Chapter Seventeen: Fireworks

New Years' Eve was cloudy with scattered showers, a type of weather the family hadn't experienced since they left Connecticut. It was also trash day. They had missed the previous Tuesday while getting settled.

Tony had gathered the trash from every room after Chris' birthday party, with Angela following behind placing new bags in all the bins. The big plastic trashcan and its twin full of recyclables were out at the curb by 10pm, and everyone went to bed shortly thereafter. Early in the morning, he heard the fancy new garbage truck coming down the street. He untangled himself from Angela and padded downstairs, stepping out onto the porch just in time to watch a robotic arm dump their refuse into the compactor. It was nothing like the old days, when his dad had worked in a team, one driving and one hanging on the back of the truck, loading trash by hand. They hadn't separated cardboard, bottles, and cans back then, either. This driver was clean, warm, and comfortable, and he waved to the new resident standing outside in his bare feet. Since Tony was out there, he dragged the empty containers back to the side of the house.

It was too early for anyone else to be up, so he made coffee and took a mug into the front parlor. He was feeling unsettled. On the surface, everyone appeared to be adjusting well. He and Angela had discovered themselves as a couple in the guise of Bobby and Jess, and it had opened a reserve of emotion that could well have remained hidden for years into the future back home. Chris seemed happy, having found a fellow reptile enthusiast. Mona had a new love interest, though she hadn't let go of the previous flavor-of-the-week. Even Sam was forming a stable friendship and participating as a member of the household and the family.

Twenty-four hours from now, Tony would report for his new job. His manager had called to request that he report on January first instead of on the fourth. He would be there during the holiday closure to assist with physical inventory, which his manager explained as matching labels and counting things. Angela had explained it as a necessary step in the year-end accounting close process. She was good at conveying the importance of seemingly silly and technical paperwork. He knew she would do well in her new career, probably getting promoted by the end of the school year. And he was determined to excel in his work, as well.

It was normal to feel nervous before starting a new job, he told himself. This just happened to be one of his life-changing transitions, the other two being when he was called up to the majors and when he and Sam moved in with Angela and Jonathan. For the first time in ages, he was about to become the family's main financial supporter. But instead of a naïve nineteen-year-old Italian girl and the baby that they created together, he would be supporting a perceptive teenaged daughter and three members of the well-bred Rockwell line. The little one adored him unconditionally and the slightly older one would have ample opportunities to find more glamour in her life. It was the Ivy-league educated former executive he was worried about. Sure, she had her own income, but she had never in her life been subjected to the endless small and large frustrations of the working class. Solving her problems by throwing money at them had always been an option.

He should have more faith in her. In them. She wasn't a snob. Well, not terribly snobby, anyway. He thought of her visits to Brooklyn. She had never been eager to go. The first time, she was just tracking down her missing child. Once the kids were safe and sound with Mrs. Rossini, he had actually enjoyed showing Angela around his old neighborhood. The always-present attraction between them seemed more apparent when they got out. He forgot to be so careful around her, resulting in a series of small touches that stuck in his memory. They would not have been notable with anyone but her, in that ridiculous red turtleneck sweater with the gray jacket over it. He could recall the soft texture of the wool under his palm when he put his arm around her shoulder briefly on the way into Marty's Melody Room. She leaned into him, too, a few times that day. It felt comfortable and reassuring to have her close. He hated that Theresa happened to be working the day shift. It could have been a nice faux date if not for the fight.

When Angela surprised him at his dad's old place, she had been curious and respectful, not deterred by the shabbiness of the apartment and everything that filled it. She was downright reverent of the few special items inside. And of the fireplace ash, Tony thought, smiling to himself. After she went outside to let him have a private goodbye, he found her sitting in the passenger seat of his van. He got in but couldn't bring himself to turn the key in the ignition. She asked him if he wanted to go for a beer, and he yielded to the suggestion. This time, she had been the one with her hands on his arms and back, and he had been the one leaning into her. Theresa must have been off by that time in the evening. He had four or five beers while Angela listened to his stories about his dad, and then she gave him a long hug, letting him sob for a minute before driving him home.

Tony wasn't proud of his behavior during Angela's most recent visit to Brooklyn. He had allowed Gina Bonafetti to wait on him during dinner and kiss him in the kitchen, then opted to hang out with his friends while Angela took the kids home. Truth be told, he was a little off-center after traveling to California for Michael's wedding. He wasn't sure how much significance their cobbled-together family ought to have in his life, and he was looking for another outlet. Gina was a real option for him, in a way Angela wasn't. But it didn't feel right to lead her on or have a one-night stand with her. He tried to explain it to Angela, and he was pretty sure she understood, but that was where they left it, not knowing that their lives would be turned upside down a week later.

Angela woke up alone and starfished her body across the mattress. Tony loved to cuddle. She did, too, but not eight hours a night, every night. She much preferred to sleep with a single point of contact: a hand, an ankle, anything to stay connected while giving her body room to breathe. She was beginning to grow stifled from all the time off, too. It would be a nice change of pace to have the house while Bobby worked. And soon, she would be in the office forty hours a week.

She made a mental note to look for better work attire while she was out shopping with Sheila. Nothing too nice. Maybe a structured sweater or casual blazer, since she had been warned about the frigid air conditioning several times. She wouldn't be going back to work until January sixth, an in-service day for the teachers before the kids returned to class.

x

That evening, Mona was picked up in a towncar to meet Ricky at a fancy hotel's New Year's Eve party. She planned on staying the night. He had bought her sequined black evening gown, silver clutch, and satin heels during a shopping trip to Scottsdale Fashion Square, and she intended to show him her appreciation.

Tony was in bed by eight, while Angela cleaned the kitchen. The kids were allowed to watch TV until 10pm, when the ball dropped in Times Square. After wiping down the counters and sweeping the floor, she decided to go upstairs and check on him.

"Still awake, honey?" she whispered.

"Yeah. It's just so early to go to bed," he answered.

"You got up early this morning. What were you doing, besides bringing the trash cans in? That could have waited, you know," she asked gently, sitting on his side of the bed.

"Just thinking."

"About?"

"Lots of things. My dad. The way things were before. The new job. You and me."

"I see. Anything I can do to help you relax?"

"Maybe lie down with me. Maybe that will trick my brain into thinking it's really bedtime."

"OK. As long as you don't start anything," she teased, reclining on top of the covers. "You're gonna do fine tomorrow."

"Do you really have that much confidence in me?" he asked.

"I do," she responded, leaning over to kiss him on the mouth and letting her lips ghost along his cheek. "You're always surprising me with how capable you are."

"I love you," he said, hearing the words at the same time she did. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that. It just slipped out."

"Did you mean it?" she asked, looking entirely unbothered.

"Yes," Tony answered. He was confused about why no sense of panic had overtaken him.

"Good. I feel the same way about you," Angela told him. She put her head on his shoulder and basked in the sanctuary of them. After a couple of minutes, he was asleep. She got up as silently as possible and slipped out of the room.

The kids were watching some singer performing back in New York when Angela got to the bottom of the stairs. She sat between them and stretched her arms along the back of the couch. By 9:30, all three were asleep, Jonathan with his head in her lap and Sam leaning against her chest as she slumped back. By sheer luck, Sam woke up at 11:58pm, alerting the other two, and they all did a subdued countdown. Some fireworks went off in the neighborhood, and they heard distant cheering. The kids went up to bed while Angela double checked the locks and lights downstairs.

"Happy New Year, sweetheart," Tony called, as Angela came into their room.

"Happy New Year," she replied. "I think 1986 is going to be our year," she told him, sliding into her side of the bed. "Is your alarm set?"

"It's set for 4:30am." Tony had already checked it several times.

"OK. Well, good night, my love," she said, turning onto her stomach

"Night," he echoed, anchoring a couple of fingers to her hip.