Chapter Nineteen: Benchwarmers
Friday, February 6, 1987
"The ambulance is on its way!" one of the YMCA staff members yelled.
"Am I dying?" Jonathan moaned, his gaze drifting aimlessly.
"Ay-oh, not even close. It's just a dislocated shoulder," Tony assured the boy. He addressed the referee, who was hovering nearby. "Yo, do we really need the ambulance? I can pop it back in myself."
"Like hell you will," Michael objected, kneeling down. "We're going to get you to the hospital, little tiger, where the doctors can assess you."
"Oh, Jonathan! My baby!" Angela howled, tears pouring down her face. She sat ungracefully on the floor and tried to pull him into her diminishing lap without much success.
"Stop it, honey. You're gonna hurt him," Tony admonished her. He didn't want her injuring herself, either, but she wasn't likely to pay attention if he said that.
"Don't yell at her! You're the reason he got hurt," Michael charged. "We never would have registered him for football if you hadn't suggested it," he said, standing up.
"Yeah, if it were up to you, he'd be getting trampled by a herd of zebras right now," Tony said, squaring off.
"A group of zebras is called a dazzle," Michael said, getting in Tony's face while Jonathan continued to moan in pain and Angela sobbed uncontrollably.
"No shit? Well, I'm sure glad the kid has someone to give him vocabulary lessons instead of teaching him to be athletic and social," Tony spat out sarcastically.
"Look how far 'being athletic and social' got you," Michael taunted, pushing a finger into Tony's own injured shoulder.
"I got the girl, didn't I?" he asked, jutting out his chin and puffing up his chest. It was a weak argument, and he knew right away that he had mis-stepped by bringing up the distraught mother who was currently in danger of drowning in her own tears.
"Not my girl, you didn't!" he said, always thinking of Frankie lately. "I guess she prefers someone more cultured."
"You wanna brawl?" Tony asked, shoving him. "I can guarantee you'll lose," he warned.
"Dad," Jonathan called out weakly, causing both men to turn their attention to him. "Don't fight," he said before passing out with his head on Angela's leg. Mere seconds later, he came to, just as help arrived.
The three parents watched paramedics transfer their boy onto a stretcher and roll him out the double doors. Angela was allowed to go in the ambulance, while Michael and Tony both insisted on meeting at the emergency department.
"Sam!" Tony yelled from the front door. His whole body was tense, his breathing shallow and fast. "We have to go to the hospital!"
"Why? Did something happen to Angela?" she asked, closing her history book and springing up from the couch. "Is she OK? Is it the baby? Why aren't you with her?" she demanded, putting her hands on her hips.
He shook his head as he swallowed and caught his breath. "Jonathan got tackled and dislocated his shoulder. Angela went in the ambulance and Michael drove to the hospital to meet them."
"Ambulance? When I was ten, you popped my shoulder back in yourself, Dad."
"You know that we didn't have medical insurance back then. Don't you?"
"I do now!" she said, going for her coat.
Tony tried to tell himself he was bringing Sam for her own good, and for Jonathan. In fact, he was using her as a human shield. Michael wouldn't dare pick a fight in front of her with the fragile regard he'd finally earned.
Michael paced the hallway outside the hospital radiology suite, flexing his fists repeatedly. He had been asked to leave when he started an argument with the x-ray tech, despite having no knowledge about the imaging process.
Angela stepped out and heard him cursing under his breath. Her tears had dried quickly in the ambulance, after one of the EMTs gently suggested that she was frightening her child. She didn't know if she should make another attempt to pacify Michael. So far, he hadn't responded to reason. It wasn't until she heard her husband's name muttered in anger that she felt compelled to intercede.
"This isn't Tony's fault," she said. "He loves Jonathan like his own son."
Finally, something broke, and Michael began crying for the first time since Jonathan went down. "I know that, alright? I know."
"You're scared," she deduced, inviting him into a hug. He accepted the comfort gratefully.
"Yeah," he sniffled, resting his cheek against her head. "We watched Jonathan get hurt, Angela. We were cheering when he went down. What's going to happen when we're not around?"
"Welcome to parenthood," she teased. "It's not for the weak."
He pulled back and took a deep breath to calm himself. "It's funny. I never worried about him this much before."
Angela sighed. "You were never around for the hard times until now."
Tony parked under a bright light in the hospital lot. He and Sam walked into the emergency room hand-in-hand. She figured that if anyone from school saw her, she would die of embarrassment on the spot. "I'm looking for Jonathan Bower," he told the receptionist.
"Are you a relative?"
"He's my brother," Sam piped up.
"OK. Let me see," the receptionist said, looking at her computer monitor, then glancing up at a whiteboard.
"I can take them," a nurse volunteered. "You must be the other dad," she said to Tony.
"Thanks, Abby!" the receptionist called.
"Follow me to curtain three."
Tony and Sam exchanged a brief look, then walked single file behind Nurse Abby. A curtain was mostly closed around Jonathan's gurney. Angela sat holding his good hand, while Michael hovered over his injured side. "Your brother has been given painkillers and muscle relaxers," the nurse explained to Sam. "A doctor will be back to perform the reduction," she said, disappearing into the busy hallway.
"Hey pipsqueak," Sam said, putting a hand on Jonathan's shin. "Pretty gnarly tackle, huh?"
"Uh huh," he said, with a hint of pride. "You wanna watch them put me back together?"
"Heck yeah!" she said.
"Mom says she won't be able to handle it," he told her with glee.
"Guess the pain meds are kicking in," Tony said. He put his hand on top of Jonathan's, sandwiching it in with Angela's below.
"I got an x-ray!" he bragged.
"I see that, pal." The image was hanging on a lightbox behind the gurney.
"Tony, could I talk to you for a minute?" Michael asked. "Privately?" he clarified.
Angela nodded when Tony looked to her with uncertainty. So much for using Sam for conflict avoidance. He moved the curtain aside and followed Michael until they were out of earshot, next to the water fountain.
"I wanted to apologize for what I said. It was out of line," Michael stated. "I'm sure you never expected this to happen."
Tony exhaled in relief. "I'm sorry for what I said, too. Jonathan was on the money when he told us not to fight."
"Glad we agree," Michael said, slapping Tony on the back and turning toward Jonathan's curtain.
Tony stopped short. "Just for the record, I never really tried to put the moves on Frankie. No woman is immune to the Micelli magic," he said arrogantly, snapping his fingers.
"Well, just for the record, your wife gave me her virginity. She never did have any complaints in that department," Michael boasted. He was then struck by the crippling thought that the two facts might be connected.
"Oh yeah?" Tony said. "Well, I was her first kiss."
"What? That's impossible!" he said, flustered.
"I swear I'm not yanking your chain. It was when I was at camp when I was eleven and—"
"Angela was thirteen," Michael finished. "You're Anthony!" he said in awe. "I always thought she was exaggerating when she told me how cute the first boy she kissed was."
"You think I'm cute?" Tony asked with a shy smile.
"Well, yeah. Obviously." Michael looked him up and down and thought back to their first meeting. What woman wouldn't have been attracted to a guy who looked like that?
A young medical assistant's head swiveled toward the apparent flirtation as he passed by. If those middle-aged men could be open about their feelings in public, he could certainly hold his boyfriend's hand in front of his parents.
When the two men re-entered the curtained-off area, Angela was still holding Jonathan's hand. She had her other arm around Sam's waist, and Sam had her arm over Angela's shoulder. A pair of doctors entered from the other side. "Hello! If two of you could go to the waiting room, we'll get this shoulder back where it belongs so you can go home," one said.
"Daddy, will you stay?" Jonathan asked Michael.
"Sure, son," he answered.
"And Sam?"
Sam nodded at Jonathan and turned to Tony. "Mom could use some fresh air," she said, rubbing Angela's back.
"Come on, sweetheart," Tony said. "Good luck, Jonathan!" he called as they left.
"Did you two clear the air?" Angela asked Tony once they were outside in the bracing cold.
"Yeah, we did. I'm sorry I acted like such a neanderthal."
"It was a scary situation. None of us were at our best," she said. Her stomach punctuated the statement with a growl. "Ooh, Tony. I need to eat something."
"It's past ten and none of us have eaten," he said. "What if we went to that diner down the street? I think it's twenty-four hours."
"Alright."
Jonathan was being fitted with a sling when they got back. "You should have heard it pop back into place," he said. Angela clapped her hand over her mouth, stifling her nausea.
"I can get him signed out, Angela, if you guys want to get going," Michael offered.
"You're still taking him?" she asked.
"That was the plan, wasn't it?"
"But he's convalescing!" she blurted out. "I've always taken care of him. Well, Tony or I have," she admitted.
"Mom, I'll be fine at Daddy's," Jonathan said.
"Listen to the kid," Tony said through gritted teeth. How would Angela handle a week out of the country if she couldn't handle forty-eight hours with one of their kids across town?
"I can manage dosing him with Tylenol every four hours, if that's what you're worried about," Michael said. "You can talk to him in the morning."
"Yeah, Mom. I'll call you when I wake up," Jonathan promised.
"Oh, alright," she agreed, giving him a kiss on the forehead. "If you want to come home early, just tell Daddy."
"That's right," Michael said.
"Bye, pal," Tony said, ruffling his hair. "We love you."
"Me too," he said, making eye contact with his mother.
"Sorry I missed your big moment," Sam said. "When you heal, we can reenact it," she added, giving his cheek an affectionate pat.
"Bye Sam," Jonathan said.
At the diner, Sam nearly fell asleep in her biscuits and gravy. "Can we get a doggy bag?" Tony asked the server. Angela took the leftovers while Tony drove home and carried the teen upstairs to bed. When he came back down, he saw the light flashing on the answering machine. Angela got to it first and hit play. The first message was from an unfamiliar woman.
"Hi. I hope I'm not bothering you. This is Christy. Your cousin? I should have said that first. I'm sorry. Well…Angela, I got a letter from Nana asking about you. We haven't talked for a while, so if it's not too much trouble, could you call me?" She repeated her number twice while Angela grabbed a pen and paper.
"I'll call her tomorrow," Angela told Tony, jotting a note to herself. The next message was from Michael.
"Hey guys. It's me. Just wanted to let you know we're home and Jonathan is already asleep. Talk to you tomorrow."
"Let's go to bed," Tony suggested.
"I need a shower first," Angela said. She had been on the floor of the gym, in the ambulance, and there was something about hospitals that made her feel icky.
"Can I join you?" he asked.
"I'm tired, Tony," she protested.
"Hey, I'm not gonna start anything. I just wanna make sure you don't pass out in there. It's been a rough day."
They turned off the lights and trudged upstairs. Angela trailed pieces of clothing across the bedroom and started the shower as Tony picked up behind her and deposited his own clothes in the hamper. "The baby's moving," she told him quietly. "Give me your hand."
He stood at her side with one arm wrapped around her lower back and allowed her to guide the other hand to her abdomen. "I feel it," he said. "Her," he corrected. The tiny movement filled him with a sense of awe.
"Let's get in," she said, not wanting to waste water. He reluctantly let her go, but once they were in the spray, hugged her from behind, his hands roaming in search of their unborn daughter's movement. "You won't be able to feel her kick consistently for a few more weeks," she said. "I don't even feel anything anymore."
"Oh," he said, disappointed. He wondered if you could miss someone you had never met. He slumped against the shower wall and dissociated while Angela lathered up.
"Darling, what's wrong?" she asked, sliding a hand up his chest and neck, then lifting his chin.
"Nothing. I just wish I didn't have to wait four more months to hold our baby," he pouted.
"We have a lot to do in the next nineteen weeks, Tony. Jonathan will be recovering. You're in school. I'm mentoring Jack. And we haven't even started on the nursery," she rambled, her cortisol level rising. "But don't forget Jamaica," she purred, putting her arms around his neck and looking up at him with parted lips.
"Jamaica," he echoed, capturing her mouth.
"I thought you weren't going to start anything," she said, letting her hands roam while he kissed her neck.
"You started it," he mumbled, his wet palm cupping her intimately. "Want me to stop?"
"I want you to take me to bed," she said.
"Not yet," he said, determined to give her a good night's sleep.
Saturday, February 7, 1987
Sam went downstairs early in the morning and turned on MTV. The phone only half-rang before she picked it up. "Hello?" she answered, still focused on the barrage of images in the "Sledgehammer" music video. If only she could pause the television, she thought.
"Hi Sam," Jonathan said, getting her full attention.
"Hey, dork! How's your shoulder?" she asked.
"It doesn't hurt that bad. Daddy said he'd rent both Indiana Jones movies if I get all my homework done today."
"Cool," Sam said.
"Jonathan?" Angela rasped out, still laying on her side in bed with Tony curled up behind her. It was early enough that she hoped to go back to sleep.
"I'll talk to ya later, squirt," Sam said, hanging up the living room extension.
"Morning, Mom. I just woke up and wanted to let you know not to worry about me."
"You're doing better?"
"Yeah. The Tylenol is working," he said.
"Can I talk to your dad?"
"He's asleep. Want me to wake him up?"
"No, sweetheart. Thanks for calling. I love you."
"I love you, too, Mom."
She tried to hang up blindly, but didn't find the phone base where she thought it would be. After sitting up halfway and replacing the receiver, she took the opportunity to lay on her other side.
Jonathan went back to his room to see his father still curled up on the foot of his bed. He had propped his son up in a nest of pillows and watched for signs of distress for several hours before succumbing to exhaustion.
Tony pulled Angela closer, their legs tangling together under the covers. "He sounds good," he said sleepily. "Nuttin' ta worry 'bout." She tucked her face into the crook of his neck and fell asleep almost immediately.
A little after nine, Angela went downstairs in her pink robe and returned Christy's call, arranging to meet for lunch at a nearby restaurant.
"Can you give me a ride to the mall?" Sam asked. "My homework is all done."
"We're actually eating at Bistro Café. Why don't you meet Christy before you go shopping? After all, she's about to be your cousin, too."
"Really? I guess you're right." Sam hadn't really considered how being adopted would give her a whole new extended family. She had always thought of Mona, Angela, and Jonathan as an isolated unit. It wasn't much of an adjustment when they, along with her and her dad, assumed the form of a typical family. And after the fictional identities were abolished, the family structure remained.
Sam realized her family was still expanding. Soon, there would be a baby sister. Ricky was nearly a step-step grandpa. He had children and grandchildren, as well. And Michael. What was he to her these days? There was no word that she knew of for your parent's ex-spouse, your half/step-sibling's other parent.
"Is that a yes?" Angela asked, interrupting Sam's reverie.
"Oh, yeah. Sorry, Mom. What time are we leaving?"
"Quarter to noon," she said, the corners of her mouth lifting the way they always did when Sam slipped back into calling her "Mom." It touched her that the teen was unable to break the habit, even after deciding to resume using her name until the adoption was official.
"OK. I'll be ready."
"Lyle! This is Tony. Tony Micelli. No, rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated. How have you been?"
He listened, making sounds of acknowledgement as his friend talked about how the Rangers' season was going and which players were on the bench due to injuries.
"How are you personally, though? Seeing anyone?" he asked optimistically. Maybe he wasn't the most charismatic guy, but he was successful and intelligent. Women went for the sweetly unassuming on occasion. His soulmate was probably just busy crocheting blankets for orphans or something.
"Sorry to hear that. I know it's a hard time of year to be single. Listen, maybe I can help you out. Play wingman, ya know?"
"I actually called to ask you a favor. Remember last time we talked, how I told you about Jonathan, the little boy I got hired to take care of? Well, he dislocated his shoulder yesterday. We got it reset in the emergency room, but I wanna make sure he heals up as good as new. Better if possible."
"You can? That's great! It means a lot to me. Let me just check with Jonathan's dad and give you a call back."
"Christy, this is Samantha."
"You can call me Sam. We are second cousins, right?"
"Actually, we're first cousins once removed," Christy corrected her. "It's nice to finally meet you. Angela told me all about how much fun it was taking you out for your twelfth birthday. That must have been two years ago."
"Yeah, I'm fourteen now," Sam said proudly. In her peripheral vision, she saw Todd Phillips enter the food court. "Can I go now?" she asked Angela.
"Yes, honey. Here ten dollars. I want you to eat something, alright? Meet by the fountain at two."
"I'll be there," she promised, giving Angela a kiss on the cheek before she sought out Todd.
"This is my friend, Dr. Lyle Everett, team doc for the Rangers. Meet Michael Bower and future linebacker, Jonathan Bower."
"Kicker, maybe," Jonathan said with a grin.
"Mind if I take off your sling and have a look?"
Dr. Everett examined Jonathan and went over the emergency records provided at discharge. "I don't see any reason you won't have a full recovery," he told the boy.
"You didn't have to get your friend to make a house call," Michael told Tony in a low voice. "Kids get hurt. I'm not holding it against you."
"Hey, I just wanna make sure Jonathan is as happy and healthy as possible. You know, Mrs. Rossini told me you got that creep at the skating rink fired."
"I told Frankie that in confidence!"
"You'll learn that there are no secrets in Brooklyn. Don't come down on her too hard. She was just talking you up."
When Tony and Lyle returned to the house, Angela, Christy, and Samantha were sitting in the living room chatting over a pile of fabric samples and paint chips. A thick catalog was dog-eared underneath. "Jonathan's gonna be fine," Tony said, preemptively.
"Oh, thank God," Angela said. "This is my cousin Christy. She's a kindergarten teacher in the city."
"This is Dr. Lyle Everett, orthopedist to the stars. Well, the Rangers, anyway." He was met with a blank stare from both women. "It's a hockey team," he explained.
"Oh, I've never seen a hockey game," Angela said. "Have you?" she asked her cousin.
"Not ice hockey. I played field hockey in high school."
"What position?" Lyle asked.
"Goalie. The girls used to say I never let anyone score."
"Then you must have been on a winning team."
"No, I just didn't date much. I still don't."
"But you're so beautiful," Lyle said, sitting down next to her. "It's different for a guy like me. I'm practically invisible to women," he moped.
"You're a doctor, though! Ladies should be lining up at your door."
Sam surreptitiously dragged her parents to the entryway. "Are you seeing this?" she asked. "They're getting along like fungus and decaying wood."
"Huh?"
"We're studying eukaryotic organisms," she explained. "Set them up!" she insisted, urging them back to their seats.
"Maybe we should go to one of those Wrangler games," Angela said clumsily.
"They're the Rangers, Angela," Tony corrected.
"We have a home game tomorrow," Lyle said. "I can bring three guests, if you want to come."
"Who are you playing?" Tony asked.
"The Maple Leafs."
"Leaves," Christy and Angela said at the same time.
"It runs in the family," Tony muttered.
Sunday, February 8, 1987
"You could have told me how much blood there would be!" Angela complained.
"That's the beauty of sitting behind the glass: a great view and no stains!" Tony argued.
"Well, Lyle and Christy are getting along like gangbusters."
"Just in time for Valentine's Day. And if it doesn't work out, at least they will have doubled the number of dates they've had in the eighties."