Chapter Twenty-Two: Spring Break
Saturday, March 14, 1987
"Rise and shine, my darlings!" Angela called from the doorway of her bedroom.
"I'm up," Sam grumbled, padding out of her room and across the wood floor in her Christmas pajamas and Isotoner slippers. She wrapped her arms around her mom's middle, eyes closing involuntarily at the comfort of the embrace.
"We're gonna miss you, baby," Angela said, kissing the top of her head and rubbing circles on her upper back.
"Mmph. She kicked me," Sam complained. She stepped back and pointed a finger at her unborn sister. "You think you're so cool, hitching a ride to Jamaica with Mom and Dad, but neither one of us is coming home from Spring Break with tan lines this year."
"She loves the sound of your voice," Angela said with a chuckle.
"Maybe you and Dad can pick out a name, so she knows when we're talking to her," Sam suggested.
"Alright, honey, we'll look at the baby name books on the plane."
Jonathan poked his head out of his room, and his mother noticed that he also happened to be wearing his Christmas PJs. "Morning, Mom! Did you thaw a mouse last night?"
"Gross!" Sam said, fleeing down the stairs.
"That's not my department, sweetheart," Angela told her son.
He flung the door open in a panic, intending to quick-thaw a meal for his snake using a miniature hot bath. Sam had voiced her complaints about eating off the same dishes as reptiles, but this was an emergency.
"One rodent pop, coming up!" Tony called, appearing at the top of the stairs with a white paper bag. He gently turned Jonathan around and guided him into his bedroom to feed his corn snake. The South American tree lizard had a more manageable diet of grubs and crickets.
Meanwhile, Angela was making coffee and reviewing the to do and packing lists she and Tony had prepared for each member of the family. "Don't forget Lord of the Flies," she reminded Sam, who was sitting at the table inspecting her nails.
"How could I forget him? We're gonna be stuck in the same room all week."
"Hey," Jonathan cried, pushing open the kitchen door. "I heard that! At least you get your own bed. I have to share."
"You didn't mind sharing a bed with me when we went to the Grand Canyon," Tony said, following Jonathan in.
"But I was little then!" Jonathan argued.
"I hope both of you washed your hands," Angela said.
"Thirty seconds of scrubbing with soap and a nail brush," Tony said. He and Jonathan each held up their clean hands, rotating them for inspection.
"Do you have something to read this week?" Angela asked Jonathan.
"Uh huh. It's a novel about a boy and a dog," he said, opting not to mention that he had borrowed Cujo from a classmate with an older brother.
"That's nice, sweetheart," she replied. "Juice?" she offered, going to the fridge.
"Yes, please," Sam said.
"I have to bring a couple of books, too," Tony said. He had chosen the smallest and lightest of his texts to travel.
For the next few hours, the Micelli residence buzzed with activity. By ten-thirty, luggage was piled up by the front door and the house was ready to be left vacant. Wendy would be stopping by to water the plants and feed the critters midweek. Angela called the airline one last time to confirm their flight. "Still on schedule," she reported.
The doorbell rang, and he turned to the kids. "Anyone need to use the bathroom? Speak now or forever hold your pee!" he warned. Sam rolled her eyes and raced up the stairs, while Jonathan scrambled to the powder room. "
"Thanks for driving us to the airport," Tony said from under a pile of luggage in the back seat. He shifted toward the window to avoid elbowing Jonathan again. For the moment, the two children were content to be sitting next to each other. He considered the fact that they'd be sharing the bench with a car seat in a few short months. Luckily, both kids were on the small side.
"Sorry it's so cramped. We'll be there soon," Michael said.
When they arrived at the drop-off zone near their airline's skycap desk, Tony checked in his and Angela's bags while she had a tearful goodbye with the children. "I love you both so much," she said, squeezing them against herself and each other. "Send home a postcard every day and we'll do the same, ok?" she negotiated, pulling back to memorize how they looked in the moment.
"Yes, mother," Sam deadpanned.
"OK, Mom," Jonathan said. "Try to get a bunch of different pictures, not just the beach."
"Alright, darling. You and Sam do the same."
"Don't worry, Angela. I've got a hundred and ninety hours of raw footage from the Adirondacks you can watch," Michael joked through the open window. She leaned against the top of the car and looked in. "Seriously," he said in a lower voice, "I promise to take care of them."
"Thank you," she said sincerely. It had been a long time since she had trusted him this much. "I know you will."
"Be good," Tony said, squatting down to hug and kiss the kids. He let Jonathan go for another squeeze from his mother and addressed Sam. "I know this isn't what you would choose to do on your break but try to be gracious and polite."
"I will, Dad," she said, squirming in his embrace. "Now go!"
"Come on, Ange! They'll be the same people when we get home," Tony pointed out. He knew that in five minutes, she wouldn't be able to accurately recall what they were wearing.
"You're smuggling in the only kid who's gonna be bigger next week," Sam said with a smile. "Love you!" she called, getting into the front seat of the car.
"Have a good time!" Jonathan said, getting into the back seat. When Angela turned around from the threshold of the airport departures area, half her family was out of sight.
"They'll be fine," Tony said, putting a hand on her back and guiding her toward the concourse.
Traffic was thick leaving the airport, but eventually, Michael reached open road, where he didn't need to concentrate so much on other drivers and their unpredictable behavior. "Did you get a chance to break in your new hiking boots?" he asked Sam.
"We went to the nature reserve last weekend and walked a couple of miles. I won't get blisters," she said confidently.
"I wore mine to school last week!" Jonathan bragged.
"I wasn't worried about you, kiddo," Michael said, glancing in the rearview mirror. The boy's footwear had been broken in over the last few months of weekend visits, whenever the weather allowed. Even with his arm in a sling and one of his father's jackets engulfing him, he was able to enjoy the outdoors.
Jonathan felt a rush of pride. "How much farther?"
"About three hours, son."
Sam searched for the best radio stations as they drove through various broadcast ranges. When they reached Lake George, she turned down the volume and navigated to their destination, reading the map in the fading light of the day. "There it is!" she said. "Have you been here before?" she asked Michael.
"I've visited the area a few times. Sleeping indoors will be a first."
After checking in and carrying their bags up to the second floor, they entered their room. It was perfectly serviceable, but nothing fancy. Both kids ran to the balcony to check out the view.
"Do you think we'll be able to see the crepuscular lekking of the American woodcock?" Jonathan asked his father.
"I don't know what that means, but it sounds nasty. Count me out," Sam said, flopping onto her stomach across the bed nearer the exterior.
"Come on. It's just bird watching," Michael explained. "We'll walk the path around the resort and come back when it starts getting dark."
Sam rolled over and sat up. "Fine, but don't expect me to become a bird nerd."
"Rum punch for the gentleman. Ginger iced tea for the mama to be." The resort hostess, Sabryna, presented the drinks to Tony and Angela as they lounged in the open-air lobby. They had been greeted with cold washcloths, while their luggage was whisked off to their suite for unpacking.
"I never had a butler before," Tony whispered excitedly.
"Neither have I," Angela told him. "Is that a peacock?" she asked, pointing to a beautiful small-headed blue fowl displaying its green plumage.
"No, it's a penguin. Of course it's a peacock!" he snapped.
The hostess was experienced at diffusing conflict between travel-weary couples. "There are several that roam our grounds. You might also see cats. I hope nobody is allergic," Sabryna said.
"Are they friendly?" Angela asked.
"The peacocks are harmless, but you shouldn't approach them too boldly. Some of the cats will beg for food. The ones that don't like people will run away."
"When will we be able to go to our room?" Tony asked.
"Right away. If you'd like to finish your drinks here, feel free. Or I can give you a quick tour."
Angela gulped her iced tea and set the empty glass down. "Let's get oriented, honey," she said, scooting forward in her chair before pushing herself up using its arms. "I don't want to get lost on our way to dinner."
"Fine by me," he agreed. His rum punch was strong, and he hadn't yet reached the halfway point.
"Bring that along," Sabryna invited him. She led them around at a leisurely pace, pointing out several of the restaurants, the pools, with their bars and towel service, and the wellness complex. "Our prenatal massage is very popular. The spa will be available to you all day whenever you have a treatment."
"There's the gym," Tony said.
"We have treadmills, ellipticals, stationary bikes, and NordicTracks, in addition to the weight machines."
"Hey, I'll probably just run outside."
"When are the water aerobics classes?"
"Nine o'clock every morning. There's an activity schedule in the binder in your suite."
"So all the pretty birds are boys and all the plain ones are girls?" Sam asked, flipping through Michael's field guide while they waited on padded vinyl seats for their meal to be served. Jonathan was busy solving puzzles on his paper placemat.
"Most of the time, that's how it works. The males really have to impress the females they want to pair with."
"Are there other birds that do those crazy circles in the air?"
"There are all sorts of mating rituals, and it's not just birds that do it. Sometimes they dance or sing or bring gifts. A lot of males fight each other for the privilege."
"Oh, so animals are like humans," she said, disappointed for a moment before she noticed their server approaching.
"This is so romantic," Angela gushed, looking out at the light reflected on the dark water. She rubbed her thumb along the heel of his hand, then gave a little squeeze. They had just shared a wonderful dinner of jerk chicken and caramelized plantains. It was no longer comfortable for her to consume large portions, and he didn't want to be one of those men who grew a belly to match his wife's. On their way out of the restaurant, an employee had offered to spritz them with bug spray, warning that the mosquitos could be voracious in the evenings.
Tony switched his grip and threaded his fingers through hers. Their sandals shuffled through the sand scattered across the asphalt path. His heart was fuller than it had ever been, and yet he knew it would expand again, along with his family. A lump formed in his throat and he reflexively turned to look away.
"You're quiet," she said.
He met her gaze. "It's hard to believe we're really here. Six months ago, this was just a dream," he choked out.
She stopped short and gripped his arm. "Tony? Honey? Are you going to cry?"
"I'm Italian! We're a very emotional people," he said defensively.
"Everyone has emotions, Tony. I'm a WASP and I cried this morning," she sympathized, sliding her hand to the back of his neck. "You're happy, though, aren't you?"
"Of course I'm happy, Angela," he answered with an adoring gaze. He slipped his arms around her hips. "I'm over the moon."
She contemplated their first moonlit kiss. "What do you think about Luna?" she asked.
"Nah," he said, shaking his head. "That's not it."
"Maybe we should give up on the idea of selecting something meaningful and just pick something pretty," she said. They had rejected hundreds of girls' names during their flight, each one struck through neatly in pencil.
"We have time to choose the perfect name. I think we'll know it when we hear it."
Tuesday, March 17, 1987
Wendy pulled a brown paper bag from the freezer and looked at the attached note, written in black marker. "DEAD MOUSE. Do Not Eat!" she read aloud. She looked inside to find that the ingredient label was accurate. "Well, I don't know what I expected," she said to herself, tossing the bag onto the nearly empty top shelf of the fridge.
After filling the watering can, she made her rounds to all of the living plants, careful not to attend to the fake ones. She sorted the mail into "real" and "junk" on the desk, then picked up a catalog and laid back on the couch with her feet hanging over the arm. "They didn't have that when Jenny was a baby," she said, looking at the myriad devices for cleaning, soothing, feeding, monitoring, and transporting infants.
She was avoiding home. Jenny was with Herb, Geoffrey was at work, and she was lonely. Isabel and Angela's joint baby shower was already planned, but it was too early to send invitations. What she wanted to do was find a job, but her divorce attorney had warned her against it until alimony was determined.
Her garage was stacked high with boxes of Herb's excess belongings. Cutting the crotch out of every pair of pants he had left behind was tempting, but she didn't care enough to bother. His cheating wasn't the reason the marriage had fallen apart, although it would have been nice to know she needn't feel guilty for innocently flirting with men. Even the Ferguson wedding, which she had come to think of as her first date with Geoffrey, had been completely innocent. Though they spent hours dancing, their hands never wandered beyond what was proper for an acquaintance. They kept more space between them than she and Tony did right in front of Angela. Geoffrey hadn't known then that there was a chance of becoming anything more than Wendy's friend.
Herb's picture was only displayed in Jenny's bedroom now. A snapshot of Geoffrey sitting behind a spinning wheel at the Bellflower Inn was framed on Wendy's dresser. "Say orifice!" she had told him after the fiber artist's afternoon demonstration. There was a corresponding picture in Geoffrey's bedroom of the two of them snuggling together the following morning, rumpled white linens tucked tightly under her arms, one of his bare shoulders in frame behind her tousled hair. They had taken care not to expose anything that would scandalize the teens working at the photo hut.
Wendy decided to raid the kitchen for snacks. She walked over to the fridge, but turned on her heel when she remembered there was a rodent thawing inside. The cabinet nearest the back door would hold something edible. "Tea. Coffee grounds. Baking soda. Walnuts." She picked up the bag, planning to eat the nuts if she found nothing better, and felt further back. "Chocolate chips," she said, considering a handful before she realized they were semi-sweet. "Granola? But there's no milk." She stepped back and surveyed the open cabinet until her gaze landed on the top shelf. "Ooh, circus animal cookies!" She quickly replaced the items she had taken out and pulled a chair over, climbing up and retrieving the treats.
The fact that it was St. Patrick's Day crossed her mind. She could be in a pub flirting with underemployed men while she drank to a blackout. That's where she should be, with her newly single status and her one-eighth Irish heritage. She picked up the phone and called Geoffrey's home number, just to hear his voice message.
"It's me. I was just thinking about you. Happy St. Patrick's Day. Call me later. Bye."
Friday, March 20, 1987
Tony ran his finger down Angela's spine. "You don't have any tan lines," he whispered, not knowing whether she was awake.
"Yes, I do," she said, fully alert.
He lifted the covers to peek at the white stripe on her hip. "We do have one day left here. You could still roast your rump," he teased.
She rolled over and tugged the sheet back up. "I don't think mine will brown up as nicely as yours," she countered.
"I'll rub suntan lotion on it," he offered, "and dig another belly well in the sand for you."
"I'm afraid you're becoming a nudist," she laughed. "More of one, anyway."
"It's freeing. Besides, it's been really empty all week. Just us and those old Germans."
"Helga and Klaus aren't old. They're my mother's age."
"They're sixty, Angela, and your mother would be extremely offended to hear that comparison."
"You're not going to tell her I went topless, are you?"
"I can keep a secret," he promised. "Are you going to water aerobics again?"
"Not today. I'm sore! It would be good if I could find a class back home, though. Maybe just once a week."
"You have your prenatal massage at eleven, right?" He pulled himself closer, close enough for her to feel him hard against her belly.
"Uh huh. You wanna fool around before breakfast?" she offered.
"How'd you know?" he asked facetiously.
Sam browsed the rotating wire rack at the gift shop. She and Jonathan had been taking turns with postcards, but Cooperstown was her day to choose a design and write the bulk of the message. She picked one with a photo of the back of a pinstriped white shirt with a numeral three on it.
Dear Mom and Dad,
We had fun at the Baseball Hall of Fame Museum. Babe Ruth's jersey was there! The docent asked if I was related to Tony Micelli from the Cards when I signed the guestbook. I promised we'd come back someday. We miss you a lot.
Love,
Sam
Sam carefully addressed the postcard and added a fourteen-cent stamp before handing it to Jonathan. He only had enough room to scrawl his name next to hers but underscored "a lot" in the final line. Spending the week with his dad was fun, but he longed for his other parents.
"What did you think of Starlight Express, Snickerdoodle?" Geoffrey asked.
"It was very sweet of you to surprise me with a night on the town," Wendy said.
"So, you didn't like it?" he asked, reaching over to squeeze her knee. They sat close in the Porshe. It hadn't been warm enough to put the top down, but warm air was blowing steadily at their feet.
"It was OK," she said. "Do you want to move in with me?" The question had been on the tip of her tongue all evening, but she knew she wouldn't be able to ask unless he was preoccupied with driving. What's more, if he rejected her proposal, she needed him to drop her off to be alone with her heartbreak.
"What?" he asked, assuming he had misheard. "It sounded like you asked me to move in with you."
"I did, Geoffrey."
"Are you sure this isn't too soon?" he pushed back.
"Is it too soon for you?" she questioned anxiously.
"I love you, Wendy. If you want to get more serious, I'm in favor, too."
"I do, too," she said.
"You want to get more serious?" he asked hopefully.
She swallowed a nervous giggle. "I love you."
"Oh. Alright. So, I'll move in. Is Jenny going to be amenable to that?"
"She really likes you, and she understands now that Herb and I are getting divorced."
"Shouldn't you wait until it's final? What about alimony?"
"I'd rather just find a job and start supporting myself. Do you think I can?"
"Of course you can, Snickerdoodle," Geoffrey said, flashing her a smile. He would be happy to take care of her, but it was admirable that she wanted to be self-reliant.
Saturday, March 21, 1987
Mrs. Rossini lugged twenty pounds of prepared food to Oak Hills Drive. When she reached the porch, she sat and caught her breath. A red sports car pulled up to the curb, and the passenger hopped out with a box of cookies. "Hi Mrs. Rossini. It's Wendy Wittner!" she yelled. "Let me help you," she added when she saw all the food.
Wendy opened the door and took a couple of the containers inside, followed by Mrs. Rossini. They went into the kitchen and stowed the dishes in the refrigerator together. "I think I'll pop this one in the oven. They should be home soon," Mrs. Rossini said.
"I'm just replacing the cookies I ate," Wendy admitted, dragging a chair over and putting the box on the top shelf. When she heard the front door open, she said, "I was never here," and ran out the back door to the getaway car.
"Hello! We're home!" Angela called. She turned to Tony. "What's that smell?"
"Welcome back. I'm heating some mostaccioli," Mrs. Rossini announced. "Get over here, kids!" she demanded, opening her arms to Jonathan and Samantha. They endured her pinches and squeezes with minimal complaint while Michael and Tony made another trip to his car for luggage. "Did you have a good week?" she asked.
"It was awesome," Sam said.
"I hurt my other shoulder!" Jonathan said excitedly.
"What?" Angela asked in a panic. "You didn't tell me that!"
"It's just sore from cranking out pressed pennies," Michael explained.
"Thanks for bringing food, Mrs. Rossini. Can you stay for dinner?" Tony asked.
"I suppose I may as well," she said, not wanting to appear too eager.
"I'm heading out," Michael said preemptively.
"Bye, Daddy," Jonathan said sweetly.
His father ruffled his hair and kissed the top of his head. "I love you, kiddo."
"Bye," Sam said, surprising Michael with a hug. "Thank you for everything."
He bent down and spoke conspiratorially. "It was my pleasure, bird nerd." Sam grinned as he left her with a wink.
"So," Mrs. Rossini began, "tell me everything!"
Tony and Angela exchanged a look before she launched into a lengthy description of their babymoon, skipping the more salacious details. Meanwhile, he checked on the food while the kids took their bags back to their rooms. Over dinner, the kids told tales of their nature exploration around Lake George, swimming in the hotel's heated indoor pool, and visiting Cooperstown.
"Frankie?" Michael called, closing his front door behind him.
"In the bedroom!" she responded. He dropped everything, including his coat, and toed off his shoes in the entryway. The moment he stepped into his bedroom, his jaw dropped. Frankie was sprawled out on his bed in a turquoise chemise.
"Hi baby," he said, playing it cool. "Miss me?"
She pushed herself up to hands and knees and crawled toward him, kneeling up when she reached the end of the bed. "You bet I missed you," she said, kissing him and helping him get rid of his clothes.
"I missed you, too," he said, sliding his hands over the silk skimming her curves. "I'm glad we got to talk every night."
Several minutes passed without any further conversation while they began showing each other what they'd been missing. He peeled off her lingerie and salivated at the sight. They crashed back into each other and things grew more heated before he realized his negligence. "I don't have anything," he groaned. "Do you?"
"I didn't bring any," she panted. "Are you sure?"
"When you came over before, we used the last one," he said. "What if I just pull out?"
"Yeah, let's do that," she said, grabbing his rear and pulling him into her before he could reconsider. "God, this is so good," she said in delight.
He was lost in the sensation, squeezing his eyes shut and thrusting wildly. "Frankie. Oh, Frankie!" Clarity came a moment later. Too late.
"You didn't pull out," she said, sounding bewildered.
He flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling. "I'm sorry. Damn it! I meant to, I just lost control."
"What if I got pregnant?" she asked quietly. "Would you be upset?" It was nearly a whisper.
"I'd be upset if that wasn't what you wanted," he hedged, turning to face her. "Would you…keep it?"
She turned her head on the pillow. "At this point in my life, I think I would. Especially with you."
"Yeah? You'd have my baby?" he asked with a bemused expression.
"Do you want that?" she asked hesitantly.
"More than I've ever wanted anything," he told her. His therapist could kick rocks. When the love of your life arrives, you don't leave her waiting.
"Let's see what happens," she said, beaming with happiness.