Addendum 5.3 – "Savor the Veal 'pt. 4'"
(continued)
April 1993 – Fairfield, CT
Tony's return stare held, but his jovial attitude mellowed fast enough for Angela to notice. She squinted a little.
"Are you okay?"
He looked back to her ear and watched himself tuck a wisp of blonde behind it. A peculiar air had entered their private space, and out of habit, she was trying to read it.
"Yeah," he answered softly. His gaze traveled its familiar path down her body and settled on her brooch. He fingered it. "Yeah, I'm fine."
Glancing from his careful hand to his eyes, her squint narrowed. "Are you sure?" He seems sad.
Tony nodded and made a flat smile. Dropping his hands, he brushed his fingertips against the sides of his jeans. Angela frowned.
He forced a little laugh, "Don't wanna get spinach on ya." She didn't respond, and he piped up. "Hey, you'd better get going!"
Something's definitely off. She looked down at her lapel for clues. "Is there something wrong with my pin?"
Tony's instant grin hid his eyes, and he scoffed as he let her go, "You kiddin'? It's good there - adds bulk."
The concern on Angela's face tightened into an unmistakable glare. "Excuse me?" she said, tilting her head.
Tony lightly bumped his elbow against hers and doubled down on his jokey mood. "Ya' know, cuz you're so skinny."
Fear tried to reroute her to a safer distance, and her stare lost its edge in the process. She could feel her eyes rounding out and starting to fill, but she halted it immediately.
"Angela, come on," he bumped her elbow playfully again, and she pulled it back.
The tightening in her core was uncomfortably familiar; it seemed ages old, almost like it predated her. Swallowing, she tried to get a grip. "Tony, did you not hear a word I said?"
"Of course, I did, honey! That's what I'm saying: you're not fat. I didn't mean to say that you were." He motioned to her blazer, "If anything, you're-"
Twisting her shoulder sharply from his reach, her glare returned with shaking force, "I was trying to say it didn't feel like I was enough for you."
Tony's cocky defense slowly evaporated from his face, and he bit his lower lip. With a long blink, he shook his head. "That's not true," he whispered and then locked back onto her eyes. "At all."
She finally felt like she could breathe, and the two globs of tears she'd been holding back fell. "Then why are you saying all this stuff?" she squeaked.
Tony's eyes widened and he shrugged deeply, "Sayin' what!? I was just ribbin' you a little about those couple of pounds! God knows you've got room to spare there." Her eyes hardened, and she started to lean back from the conversation. But he kept advancing, his open palms pleading his case. "That's why it's funny!"
Shaking her head, she stepped past him, "I assure you: it isn't."
Jingling the change in his pocket, Tony's fingers found a quarter. He dropped it in the slot and tucked the receiver into the crook of his neck. A cluster of cherry blossoms dangled just outside the phonebooth, and he smiled at it sadly as he dialed Angela's office number by heart.
Angela watched the buttons on her phone light up as it rang. She may have been at work, but something in her knew it was Tony. Michael would leave a fight going for months. Tony didn't do that. She almost wished he would. It wasn't just a Michael thing; she'd gotten a certain power out of the prolonged silence, too. Now, here she was, staring at the red flashing lights of responsibility and couldn't bring herself to answer. I did try to talk to him. Nothing was getting through, and every unsuccessful attempt hurts. Why do I have to explain this? He's not stupid… and that makes it seem pretty damned intentional.
After the fourth ring, it went to her answering machine.
"Hi, you've reached Angela Bower, Owner and President of The Bower Agency. Please leave your name and number with a brief message, and I'll get back with you shortly."
Beep
Tony sighed and closed his eyes. "Angela, please. Please talk to me."
Angela stared at the phone through her tears and started seriously reevaluating her peevishness.
Tony sighed again, "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."
Angela's head dropped to her chest.
"I just-"
Her head whipped up.
"I just-" he let out an exaggerated exhale. "I dunno. I guess I'm not as funny as I thought I was."
Something tightened across her sinuses. No explanation... Why does he do this?
"Look," Tony sighed again. "I wanted to let you know I checked the flights. I can still get a pretty good deal if I fly out tomorrow."
Angela got up and started walking aimlessly around her office, hoping to stay a step or two in front of the pain.
"So, anyway, go ahead and shop this evening. I left a note and some pizza money for the kids. I'm gonna be beatin' the pavement. I spent the morning updating my resume, and now I'm checking out some colleges in person to see if they have any openings for professors."
Angela's wandering eyes darted back to her desk.
"Anyway, I just wanted to tell you I love you."
Angela lunged toward the phone.
"I'll see you later tonight," his sad voice drifted. "Bye."
She yanked the receiver off the hook, "Tony!?"
All she heard was a dial tone.
Tony made his way into Ridgemont College's Education building and requested an audience with any available professor. He sat down in a chair and let out a long breath.
After nearly an hour, the receptionist looked up at him. "Mr. Micelli? Dr. Patterson can see you now. It's down the hallway, last door on the left," she said pointing behind herself.
Tony stood up and smoothed out his tie. "Oh, thanks. Thanks very much."
She nodded and went back to her work while Tony half-jogged down the hall.
Tony rounded into the designated office through the open doorway, knocking just before he stepped in. "Dr. Patterson?"
The man stood up and held out his hand. "Mr. Micelli. Please, sit."
Tony shook his hand and sat down, "I really appreciate you taking the time to see me like this."
"I'm glad I could accommodate. What's on your mind?"
"Well, sir, I was hopin' to find out if you were aware of any jobs coming open this fall." Tony handed the professor his resume with a dashing grin. "I just got back from Wells Junior College in Iowa – as an Associate History Professor and," he chuckled, adjusting the knot at his tie, "champion baseball coach," he cleared his throat, "and I'm eager to start teaching again."
Professor Patterson only briefly glanced up from the paper, and Tony kept going.
"I actually graduated from Ridgemont-"
"Yes, I see that," mumbled the professor. "A year ago…"
"Yup! It's good to be back!" Tony smiled, looking nostalgically around the office.
"Mm-hmm…"
Tony hesitated, then shot his hand out and his eyebrows up. "As you can see there, I uh- I was just awarded Outstanding New Teacher of the Year at Wells."
The professor took off his glasses and rubbed the inside corners of his eyes, "Mr. Micelli-"
"Uh- Tony, please!"
"Tony," Dr. Patterson allowed. "May I ask you a personal question?"
Flustered, Tony shook out at nod with his head, "Yeah, of course."
Dr. Patterson let out a small laugh of disbelief, "Why would you leave this 'Associate Professor' position in Branford?"
"Well, you see, sir-" Tony started.
"a position you obtained after graduating mere months before with a bachelor's degree."
Tony's eyes flickered to the side briefly, then back to Dr. Patterson. "Well, like I was gonna say, it was a great job! Wonderful folks, fulfilling career… but my fiancée's here," Tony shrugged, and his momentum slowed to match his mood. "We were tryin' to make it work, but it wasn't happening... Her business is here, and she couldn't move." Tony sped up again, "I mean, she tried to!" before his exuberance quickly fizzled out. "But she hated it there, and I…" he let out a sharp breath, "I hafta be with her."
Dr. Patterson blinked slow nod of acknowledgement. "I see…"
Tony didn't blink at all.
"Mr. Micelli, uh- Tony, may I be candid with you?"
"You haven't been?" Tony's voice pitched up.
Dr. Patterson paused before continuing and tented his hands across his waist. "Six years ago, Ridgemont offered me a professorship after I'd been an associate professor for 3 years. I, too, had personal reasons for moving here, but before that, I was a tenured professor at the University of Connecticut where I taught ascending levels of classes to thousands of adults over the course of 28 years."
"Go Huskies," Tony raised a half-hearted fist of solidarity.
Dr. Patterson blinked, "I received my doctorate from The Graduate School of Education at the University of Pennsylvania. And Tony, if I were to move to another institution, I would be applying for an Associate Professor position."
Tony didn't say anything, but he did keep breathing.
"Now, I don't want to discourage your future endeavors. You're an engaging individual with an intriguing and promising background. Clearly, you have much to offer. But I think you can see why it is both my personal and professional opinion that, in your current situation, seeking another post-secondary teaching job would be hasty."
Tony's face turned a fiery red, and he coughed a little as he worked on his posture. "Dr. Patterson, I uh-, I know my resume isn't as impressive as yours, but you don't know me. You don't know what I can do. Call my references. I made a difference in the lives of those kids – those adults. And I sure made a difference in the athletic program! They're mad at me for leavin', and they'd still give me a terrific recommendation!"
"Tony-"
Tony kept his confident stare level and sat up straighter. "That's right," he spoke solemnly. "I'm Tony. Tony Micelli. My mom died when I was a kid. I was raised by my father and my grandfather in a Brooklyn hole, and I still wound up being a 2nd baseman for the St. Louis Cardinals. My wife died in her 20s, leaving me to raise our little girl with a shoulder the major leagues couldn't use anymore. I met the woman of my dreams while I was keeping my nose to the grindstone, and now I'm practically her kid's stepdad. I was the best new teacher at a school a thousand some miles away from my family. And that's right, I got that job with just a bachelor's degree. But nobody who saw me work for that while holding down a full-time job as a housekeeper would say, 'just'. There's a lot of life-experience in between the lines of that resume – which, with all due respect, still says, 'Associate Professor' – and Wells saw that. I think I can handle another college teaching job. I'm not just some guy trying to get outta payin' his dues. I've paid them," he shrugged and backed down, "– just in unconventional places. I know how to work hard, and I'm not afraid to do it. That means something to some people."
Dr. Patterson nodded quietly, "Well, with 'all due respect', Tony, let's hope that means something to your fiancée, because Ridgemont is not the school of hard knocks – and I don't know that I've seen it elsewhere." He held out his hand. "I do wish you all the best."
