am."
Michael made a flat smile. "I know," he said softly. Reaching over to hold her chin between his thumb and his finger, his smile grew just a little. "And so am I."
Angela gave him back his flat smile, and pulled away from his touch to nod at the ground.
He's right. 'What's done is done.'
After several seconds, Michael looked over at her, and his eyebrows went up a little. "I guess it's probably too late to try again?"
Angela slowly turned her face toward him? Meaning what?
Reading her mind, he amended quickly, "I mean what we were doing here. Not in general."
She let out a sharp laugh, "You sure about that?" At his confused look, she added, "We do have a tendency to throw a stick in the spokes, don't we? Do you think that means anything?"
Michael sighed, and leaned against the back, too. "I hope not. After all this? To have it just be wasted?"
Angela turned her stubborn tears toward him. "We aren't a waste, even if we don't make it."
Michael's face looked wounded, and he looked forward again. Tightening his lips, he said, "Okay."
"Okay, what?"
He squinted his eyes and turned back to look at her. "Is that where you're headed? Us not making it?"
Frustrated, Angela lifted her hands and dropped them onto her lap. "Michael, do you have your bearing? If you do, please share it with me, because I'm completely adrift! I don't know which way is up. I don't know if you want me, or want to leave me. …This is awful. I can't say anything without it screwing with us!" At his look of objection, she continued, softer. "And yes, you can't, either." She exhaled. "Why is that?"
He paused a few seconds, then shrugged. "Who knows? …Whatever it is, it is consistent."
"Yeah…"
After a few moments, Michael sighed, "Well, if you're done, I guess I'd better get to work. The trip's coming up fast."
Angela dropped her head to her chest; it felt 5 pounds heavier. "Okay," she whispered.
Michael leaned over, and kissed the side of her head. "Talk to you later."
She nodded and he rose from the couch.
Suddenly, he spun around on his heel. "Oh. Your car. We have to go get it."
Angela's head tipped back, and she let out an exhausted breath. "That's right."
She stood up begrudgingly and fixed her clothes, noticing Michael made a point not to watch her do it. Tight, angry, and alone, Angela followed him to his car.
