Addendum #1.5 – "Angela's Ex pt.1"

February 1985 – Fairfield, CT

Michael pulled himself up the banister, one hand over the other, and Angela nearly bumped into him at the top of the stairs. He grabbed hold of her shoulders and dramatically pleaded, "The first week back is the worst!"

Angela laughed and brushed his freshly washed hair off his forehead, "Aww, I'm sorry, honey. It won't take long - a few weeks, and you'll be running and lifting at the same level you were. It's not like you've been sedentary all this time."

With a miraculous shift in energy, Michael's smile broadened, and he walked her slowly back into the wall. His eyes zeroed in on her, and his low voice took over. "I hope you don't mistake my complaining for ingratitude."

Angela smiled, even as her eyebrows scrunched. She was about to ask, "What?" but then he started to kiss her behind her jaw.

"You've been an incredible trainer," he mouthed along her cheek.

Her hands fell to his upper arms, and she turned her head to nab his kiss. We've been at it for four days straight. You'd think I'd be getting tired of it by now…

Nope! She laughed to herself and pushed forward on him in challenge.

Michael laughed into the kiss and pressed her waist back against the wall.

She moved her arms around to hug his back while he continued to remind her why nothing else mattered.

Just then, the door clicked open, and Angela turned her head nervously toward the intrusion. It could've been anybody. Her mother was in Florida, but Jonathan was outside with Joey, Sam was at the park, and Tony was looking for a job. That last part always ached.

Jonathan and Joey laughed their way into her train of thought, stomping snow from their boots. Angela was staring frozen at them when their disgusted faces discovered her and Michael.

Michael stopped his mouth but didn't move back from her.

"Eww!" went Joey.

Jonathan just kept watching his parents' paused make-out session in horror. Flustered, Angela pushed Michael back and stood up straight. Michael squinted at her a little, but then they both looked down to Jonathan.

"Hey, there, son," Michael said with a muted wave of his hand.

Jonathan blinked. "Hi," he said quietly. "We were gonna watch a video."

"Okay," Michael agreed.

With wide eyes and a closed mouth, Jonathan turned toward the couch. "Come on, Joey."

But Joey kept watching Michael and Angela. Michael was watching Angela. And Angela was watching Joey watch them. Fortunately, it didn't take long before Alvin and the Chipmunks stole Joey's attention.

With warm cheeks, Angela took Michael's hand and pulled him back into the upstairs hallway. She exhaled a nervous laugh, trying to pretend the embarrassment was mutual.

"What's the problem?" Michael asked, his eyes back to squinting.

Angela brought her palm up to Michael's cheek. Why do I always feel like I'm in diplomat mode? Is everything a crisis?

"Michael, I know you know what you do to me."

Michael's face started to look more friendly. She tilted her head and kissed his mouth deeply.

"I know you know I want you to do it," she breathed, looking at his lips.

Angela kissed him again and received his full participation for the life of the kiss.

When she leaned back gently, one of her hands was at his inner shoulder and the other pressed against his chest. Pulling him close to her, she stated clearly, "I just want you to do it in private – us focused solely on each other."

Michael's face tightened, "I'm not having trouble staying focused."

Angela exhaled.

Michael picked her up, threshold style, clearly straining from his workout but, nonetheless, stone-faced determined to prove his point. Angela took the opportunity to place a gentle kiss on his lips.

Michael's voice relaxed, but his face remained basically the same. "I just want to do what I want to do, and not have the neighbor kid in charge of how much action I'm getting."

Angela's lids fell halfway down, and she shook her head, smiling, still trying to lighten the mood. She moved to drop her leg, and he put her down. Patting his chest patronizingly, she smiled, "He's not."

Her eyes changed sharply, and she pushed him back against the wall. Kissing him hard and long, she moved her hands to grip his waistband, her knuckles pushing against the skin at his hips.

Then she pulled back softly. With a cock to her head and raise to her brows, she said daintily, "I am."

An indiscernible wisp of fear shot through her. She meant it to be playful, but it wasn't funny. Something felt presumptuous, and maybe even mean, about her lighthearted claim.

Shaking his head, Michael grinned.

Angela instantly felt better.

Relieved.

He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. "You wish," he laughed, smacking her butt as he marched her into their room.

Angela laughed to herself, but even still in the air, she was getting worried again. Crap, I don't have time for this. It's fun, but I was just playing around. I've got to work!

Michael set her down on the bed and started to climb on top of her.

Her brows dipped up, and she tried to be soothing. "Michael, I'm sorry, but I can't do this now." She looked up at him, rubbing his shoulders. Laughing a little self-consciously, she shrugged, "I've already gotten ready for the day, and I've got some things to take care of before the workweek."

Angela saw his face go from playful, to ticked, to cautious in a few seconds.

Michael crawled backwards slowly, alternating which lip he was biting. When he stood up, he held his hand out to her.

She stared nervously at his flickering eyes but took his hand anyway. He pulled her securely to her feet.

Not saying anything, or, really, even looking at her, he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Thank you," she said a little timidly.

She briefly caught his eye, and Michael nodded, answering quietly, "You'd better get to work. I know that's important to you."

He walked out the door, and Angela spoke up, "Michael?"

He looked down at the ground as he spun around but then back into her eyes. "What?"

She took a breath. "Why do you still want us to work?"

His face wrinkled deeply, and he took a slow step or two toward her. She felt jumpy and tried to elaborate, still standing where she was. "I know you're trying… I just don't know why."

Michael stared at her for several seconds, his jaw set and his eyes starting to fill. Turning his face, he blinked and sniffed, swiping roughly at his nose.

He turned his face back to hers. Despite his efforts, he still looked compromised. "I know you said it was over for you, and that's why you… did what you did. But it was never over for me. I didn't… know things were as bad as they apparently were for you. But for me…"

Angela's forehead tightened, and Michael swallowed thickly.

He kept looking at her as he continued in shocking softness. "You're what I look forward to. You're who I come home to. You are my home." He tried to shrug, but it did little to mellow his stiffness. "I remember what my life like was before you…. and I don't want that."

The pressure behind Angela's nose built rapidly as he spoke. She nodded and let two silent tears fall, choosing to hug herself rather than wipe them.

He nodded again and then finished walking out of the room.


February 1985 - Wallace & McQuade, NYC

"Mrs. Bower?" Rosie called from the hallway.

Angela was shoving her arm through her wool dress coat and spun around. She picked up her briefcase with the arm that made it through and flipped her hair out of her face. "Yes, Rosie?" she yelled back breathlessly.

"Your husband's on the phone."

Angela leaned her head out her doorframe, blowing a resilient strand of blonde out of her mouth. "I'll take it."

She shut her door quickly and snatched up the phone. "Michael?"

"Why are you out of breath?" he said with open fear in his voice.

She hadn't said two words yet and the conversation already felt fragile. And she knew why. Exhaling for patience, she answered him, "I'm rushing to the studio. They're having trouble with a shoot, and I need to get over there."

After a slight pause, he spoke, "Oh."

Angela closed her eyes and tried not to tap her thumb against her desk. She was just about to ask him why he called when he continued.

"I was going to see if you wanted to get lunch." He paused. "…but you sound pretty busy."

Angela's head tilted in appreciation. "That's really sweet. I'd love to, but yeah, I'm swamped right now. I don't even think I'm going to get lunch today. I've got to get down there, ASAP."

She heard him breathe, and she squeezed her eyes shut for more patience. Finally, he responded. "Okay, how about I bring you a sandwich?"

"To the studio? It's in Jersey, honey."

Michael waited another few seconds before answering. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll just take the rest of the afternoon off."

Now, Angela was pausing. Again, with the choosing my work over himself? The shifts that were occurring felt seismic. "Um, okay. Thanks, honey. If you don't mind – it's Synergenius Studios in Hoboken." She waited a beat, wishing she didn't have to be honest. "I'm really not going to have time to talk, though. I'm going to be working the whole time. You sure you want to come down just for that?"

He answered with a tight voice, "You've gotta eat, right?"

She wanted to play this back and forth game a little longer so he knew she didn't expect him to give so much when she couldn't reciprocate, but she didn't have time.

"Thank you, Michael. That would be very nice."

"See you soon."

"Okay, bye."

Thankfully, they both hung up at the same time.


Michael was waiting outside the gate when Angela's cab pulled up.

"Oh, sir? Would you please stop before you go through? That's my husband. I need to pick him up."

The driver pulled over, and Michael got in.

Angela caught herself before she said, "Hey, Beautiful", but she didn't know why. Whatever it was, it felt uncomfortable and prohibited. Instead, she smiled and leaned across the back seat to give him a kiss.

The driver drove through the gate, and Angela showed her ID to the guard. They passed through, and she was able to turn her attention back to Michael. "Thank you for coming! I'm starving!"

Michael slapped the heel of his hand to his head, "The food! I knew I forgot something!"

He put both hands behind his back, and he was smiling. Calmly.

Angela's lids dropped halfway down, and she moved decisively back over to his side of the car. "Don't even try it, Jungle Jim," she said steadily. "I will climb all over you, if I have to, but I will get that food."

Michael grinned at her but didn't move, "Promise?"

A small laugh cracked her executive stare, but she didn't move her eyes from his. "Michael, I mean it. I was looking forward to that sandwich. Hand it over."

Opening his mouth, he braced his tongue behind his left canine tooth, and popped his eyebrows up.

"Oh, my goodness- you are so getting it."

She started to reach toward him, but he cocked his head and kept his smile obnoxious. "Should be interesting to see how far you're willing to go with an audience."

Angela calculated quickly.

The first thing that came to her mind was turning the tables on him, removing articles of her own clothing as naughtily as possible until he dropped his guard. A few well-placed whimpers… I'd barely have to unbutton my shirt. She'd never see that driver again, and Michael was asking for it. But there was that hesitation again. Under the circumstances, even that much sensuality wouldn't be funny if someone else were witnessing it.

She wanted to tell the driver not to look, but she knew that would be stupid. Better to hide in plain sight. Whatever she did, the man was making his way through the lot, and the intended hangar wasn't far.

Angela knew she had to work quickly. Turning her padded shoulders roughly toward Michael, she braced one hand on his outside knee. Glaring and practically shouting at his face, she moved her head as sharply as her tone. "Listen here, Michael! This is not the day to mess with me! You know very well I've been up since 6:30! …Well, I've been out of bed since 6:30! My heel broke-"

Angela moved the heel of the hand she wasn't using to prop herself up, and used it to rub the front of his slacks. Slowly. Gently. She took great care to ensure her active shoulder remained as covert as possible.

"-in the snow grate in front of our building! - Which is why I'm now wearing my back up penny loafers with this outfit when it clearly doesn't go!"

Michael's eyelids started to flutter.

"Then I spent the entire morning being briefed on a new tax law which is going to cost us several thousands of dollars – which I would've gladly paid myself to have escaped that meeting!"

She flipped her palm downward and continued to let the smooth friction work him.

"I had just gotten out, when I got a call that nobody can follow my notes for this commercial shoot!"

Michael's head had tipped back, and she leaned in to whisper by his ear. "May I please have my lunch now? I really need something in my mouth."

Both of Michael's empty hands drifted out into the air from behind his back, and he reached down to pull a wrapped sub from near his ankle. He still hadn't opened his eyes when he handed it to her.

She grinned happily and took the sandwich with her now-free hand, and started to turn around to face forward again. Michael opened his eyes and grabbed her arm.

He smiled stiffly, "I'm really gonna need you to stay where you are for a minute."

Angela returned an airy smile and shrugged. She used her teeth to rip off the paper while she held the sub in the hand that wasn't holding her up. She looked into Michael's eyes while she took a big ol' bite.

"Oh, for crying out loud!" He waved her off sharply. "Just sit over there!"

Laughing victoriously, Angela used both hands to eat as much of her lunch as she could until the car stopped. She looked up to see the driver grinning at her in the rearview mirror.

I guess I'm not as sly as I thought.

Angela overpaid him and got out as fast as she could.

Michael squinted a pained smile out his own window as he took a few seconds to himself. He exited the cab much slower and less fluidlike than she but followed her closely into the studio. "I'm not sure either one of us won that one," he whispered behind her ear.

Angela smiled and turned her head, casually using her tongue to suck a small piece of bread from her teeth. "Or we both did," she said in a low voice.

Another worry warning flashed through her mind: Did I just act like I was more okay with bringing other people into our sex life than he is?

Wait- he started it.

Michael matched her smile, and she breathed in gratitude as they walked past equipment stacked on tall, industrial shelves.

Angela's anxiety so frustrated her that she found herself checking in frequently, wondering if she felt guilty about crossing lines with other people.

She didn't.

She felt a deep heaviness about their situation. And she hated the brokenness she saw in her husband. It felt unbearably familiar.

But given the same circumstances, she still would've done what she did – well, with most of them, anyway. She wished the best of luck to whomever was attracted to Jeffrey. But with everyone else, especially Grant, she would've taken the risk.

But I'm still uncomfortable. Am I just sad? I know the situation is awful, but it feels like there's something else there. I'm nervous as hell, and I can't figure out why.

Adept as always at hiding her feelings, Angela winked at Michael and kissed his cheek, "Thanks for the sandwich."

He nodded a self-deprecating smile, "You are most welcome."

They shared an intimate glance and then turned their attention toward the commotion awaiting Angela. As she dove into the fray, she took off her coat and turned her face back toward him. "You can sit over in those chairs, if you want."


Michael sighed and sat down. He watched her intently as she talked to the director and the actors. He watched her go over papers with them.

Collegiate marching band music pumped, and a bright green lit backdrop caught Michael's attention. Actors, in what looked like college sports' mascot costumes, dunked hula hoops in kiddie pools filled with soapy water and picked them up to spin them around. Gigantic bubbles wafted through the color-changing air.


Angela pointed to the top page of the packet she was holding.

"No, Barry! The movements are very precise – they have to look athletic! These guys have to be jumping really high, like they're on pogo sticks. We do this wrong, and we'll end up scaring the hell out of kids. See? That's why I wrote it in the notes like that. We're going for sporty, dancey fun, not horror movie motions."

Barry looked at her like she was crazy. "Angela, it looks like-" and he started reading like he was just learning. "Ahh- zzz," he looked up like he'd just made his point. "See? We can't make heads nor tails of this. It looks like you wrote 'Oz'."

Angela's eyes widened and she pushed her finger to the page again, "I did! It says it right there – 'the animals are NOT to bounce like the monkeys in The Wizard of Oz'. Which is basically what you have them doing. It'll give the kids nightmares! Parents are not going to give their kids a nightmare bubble bath before bed!"

Barry squinted mystified at the paper, "That's what you wrote?" He looked blankly up at her, "What's The Wizard of Oz?"

Angela's eyes got even bigger. "Are you kidding me!? I came all the way down because you haven't heard of The Wizard of Oz? It's a classic! Isn't that required viewing to get a film degree!?"

He narrowed his eyes at her and dried out his voice. "I guess not. They assigned us stinkers like Hitchcock, Ford, Dreyer, Yasujiro, Coppola-"

Angela closed her eyes. "I get the picture." Touching her forehead, she waited a moment before looking at him. She moved her hand to his arm and said, "I'm sorry, Barry. That was rude. I know you're very capable, which is why I hired you. Here. This is what I mean."


Michael's stalled face stared at Angela.

She squatted down deep in front of the man with the papers and then sprung up in those ugly shoes of hers with one arm in the air.

Then she turned and grabbed the hand of a nearby goat and made it do the same thing with her.

Then Angela watched it jump by itself. She pointed off to the side and it jumped that way. She had it do it again, in the other direction.

Then she looked at the man with the papers and started pointing to something on them again. She turned and led the man over to the kiddie pools.

Michael had his arms crossed tightly across his chest as he watched her. He stayed that way for a long time.

Finally, he looked at his watch. Then at the door.


Movement where Michael had been caught Angela's eye, and she glanced up. She saw him walking toward the exit. A panic flooded her, and even the irrationality of it all couldn't fix it.

That's it. That's my problem. I'm afraid he's going to leave me again, and I don't want to scare him off.

And then an awareness scared her so much, she almost ran over and demanded Michael hold her.

I'm already attached.

When he stopped in front of the shelved equipment and started looking around, Angela exhaled.


Three and a half hours later, Angela found Michael still rooting around the equipment.

"What's that, baby?" she asked as she dragged up to him.

He turned his head toward her and held up the lens in his hand, "A Schneider Kreuznach 16 mm lens."

Her weary smile turned enamored. She walked right into him and kissed him deeply.

Michael squinted slightly at her. "What was that for?"

"I just think you're wonderful. Thank you for coming all the way down here with me. I know it wasn't the most interesting afternoon for you."

Michael sucked in his breath and stared at her. Eventually, he exhaled, "I know this is important to you."

Angela's nerves flared. He's said that before.

Sighing, Michael put the lens back in its case, and then threw an arm around her shoulder. He turned his head to look down at her, "Can we go home now? Please?"

She put her arm around his waist and held him tightly.

I am not letting this man go.

That felt familiar, too.