Addendum #1.4 – "Angela's Ex pt.1"
February 1985 – Wallace & McQuade, NYC
"Hey, there!" Tony smiled at Sheila as he power-walked in from the elevator with a paper grocery bag in the crook of his left arm.
"Hello," Sheila answered back. "How may I help you?"
"I'm Tony Micelli. I'm looking for Angela Bower."
Sheila's eyebrows went up, "Do you have an appointment?"
"Uh, no," Tony laughed out a wide-mouthed smile, and then piped up. "But I'm her housekeeper, and I was 'hoping she'd see me'," he said like a joke.
Sheila kept her face straight but pleasant and reached for the phone. "Just a moment, please. Let me ask."
She dialed back to Angela. Tony looked up and around the lobby for less than three seconds before nearly slamming himself back against the reception desk. "Oh, tell her I brought cake!" he said, pointing to the bag.
Sheila's mildly stoic composure cracked for an instant, and she revealed a genuine smile. Her voice registered the difference into the receiver as she kept eye contact with Tony, "Mrs. Bower, he wants you to know he brought cake."
As she hung up, the wideness of Sheila's smile diminished but its authenticity remained. "She'll be right out, Mr. Micelli."
But Tony kept up the wideness of his, "Tony, please. And you are?"
"Sheila." Her smile was small but still managed to reach her eyes.
"It's good to meetcha!" Tony reached in the paper bag and pulled out a small Tupperware container. "Here. You can have my piece."
Sheila scrunched her brows like he'd just presented her with a box from Tiffany's. "…Oh, no, you don't have to do that," she said, still looking at it, shaking her head.
"Nah, I already had a piece of a different cake this morning."
Her stalled look continued as her gaze rose to his, and Tony laughed.
"It was a cake day... Seriously, take it," he nodded encouragingly. "I'll pick up the container on my way out."
As he spoke, Sheila's frown transformed into the smile he'd originally created.
"Thank you," her quiet voice allowed, just as Angela walked in.
"You bet," he grinned and turned to Angela.
"Tony?" Angela said looking puzzled.
His brows dipped up hopefully as he lifted the paper bag up high, "I brought you lunch."
"Thank you," she smiled kindly at him and nodded toward her office. "You didn't have to do that." Angela spun around, "Thanks, Sheila."
Sheila nodded, and the two of them walked out of the lobby with Sheila's lightened face looking after them.
Tony put the bag on her desk and pulled out several containers as Angela shut her door.
"Here, sit," he said nodding at her chair.
Angela watched him in curiosity as she obeyed. He opened the tops and dished out lasagna and salad onto a plastic plate.
"Tony, this looks wonderful-" she closed her eyes, "–and smells fabulous." Tony's eyes flickered toward her nervously. "Thank you. But what's the occasion?" she smiled up at him with wrinkled brows.
Tony dished some out on a plate for himself without looking at her. "I- uh," he sat down at one of the chairs on the other side of her desk and squinted cautiously at her. "I just wanted to see if you were doin' okay?"
Angela's breathing was giving her trouble again, but she tilted her head. "What do you mean?"
Tony's paused look only lasted a second before he dove in. "Y- you just looked a little sad this morning, after you picked out the cake – good choice, by the way! I had a feelin' you'd pick that one!"
She gave him an endeared smile, and his voice slowed again, "And, uh- I dunno. I was just wonderin' how you were doin'."
She looked at her salad as she pushed it around with the fork. She had no idea what was going on with her, but she knew the confusion involved Tony and the precarious state of her "marriage". She didn't know how much was proper to divulge, but a longing pulled at her. She wanted to tell Tony all that had happened. She knew that wasn't appropriate, but she still craved letting him in.
The funny thing was, she knew he'd listen and be there for her if she did. She also knew he was a gentleman. And even though she felt safe from his judgement, she wasn't sure if honesty would push him away. Or Michael, for that matter. Things were so iffy right now, and the last thing she wanted was for Tony to stop talking to her like this. She needed a friend, and she knew she had one in him.
Angela moved her fork from the salad to the lasagna and took a bite. She looked up at Tony who had almost completely cleared his plate in the time she'd been brooding. His closed-mouth smile was obviously holding back an enormous amount of food. She giggled at him and took her bite.
Tony did his best to swallow, and then his knee started bouncing. Angela looked down at the ground and around, and Tony stopped moving.
"Angela?" he prodded.
Angela sighed a smile. "Thank you for checking on me, Tony. I don't know exactly what I'm doing yet. I'm still sorting and processing. But I really appreciate you looking out for me. And you did an incredible job on those cakes." Her voice gained confidence and speed the further she moved from vulnerability.
"I don't know how you- What in the world possessed you to make three cakes in the middle of the night? All Jonathan needed was one, and you know any of them would have been the most popular one there."
Tony's face froze and he glanced away, moving uncomfortably in his chair. Angela's face got more and more puzzled.
"Tony?"
He looked back at her with a strained, red face, "I just really needed to not be upstairs."
"…Not be upstairs," she repeated quizzically. Suddenly her eyes got big, and her mouth dropped open. "OH, my– Ahhhhh!" She squeaked with her hands over her face. Making a tiny opening in her fingers, she let one eye ask him, "You heard us?"
Tony's dry face looked at her pointedly, "Angela, the Wilmingtons heard you."
Angela knew she should be mortified, and she was. But she also couldn't help but laugh. Tony's embarrassed face had somehow morphed into a knowing, buddy-like grin, and she didn't care if it was appropriate or not. She was glad to be there with him.
Angela finished the last of her lemon blueberry cake with her eyes shut. "Seriously, Tony, this was incredible - just the nicest lunch I've had in a long time."
Tony smiled at her, "Good."
Suddenly, Angela heard Michael saying the same softness into her hair last night. She shimmied it off as Tony kept talking.
"I'm sorry you didn't get some of that double fudge walnut–" he smiled teasingly at her, "but, hey, it was very noble of you to donate your favorite to the kids like that."
She gave him a half-fake pout, "I didn't think the consequences of honesty all the way through."
He chuckled as he cleared up the plates and containers.
She caught herself, mid-faux pas. "…Not that this one wasn't spectacular, Tony!"
Tony waved her off, "Ah, I could tell ya liked it." His face started to look a little pink, and he took a second to needlessly fold the top of the paper bag before looking back at her. "I know chocolate's your favorite, but lemons and blueberries are really yummy together. Sometimes it's good to give som'n else a try."
Angela slowly nodded at him as she used her ring finger to wipe some of the remaining vanilla glaze from the corner of her mouth. "I think you're right."
February 1985 – Fairfield, CT
Angela laid down on her stomach on top of her covers that evening. Tony hadn't wanted her to fight for him. She couldn't embarrass him like that. She knew the men were taking the situation differently than she wanted to, but she still wanted to fight for Tony. And that want was coming from a place a deep loss.
Now, Tony was in the other room. Packing.
Her friend was leaving.
She had other friends. She considered Wendy and Isabel to be angels dropped from heaven. But life and friendships run in seasons, and the ladies hadn't been talking as much recently.
She'd been talking with Tony. And now he was leaving her.
Michael thumped up the stairs with his large duffel and heaved it off his back. "Ohlff!" he dumped it onto the middle of the floor. "Ya know, this desk job thing may not be so bad." He made an exaggerated stretch to his back and shut the door, "I'm getting old!"
He laughed a little, but then stopped and looked at Angela when she didn't respond. Climbing clunkily up onto her, he hovered over her like a turtle. In a high-pitched voice and a bump to her hips, he goaded, "Oh, Michael. You're so strong and virile. You can conquer my mountains any day!"
She continued to stare off into space off the side of the bed.
"I said," Michael's register rose a few octaves again, "'you can conquer my mountains any day'."
A small smile tipped up the side of her face, and her eyes rolled back to glance at him.
"You know that's true," she offered dryly.
Michael dipped his hips and wiggled against her. "Hey, what's the matter?"
Angela didn't answer for a few seconds. She wanted to push him off her and scream at him. She wanted to cry and have him hold her. She wanted Tony and Samantha to stay. She wanted everybody to get along.
But they couldn't. And she had added to the situation.
Now, here she was with yet another reality she didn't like, and it was taxing.
She just wanted it all. Is that so much to ask?
Angela sighed, and Michael got back on all fours as she rolled over underneath him. She looked up into his eyes and spoke low, "You know I'm glad you're back, right?"
His face got serious, and he paused a moment. "I don't know that I've ever been that great at reading you… and, truthfully, baby, I don't know how great you are at facilitating that."
She stared at him a second. "So, no?"
He slowly shook his head at her.
Robert Frost's The Road Not Taken ran through her mind. She still wanted time to decide which road she wanted to take. She didn't want to make a decision. But Michael had made it for her. If she protested, she'd lose him, thereby making her own choice anyway. This is where she was, with Michael leading her down the path most traveled. It made sense: a husband is more valuable than a housekeeper. Right?
Angela had to be all in, or she might as well not even bother. Her choice was to go with Michael's choice. She wanted Michael. And Tony didn't want her -to stay with me, that is. He didn't want to stay with me - under the circumstances, of course. Tony really is a great guy. And if I fought for him, it would just make him look bad to Michael. It's about protecting Tony while I try to make my marriage work.
Tony would protect me.
She noticed Michael looking down at her with growing qualm, and she diverted from her uncomfortable thoughts.
Angela arched her eyebrows. "Hmm…you know, I thought I did a pretty good job of letting you know that last night..." She shrugged dramatically and shook her head, "But, hey, if the job is undone…"
She started unbuckling Michael's pants, bringing a huge grin to his face.
