Addendum 2.2 – "Angela's Ex pt. 2"
February 1985 – Fairfield, CT
Angela came up behind Michael as he was combing his hair in front of the bathroom mirror. She lightly held onto his shoulders and kissed behind his jaw. "Why aren't you in a suit, sweetie?" she said, looking into their reflection.
His eyebrows went up excitedly, "They don't make you wear ties with scuba gear."
"What?"
Michael put down the comb and turned toward her. Holding her at the waist, he grinned as he spoke, "We've got scuba recertification today that we're marrying up with tech training in the Bay." He spoke fast and smiled widely. "I'm so excited; I haven't dived since Cairns!"
Angela's face twisted on her tilted head. "But… it's February, and there's a winter advisory out for the next 2 days."
"Exactly. I've gotta get trained for extreme conditions. It's perfect!"
"But… why? I thought you we're in a supervisory position now. Why are you doing any field training?"
Michael rubbed around her hips and exhaled, "I'm doing this training because it was already scheduled before I accepted the position. This is good stuff, Angela – expensive, exclusive training, and I don't want to miss out."
Angela felt herself bordering on shrewishness, but the perceived incongruence was fueling a mild, but growing panic. "But… if you won't be using it…I mean, why would they-"
Michael dipped a deep shrug, "Who knows what I'm going to be doing in the future? But you don't pass up an opportunity like this, Angela - even if I never film anything again."
Angela watched in real time as Michael's face momentarily hollowed out.
Shaking his head, he stood up straight and let her go. "Look, I just want to do some field work and stay relevant, okay? The Institute is footing the bill, and if nothing else, I get to get off my ass!" His voice increased in sharpness as he spoke, and Angela backed down.
She looked away and didn't say anything.
Michael exhaled and lightly ran his hands behind her upper arms. "I'm sorry," he said softer. "I just want to go out with the guys today and have a little fun." He shrugged, "I like field work."
Her eyes flickered up at him, and she nodded at the ground. "I know. I'm glad you'll get to do that," she said quietly.
Michael tilted his head and sighed again. "Look, how about I meet you at your office after work? We can come home together and eat dinner in front of a roaring fire." He tried to laugh, "Even in a dry suit, I'm sure I'll be chilled to the bone."
Angela nodded again and forced herself to smile at him, "That'd be nice."
As Michael's own smile relaxed and he leaned in for a kiss, Angela noticed she was hurting.
February 1985 - Wallace & McQuade, NYC
Angela rubbed her upper arms as she stared into the blizzard from her office window. She hadn't been able to make out anything but an opaque whiteness all afternoon.
Fortunately, today was an in-house workday, with no clients scheduled to come by. Herself, Angela had filled her day with the donut shop's budget. This was always a tug-of-war, but animation costs were increasing as the art became more sophisticated.
Angela sighed and sat back down at her desk. Plunking her elbows onto her desk, she dug her fingers into her hair. There has got to be some way to tighten their belts without sacrificing quality…
"Mrs. Bower?" Rosie leaned into her office.
Angela sat up, grateful for the interruption. "Yes?"
"I'm just about to head out, but your husband's on the phone."
"Oh, okay," she smiled. "Thank you, Rosie. Be careful going home!"
"Yeah, you too!" Rosie called from where she was already in the hallway.
A brief loneliness annoyed Angela with its presence. Ugh! Why am I always so needy? Rolling her eyes at herself, she picked up the phone.
"Michael?"
"Angela!" Michael spoke loudly amid heavy background noise.
Angela's brows furrowed immediately. "Michael, what's wrong?"
"Angela, I'm at a gas station in Red Hook."
"Are you okay?" she spoke louder than normal, hoping he could hear her. "Why are you there?"
"Yeah, yeah; I'm fine. But my cab driver refused to go one more yard in this storm and dropped me off before I could cross the river."
"How are you going to get back? Do you need me to call you another cab?"
Michael scoffed, "I doubt there's a free car in the whole city tonight. I'm just going to slug over. There's a park & ride up the street. The normal traffic is barely crawling; I'm sure there'll be people looking for a passenger."
Angela felt sweat form between her eyebrows and dabbed the back of her hand against it. She exhaled. "Okay, Michael. Just- …please be careful."
"I wasn't asking permission," he clipped. "I was just letting you in the loop!"
Angela felt herself freeze.
She heard herself breathing.
At some point, her senses started to return. What is happening? That wasn't a big deal. What's my problem?
Then she heard Michael breathing.
His voice lost its edge, "Look, Angela. I'm sorry. I'm just cold. My muscles are shot. I haven't eaten since breakfast, and my wet hair is now made of ice." He sighed, "Slugging is perfectly safe. People count on it every day."
A few beats passed.
Yeah… she meant to say but didn't.
"Angela?"
After another second or so, she answered quietly, "Yeah."
"Did you hear me?" he started to get louder again.
"Yeah."
Michael exhaled sharply, "Can we please just talk later? I've gotta get through the tunnel."
"Yeah," she said absently. Something inside Angela was wrapping around itself, tighter and tighter.
A few seconds went by, and Angela heard a growl briefly precede a slammed receiver.
February 1985 – Gowanus Expressway Park & Ride, NYC
Michael huddled his chin down into his coat collar and hugged himself as he kept his shivering shoulders up by his ears. He squinted his beanie-covered head into the fiercely blowing snow. A few people stood peppered around the parking lot, looking as adrift as he. Just then, a large sedan pulled up and opened the passenger window.
"Pier 6, anyone?" the driver yelled. "Are any of you slugs?"
"Yeah!" Michael yelled into the wind. He hustled over to the car before anyone else and pulled on the passenger doorhandle.
"Pier 6?" the man said again as Michael got in.
"Whatever," Michael breathed heavily. "Just get me to Manhattan."
The driver didn't say anything but sped down the expressway before Michael was fully buckled. They were close to the tunnel entrance, and the man quickly merged into the high occupancy vehicle lane, easily passing the lines of halted traffic.
After a few seconds, Michael's breathing started to slow, and he slipped off his beanie. The car was warm and clean, and he let out a relieved exhale. As the man was paying the toll, Michael did a slow double take.
They drove forward, and, turning his head, Michael got an increasingly centered view of the driver doing the same thing to him.
"Holy shit!" both men screeched, just as they slipped into the Battery tunnel.
Flood lights lit the shadows in the car, but it was more than enough for Michael to make out Paxton's astonished face.
Michael's face twisted in rage, and without even unbuckling, he slammed a solid right hook into Paxton's cheek.
The Bentley swerved in the tight quarters, and Paxton blinked his eyes open to regroup. Putting a hand to his jaw, he yelled, "You crazy dumbfuck! I'm driving!"
Subway tiles blurred past like a flipbook as they sped through the filtered air and narrow lanes at 40 miles per hour.
Michael did unbuckle, then. He put one elbow up behind his seat and squared his shoulders up to Paxton. "You give me one good reason why I shouldn't end this now for both of us!" he snarled.
"How should I know!?" Paxton bit back. "If you're expecting me to beg for your life, it sounds like you do want to die. Would you sit back!?"
Michael's eyes just got crazier, and he slowed toward Paxton.
Paxton hit the breaks, and Michael slammed into the dashboard. "I said, 'Sit back!'" Paxton bellowed.
The car behind them slowed just in time, but their indignant honk echoed wildly throughout the tube. Both cars evened out their gait again, this time with a few more lengths between them.
Michael slammed his back into the seat and twisted his furious face at Paxton. Both men were breathing heavily, and Paxton was returning Michael's glare as often as he could.
Michael shook his head, "You just couldn't keep your greedy hands to yourself, could you?"
"Oh, come off it! You don't care about Angela! This is about you, and you'll be hard pressed to get me to care about that!"
"I don't care about her!? She's my wife!"
Paxton scoffed and shook his head, "You can count that as a miracle; everyone else does."
Michael's glare tightened but he didn't respond.
Paxton let out another sharp laugh, "It wasn't even that." He whipped his head toward Michael, "You good-for-nothing loser!"
Michael's surprised face paused.
"She loved you! She was scared, and she needed you! You have no idea what you had! She's amazing, and you just… wiped your ass with her."
"Oh, yeah, you think she's so worth it! This, from the guy who high-tailed it when she reminded you she's got a kid!"
"It's not my kid!"
"He's a great kid!"
"Yeah, sure, that's why you hurried home so fast. Are you even still domiciled in the US, dickhead?"
"You sure have a lot of moral opinions for someone who fucked my wife!"
"Hey! I didn't touch her 'till it was clear she was ready to move forward!"
A beat went by.
"Wait-" Paxton looked nervously over at Michael. "Where are you going in Manhattan?"
A cocky smile grew slowly on Michael's face, "Good Morning, Sunshine."
"OH, my- …not again!" Paxton suddenly looked sick.
Michael laughed and eased his back comfortably into the seat.
Staring dreamily out at the string of lights in front of them, Michael let out a contended sigh, "Yup. Last night was good… And the night before that." He slowly turned his gloating face back to Paxton's. "And the night before that. And the night before that…"
Paxton's angry face glared at Michael, who'd dropped his tongue fully out of his mouth.
Shaking his head furiously, Paxton slammed on the breaks, and Michael flew forward, biting his tongue. The car behind them screeched and honked again, and Paxton tossed a wave up where the driver could see it.
Michael regained his seating and blotted his bleeding tongue on his sleeve. He turned a slow, steady glare over at Paxton.
"Why would you say that about your wife, even if she weren't as… classy as Angela is?" Paxton looked out his windshield and shook his head. "Shit, I'm okay if I never see my ex again, but you'd never catch me giving a post-game wrap-up to make myself look less pathetic!"
"Seriously, with the preaching!? You've got-" Suddenly, Michael's breathing deepened, and his eyes widened. "You're in love with her, aren't you? She's not just a warm place to put your dick, is she?"
Paxton glared back at Michael.
"Is she!?" Michael screamed. "All these years! I knew it! You were just biding your time 'till she was easy pickin's!" He scoffed and shook his head derisively, "You are the loser. Lusting after a married woman when you were probably still married yourself. You are pathetic." He laughed at him again, "And yet, somehow, you fell in love with this 'amazing' woman, and you were still scared away by a couple birthday parties and homework assignments." He shrugged obnoxiously and finished airily, "You could've had her. But now, she's going home with me."
"That's all you think that is, isn't it? I know what an investment a kid is. I know they need someone who wants them around, and who wants to be there, himself. I know that because Angela was smart and patient enough to remind me!" Paxton's furious retort slowed to a serious walk. "She knew it wasn't going to work out between us and cared enough about all of us to make me see the truth - before we turned into the shithole you two are. ...You've got her all drugged up, and you're happy with her like that. You don't even want her to be all she can be. Then you'll see how little you are."
Michael squinted at Paxton in disbelief, "You don't know anything about it, Nancy."
"I saw what you did to her!"
They came up out of the tunnel, and Paxton pulled over the first second he safely could. "Get out of my car, you entitled piece of shit."
Michael stared at Paxton but didn't move.
After many seconds, Michael's voice started out quiet but didn't stay that way long. "Listen, cupcake. You are not the one who came home to find his entire life in ruins. You did not find out mid-fuck that your wife - the woman who made you believe love was even possible - had been suckin' God knows how many dicks. And you are not the one who has mortgaged everything he's ever cared about to even still try to make it work!" He was shaking as he quieted. "So, if the way I'm dealing with this is doesn't hit your G spot, maybe you could keep your geriatric ass shut."
In a flash of fury, Michael unlatched his diver's knife from its sheath and stabbed a long drag down the calfskin seat beneath him. Paxton didn't even get his bearing before Michael got out. "See you in hell, Grant."
Michael slammed the door so hard, Grant heard pieces of metal tinkling inside the frame.
Before Grant could see where he went, Michael disappeared into the driving snow.
February 1985 - Wallace & McQuade, NYC
Angela paced around her empty office. Ever since her mother had said she'd be able to pick-up Jonathan and take care of him that night, Angela felt free to worry solely about Michael. She was familiar with slugging, having gone a number of times on business to D.C., where the practice started and thrives. But the whole thing still seemed like a dreadfully perfect set-up for murder, or at least robbery, and she was already down one fingernail.
Angela's stomach growled loudly, and then Rosie's phone rang. Angela hurried to answer it.
"Yes?" she breathed. Oh, please, let it be Michael!
"Are you out of your mind?" the voice came through the scratchy line.
Angela's brows scrunched. Grant?
"Grant? Is that you?"
"Yes," he said angrily.
Angela instantly felt a distinct and strong sense of guilt and longing even talking with him. Wait- what!?
"Angela,"
She didn't often see him around the office, even before he'd resigned from the Board. And it had been a few weeks since he'd even called to tell her that. She was still recalculating.
"Angela!"
Why is everybody snapping at me today?
"What!?" she clapped back petulantly.
"Angela, tell me it's not true. Tell me you're not back with Michael."
Angela's eyes drifted shut; she knew he cared about her.
A sense of embarrassment and sadness started to creep up on her.
Plopping down onto Rosie's desk, she exhaled. "How'd you find out?" she asked gently.
There was silence for several seconds along with some faint sounds Angela couldn't identify.
"Grant? Where are you calling from?"
"I'm in my car. The roads are bad out here. I've gotta see if the heliports are up and going. The airports are down, and the pipes in my house froze. I need to get up there… Listen, Angela, I'm not going to tell you how to live your life. God knows I've got my own lessons to learn. But don't let that man bring you down, you hear me?"
Angela didn't say anything; she just absently wrapped the spiraled cord into a giant ball around her finger.
"Damn it, Angela." He didn't say anything for a few seconds. "It's like I'm not even talking to you anymore! Wake up!"
A single tear fell down Angela's face. She could hear the familiar pounding of the hooves - shame, hurt, sadness, and fear – coming for her, and fast.
Several seconds went by, then Grant's voice softened considerably, "Angela, please. Please, believe me. You don't deserve to be unhappy, even if you went back to him. So just watch it, alright. Open your eyes, and watch what's happening. Remember to read the data without an agenda."
Still, she didn't speak.
"Angela!"
For some reason she didn't know, she felt no need to answer him. Breathing was enough. Breathing was too much.
This time Grant's voice cracked, "Tell me you understand me. Please."
Angela felt just a hint of gentle clarity come to her consciousness and closed her eyes. "I understand," she said softly.
Angela heard Grant's deep breathing on the line.
"Okay," he said. "That's all I can ask."
After a second, he let out a little laugh. "I hear you've become quite the badass."
"What?" she slowed out an awkward smile, instantly feeling better at his friendliness.
"Yeah, word has it, you finally had it out with Jim."
Her wry smile went through the phone, "I thought guys weren't supposed to talk in the men's room."
Angela froze. Am I flirting - again!?
Grant laughed, "God, I miss you."
Angela's smile waned quickly. She missed him, too. Damn it! She put a palm over her face. …Sometimes I really don't like myself.
"I, uh… Grant, I have to go."
He sighed, "I get it... Just keep your eyes open, okay?"
Angela closed her eyes and dropped two tears, "Goodbye, Grant."
A/N: Hey. So, I researched way more than I wanted to, but I'm still not sure if the Battery tunnel has northbound HOV lanes open during rush hour at exit 25, or if it even existed at this time. If it's not, please let this drift into the negligible background. Also, there is not a park & ride there. But there is a gas station. Thank you.
