Addendum 2.4 – "Angela's Ex pt. 2"
February 1985 – Fairfield, CT
Angela had been awake for a long time and hadn't opened her eyes. She knew Michael was awake, too, but he'd stayed as he'd been all four hours of their truncated night, spooning her snugly from behind.
Michael's strong arms and leg cradled her, his solid presence at her back. She was safe here - she knew because she always understood the difference not long after they stood up. She'd be on her own again, where she'd spend much of her time desperately trying to regain a warmth he wasn't ready to give.
But no attacker of any kind could get to her while she was in bed with Michael. With everything in her, Angela knew that was true.
She didn't know what time it was and was afraid to look. Please, not yet, her heart begged the alarm.
Still, she could feel the end coming. That pile of post-air-raid rubble she'd often imagined their marriage to be no longer looked like a playground. As much as she loved Michael, it was awful and tragic here, forever dipping from hot to cold faster and more assuredly than a Saharan evening.
Our life hurts. Yes, I don't like Michael like this, but that's how he is. He hasn't changed since the moment we met. It's me I really don't like in this – always willing to belittle my pain so Michael will bring me back into this place that I never want to, but always have to, leave. That's not him; that's me.
Michael kissed where his face rested on the side of her head. "G'morning," he said in a low whisper, and another bolt of oxytocin stung her resolve.
Angela didn't answer, she just turned around and hugged him, tucking her face into his chest. DAMN, he feels good… I may believe a lot of lies, but that's not one of them.
Taking the cue, Michael situated and continued to hold her tightly.
The alarm sounded about 8 years before she wanted it to. Seemingly unbothered, Michael reached backward over his shoulder and turned it off. Angela rolled with him onto his chest. She blinked her begrudging eyes open and climbed the rest of the way on top of him. He smiled at her, clearly amused.
"Are you going in today?" her tiny voice asked him.
He squinted a little, "You're not?"
She shook her head.
Michael stared at her.
He didn't look like he was trying to figure her out. He was just watching her.
After many seconds, he ran his fingers lightly through her hair, but didn't change his expression.
"I'd better get going," he said quietly.
Angela tightened. We should've just had a fight. Why didn't we?
She started to feel very afraid. She was losing him, and all her instincts wanted to put on the breaks.
Seduce him. Fight with him. Do something! But she didn't.
She scooted slightly forward and placed a soft kiss on his lips. Keeping her face near his, she looked from his mouth to his eyes. "Thank you for holding me," she whispered.
He ran his hands up her hips to lightly hold her waist and answered just as quietly, "I wanted to."
Even this minor extension of their goodbye felt dangerous. Angela knew she was starting to numb out and ached to prolong it.
Her nose tingled and her eyes filled. "I don't want to keep you," her cracked whisper lied. She kissed his nose and clenched her teeth as she rolled off him.
Michael looked at her sadly for a few moments. She'd gone to clenching her entire body, not trusting herself to even breathe.
He gave her a quarter smile and delayed only a second before he got out of bed. As soon as he closed the bathroom door, Angela cried into her pillow.
February 1985 – Rudy's Bar & Grill, NYC
"That was fast," Kevin smirked as he dumped himself onto the worn, black leather barstool next to Michael.
Michael scoffed, "Trust me: It's been a long week."
Kevin slapped Michael's shoulder in solidarity and ordered a beer.
Michael stared at the full pint and complimentary hot dog in front of him, "I think it's over, man."
Kevin glanced cautiously at him. "Knowing you two, that must've been a firefight."
Michael's gaze flickered to Kevin's then shook his head back at his drink, "It wasn't with her."
Kevin squinted. "You been sampling the city, too?" his falsetto asked.
Michael glared at him, "No, fool. …I ran into her old boss, Grant Paxton."
Kevin kept squinting.
Michael rolled his eyes, "The guy at work she was drooling over?"
Kevin's head nodded back, "Ah, yeah. Got it."
"Yeah, well, it sounds like the aging fuckboy was her first stop on the way home from the lawyer's."
"You ran into him!?"
"In a manner of speaking. I slugged across the East River last night, and he was my driver."
"No shit!?"
"Nope." Michael laughed a little, "Nearly crapped my pants."
Kevin laughed and slapped the counter, "Damn. What I wouldn't give to have a crack at William Worthington…"
"Who?"
Kevin glared at him.
Michael nodded in realization and stifled a laugh, "Ah, Allison's…"
"Yeah," Kevin said pointedly.
Michael paused a beat, "You never met him?"
Kevin shook his head.
"How do you know his name?"
Kevin sighed, "I found a credit card slip in the trash. She had the fucker buy my birthday present."
Michael shook his head, "That's cold-blooded."
Kevin nodded, "Yup."
"What'd he buy you?"
Kevin glared at Michael, "Cologne, if you must know – shit must'a been made out of angel piss or something, 'cause it cost a fortune!"
Michael laughed.
"Never wore cologne again," Kevin saluted Michael with his beer.
Michael lifted his glass in return, "And never has there been a better reason for someone to smell as badly as you do."
Kevin shook his head, smiling, and shoved Michael's shoulder.
Michael sighed for a second, then turned a wry smile, "So, William Worthington, huh?"
"Grant Paxton," Kevin mocked.
They glared at each other, then Michael laughed. "Damn, those are pansy ass names. What kind of a parent names their kid that? Might as well call him, Trust Fund."
Kevin laughed. The waitress brought Kevin his beer, and after he was done watching her walk away, he turned back to Michael.
"Alright, so what happened with this guy last night? They still goin' at it?"
Michael gave a half-hearted shake to his head and looked at Kevin. "Nah, I don't think so. It was just… I knew in my head that she had slept around. But being a couple feet from reality like that. I couldn't brush it off." Michael stared into the distance, "He was right there. Flesh and blood. I kept staring at him. I couldn't believe it. She kissed that mouth. …I could see her straddling him. Right there, next to me." He closed his eyes and shook off the image.
Kevin made a quiet nod of understanding, "That's what you've been doing? Brushing it off?"
Michael shrugged, "I guess."
Kevin waited.
"I guess… I just thought I could handle it, ya know?"
"Why?"
"Well, I mean," he made a little exhale of reason, "I wanted to. This was a pretty big, fuckin' inconvenience, ya know?" Kevin's eyebrows went up in agreement. "I just wanted to come home like I always did. Don't get me wrong, I love being on assignment. But a few weeks in, I'm sitting around the fire with you boneheads, wishing I was in bed with her."
Kevin laughed and rolled his eyes, "Oh, yeah, and being next to your sweaty ass for months on end is our fantasy fulfilled."
Michael laughed, "So, you get what I'm sayin'?"
Kevin's smile died down, "'course."
Michael shrugged again. "It's just, we've been together forever. I still want her. I can still have her… but this stuff… being two inches from his cocky ass judgin' me for how I treat her… shit."
Michael turned his wide eyes straight at Kevin, "He's in love with her! Honest to goodness, in love with her. I saw it! He's been building on it, year after year..." He pointed his finger at Kevin and swiped it down toward the floor. "I told you! Every day I sent her over to his greedy little, manicured hands… MY wife-"
Michael stopped short. Swallowing hard, he picked up his beer. He took a sip and put the glass down but didn't let go of it. He continued quieter, "I mean, she looks at me like… I dunno, like I'm the most amazing fuckin' thing she's ever seen… Every part of her is just beautiful… kisses like she's wants me to rescue her from hell..." He whipped his face toward Kevin. "Man, I'd do anything for her!"
Kevin kept a solemn stare of silence.
"And now she's- I mean, what did she tell him!? She's goin', crying to him about how mean I am? …Shit, we all know I'm a selfish son of a bitch, but-" He breathed a few seconds and quieted down. "I dunno… I thought she could handle me," he drifted off.
Kevin still didn't say anything.
Michael looked up at Kevin, "That's what made her different... Nobody's stuck with me like she has – even my own mother..." He tipped his head back and forth, "I mean, we can't go for five seconds without fighting, but she never left me."
Michael looked over at Kevin who was taking a sip, "Well, she did freeze me out for a year…"
Kevin choked on his beer. Coughing, he swallowed roughly, "Excuse me?"
Michael looked at him sheepishly, "We've had a rough go of it."
Kevin just kept staring his immobile face at Michael.
Finally, Michael exhaled, "I guess I scared her pretty bad this one time, and everything was so touchy after that." Michael looked pointedly at Kevin, "I shit you not, it was nuts. She goes back and forth – for six months. One second, she's telling me to stop, the next second she's licking my neck. One second, she's crying about dry humping some guy in a club, the next second, she's mad I'm still not okay. She's just up and down, like a yo-yo!" He shook his head. "I thought we were gonna put this game to rest at least once before I left for the gorilla trip, but nope!" Michael's eyebrows went up sarcastically, "Still goin'!"
Kevin kept his now-recovered stare level, but slowly shook his head.
"When we were done in Rwanda, I don't know… I just couldn't go home to that." He looked over at Kevin. "And you know, work was going well…"
Kevin nodded.
Michael finally took a sip of beer and put it back on the bar. He stared at his glass a long time, then made a long sigh. "I should've told her when I was coming home. I was just so pissed." Michael looked over at Kevin, begging, "It can't cost them what it costs us, right? There's just no way… A year!? I don't care how scared I am, I am hittin' that!"
Kevin made a little laugh and took another drink.
Michael's face got tight, "And now, what? I'm going back to scrappin' for every piece of ass, endless conversations with people I don't care about, condoms…"
Kevin looked over at him sharply. "You mean, you've been- Even after…?"
Michael scrunched his brows, "Of course."
Kevin squeezed his eyes shut and threw his head back, whining in pain, "I hate you so much! I haven't hit it raw since Allison!"
Michael's face mirrored his and they both whimpered dramatically together. "This is gonna suck," Michael pouted.
"Yup."
They both put their elbows on the bar and stared silently down into their beers.
After a minute, Kevin looked hesitantly over at Michael. "You know, you're still the head of the whole documentary department."
Michael dropped his lids and voice dryly, "I don't think that's as big of a pick-up line as you might imagine, there, Kev."
Kevin rolled his eyes, "No, I mean- you have a lot of say in the budget now… Why don't you allocate a few bucks for assistants?"
Michael's face scrunched, "Huh?"
Kevin put his hands, making his case. "Assistants for the teams - so we're not stuck, I dunno, making our own coffee, and... whatever other crap job you can think of. Get us some women on these trips!"
Michael stared at him for several seconds, "'Assistants', huh?"
Kevin nodded slowly and grinned, "Assistants. There's gotta be some chicks out there who want to travel the globe."
Michael chuckled, and Kevin started wolfing down his hot dog, now much more chipper than he had been. Michael looked straight into the row of glass bottles in front of him and lost his smile.
When Kevin was done with his hot dog, he downed the rest of his beer. Glancing back at Michael, he saw he hadn't moved. Sighing, Kevin said quietly, "You're gonna make it, man."
Michael didn't respond.
Sitting up, Kevin swiveled his stool so that he was looking at Michael. "Hey, did you at least get a swing at the guy?"
Michael shrugged, "Just a tap on the cheek. Not enough."
Kevin made a pitying smile, "Sorry, man. Another guy sleeps with your wife, you should get to hit him."
Michael smirked a side-eye over at him, "I did cut his fancy ass, front seat with my knife."
Kevin laughed loudly and slapped Michael on the back, "That's what I'm talkin' 'bout: a little somethin' to remember you by! Come on, let's go."
They both got up and paid for their drinks. Walking through the smokey shadows of Rudy's, Kevin squeezed Michael's shoulder. "You'll start to feel better once you cut the head off this bitch. Trust me…" he shook his head, "it needs to die."
Michael didn't say anything, and they both squinted into the sharp rays of afternoon sun that had only barely made it through the heavy wood and glass door.
