“I won’t be there on Monday, though,” she said sadly
“Well, it’s probably better off, Angela.”
Another moment of silence.
“I made it clear I can’t stay away from you... and with you marrying Robert...”
She wanted to tell him about Robert. She didn’t.
“Is Dot home? I want to explain.”
“She’s out with Paul. I can explain for you.”
“But shouldn’t I do it in person?”
“I’ll get her to call you,” Michael told her.
“Wow. You really don’t want to see me, do you?”
“I want to see you… every inch of you. There lies the problem.”
Angela stifled a cry.
“Bye, Michael,” she whispered.
“Bye, Angela.”
It didn’t seem enough; to end what they had shared with a quick goodbye over the telephone. It certainly didn’t seem enough. She lay on the bed crying, her pillow darkened by thestains of her tears, whimpering like a small child; she was an absolute mess. Not even Robert had ever made her cry this way. She was heart-broken. She would not be eating lunch that day, or dinner for that matter.
Michael wondered if he had been too harsh with Angela. He justified to himself that he had to be. There was no other way. He didn’t want to be responsible for making a mess of her life; although she had made a mess of his. He was no longer himself; possessed by this constant need for her.
He was going a little more insane every day; which was another reason why he had to cut off all contact. He knew he could not stay away from her, and he knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He figured they were playing with fire and eventually everyone was going to get hurt.
He didn’t really know Robert, and he certainly did not have the right to make the moves on his fiancé; no matter how tempting she might be. He reassured himself he had done the right thing. The hardest part was yet to come; forgetting her.
Angela sat in her bathrobe, watching mindless game shows and cuddling with Trixie, hoping it would improve her mood but her sadness could not be helped. She channel-surfed; trying to focus on anything; anything that would keep her mind off Michael. Through the noise of the television, she didn’t hear Robert come in.
“What’cha doing?”
She jumped up.
“Nothing.” She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t look at him.
“Are you making dinner?”
“Did you not see the can on the counter? That’s your dinner.”
Robert rolled his eyes and took a seat. “What’s with you?”
“Maybe I should ask ‘what’s with you?’, or more specifically ‘who’s with you?’”
“What?”
“Krysta told me.”
“Told you what?”
“Her friend saw you at Le Cachet nuzzling some woman.”
