Addendum #1.3 – "Angela's Ex pt.1"
February 1985 – Fairfield, CT
Angela giggled down at Michael and kissed his unresponsive mouth, "Yeah, you can dish it out, but you can't take it." She wiped both of their lips as he apparently tried to breathe.
Michael laughed painfully, "Nobody could take that."
The room wouldn't have needed to be moonlit to see the ghosts flying between them.
Michael heaved his shoulders up off the mattress and rested back on his elbows. With open curiosity, he looked into Angela's eyes.
She didn't say anything.
They stared at each other for a while, both knowing full well he had no idea what he was joking about.
As soon as he started to speak, she shut her eyes.
"What the fuck, Angela?" He didn't sound angry. He sounded sad… or hurt, …or something, and it all came out as a breath.
Prying her lids open, she showed him the death in her eyes. "Michael, look at me. Do I look like anyone who wouldn't have fallen all over themselves to make us work? I wanted that. I wanted you. I love you. But I am so hurt… Do you really not see how badly you hurt me?"
Michael exhaled and looked to the side. Shaking his head, he turned his gaze back to her. "Yes, I see how hurt you look." He squinted his eyes like he was trying to understand. "I just don't get it. I try to be straight with you, and it's like you'd rather be sweet-talked. You know that phone call you were so upset about? I was going over it in my head today. I remembered how excited I was to share my news with you. That was a big deal. You knew how much I hated editing. You knew how much I wanted to be in the field. And all you could focus on was how it affected you. When in reality-"
Her face started to harden quickly, and he put his hand to her shoulder, continuing softly, "No, I mean it, Angela. Think back. Think where we were. We hadn't had sex in a year – with no end in sight. Do you know what it's like to be so close to you, and not get to have you? It's torture. And you had all these excuses, which were starting to feel pretty cold. Do you not see how you hurt me?"
Angela wasn't exactly sure why his torment was her fault, but she still looked at him in amazement. How is this level of miscommunication even possible? She kept up their quiet tone, "Do you really think I was trying to be cruel? Couldn't you tell how badly I wanted you?"
He breathed out a genuine shrug, "Honestly, sweetie, I had no idea anymore. I couldn't trust my own experiences with you. You'd flirt with me, make out with me, and get right to the threshold, then slam the door. Yeah, it looked like you wanted me, but then it got confusing. And you did it a LOT."
Angela nodded her head sadly. "You're right; I am sorry for that. But I wish I could bring you into what was actually going on."
"Well, I don't know how honest we really want to be... But if we were both there, seeming to want each other, why couldn't you just let it happen?"
She looked at him incredulously, "Didn't you ever want something that wasn't good for you?"
Michael stared at her like she'd slapped him. After several seconds, he reached his hand behind her neck and pulled her into a long, solid, passionate kiss.
He slowly leaned back just enough to breathe, "How could this not be good for you?"
Taking a moment to collect herself, Angela blinked her eyes open. She felt confused and feared the clarity nipping at her heels. Fortunately, belonging and fulfillment sedated her into his shoulder. She knew if she ever got up, the loneliness would surely kill her.
For a long time, they held each other in the ever-cooling air. Eventually, Michael kissed her head and gently pulled away from her. "Come on; let's sleep under the covers this time."
He pulled them back, and she climbed in. She shivered as he got in next to her.
Angela nestled her face against his chest, Michael ran his fingers down her face. "Angela, I know you don't want to talk about it, but are you still seeing him – or anyone?"
The bliss left their bubble, but the gentleness was still there, and she felt free to answer honestly. "No."
"Why not?" Michael asked hesitantly. He looked down at her, and his voice heightened at her obviously growing irritation. He scootched back a little. "I just mean-" He sighed, "…I dunno. What happened?"
Curiously, this started to feel less like an obtuse barb and more like a genuine question. Angela sat up on her elbow and breathed, "What happened with what? How we got together or how we split up?"
Michael's eyebrows shot up, "What would you tell me?"
Her straight face looked at him with wary eyes, "Not much." But then she breathed again and lowered her head back down to his chest.
"Everything was so awful, Michael. I kept making these decisions that felt strong and purposeful, but they were costing me a lot."
She glanced up at him, and sure enough, he didn't seem to be following. "I filed for divorce so I could end my dependency on you. I remade this space into a place I could relax in. I got a live-in housekeeper to make everything run smoother."
His face seemed paused, but she decided not to worry about it and just watch as her fingers trailed across his chest. "The housekeeper was awful. She was mean and rude and scary, and I should've fired her long before she quit. But I needed the help, and I just kept thinking if I gave her more time to settle in, things would get better. But they didn't, and I found myself not wanting to come home just so I wouldn't have to be around her."
Angela felt his chest tighten under her cheek, and she pushed herself up again to look him in the eye. But Michael interjected sharply before she could continue. "So, it was just convenient? Fucks at the office vs a 'fuck off' from the maid? And faster than waiting for me?"
Her irritation demanded immediate grounding. "I didn't leave you for him, Michael. I left you. Then I got with him. I was leaving you, no matter what happened afterward."
Michael's eyes squinted and his head swirled chaotically. "Okay, but why him!?" he whined.
Angela knew how much Michael hated Grant. And even if Michael was mostly off base, her heart calmed at the hurt in his voice. She actually felt like she could answer that without malice, and it came out as softly as she meant it.
"Well, besides being attracted to him," Michael settled into a deep scowl, but she continued, "truthfully, Michael, I was so broken. You acted like anything I was good at was stupid. He didn't do that. He believes in me. He knows how much work and skill goes into the job I do. He values it, and that feels like he values me. And he wasn't even mean when I messed up really badly-" she let her eyes narrow, "-let alone when I didn't do anything wrong."
But even Michael's return glare couldn't keep her from running out of venom. Angela glanced down and swallowed before raising her lifeless head. "You really hurt me, Michael. You made me feel like garbage. He didn't."
Michael's bitterness stayed strong. "So, why'd this fairytale end?"
Angela was quickly losing interest in further vulnerability. She laid back on her own pillow and looked off to the side, trying to figure out what the hell she was doing.
Michael pinched his hand across his eyes and exhaled laboriously. Somehow, a soft voice came out, "I really do want to know." He dropped his hand down to the mattress and asked quietly. "Would you please tell me?"
Angela rolled her face toward his and spent a few moments watching him. "…He wasn't really a kid person, which is fine. But I need the man I'm with to want to help me raise Jonathan."
Michael blinked, "That's it?"
Angela frowned, "What do you mean?"
"That's why you broke up with him? Because he didn't want kids?"
Her face twisted in confusion, "Are you disappointed? Don't you want me to look for someone who wants Jonathan around?"
Michael's unhappy face looked at her pointedly. "Angela, I don't want you to look for anyone else."
Feeling a little dumb, her eyebrows acknowledged his point.
His stalled look moved on to consideration, "But…if you were looking for someone else …that's a damn fine reason to break up with someone." He tipped a side smile, and spoke softly, "You're a good mom, Angela."
Those annoying tears were back. Angela turned her face away from Michael's and pushed her body backward into his. Pulling his arm under hers, she snuggled his hand up by her face.
It took a while, but soon both of their muscles relaxed.
His low voice again popped their bubble.
"And the other guys?"
She sighed but didn't open her eyes, "…just didn't work out."
Michael snuggled his face behind her neck and spoke into her hair.
"Good."
The next morning, Michael got ready for the day after Angela did and made his way down to breakfast. He wasn't to the bottom of the stairs when exuberant voices came through the walls.
"Tony, stop!" Angela laughed loudly.
Michael dumped his briefcase and bolted into the kitchen. Angela was blindfolded and Tony was spinning her by her shoulders in the middle of the kitchen. The chairs had been stacked and the table pushed to the back wall. Sam, Jonathan, and Mona were using the table as a makeshift grandstand from which to cheer.
"You got this, Angela!" Sam called at the same time Jonathan hollered,
"Pick a good one, Mom!"
"You better not take the one I want!" informed Mona.
Michael halted, getting hit in the butt with the door's backswing. He stumbled forward and looked at each of them. "What's going on?"
"Daddy! Mom's going to pick the best cake for the cakewalk!"
Michael squinted his eyes and turned to look at Tony and Angela.
"What?" Michael pushed.
With one hand still on Angela, Tony used his other hand to excitedly explain, "Yeah, see, this woman is our secret weapon at guaranteeing Jonathan will be bringing the best cake in the county tonight! I made three cakes last night, as you can see, placing them each around the kitchen, and in a blind test, the lady of the house is going to sniff out the best one for Jonathan." Looking at Michael, Tony leaned in and laughed, squeezing his secret weapon's shoulders. "Nobody knows dessert like Angela!"
Michael's face fought between stubborn confusion and annoyance, but he stayed out of the way. Skirting the edges of the kitchen, he gathered himself a glass and some orange juice, while Tony started spinning Angela again.
"Hey! You already spun me!" she laughed.
"Eh- you got too steady. Around you go!" Tony got her a few more times 'till she faltered significantly in her heels, but he held her arms securely. "Perfect! Now!" He let go of her and put his hands out like a magician. "Smell your way to Jonathan's victory!"
"You can do it, Mom!" Jonathan yelled triumphantly.
Sam and Mona pumped their fists in the air, "Woot, woot, woot!"
Michael sipped the orange juice and glared at the scene over the rim of his glass.
Angela smiled widely as she drunk-walked around, but even in her mortgaged state, she surprisingly found two of the aroma sources without much difficulty.
"Oh, Tony! This is glorious!" she gushed over the lemon blueberry cake. "But there's something… something else I smell…"
Tony rubbed his hands together, grinning in fiendish delight, "Yeaaah…"
Angela turned around and, still stumbling, sniffed her way to the counter by the outside door where Tony had placed his double fudge walnut cake.
Dropping her full weight onto her palms on the countertop, Angela flung her head forward and let out a moan that made both men look at each other. "Oh, Tony, this is the one! What did you do!?"
Mona's wide-open smile successfully hid her voice, but she allowed herself the privilege of openly watching both Tony and Michael.
Tony was blushing, and his hands flopped nervously among his waist, his face, his back, and finally toward the bandana Angela was taking off. "Here, let me take that," he laughed shyly.
Angela was still smiling as she took one more whiff of the chocolate masterpiece and spun around to see Michael's frozen face. She piped up and waved him over, "Michael, come smell this!"
"I've got to get to work," he said quietly, and put his glass on the counter before backing his way through the swinging door. He was almost through when Jonathan ran over to Tony and gave him a big hug.
"Thanks, Tony! Everybody's gonna want my cake!"
In confused embarrassment, Angela's smile had subdued a little and she stepped aimlessly toward the middle of the kitchen, swinging her hands. Then she looked up and around like she was just entering the scene, "Mother, did you smell the caramel cake?"
"On it," Mona said with a large mouthful of cake.
Sam hopped off the table and both kids hurried over to 'ooh' and 'ahh' over the champion confection. Sam gave Jonathan's finger a mild smack as it neared the icing, "Don't even think about it!"
Jonathan scowled at her and went to join his grandmother. Sam followed, and they were each given a piece.
Angela made her way over to the huddle, and to Jonathan's validation, swiped her finger along the cake's pooled icing. Celebrating her liberty, she brought the deep, golden sugar up to her mouth and briefly closed her eyes as she sucked it off.
Her gaze moved from the kids happily gobbling their fantasy breakfast to look over at Tony. Smiling kindly, she made a small tilt to her head, "You did a great job, Tony. Thank you." Turning around, she walked through the swinging door.
Tony made a forced smile as he watched her leave. Wrapping the fudge cake in cellophane, he didn't say a word.
Angela caught up with Michael just as he was pulling on his gloves by the front door. "Michael?"
Michael looked up and over at her but didn't answer.
She didn't know what to say. She'd realized belatedly that she may have overdone it in her praise of Tony's cake, but she really liked chocolate. Biting her lip, she walked up to his side and put open palms on his abdomen and back. "Hey."
"What's up?" he said blankly, turning toward her. Her hands grazed along him as he moved and settled at his sides.
"I don't know," she smiled shyly. "I just hope you have good day."
Reaching up, Angela adjusted the back of Michael's collar so that it covered his tie. She looked him in the face and tried to smile.
He stood there expressionless for a couple seconds. Finally, he backed up but became no more animated. "Thanks for last night," he said like it was a twenty-dollar bill.
Angela's brows furrowed and her arms instantly hugged herself. "What?"
Michael sighed and took a step back toward her, "Angela, do you want me here?"
She didn't know all that was happening, but her stomach registered a jolt. She tried to remain present, but that just made her tear ducts sting. "I don't- Michael, what's going on?" her voice wavered.
He closed the last bit of space between them, and his voice softened, "I said, 'Do you want me here?'"
She looked at him like he was crazy, but her low voice came out as gentle as his. "Michael, I've never wanted you to leave me."
Bringing his hands up to her face, he kissed her deeply. Her arms slowly unclenched and made their staggered trek up behind his neck. He crossed both his arms behind her waist and held her hips snugly in place.
When he pulled back, Angela slowly opened her eyes to a fresh sheet of tears.
"Why are you crying?" he asked softly.
She shook her head before her little voice spoke, "I don't know."
