September 1984 – Wallace & McQuade, NYC
Angela looked down at the second half of the crusty sandwich on her desk. The chunky hunk of French bread was tied together with twine and held in rustic cuts of spiral ham and Swiss. The first half went down fast and effectively killed her hunger pangs, but the second half seemed to be calling for her own death.
I do not want to go there again.
But there it sat, not caring one whit what she wanted. Things with Jonathan seemed to have spun out of control, their relationship flung to the stars. It gnawed at her, and she wanted to gnaw on this.
She had twenty minutes left of her lunch and decided she was going to spend them right here. Gently laying her head on her desk, Angela stared at the food.
I can't believe I let things get so bad. I had no idea, but Mother was right: I didn't want to know. I've been flying high here at work, and I'd still rather think about that than all that's going on.
Once again, Angela was back on the hamster wheel, reliving the conversation they'd had right after Mrs. Hiller quit. Jonathan had gone up to change shirts, and Angela had tried to get a better read on the situation.
'What started all this?'
'Like you don't know,' her mother squinted.
'What are you talking about? I came in this eve-'
'Cut the crap, Angela. You know what it's been like around here. That's why you're never here!'
Angela felt something very old constrict her heart. 'Pardon me?'
Mona doubled down, 'You heard me. You're just running away. Your kid has needed you, and you've been working late, or driving to Pennsylvania for the day, or whatever other BS excuse you could make up to not deal with how much you're both hurting!'
'I'm running away? You, of all people, are trying to reprimand me on this!?'
Mona didn't say anything, but she didn't drop her glare.
Angela lost it. 'You abandoned me for six straight years when Father died!'
Surprisingly, the rage to which Angela still felt entitled didn't work on her mother. 'At least I left you with Carwen and Ben! I knew you got along well with them. I knew they were good for you. You've left Jonathan with the abominable snowwoman because it was convenient! He's spent months being terrified, while you've been numbing out a good fifty miles away in that big, cushy office with an army of self-sufficient adults who obey your every command. All summer long, my six year old grandson begged me to pick him up while you were away. At least when you were home, he could hide behind you!'
Angela hadn't replied. Her mind had shot back to those days of sheer emptiness following her father's death and realized for the first time that that hadn't been anywhere near as bad as it could've. She thought of how scared and broken Jonathan must've felt – both in losing the discernable stability of his family and then being left to be raised by that soulless rock-monster. Her mother was right. Carwen and Ben were everything her mother couldn't be, even if she should've been. And Angela did know things were awful with Mrs. Hiller; Angela, herself, hated being home. She just didn't want to believe things were as bad as they were. Feeling physically ill, Angela had slumped into a kitchen chair, holding her stomach.
But even if her mother were right, Angela had little drive to receive this truth from her. She has some nerve! I understand having compassion on Jonathan's plight, but to take such a visceral swing at me – oh, hell no! She's in no place to judge! Still hunched over, she flicked an angry glance up to her mother. 'If it were so bad, why didn't you tell me sooner?'
'You knew. You just didn't want to see it,' Mona said bitterly. 'Jonathan was too much for you to deal with, so you got some bruiser to do it. Then you got to come home and be Miss ditzy-Munchausen-good-cop. And hey, he did need some discipline and your guilt wouldn't let you be the one to do it. So, it all worked out! You wanna ask why I did what I did? How about you ask yourself that first?'
Every word her mother spoke pierced an irretrievable dart. Feeling dead already, Angela stood up and looked down at her mother. Quietly, she responded, 'You seem to have done my job for me. So why not let me in on your own process?'
They stood staring each other for an indeterminable amount of time.
'Because you're my baby. And you did this to him because I did it to you.' Two tears fell from Mona's eyes, but she didn't even blink them away. 'You weren't any more aware of what you were doing than I was when I did it. Somewhere not too deep down, we both knew we were abandoning our kid. It felt like I had no right to call you out on it when I'd done the same thing to you…' she scoffed, 'And now I'm doing the same thing to you that you're doing to Jonathan – not calling out your behavior, because I knew you did it for a reason, and that reason was me.'
Angela sat down in the chair again and angrily wiped a tear. 'What made you decide to call me out on it now?'
Mona plunked down, too, and made an extensive exhale. 'Our plan stopped working. Mrs. Hiller is on her way back to Mordor. And we're just left with our excuses.'
'And a very hurt little boy,' Angela finished.
Mona swiped at another tear and sniffed. 'Damn it.'
They both slumped back against their chairs and didn't say anything.
Angela spent a minute or two to herself. She didn't look up when she asked softly, 'Will you help me find another housekeeper?'
Mona looked at her daughter but didn't answer.
Angela turned her head to face her. 'I don't want to use that agency anymore. Would you help me find the right person for us? We're not easy to fit, but we really need someone. And you know Jonathan; you know what he needs.' She looked down, 'And honestly, at this point, I trust your judgement over mine.' She spoke quieter. 'I want someone here who's good for him.' Angela looked back up at Mona and spoke resolutely. 'If I place some ads, will you screen the applicants for me? Please?'
Mona didn't drop her gaze. 'Just because we chose the easy way out this time doesn't mean that's who we are. You do know your son, and you know you love him. I'm sorry I made you doubt that. But I will help you find a housekeeper – not because you can't do it, but because you are extremely busy, and because this way I get to be in your business.'
Angela released a tense laugh and wiped away yet another tear. 'Thank you, Mother,' she said quietly.
Mona tried to make eye contact. 'You're a great mother, kid. Don't question that. Jonathan needs you to know it. He needs you to trust yourself.'
Angela nodded stiffly, but gratefully, and both women took several deep breaths.
After that, Angela knew she needed to engage Jonathan, even if he still didn't want to be around her. She'd tried to interest him in playing board games, card games, party games, and even just watching cartoons, but he was still very upset. Even if he agreed to play, the rivalry felt vicious. Not knowing what to do, Angela had gotten used to feeling hated again.
Then she'd go to work, and every once in a while, Grant would slip her smile, or even a smirk, and remind her that she wasn't dead.
But things were piling up everywhere. Work never let up, and Angela had even received phone call from Jonathan's teacher, not a month into the school year, informing her that she believed he was being bullied. And it was the third day in a row Angela had worn this bra.
Something's got to give.
Now, with her head rested on her desk, Angela pinched off a crumble of cheese from her second half of sandwich and shut her eyes. Mmm! That's good!
Realizing she was numbing out again, Angela rolled her eyes at herself.
A knock on Angela's office door brought her out of her thoughts. She sat up and shook her curls behind her shoulders. "Come in."
Grant walked in looking pinched. "Hi."
"Hi," she answered, a little nervous.
He shut the door but didn't lock it.
"Can we talk?" he said quietly, walking over to her.
She leaned back in her chair and reciprocated the seriousness she saw in his eyes. "Of course."
He sat on the edge of her desk and kept his voice low. "I know we agreed to be careful around here, but I'd really like to see you sometime."
Angela rolled her lips between her teeth. She was worried this was coming. I don't know how to fix this. There's only one of me.
Grant kept his voice low but released an increasing amount of strain. "You haven't been able to stay after work. Your weekends are booked with your kid. I can't do anything with you during business hours - or within the five boroughs, for that matter…I've thought about passing you a note like a damned sixth grader, but I'm afraid you'll get mad that we'll 'get caught'!" He exhaled, "Is your schedule going to open up any time soon?"
Angela sighed, "Grant, I've been missing you, too. But things have been crazy around my house. My housekeeper quit, and I had no idea how bad things were between her and my son. The child psychologist said he isn't getting what he needs at home, and I've been trying to fill in the gaps – all the while, my son is still mad at me and relishes my growing frustration. My mother helps, but she's busy, too. His previous babysitter has a different schedule now…" She shrugged apologetically, "It's not that I wouldn't love a break – with you, in particular - but I'm having a hard time."
Grant's face was getting tighter and tighter as she spoke.
This feels way too familiar. Why do I always feel like I have to fight for what I need?
Then Grant sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "I know you've got a lot going on." He dropped his eyes down to hers and spoke gently. "But can we make a date? Please?"
His understanding almost brought a tear to her eye. Finally. Mutual respect and empathy. She smiled up at him genuinely. "I'd like that.
"Friday night? Dinner and dancing?"
Angela hesitated. That's soon. I don't know if I can get a babysitter. Glancing nervously to the side before looking back into his eyes, she pushed down the mom-guilt and smiled. "I'll make it work." That does sound fabulous.
Grant stared at her with that poker face of his for a few seconds, then let a smile form on his mouth. "You've been missing me?"
Her own smile deepened, and she turned her head, rolling her eyes just a little. "Yeah."
A few beats went by.
"What do you miss?" he said quiet in volume, yet loudly obnoxious.
Angela's lips pressed together tightly, trying in vain to hold back the smile he knew he concocted. She stubbornly held his gaze for many seconds but didn't answer.
Grant's impish eyes looked delighted. "Never mind; that'll do." He scooted off her desk and looked down at her. With a quick raise to his brows, he spoke low, "I'm looking forward to Friday."
As he walked away, Angela shook her head, at least somewhat amused. When did he get so cocky?
Angela walked up to Dr. Brennan's Lower Manhattan office that afternoon with the same bricks she'd been carrying for weeks.
I appreciate Mother dropping off Jonathan for me, but I hate picking him up from here. I know he needs a male role model, but me fixing that by getting married is not the right answer - and I'm in no mood for the lecture. Why am I paying this man if he can't see something so obvious?
Trudging inside, Angela caught the elevator and rode it up to the eighth floor. She got out to see Jonathan sitting in one of the chairs in the lobby. He had a bouncy ball and was bouncing it lightly on the arm rest as he waited for her. She looked at her watch.
"Did you get done early, sweetheart?"
Jonathan shrugged. She looked up at the receptionists, who were both busy.
Well, I'm not sticking around to press the issue. My card's on file. One less conversation I didn't want to have.
"Come on," she smiled at him, nodding back toward the elevator.
Jonathan got up and followed her out. They rode the car down in silence. Angela looked over at him. He had the ball in his fist, and was hugging himself, staring at the lit buttons in front of him. It hurt her to see such a little kid trying to make sense of so much pain, but the fact that he was her son, and that this pain was even partially her doing, squeezed her neck from the inside. Angela hugged herself, too.
She looked forward, and the elevator dinged. She and Jonathan walked out into the sunlit lobby not saying a word.
They had been taking the subway after his sessions, but Angela paused. "Hey, Jonathan? Do you want to go for a walk?"
The light made him squint as he looked up at her. He shrugged. "Okay," his little voice allowed.
Trying not to smile too widely – He talked to me! - Angela started walking toward the Roosevelt parkstrip.
It was a beautiful evening. They both wore light sweaters and slacks and seemed comfortable enough, but the weather was far from the chilliest problem they faced. They walked for a while, not saying anything.
Angela remembered walking through Madison Square Park with Michael. Another tense day. We were in a horrible place, and I wasn't sure I ever wanted to talk to him again. I was hurting so badly. But then he opened up…Ugh! I wish I could blame this whole thing on Michael…but I couldn't even blame that whole thing on him.
Angela looked down and saw Jonathan bouncing the ball to himself as they walked. It hit a rock and went off to the side. He collected it quickly and went to walking next to her again. She thought about asking to bounce it with him, but that was just more small talk and he, clearly, was past that.
Time to square up.
She took a breath. "Jonathan?"
"What?"
"I need to talk to you."
He glared up at her. Yeah, I can see why he'd be upset. The last time I said that, I "ruined his life".
"I want to say I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let Mrs. Hiller stay with us for so long. She wasn't kind, and I want someone kind to take care of you when I can't be there."
Jonathan's face wasn't as tight, and he was still looking at her. But he didn't respond, so she kept talking.
"I know you're very sad… We've been sad for a long time."
Jonathan looked away, and Angela glanced nervously at his face before settling her gaze straight ahead of them.
After a few more steps, she remembered something Emily had once said to her. She looked down at Jonathan. He kept bouncing his ball.
"Jonathan, I'm sorry I hurt you." He glared up at her, and she tried to be as honest as possible. "Really. I know you don't understand why I don't want to be married to your daddy anymore, and I don't blame you. I'd be mad, too. So, if you don't want to talk to me, that's okay. You still have to do what you're told. But if you don't want to talk about other stuff, like what you like and how you're feeling, because you just don't want to, then you don't have to. I want you to know it's okay with me. I only want you to talk to me about that stuff if you want to."
They walked for another minute or so, and then Angela noticed Jonathan was looking at her. He held the ball up to her in question, a serious look still in his eyes.
She smiled through instant unshed tears. He bounced the ball a little in front of her, and she missed it completely. She ran to go get it, while Jonathan laughed.
"No, you gotta watch it!" he said loudly from where he was.
Angela hurried the ball back to him, squealing internally, and he took it from her. "Here, watch me." He bounced it to himself, and she did as she was told.
Angela watched him like he was a Physics professor. "Okay, so it's a timing thing?"
Jonathan looked at her blankly. "You just bounce it. Here. Like this." He bounced it to himself, and Angela did her best to calculate the trajectory. "Are you ready?"
She nodded, more than a little nervous. Jonathan bounced it to her, and she missed it again. He laughed even louder than before, while Angela retrieved it.
More than a little frustrated, Angela held the ball and stood still. She bounced it gently to herself, and she had to bend way over to pick it up. She bounced it harder, and she had to run to go get it again.
"Just throw it to me, Mom!"
Angela stood where she was and threw it to him. It landed nowhere near him. "Ha! You can chase it this time!" she yelled, only partially teasing.
He picked it up and ran back indignantly. "You did that on purpose?"
"I wish, sweetheart, but I'm afraid I'm just not very good at this."
Jonathan looked confused, but he smiled at her and wanted to try again.
This was not Angela's favorite game, but he was definitely her favorite person.
Angela and Jonathan got hot dogs for dinner from a street vendor, and she sprung for a taxi ride home. They pulled up to her car at the Bridgeport station on the last legs of the sunset. Jonathan had almost fallen asleep, and Angela hated to wake him.
They shuffled out of the taxi and into their own car, both far more tired than what seemed appropriate for the situation. Jonathan buckled his seatbelt and looked up at his mother.
"Mom, who's the new housekeeper going to be?"
Angela's eyebrows went up in consideration. "I don't know, sweetheart. But Grandma is going to be helping us look this time, and she's going to make sure she's really great."
"Can I help, too?"
Angela smiled at him through her rearview mirror. "Baby…your opinion matters more to me than anyone's."
