Chapter Sixteen: My Fair Tony for President

Thursday, January 15, 1987

Ballantine and Micelli was busy with three potential clients the morning of their tenth business day. Angela took the lead on the back-to-back presentations first thing in the morning and supported Jack's first attempt at handling the third. It could have gone better.

"I'm sorry, Angela. I talk fast when I'm nervous, and then I ramble to fill in all the extra time," Jack explained as Veronica cleaned up the coffee and bagels.

"You're still doing it," she told him.

"I'm sorry!" he squeaked out.

"It's fine. They might have even been charmed by your lack of confidence."

"You think so?" he asked

"Maybe," she said weakly. Probably not, but she didn't want to kick him while he was down. The juice was hardly worth the squeeze on that particular client, and he had to get experience somehow. "We'll see."

"What do you want me to do with these?" Veronica asked, holding a half-dozen bagels and a mostly full tub of cream cheese.

"Anything but let me eat another," Angela said lightly, leaving the room.

"Why don't you take them, Veronica? They'll last a while in the freezer," Jack suggested.

"That's genius," she said with a smile. The phone rang, and she picked up in the conference room. "Ballantine and Micelli Advertising. How may I direct your call?" she asked. "Oh hi there. Yeah, she was just heading into her office. I'll transfer you." She pushed a few buttons and said, "Mr. Micelli is on line one."

"Thank you, Veronica," Angela said. "Greetings, Tony. To what do I owe the pleasure?" she asked cheerfully. For the past week, he had been speaking in a pretentious manner that had begun to affect her own speech patterns, especially when she talked to him.

"I have returned to our abode to dine in advance of my history seminar."

"Ah, home for lunch. How was Darnell today?" she asked, sensing his need to vent. The outpouring that followed took her by surprise.

"Angela," Tony whined, "his caustic affronts are injurious to my wellbeing. You are surely aware of how diligently I have been toiling over my elocution."

"Sweetheart, do you think that maybe you're taking this a little too seriously? College is supposed to bring out the best in you, not change you."

"If I am to amplify my cognitive ability, is it not imperative that I build on a foundation of communication?"

"You have a point, honey," Angela conceded.

"The reason I initiated this conversation is to confirm our agenda," he said, changing the subject before he could lose ground.

"For tonight, the plan is for Michael to come over at six-thirty and heat up a casserole for Sam, Jonathan, and Jenny. You'll pick me up at the train station at six forty-five, and we'll go straight to the PTA meeting. Is that right?"

"Yes, pizza will be on offer prior to commencement of the proceedings."

"Bad pizza sounds amazing right now," she said, despite the sesame bagel with heavy schmear she had consumed earlier.

"Then you will be pleased," he promised.

"Could you make sure Jonathan is packed for his weekend at Michael's?"

"Most assuredly."

"Thanks, Tony. I love you, honey."

"You have purloined my affection, dear Angela."

"Uh huh. Goodbye," she said.

"Farewell, my dearest."

Angela hung up the phone and sighed heavily. It was becoming a chore to talk to the guy. She was shocked that he had chosen to join her at a PTA meeting instead of the Oratorical Society meeting Darnell had invited his classes to attend for extra credit.

Veronica buzzed again. "Mr. Wells is here for your one o'clock."

"Send him in, please." Angela stood from her desk as the door opened and the attorney strode in. "Hi Geoffrey. It's nice to see you. How do those documents look?"

He shook her hand and sat down across the desk. "Great," he answered. "And congratulations, by the way. The Ping account is just the beginning."

"Why thank you, Geoffrey. I hope you're right. We had three more presentations this morning."

"I'm not just saying so because I have a first date with your friend this weekend."

"Oh no?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "What are you so nervous about? You and Wendy spent hours together at the wedding! Didn't the two of you go to lunch on Sunday?"

"Those weren't real dates. I didn't know until we talked on the phone Sunday night that she was separating from her husband."

"My point is that she already likes you."

"Oh, I really like her," he said, clasping his hands together under his chin. He began to smile. "She calls me every night at nine-thirty. Last night she fell asleep at eleven. She has the cutest little snore," he gushed.

"Geoffrey," Angela began, "may I be blunt?"

"Sure."

"You're giving off a whiff of desperation. "

"I am?" Geoffrey turned his nose to his armpit and sniffed.

Angela laughed. "No, you don't smell. I just mean you're coming on awfully strong with someone who is still in the middle of a breakup. Wendy may love getting all your attention right now, but it could become stifling if you make her the center of your world before you even really know her."

"Gosh, Angela. You make a good case. Maybe I should back off."

"Just relax and let things develop at their own pace."

"I want what you and Tony have," he blurted out.

"Be careful what you wish for, " she chuckled. "He's been getting on my nerves lately with his stupid speech class. It's nice to talk to someone normal for a change."

"I'm getting to a point in my life where I want to settle down and have a family. Even if I never have a biological child, I want to help bring up the next generation. And I want to do it with someone special like Wendy. I can see us growing old together."

"That's very sweet, but you're getting ahead of yourself."

"I know. I need something to distract me. Something other than work and my new car. Maybe I'll buy a robot."

"Come on in," Sam said, opening the door for Michael. "I'll make you a deal."

"Am I about to get hustled?" he asked, following her inside.

"No, I'm just sick of supervising the dweeb and dweebette," she said, gesturing toward the area by the back door, where Jonathan and Jenny were consumed by a game of chess. "I'll get dinner ready if you make sure they don't do anything weird."

"I heard about the arm hickeys," he said quietly.

"Blech," she said, shaking her head. "There's something else you should know. Dad's been talking funny and Angela is up to here with him," she said, tapping the back of her hand under her chin. "If they come home fighting, you'll wanna grab the kid and make a run for it," she advised.

"Hasn't he always talked funny?" Michael asked, tilting his head in confusion.

Tony came through the kitchen door. "Salutations, good fellow!"

"See?" Sam said under her breath.

"Yeah, I get it now," Michael muttered.

Parents milled about the classroom with paper plates of lukewarm cheese pizza. Angela finished her second piece, and eyed Tony's half-eaten slice. "You gonna eat that?"

"Consider it yours," he told her. As the clock neared seven, people began to take their seats and look toward the front of the room.

"Welcome! I'm Wendy Wittner, your chair for the evening. Tonight, we're electing the Parents' Association's board for the coming year. Since this is our only business item, let's get to it. Are there any nominations for President?"

"I nominate Joanne Parker," said a mousy woman.

"Thank you, Beverly. Do I have a second?" Wendy asked.

"I second the nomination," the man next to Beverly yelled.

Joanne stood to address the room. "As always, I accept the nomination. With me as your president, Walt's lowest rates will be avail—"

"Are there any other nominations?" Wendy interrupted.

"I nominate Wendy Wittner," Tony said, standing briefly.

"Second!" Angela called out, following their plan.

Wendy smiled. She hoped to beat Joanne on the basis of true congeniality. "I accept. Are there any more nominations?"

"I nominate Tony Micelli," a woman shouted from the back of the room. He turned around to see that it was Vanessa, the middle-aged lady from his Chemistry class. They hadn't been paired up as lab partners, but their stations were adjacent.

"Hello Vanessa," Tony mouthed, giving her a small wave.

Angela pushed down a surge of jealousy. "Who is that?" she whispered.

"Merely a contemporary of mine," he explained. She rolled her eyes. If he was going to keep talking that way, Vanessa could have him.

"I second the nomination," Wendy said.

"And I assent," Tony said.

"If there are no other nominations, we'll take a ten-minute break and reconvene with a brief statement from each of the candidates," Wendy announced.

Angela couldn't let her husband humiliate her in front of all the other parents. Their social standing was fragile as it was. "Tony, I'm begging you to drop this Dr. Doolittle routine and be yourself."

"Would you not prefer that I assimilate with individuals of a higher class?" he asked.

"God damn it, Tony. I can't take this any longer. Give me the car keys."

"No!" he exclaimed. "This election is important. And it's Eliza Doolittle you're thinking of. Dr. Doolittle was the one who talked to animals."

"Finally!" she said, throwing her arms around his neck. "I've been missing my Tony," she whispered into his ear.

"Oh yeah?" he asked, copping a feel of her ass.

"We should…" she said, pulling back. As they regained awareness of their surroundings, they heard murmurs from every direction. Nobody was paying any attention to their intense flirtation. Instead, many people were pointing and staring at Wendy, who was frozen in a corner like a deer caught in the headlights.

"She hooked up with some lawyer and changed the locks."

"They were canoodling at L'Etoile last weekend."

"…no warning after twelve years together. Poor Herb."

It didn't take the Micellis long to figure out that Joanne was spreading gossip through the crowd. They shared a look and made a silent decision to use what they had learned firsthand. "Rochambeau for blackmail?" Tony asked.

"It'll look better if you talk to Wendy and I talk to Joanne," Angela said.

"Darn it, you're right," Tony said, making his way over to Wendy.

"Joanne, could we have a word?" Angela asked, taking the woman by her bicep and steering her to a quiet corner.

"Are you going to defend your chum?" Joanne asked. "It figures. I mean, you had a new man living with you while you were still married. And now he's going to be baby daddy number two."

"You know full well that Tony and I were not involved before we left Fairfield." Angela hissed. "Wendy hasn't done anything wrong, either. She simply ended an unfulfilling relationship."

"For a more exciting option," Joanne said.

Angela resisted pointing out the fact that Geoffrey Wells was anything but exciting. "They're just friends."

"Sure, they are," she said sarcastically.

"Unlike some people, Wendy isn't pretending to be happily married while sneaking around having illicit encounters in department store fitting rooms!" Angela said, trying not to raise her voice above a whisper.

Joanne gasped. Across the room, Tony and Wendy were having a different kind of tête-à-tête.

"You deserve to run this Parents' Association, Wendy. You've been an essential member of this group for years. Plus, you're not doing it for personal gain," Tony said.

"But they all think I'm a disgrace!" she argued.

"Angela was divorced. Do they think she's a disgrace?" he asked rhetorically.

"Yeah, kind of," she admitted.

Tony tried a different angle. "Isabel was divorced. People respect her."

"She's a doctor! What am I, but a housewife with no husband?"

"You're the best person for this job, and I'm going to throw my support behind you."

"You would?" she asked.

"Sure," he said, letting his worries about being over-committed go unsaid. "In about six years, I'll have a whole new shot at being an Oak Valley Elementary school parent," he reminded her. "Or maybe I'll be a teacher by then," he mused.

"Ten minutes is up," Wendy said, returning to the front of the room.

Jenny waited until Jonathan got up to use the bathroom before throwing herself into his father's lap. "Mr. Bower, do you have a girlfriend?" she asked.

Michael tensed up, but didn't push the girl away. He gently slid her over on his leg and answered. "No, but I am seeing someone."

"What's the difference?" she asked.

"Well, I've only met this person a few times, but I think I might want her to become my girlfriend at some point."

"How old is she?"

"In her thirties," he guessed.

"I think my mom is seeing someone, too," she said sadly.

"Jenny!" Jonathan cried. "How could you?"

"I've just learned that my understanding of Mrs. Wittner's marital situation was erroneous," Joanne announced. "Spreading falsehoods about my worthy opponent is perhaps the worst thing I've ever done," she said, prompting Angela to scoff. "I decline the nomination for President."

The room erupted in gasps and whispers. Tony stood and cleared his throat. "I would also like to withdraw my candidacy."

More murmurs and whispers echoed. "Why?" one voice asked.

He put a hand on Angela's back. "My wife and I are expecting a baby in June, and I'd like to prioritize parenting the little one, as well as our older son and daughter."

"They're married?" a man asked his wife. "I thought he worked for her."

"Wendy is well qualified, and it's a good time for her to take this on."

"It looks like I'm running unopposed," Wendy chirped. "All in favor, say 'Aye!'"

"Aye!" the parents droned in chorus.

"All opposed, say 'Nay!'"

"Nay!" Joanne said loudly. When everyone turned to stare at her, a blush crept into her face, and she ran from the room in embarrassment.

"Dinner's ready!" Sam called from the doorway, just in time to see Jonathan run upstairs and Jenny hop off Michael's lap.

"I'm going to talk to him," Michael said, following up the steps.

Jenny went into the kitchen with Sam, who was at a loss for words. Mrs. Rossini's voice popped into her head. "Feed her," it said. "Then she can't talk, and you won't have to either."

"You're going to love my dad's stuffed shells!" she said, dishing out a plate. "They're full of spinach and ricotta, covered in sauce and smothered in cheese," she explained. "Take a bite!"

Jenny lifted a forkful to her mouth and did as she was told. "Haugh!" she huffed around the lump of steaming pasta on her tongue.

"Spit it out!" Sam demanded, pushing a glass of cold water into Jenny's hand. She hadn't intended to injure the child.

"Ah buh ma dun!" she complained

"What?"

"I burnt my tongue," Jenny repeated.

"Jonathan?" Michael called, stepping into the doorway of his son's room.

"Why would you steal my girl?" he demanded.

"I would never do something like that to you." He couldn't conceive of a situation in which he and his son would be legitimate competitors for the same woman, no matter how many years passed.

"The last girl I liked told me I was immature. She was looking for someone more like Tony."

"Jonathan, you're awfully young to be dating anyone. When I was your age—"

"Here we go!" he griped.

"When I was your age," Michael repeated sternly, "I thought I liked girls, but what I really wanted was to be accepted by my peers. It wasn't until a few years later that I really liked girls."

"All the cool dudes have girlfriends!" Jonathan whined.

"That's not a good reason for you to rush into something with Jenny. You should appreciate your friendship for what it is, and maybe later, it will turn into something else."

"You think someday some girl will like me and not one of my dads?" he asked incredulously.

"I guarantee it," Michael said. "Now let's go eat before your mom gets home and there's nothing left for us."

"Fine."

"You're still coming home with me for the weekend, aren't you?"

"Do I have a choice?"

When Tony and Angela returned, Michael filled them in on what had happened earlier. "Sam and Jonathan are doing homework in their rooms," he said. "Jenny's been reading down here since she finished eating dinner."

"Let me talk to Wendy," Angela offered, going to the front door while the men retreated to the kitchen.

"I don't know how you do it, Tony," Michael said, joining him at the table.

"Do what?"

"Dealing with a son is hard enough, but raising a daughter seems like it would be so stressful. Not that there's anything wrong with girls, it's just…when I took the kids ice skating after Christmas, I felt like an underqualified bodyguard."

"Why? What happened?" Tony asked in a panic.

"Nothing bad. There was an older boy trying to talk to Samantha. She didn't want anything to do with him, so I got him to leave. But what if she liked the attention? How do you keep them from getting into dangerous situations?"

Tony immediately thought of Angela. "I wish I had a good answer," he sighed. "Sam knows how to defend herself, but I do worry about her getting in over her head."

'Maybe you can teach Jenny some self- defense," Michael suggested. "I don't like how trusting she was with me."

"I'll talk to Wendy about it. So, Jonathan and Jenny aren't getting along?"

"No, he's pretty irritated with her, and I don't think he's ever been so mad at me."

"Hey-oh. That second part is a good thing."

"How is it a good thing that my son hates me?"

"He doesn't hate you. He feels safe expressing his anger. Trust me, you don't want your kid holding things in because they're afraid you'll abandon them. Jonathan's liable to worry himself sick."

"Like when he threw up on Heather."

"He gets that from Angela."

"I should've heeded the signs."

"You mean that you shouldn't have married Heather?"

"That I needed to pay more attention to Jonathan."

"He was fine staying with his mom."

"Of course he was. He had a whole damn family. But it bothered me that the most loving thing I ever did for my son was to let him go, twice. I couldn't let that be our story."

"Well, I'm glad you decided to turn the page. Jonathan missed you a lot. He'll be over this Jenny business in no time."

"I hope he gets over it before the AV Club breakfast. He's my right hand man."

"Good luck with all those kids tomorrow. What do you have planned for your first workshop?"

"Slow motion. I'm going to let them drop small objects and play back the video while they eat."

"Better keep a close watch on those objects. It just takes one kid with a slingshot and a rock."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Angela stretched her legs across the bathtub and sank her shoulders under the foaming surface of the water, resting her hands on her belly. She closed her eyes and checked in with her body. The tension in her neck and shoulders was beginning to slip away. The round ligament pain in her hips wasn't bothering her at that moment. It usually only lasted a few seconds when she got out of bed or coughed. There was a slight fatigue in her lower body from her afternoon walk, but it had been worth the detour through the park, across Gapstow Bridge. She inhaled deeply, held the breath for a moment, then slowly emptied her lungs.

A peaceful smile grew as Tony's quiet footsteps came closer. "All done for the night?" she asked before opening her eyes. He was still fully dressed, just barefoot.

"Walking around downstairs, the doors were locked and the lights were out," he said, sitting on the edge of the tub and rolling up his sleeves.

"I'm really happy to have you back," she said, "dangling participles and all."

"Those ain't no participles," Tony joked, grabbing his crotch.

"You're such a boy," she said in mock frustration.

"You know it!" he said proudly. "But seriously, I'm sorry I was being a pompous ass earlier." He reached into the water and took her hand.

"Why were you going off the deep end, anyway? When you took Public Speaking in Arizona, you were talking like Bugs Bunny at home."

"Is that who you were really fantasizing about while I was impregnating you?" he asked with a smirk.

"Tony!" she protested, flinging his hand away.

He kissed her on the forehead and looked at her with a frown. "I thought I could fix the way I talk before the baby started to hear me," he admitted quietly.

"You're not seriously worried about being judged by a fetus, are you?" she asked, taking his hand again. He leaned down to let her place his palm over her belly.

"It sounds silly when you say it," he complained. "I just don't want to be the one keeping our child from getting everything they want in life, you know? If they do well, it will obviously be because of you, and I feel like I could only hold them back and embarrass them."

"I feel the same way about Jonathan and Samantha. They get all their good qualities from you, and all their insecurities and shame from me."

"Sam got all her best traits from you and Marie. I think I'm starting to understand how Jonathan takes after both you and Michael, though."

"Oh, please. You've done more parenting in two and a half years than Michael did in ten."

"Maybe so. Still, Jonathan did benefit from his genes, and he's going to catch up on the parenting."

"I hope so," she sighed.

"My fingers are going to prune up," he teased, pressing lightly into her flesh.

"Oh! Sorry, I should get out, too," she said, releasing his hand.

He turned and opened the bath sheet wide, wrapping it around her shoulders when she stepped out of the tub. She stood there, warm and cozy, as he ran his hands down the terrycloth to dry her off. When he opened the towel again, she pulled her arms out and leaned back against him as he wrapped up her body and kissed her behind the ear. "The first time we showered together, after our stargazing date, you dried me off," he recalled. "If I wasn't in love with you before, that would have done it."

"That was a nice date," she said, rotating in his embrace. She slipped her hands into his hair and nibbled at his lower lip. "I'm ready for bed," she said, sauntering away stark naked as he stood there holding her damp towel. "Coming?" she asked, batting her eyelashes over her shoulder.

"Madonna mia!"