May 1984 – Wallace & McQuade, NYC
Angela's forehead rocked from one side to the other on her wooden desk. Something had just happened. She wasn't exactly sure what, but she knew she needed to talk to someone.
Heaving the enormous weight of her head, she sat upright and dialed lethargically. Then she put the receiver back in its cradle and returned her head to her desk.
A couple of minutes later, her phone rang. She lifted the receiver but not her head.
"Hello," Angela stated aimlessly at the floor.
"Angela?" Isabel sounded confused. "What's wrong?"
Embarrassed at the concern in her friend's voice, Angela reevaluated her position. She felt silly. Why did I call her?
"Angela?"
"Hmm? Oh, I'm sorry, Isabel. I, um…I shouldn't have paged you at work. I just-" she breathed. "…I'm not doing well, and I'm not exactly sure why..."
"Angela, you sound really absent. Are you okay?"
"Um, yes… Well, I don't know… I- I feel like I want to pack up all my toys and go home, and I don't know why."
Isabel spoke cautiously, "Can you get to St. Vincent's safely?"
Angela's increasing embarrassment seemed to clear her head. "Uh…yeah. Yeah, I think so." She needed to put Isabel's mind at ease. "But I don't need a doc-"
Isabel's counter move was soft and reassuring. "Listen to me, Angela. Whatever it is, take it easy on yourself, okay? Get a snack from the break room, tell your boss you're leaving, and get on the train. Take it slow; don't stress yourself out. When you get here, tell the tech at the ER window who you are. I'll let him know I'm expecting you. Can you do that?"
Angela tried to nod, but it rubbed-squeaked her forehead against the polished desk. "Ow." She sighed, annoyed with herself, but found the slight burn actually helpful in grounding her. She sat upright, gingerly patting her compromised skin. "Yes. Yes, I can do that."
"Good. I'll be waiting for you."
"Oh. My. God," Isabel stared at Angela wide-eyed. "You don't know why you're triggered? I know why you're triggered!"
They sat in an ER consultation room, Isabel's beeper in plain sight. Angela rubbed her forehead, her elbows propped on the table.
Angela breathed and shook her head absently. "I just- …it was a rough conversation." She raised her head and put her hands out to explain, "but a lot of our conversations are rough. And he always says mean things before he leaves a fight. Nothing about this was new… What happened? Why am I so out of it?"
"Angela! Your husband - the person you're supposed to trust more than anyone in the world – has equated you with a piece of ass! He won't come home until you're willing to have sex with him, and you're not having sex with him because he's fucking scary! That's why you're upset! Your body is telling you this was a very big deal!"
Pressure filled the front of Angela's face, and tears filled her eyes. She stared at Isabel, not knowing what to say. She felt belittled, stupid, and pathetic.
"Oh, sweetheart," Isabel spoke softer and leaned across the table to give Angela a hug. "I didn't mean to sound vicious. Lord knows you get enough of that." Sitting down with the weight of a woman three times her size, Isabel sighed and slumped back into the chair. "I forgot what it felt like to be used to that," she said softly to herself.
Looking back up at Angela, her face softened. "I just hate seeing you like this. Michael…" she exhaled sharply and shook her head. "I don't know what his issue is. I know sometimes he can be great; I've seen it." She put her hands up, acquiescing. "He's handsome and charming, and I've seen you soar to the moon when he's nurturing you. But I've also seen you absolutely annihilated by him. He just did it to you again, and it hurts. Me."
Angela sniffed and nodded stiffly. She was probably still making eye contact, but the tears made it hard to tell.
Isabel made a lengthy exhale. "Angela, you know I've been in a similar situation. My sister told me she lived with the constant worry that she'd get a phone call one day, saying they'd found me in a ditch… but I didn't know she felt like this." Isabel dropped her chin to her chest and breathed before looking back up. Empathy wrinkled Angela's brows.
"You're just worth so much more than this," Isabel said sincerely.
Angela looked at her blankly and after a few moments, Isabel spoke up, "Look, you're my friend, and I'm not trying to tell you how to feel, but I have to ask you: What if you just don't want this? Would that be okay?"
Angela's compassionate face twisted to confusion. "Why do people keep asking me that? Even Michael has." Isabel now looked just as confused as Angela. "I mean- it's just so irrelevant…"
"What!?" Isabel managed to squeak.
"Yeah, feelings aren't a basis for decision-making! They change. They can be manipulated. They're unreliable. I'm a businesswoman. I'm practical. I want to decide my life; not let my emotions run everything. But even if they were trustworthy, I know I love him; I don't have to be 'happy' all the time. That's frivolous." Angela tipped her head back and forth. "…I mean, I'd like to be happier than I am. But that's not-"
"I'd call BS, but your body already did."
Angela's lids dropped halfway down her eyes.
Isabel leaned forward. "Angela, you can pretend all you want, but you're just explaining away the obvious, and you know it. You don't want to give up Michael:" She nodded reassuringly, "I understand that."
Angela's face started to soften, but she didn't comment.
Isabel continued earnestly. "I know you love him and I'm not faulting you for that. But I also know you know this isn't okay. It does matter what you want. The peace in your home is worth fighting for. You. Do. Matter. And not just you, the businesswoman. You, the courageous mom who gives genuine hugs… You, the empathetic friend with a generous heart… You, the brilliant woman who, deep down, knows the truth. That you - the real you. She is worth treating well. And if you aren't willing to admit it, your body will find ways to keep telling you."
Angela stared at Isabel and started to squint. What if it's true? She remembered snuggling Jonathan to bed, reading The Berenstain Bears. She remembered caring about Jonathan's feelings, and considering the possibility of her own having value, even back then. If mine don't, who decides that? That's arbitrary. That's not scientific…
Angela started to feel extremely exposed. Her eyes widened in horror, and her mouth opened to a squeak. She looked at Isabel who stood up immediately and gripped Angela's shoulders.
"Nope- Nope! Listen to me! Angela!?"
Angela's eyes bugged out, and she started to shake, looking around erratically for a tether.
"Angela! It's okay! We've all told ourselves lies to deal with pain. Every single one of us."
Angela's stomach flip-flopped and she leaned forward. "Uggghhhh!"
Bolting upright, Angela squinted and tried to shake off the truth. Isabel followed her movements like she was spotting her at the gym.
Angela spun around in a circle with her hands covering her eyes. "I let him- …do you know what I've…Aggghhh!"
"I have a pretty good idea," Isabel comforted dryly. "Remember, I did it, too."
Angela crashed back into her chair and slapped her forehead in her hands. "I'd kill anyone who'd treat Jonathan like that!"
"I know," Isabel relinquished.
"He's just so…"
"I know."
Angela's head flashed up, "And I do love him! That isn't a lie!" Angela loudly tried to grasp at clarity, "I still want him to come home and comfort me! He can be really nice!" She stood up again and grabbed Isabel's shoulders, begging her to understand. "I promise!"
Isabel just kept nodding empathetically, "I know. None of this would make sense if he couldn't. But it does."
Angela stared distantly as she held the truth of that, and started to cry again. She felt herself snuggling back into Michael, his arms protectively around her…Yeah.
Self-disgust took another shot at Angela, and she swiftly tore away her hands. "Ohlllffff! That's sick!" Angela noticed her teeth were chattering and she couldn't stop shaking.
Isabel tried to square up in front of Angela. "Exactly. It's 'sick'. We've all been sick at, at least, one point in our lives. You're not weird or pathetic. You're 'sick', and allowing yourself to believe the truth is the only way you can heal. You're worth that, too."
"But I'm just so…so…MAD."
"I know," Isabel smiled. "That's good!"
Angela kept shaking and Isabel opened the door. "Hang on." She left and quickly came back with a blanket. Wrapping it around Angela's shoulders, Isabel helped her sit back down and shut the door.
Isabel leaned forward in her own chair and looked into Angela's terrified eyes. "I know this doesn't feel awesome, but it's really, really good, okay? Trust that. Trust the truth."
Angela nodded quickly but couldn't say anything.
Isabel grabbed Angela's hands in her own, smiling and speaking soothingly. "We're going to get through this, okay?"
Angela continued to nod like a lost child. Isabel modeled slow nods and slower breaths. "There you go… It's okay. You're safe. Jonathan's safe. You're going to be okay, Angela."
That was all Angela could take. Staring into Isabel's determined face – determined to see her through this, determined to love her – already having loved her more than Angela had loved herself - Angela started sobbing. She leaned over her knees, her lungs crashing violently into her ribs. She just wanted it all to go away. It was so painful.
Isabel got out of her chair and kneeled down next to Angela, hugging the shoulders protecting Angela's shame-tucked head. She squeezed tightly and didn't let go.
Giving up, Angela quickly sat upright and hugged Isabel back as she cried.
Angela snuggled the jacket flopped over her arms as they walked through the automatic doors of the ER, Isabel's hand on her opposite shoulder. Angela pulled out one hand to shield her eyes from the harshness of the early summer rays. She turned to look at Isabel, who smiled in spite of them.
Isabel looked steadily into Angela's eyes, "I'm serious; you're going to get through this. Okay?"
Angela nodded and Isabel pulled her into one more strong hug.
"Now, go do something to take care of yourself. You've been through a lot, and you need to recharge - Doctor's orders."
Angela nodded again and attempted to smile. "Thank you, Isabel," she said softly.
"I'm glad you called me," Isabel smiled, stepping back toward the doors with confidence.
Taking a shuddery breath, Angela turned toward the parking lot without it.
Angela drove home without the radio on. The sun was shining brightly, but she was still shivering from the cooled sweat. Turning the heat up, she tried to think of something to relax her.
That wasn't very relaxing.
She first thought of Michael and shoved that down quickly, trying not to hate herself for even thinking it.
Then she thought of a spoon and a giant tub of ice cream, but that was every bit as scary.
A warm bath came to mind, and Angela's heartrate started to slow. Yes.
Pulling into her driveway, she clenched her teeth as she exited the incubation of her now-perfectly-heated car. I have to get out of these clothes, she thought as she made her way upstairs.
Angela ran a warmer bath than usual and started to undress. She held her blouse up to the light. I don't remember sweating that much. She rolled her eyes at herself. There's probably a lot I don't remember…
Stepping into the pleasantly searing waters, Angela lowered herself in slowly. It was better than the car. Swaddled in warmth, she laid her head back against the edge of the tub and allowed herself to breathe.
After a couple of minutes, she opened her eyes and looked around the bathroom. The white and navy tiles paired perfectly with her nautical theme. I don't know why I tried to buy things he liked. He never did - or, more to the point, he probably didn't care.
Isabel's voice came to mind. 'What if you just don't want this?'
Yeah... What if that really does matter?
Rolling her head back to look at the spartan vanity, Angela started to smile.
