CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR: AN HOUR’S NOTICE
It was late on a Saturday evening, the last one in March. Vince’s third round of chemotherapy had just ended. Both he and Angela had been counting down the days for the past week, as the side effects were becoming less bearable as time went by. On top of being exhausted, Vince had gotten uncontrollably nauseous several more times over the past couple of weeks, unable to keep his medication down, which tended to knock out his appetite for at least a day. After several looks from Angela, he had finally scheduled an appointment with his oncologist for the following week to ask about controlling the nausea and appetite.
He let the nurses keep track of his weight and didn’t step on the scale at home anymore himself, but he could tell both from looking in the mirror and from the way his clothes fit (or didn’t) that just a day here and there without eating melted the pounds off rather quickly.
With all the planning for a short spring break family trip to the Florida Keys to use their wedding gift, as well as planning for Charlie’s party right after that, Vince and Angela hadn’t gotten to spend many evenings relaxing together. Vince was usually hardly awake enough to make it to his own bedroom not very long after putting Charlie to bed. But tonight, Charlie had volunteered to go to sleep half an hour early after what looked to be his last day with a cold, which Vince miraculously hadn’t caught. This left him and Angela with a little more free time while they were both at least somewhat wakeful, so they took advantage and Vince flipped on the fireplace just for a smile. It was too warm outside to necessitate turning on the heating element, but he still enjoyed the image and the crackling.
“I talked to my mom while Charlie napped today,” Angela said.
“Oh yeah? What’d she think?”
“Well, I didn’t actually tell her,” Angela admitted. While Vince chuckled in disbelief, she closed her computer, which she’d been using to get information on the hospitals near their hotel just in case Vince had an emergency on their trip.
“Wasn’t that the plan, the next time you talked to her? To tell her?” Vince asked, slinging an arm around Angela and lying back, tempted to close his eyes.
“Yeah,” Angela said guiltily, picking at her thumbnail. “They just got back, though. I didn’t want to stress her out.”
“No, you just don’t want to tell her,” Vince corrected her.
“Yeah, that too,” Angela said, dropping pretenses.
“You’ve already dealt with reactions worse than what you think you’ll get from her. What’s the holdup?” Vince asked.
“I guess I’m just…sick of explaining it, you know?”
“Well, you have to do it sooner or later. Would you rather explain it over dinner with them Monday night, or ahead of time? Hint—who cares what you want? I want you to do it ahead of time.”
“Jerk,” Angela said, jabbing him in the side but not enough to hurt him. “Trust me, I don’t want their first time meeting us as a couple to be full of awkward stares and questions. I want to get it out of the way. And I will.”
“When? Monday, half an hour before we get to your parents’ house?” Vince jabbed.
“I will give them at least an hour’s notice,” Angela said, giving Vince a playful look. “Hey, I’m kind of hungry. Want some ice cream?”
“Your attempts to fatten me up are anything but subtle, but sure, I guess I could try.”
“Good. You seemed to eat all right at dinner. Might as well eat up while you’re feeling well, right?” Angela said before patting Vince on the knee and walking into the kitchen. “Can you do me a favor?” she asked when she sat back down with him a few minutes later, a bowl of mint chocolate chip in her hands.
“Hmm?”
“Be extra honest this week. We’ve got a lot going on. Dinner with my parents, the trip, then your brother is coming, and we have Charlie’s party. That’s a lot even for a perfectly healthy person, especially if not everything goes smoothly. And with that many things going on, and with in-laws and airplanes and six-year-olds and illness involved, you know at least one thing will go wrong. So just…let me know if anything gets to be too much. I know it’s hard to resist not doing everything on your non-chemo weeks, and I know you don’t want to miss out on anything on the trip, but really…I’d rather not have to ask you fifty times a day how you’re feeling, because I know it bothers you. So if you just keep me posted instead…”
“I will.”
Angela carved off a bite of ice cream for herself and then pointed the spoon at Vince. “Promise.”
“I promise. And I’ll even start right now.” Vince looked at the bowl of ice cream and shook his head. “Ice cream doesn’t sound good after all.”
“Okay, well, what does?”
“I’m not hungry,” Vince said. “It’s a weird feeling. I’m not even nauseous right now, but I’m just…not hungry. Even though I should be. Sorry.”
“No, don’t apologize. Just…I know you think Mitch is just being funny when he keeps talking about medicinal marijuana, but I really think you should ask your oncologist about it. They make it in a pill. It’s not like you have to smoke it.”
“I don’t know. I’d rather not sit around high all the time,” Vince said.
“Not that I think the pill gets you all that high, but yes, you do,” Angela said with a short laugh. Vince raised an eyebrow at her. “Oh, come on. You never smoked a joint?”
“Is this the phase of our marriage where we learn the truth about each other?”
“Very funny. I tried it once in college. Anyway, so you grew up in the seventies and never smoked pot. I’ll try and believe that. But I’m sure the pill’s a really mellow high. Smoking a joint’s a pretty mellow high to begin with. The high from the pill’s probably not much more intense than when you pop a methadone when your back gets too sore. And it’s not like you’d be using a lot of it. I’ve read a lot about it and for some people it doesn’t do much, but for some people it’s a miracle drug. Maybe it could be your miracle drug.”
“How long do you think it’ll take Mitch to start telling Charlie ‘Daddy has the munchies’?” Vince asked sardonically.
“Joke all you want, but I’m serious.”
Vince’s little grin disappeared. “I know you are,” he told her. “I’ll ask about it at my appointment.”
“Good. Oh my goodness.” Angela’s mouth dropped open. “I never asked—how was Charlie’s counseling appointment yesterday?”
“It went well,” Vince said, his smile growing back to relax Angela. It wasn’t very effective.
“I can’t believe I forgot to ask.”
“You’ve been busy,” Vince said reassuringly. “Nothing’s changed since last time. Still good. I called his teacher, too, and she said Adam’s still pretty much been avoiding Charlie—doesn’t want to get in trouble with his parents, probably. And Charlie seems fine with that.”
Angela sighed. “That’s good.”
“Did anyone say they were dropping by tonight or can I go to bed?” Vince asked, suddenly feeling the drowsiness set in.
“No visits planned that I know of,” Angela said. Ever since the team had returned from Miami, everyone had been making it over far more often. Angela suspected this had something to do with her being so direct with Marshall on the matter, but whatever reason was behind this change, she didn’t care. She was happy to see their friends outside of work—something she hadn’t really done since she’d started seeing Vince—and she was even happier that they had all stepped up to the plate to be there for him. Conversation rarely deviated much from the topics of Charlie and work, but that appeared to be enough to satisfy Vince, who had simply craved the company of friends he used to see day in and day out.
“Sorry, I know it’s early, but I just can’t stay awake all of a sudden,” Vince said apologetically, his eyes drooping as he left a kiss on Angela’s lips.
“No apology needed. Sleep well. I’ll probably be to bed soon,” Angela said, ready to finish their ice cream on her own.
br /> “Oh, hey, by the way, Frankie wore her t-shirt again today. I think that’s, what…?”
“Four out of the last eight days you’ve seen her?” Angela said with a sweet laugh. “Glad she still likes it. How was she today?”
The little in Vince’s tired eyes faded away as he shrugged. “Not so great. But at least her spirits are up.”
“Yeah…goodnight. Love you,” Angela said when Vince turned again to leave.
“Love you, too.”
Angela watched Vince’s thin frame amble tiredly down the hallway and into their bedroom, shutting off the light immediately. She made it her mission to get as much done on her own as she could in the way of planning the trip and the party, so that Sunday could truly be a day of rest. Vince needed one. They all did. He would have Charlie, now on spring break, to himself all day Monday and needed any bit of energy he could muster up. Angela prayed that dinner with her parents Monday evening wouldn’t be too emotionally taxing, because they would be flying to Florida the next morning, beach-bound.
They had figured the sooner they used their plane fare, the better, but now Angela worried they were taking one of the few chemotherapy-free weeks that Vince had left and burning it up. She didn’t see how, at this rate, he would make it through the three-day trip and then a day at the zoo the following weekend. She folded her hands carefully in her lap, bowed her head, and prayed in whispers for some miraculous store of energy to find its way into Vince’s body. Praying aloud still felt a bit foreign every time she did it, but by the time she said her “amen,” she already felt better.
Once she was finished with everything she could take care of via computer, Angela set her laptop on the coffee table and headed into the kitchen again, this time coming back with a stack of mail she’d retrieved from her apartment earlier that day but had yet to go through. She was just ripping into an envelope without even looking at the sender when a light knock sounded at the door. Not expecting visitors, she crept to the door and glanced through the peephole to see a head of dark hair. “Hey, Sophie,” she whispered when she opened the door to indicate that Vince was most likely asleep. “Come on in.”
Sophie made a point to be very quiet in taking off her shoes and followed Angela into the living room. Angela pointed one finger at her to let her know she would be right back; she then walked down the hall and peeked inside her and Vince’s bedroom. Seeing that Vince seemed sound asleep, she closed the door and joined her friend in the living room again. “You just missed him. He went to bed maybe half an hour ago,” Angela said. “Sorry.”
“If he needs rest, it’s good he’s getting it,” Sophie said, sitting down on the couch. “But for when he is awake and hungry and has a sweet tooth,” she said dramatically, reaching into her gargantuan green purse, “I made diabetic-friendly cookies. I tried them and I won’t lie, they taste almost as good as the real thing.”
Angela smiled and accepted a covered glass container. “That’s really sweet. I’ll have to hide these so Charlie doesn’t get into them.”
“How is he, anyway?” Sophie asked.
“He’s good. Looks like the bullying’s stopped completely. Poor little guy’s been sick for the past few days, but I think he should be ready to go Tuesday. He’s so excited.”
“I know it’s your wedding present so you get to choose how to spend it, but I still can’t believe you’re taking Charlie,” Sophie said in awe. “You didn’t want a honeymoon?”
Angela blushed a little and shrugged her shoulders uncomfortably, finishing opening the envelope she’d half-opened earlier. Bank statement. She set it in a pile to be shredded, then picked up another envelope. “We had a night to ourselves when Charlie was away with his aunt. Besides, I don’t think either one of us could imagine going on a trip alone together. Vince doesn’t want to take the time away from Charlie and I don’t want him to, either. You know, this is the last time Charlie will have a chance to go on a trip with his dad.”
“Way to make me feel like a schmuck,” Sophie said, pouting. “I didn’t even think about it that way.”
“Sorry,” Angela laughed quietly. “Oh, hey, look what came in the mail,” she murmured, pulling a piece of paper from the second envelope. Stuck to it was her new driver’s license.
Sophie gasped. “Let me see!” she hissed. “Angela Ruth Glasser…all together now. Aww.”
Angela rolled her eyes and snatched the license back, inspecting the name. This was her first official documentation of her new identity, as her credentials for the Bureau were still being processed. “Wow, that’s…crazy,” she said.
“I can’t wait for someone to call you Mrs. Glasser and for you not to catch on that they’re talking to you,” Sophie said.
“Yeah,” Angela replied distantly.
“So…Dinner with your parents Monday, right?” Sophie asked after a few silent moments.
“Yup, and I still haven’t told them we got married,” Angela said with a terrified smile.
“Ooh,” Sophie sang, “do you think you could call your mom and put her on speakerphone so I can listen?”
“You know, truth be told, even though my mom’s normally much scarier than my dad, I’m not as worried about her reaction,” Angela said. “Or I guess I should say I’m pretty sure I know how she’ll react, so I don’t think I’m in for a surprise. She’ll probably be worried about me but she’ll at least pretend to be happy for me. I just have no idea what my dad will think. He’ll probably be a bit miffed that we got married while they were away, but I think he’ll be more disappointed in the fact that I married someone he’s never even met, like I didn’t care about his input.”
“Or maybe you’re his princess and he’ll be happy that you’re happy,” Sophie said hopefully. “He already knew you were seeing Vince in the first place, right?”
Angela nodded. “Yeah, my mom told him everything. So this’ll make things even better with my dad,” she said sarcastically. “Not only was I too scared to tell him about the relationship on my own, but then I eloped.”
“I’m sure he knows how hard this must be for you and he won’t try to make it harder,” Sophie said reassuringly.
Angela forced a smile, wanting yet another subject change. She couldn’t think of what she actually wanted to talk about, though. Seeing Vince so tired day in and day out had left her rather drained herself, at least mentally. She felt an overwhelming urge to curl up next to him and go to sleep.
“How’s Vince besides tired?” Sophie asked, reading Angela’s thoughts.
Angela glanced darkly down the hallway and sighed. “Nauseous more and more often. Honestly not sure if it’s his painkillers or the chemo anymore. It’s hard to tell. Anyway, he’s going to his oncologist on Monday to ask about it.”
Sophie’s wide eyes drooped sadly. “How’s he doing emotionally?”
“Much better than physically. The biggest obstacle for him emotionally right now is that he’s so tired that he can’t stay up and enjoy things. I mean, things with Charlie are good, and things with me are good, but the chemo just takes it right out of him. He hardly makes it to nine o’clock most nights, even though he naps after chemo almost every day. Then he sleeps a solid nine hours every night. Anyway, now that I’ve bummed you out, would you like a drink or something? I think I have a few beers in the fridge, maybe.”
As soon as she said the words, though, she realized she was wrong. They hadn’t had alcohol in the house in quite a while. Not only had Vince stopped tolerating it, but he’d stopped turning to the bottle when life didn’t meet his expectations. Though his inebriation had provided his friends with valuable information—and some laughs—over the years, Angela was glad he’d kicked the habit.
“I’ve been out and about all day. I really should get home to Paul,” Sophie said, clearing her throat. “You look like you need a solid nine hours, too. Get some rest.” Before Angela could argue, Sophie was already getting her shoes back on.
Now rather spent herself, Angela hid Vince’s
cookies, then locked up and hit all the lights on her way to bed. She brushed her teeth, changed in the dark, not sure what pajamas she was even putting on, and started the slow process of crawling into bed without waking Vince. Some nights she succeeded, but this wasn’t one of those nights. She sighed in annoyance with herself when he rolled over toward her and yawned. “Sorry. Go back to sleep,” she whispered.
“Did I hear you talking to someone out there or was I dreaming?” Vince asked, his words scraping their way free from his sticky throat.
“Sophie dropped by. I checked in on you but you were asleep.”
“You should’ve woken me up,” Vince said, maneuvering his hand underneath the sheets until he found Angela’s. “I feel bad.”
“She understood,” Angela assured him. “I’m sure she’ll come by again another night soon.” She used her free hand to search for Vince’s cheek so she knew where his lips would be. “Guess what. My new license came in the mail.”
A smile sounded in Vince’s voice. “Oh yeah?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Do you like the sound of it?”
“Of course I do. I’m so glad I took your name. Granted, you have a very nice last name. It’s not like I’m Angela Buttz.”
“You still would’ve taken my last name if it was Buttz,” Vince said with self-certainty.
“Whatever you need to tell yourself.”
—
“Hi, Mom,” Angela said, accepting a kiss on the cheek before taking off her coat in her parents’ foyer.
“Is everything okay? Why did you want to meet early?” Ruth asked.
“Well, I have some news I wanted to share with you and Dad before we all had dinner together. Is he around?”
Ruth smiled kindly and nodded. “He’s in his study, I think.”
“Watching golf?” Angela asked.
“Most likely. I’ll go get him. Why don’t you go sit down? Want some coffee?”
“I’ll get my own. You?” Angela said.
“Please, and some for your father.”
Angela fixed their three cups of coffee in the kitchen before her jollily round father, George, almost crushed her in a surprise hug. “Hi, Dad,” she said, laughing. “It’s been so long, I’m sorry.” She drew away and took in her father’s bespectacled face and wispy grey hair.
“It’s okay, pumpkin. I’ve missed you, but it sounds like you’ve been keeping busy. Let’s go sit so you can get us caught up.”
“Sure.” They convened in one of the house’s two formal sitting rooms. This one was what her mother had called the white room for obvious reasons when Angela had been a child. Absolutely no children were ever allowed on the pristine carpeting and furniture.
“So, your mother said you’ve been seeing someone new,” George said, his eyes lit eagerly.
“Yeah,” Angela replied with a smile. “She did tell you the other part, though, right?”
“I did,” Ruth said.
“I’m sorry about that, Angie, I really am. That must be so hard,” George said, taking his daughter’s hand. “His name’s Vince, right?”
“Uh, yeah. He’s my old boss.”
“That’s what your mom said. How’s he doing?”
“Not so great lately,” Angela admitted. “He’s having a lot of issues with nausea and appetite, but he just had a doctor’s appointment today and got a bunch of new medications to try. That and he just finished up his third chemo cycle on Saturday. So really, he’s already feeling better, but the last couple of weeks have been rough, yeah…” She stopped, feeling as though she were rambling on about something that didn’t really interest her parents. But when she took a moment to read their expressions, she realized she was quite wrong.
Her father sensed that she didn’t want to talk about cancer for a minute and said, “I’m glad he’s starting to feel better. What’s this…news you said you had to share?”
Angela pulled in a deep breath, let it out loudly, then reached into her purse. “We got married,” she said with a moment’s confidence, slipping on her wedding ring. The more time that passed without a visible reaction from her parents, the more worried she grew. However, even though it felt like an eternity before her mother and father sprouted joyous smiles, it was only a few seconds.
“Honey, wow,” George marveled, embracing her yet again. “I can’t believe this.”
Ruth’s smile was already faltering, though.
“I know,” Angela said, trying to entertain her father while she worried about her mother. “I didn’t want to spring it on you at dinner. I thought it would be better if you knew ahead of time so you guys could just spend the evening getting to know him.”
“So you told us right before?” Ruth said a bit scathingly.
“I know I should’ve told you sooner—”
“Like maybe before the wedding,” George interjected playfully.
“Well, you guys were on vacation. We were engaged for all of a day or two. It was just us and our pastor at the ceremony. No one else was there besides two ladies from church who happened to be there. We needed witnesses. We didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, not for the wrong reasons, anyway.”
“You should have given us the option,” Ruth said, clearly put out. “I think I speak for both of us when I say we would have loved to have been there, even if we were the only guests.”
“Ruthie, what’s done is done,” George said to mollify his wife, but Angela could hear dejection in his tone as well. “One important question,” he said to Angela, swallowing back his own hurt feelings.
“Yeah?”
“Are you happy?” he asked, stroking Angela’s hand.
“Very,” Angela said without hesitation. “I know it sounds crazy, but I am.”
“Is he still planning to be here at seven?” Ruth inquired, standing up.
Taken aback for a second, Angela didn’t answer right away. “Uh, yeah, why?”
“I’d better go check on dinner, then.” Without another word, it was just Angela and her father in the sitting room. Angela’s troubled sigh didn’t fail to catch her father’s attention.
“She’ll be all right. You know her,” George said.
“How badly did I just mess up?” Angela said, hiding her face behind her hands.
“I don’t think parents are generally excited to find out their child eloped,” George said wisely. “Just give her time to digest.”
“What about you? I mean, you haven’t even met him yet. Aren’t you bothered that I married someone you didn’t even know?”
George shrugged. “I am, but I can’t let that overshadow what’s really important. My little girl found someone who makes her happy. Took you long enough, messing around with all those other bozos…”
Angela selfishly wished her mother could prioritize her own feelings the same way, but she knew she and her mother were far too alike in that respect. Were she in her mother’s shoes, she supposed that she would be stewing as well. She felt naïve for thinking this would go smoothly with either parent. She was lucky to have one who was supportive.
“If she’s not behaving by quarter to seven, I’ll go talk to her,” George said. “But until then, I think you and I both know it’s best if we just leave her be.”
Angela nodded reluctantly and took a sip of her coffee.
George patted Angela’s knee. “So, tell me all about him. I need some conversation starters. Does he like golf? Cigars? Brandy?”
—
“I know you’re mad at me, but I assure you, it was my idea to hide this, not Vince’s, so please be pleasant,” Angela pleaded with her mother. Vince was due to arrive any minute.
“Oh, Angela. It’s not your poor husband who has me upset,” Ruth said. “He has nothing to worry about.”
“I need you to fake it with me, too. Please? At least for tonight?” Angela asked warily.
“Of course. You said it wasn’t his decision for you to get married while your parents were out of the country. So I’
ll play nice for him. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”
Angela waited until her mother’s back was turned before she rolled her eyes. Vince rang the doorbell right at that moment. Hoping against hope that he would serve as an immediate buffer and that they could all have a nice evening, Angela almost leapt to the door. “Hey, come on in,” she said, suddenly realizing how odd it felt to be welcoming her husband somewhere.
“Hey,” he said, greeting her with a kiss. “Mr. Hawkins, Mrs. Hawkins, so nice to meet you,” he added, smiling.
“Oh, you’re family now. It’s Ruth,” Angela’s mother said, accepting a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine from Vince and giving him a hug.
“And George,” Angela’s father chimed in, testing the firmness of his son-in-law’s handshake.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Vince. Angie doesn’t talk to me much these days, but the last time she did, she couldn’t stop talking about you,” Ruth said.
“Congratulations to you both, now that everyone’s here,” George said with enough delight to make up for his wife’s poorly disguised temper.
“Thank you,” Vince said graciously, putting one arm around Angela and his other hand in his pocket.
“Well, shall we?” Ruth said, beckoning everyone further into the house. “Where’s your son tonight?” she asked Vince over her shoulder.
“Charlie’s spending the night at his aunt’s house.”
“Well, hopefully we’ll get to meet him eventually. I hear you’re leaving for a little vacation in the morning?” Ruth said.
Though her mother was behaving at least somewhat well, Angela desperately hoped for this night to pass by quickly. Her nerves calmed as the evening progressed, however. Her parents refrained from asking questions about Vince’s illness, instead keeping to questions about his and Angela’s relationship as well as about Charlie.
To Angela’s further relief, Vince’s stomach cooperated. Though he politely refused a second helping of anything, he was able to clean his plate.
“What time’s your flight in the morning?” George asked as they all polished off dessert.
“George,” Ruth chided. “Don’t rush them out.”
“I’m not, I’m not. Just trying to make conversation.”
“Then tell him he’s wearing a nice tie, for heaven’s sake,” Ruth said, downing the last of her second glass of wine.
“Nice tie, son,” George said, just to annoy his wife further.
Angela checked her watch when Vince drew a few tiny circles on her forearm under the table—their agreed upon signal that he was getting tired and wanted to leave before he started yawning at the dinner table. “Our flight’s really early, actually, and it’s already almost nine now,” Angela said. “We haven’t finished packing yet and we need to get up extra early to go get Charlie from his aunt’s, and—”
“No need to explain,” George said, holding up a hand. “We hope you have a nice trip. Take some pictures, will you?”