Compromising Positions

by Mary Whitney

  “Evelyn Grath.”

  “Did she fly out just for this event?”

  “No, she had a board meeting. Both my parents are in D.C. pretty frequently for one thing, or another.”

  How different we were. My parents rarely had a reason to leave Arizona. Silence ensued, so I thought it best to dig myself out of the hole I’d made. I pointed to his guitar now leaning against the wall. “I got to hear you play. You’re very good.”

  “Thanks.” He smiled, the warm one I liked so much. “Do you like music?”

  “Sure.” I looked him straight in the eyes again, lingering long enough to get lost in the baby blues. “You were great with those kids.”

  “They were great.”

  “They usually are.” I smiled as he continued to hold my gaze.

  “So you’re here with Larry Wingren?” He smirked. “I don’t see his wife, your vicious chief of staff.”

  I wondered if I should tell him the truth. If I did, there was a chance he’d have a different opinion of Trish, so I said, “Well, Larry wanted some company and to be honest, it’s hard for Trish to be around kids right now.”

  “Why is that?”

  “They’ve been trying to get pregnant for a while now, and nothing has worked.” I frowned. “She’s sort of in mourning… letting go of a dream.”

  “Have they thought about adopting?” His brow was so furrowed that a line had formed between his eyes. He looked genuinely concerned.

  “Yeah. I think that’s next. She’s adopted herself, though, so she had her heart set on a biological child. It’s just going to take some time.” I winced. “I can understand it. I’ve thought of it myself.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m thirty-five. There’s a door that’s starting to close.”

  “You’ve got plenty of time.” He said it as if having kids were as easy as buying bread.

  It was a nice sentiment, but really, men couldn’t understand. They could produce kids into old age, and because they could always date younger women, they had more options for partners. Women were limited on both counts—not that I wanted to continue the conversation. There was no greater turn off to a guy than talk of female biological clocks or the dearth of good single men who weren’t gay or players. Hoping to shut the topic down, I simply said, “Sure.”

  Peeking up at him through my lashes, I noticed a curious expression as though he really didn’t know what I was talking about. Then it hit me, and I snapped my head in the other direction, frightened by my own feelings. Oh, my God. Larry is right. I like this guy. What am I doing? I threw a Hail Mary pass to get out of it. Apropos to nothing, I announced, “I’ll admit that I can’t see Cathy Mathers being at a place like this.”

  His eyes narrowed as he leaned forward in confusion. “Cathy?”

  “Yes, Cathy Mathers.” I should’ve left it at that to see how he would respond. Instead, I went too far and tipped my hand when I added, “Your friend, Cathy. I see you with her a lot.”

  That was all it took to show how pea green I was with jealousy. His blue eyes brightened as he recognized it, and he covered his mouth to hide the smile I’d caused. His words were muffled with soft laughter when he replied, “I can’t really say we’re friends. We’re just colleagues.” A smirk grew. “You think she’s that bad?”

  “Of course.” My face had to be the color of the Hawaiian Punch in my glass. Since I’d made a fool of myself, I thought I might as well go all in. After a sip of punch for courage, I rattled off my points, “I think she’s stupid and crazy. Like when she said that the founding fathers worked tirelessly to end slavery. Did she miss an entire semester of American history? Half of the founding fathers owned slaves and didn’t want to let them go. The Civil War was about slavery. Or what about her belief that homosexuals have a psychological disorder and can be changed? It is solid science at this point that homosexuality is a biological fact. Or that global warming is a hoax by the liberal media? The earth’s temperature is rising. It’s a fact. Does she live in an alternate universe? And then there are her policy positions like ending Social Security and Medicare. Like that’s going to happen.”

  He coughed to hide a chuckle. “Now tell me what you really think.”

  “I’m sure she thinks I’m crazy too.”

  “I actually never talked with her about you.” He grinned, but he was trying to conceal outright laughter. “Though I’d bet good money she thinks you’re nuts.”

  The twinkle, the smile, the deep voice—all of it was too much. He was toying with me, so I decided to call the question. “You seem like a smart guy. How can you even carry on a conversation with her?”

  “I admit. It’s difficult at times.”

  His expression was so warm my whole body responded, and I wondered if the punch was spiked. When I didn’t say anything in response, he lowered his head to mine and in a smooth voice said, “And it’s something I try to avoid. Cathy and are not friends. She just starts walking with me sometimes, and it’s hard to shake her off. Does that answer your question?”

  “Yeah, it does.” My nervous laugh caused his eyes to sparkle again. “And it’s a relief.”

  “Good. I’m glad we got that out of the way.”

  My hand went to my chest in surprise. Out of the way for what? What was coming next? Lucky for me, I could be lost in my thoughts because Larry was lining up at the podium, as the emcee was about to introduce him. I pointed to the front of the room. “Look. Larry is about to speak.”

  After the introduction about his NFL accomplishments and accolades, Larry cleared his throat and apologized for being a lousy public speaker before launching into his standard speech for times such as this. It started with his appreciation about places for kids without a lot of money because he’d never had the opportunity when he was growing up dirt poor in Appalachia. His coal miner father had died of black lung disease when he was young, leaving his mom alone to fend for their large family. There wasn’t a time he didn’t remember his mother paying for food with anything other than food stamps. He said he only got into sports so he could learn to beat up the other kids when they teased him about his clothes. Then he joked, “I got pretty good at it. That’s why I’m in the NFL.”

  As Larry spoke, I was self-conscious about Michael being was only inches away from me. A little jostle and I’d be right against him. With his attention on Larry, though, I felt relief for a moment from the teenage awkwardness I had around the guy. Having heard Larry speak before, I let my eyes wander around the room, drifting to Evelyn Grath. The relative safety I felt vanished when I noticed her staring at me. Oh crap. I returned a quick, bland smile, before snapping my head back toward the podium.

  I hoped I appeared to be focused on Larry because my mind was still on Michael’s mom. I wondered if she knew who I was. Did she care? She had to care—or at least she was wondering who her golden boy son was talking to.

  As Larry’s speech wound down, I saw a flash of red out of the corner of my eye. Evelyn Grath had joined us and was now standing on Michael’s other side. I was trapped.

  Right after the final round of applause, I offered her another little smile, and she extended her hand. “Good evening, I’m Evelyn Grath. I see that you’re a friend of my son, Michael. What’s your name, dear?”

  Before I could reply, Michael muttered sardonically, “Well, hello, Mother. Maybe you could ask me to introduce you two.”

  The woman had just spoken to me as if I were a suspicious skank after her precious son, but even I thought Michael’s reaction was a little harsh. I jumped in before she answered him. Shaking Evelyn’s hand, I spoke with her just as I would in any professional introduction. “Hello Mrs. Grath. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Jessica Clark. I’m a colleague of Michael’s. You can call me Jessie.”

  It was only the slightest movement, but Evelyn leaned back, wary. I stopped myself from laughing at what I’d done. She wasn’t used to a younger woman speaking to her with such authority and telling her she c
ould or could not do something. Her eyes darted between Michael and me looking for answers. “Colleague? You mean former colleague, correct? Do you work at Michael’s old firm?”

  “Jessie is a member of Congress, Mother.” He smirked, obviously enjoying the opportunity to set her straight. “She’s from Arizona and a freshman just like me.”

  Processing what she’d just heard, Evelyn opened and then shut her mouth before her good manners took over. “Excuse me Congresswoman. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know that. I do apologize.”

  “Please, don’t apologize,” I said, shaking my head. “There are over four hundred members of the House. Only lobbyists know every single one of us, and that’s because they’re paid to.”

  “No, it’s really inexcusable of me. Please forgive me.” Again she stared, still trying to place me. Then it dawned on me. She thinks I’m a Republican, but she thought she knew all the Republican women in Congress. I smiled, as she looked at her watch and announced, “Michael, do you mind if we leave now? I have an early morning meeting.”

  “Not at all.” He still wore the same smirk.

  “Thank you. Just let me tell the other board members that I’m leaving.” She turned to me. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Jessie, and I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow at the RNC fundraiser.”

  Poor woman. I felt a little bad for what I was about to do to her, but only a little. “Actually, no, Mrs. Grath, I won’t be attending the dinner. I’m a Democrat.”

  Evelyn’s eyes widened, but only for a second before she composed herself. She was a political matron after all and hard to trip up. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

  I waved my hand to dismiss the misunderstanding. “No apology necessary. It’s a good assumption. There are only ten Democrats in this freshman class.”

  Michael appeared to watch the whole thing with amusement. He nodded to his mother. “Mom, go say your goodbyes.”

  “Yes, I will.” Extending her hand one more time to me she said, “It really was nice to meet you. I hope we can speak again.”

  “Yes, that would be nice.” I shook her hand. “Goodnight, Mrs. Grath.”

  Evelyn turned to find some of her fellow trustees, but not before giving me one more look. I’d bewildered her. Why was her son talking to a Democrat like me? He wasn’t even divorced. Oh, the scandal!

  When she was a few steps further away, Michael smiled down at me. “Sorry about that. She sort of lives in her own little world.”

  “No worries.” I laughed. “As you know, this happens to me a lot.”

  “I guess I did make the same mistake as her.”

  “You did.”

  “But at least I didn’t talk to you like you were nineteen.”

  My hand went to my hip. “No, but you thought I was a waitress.”

  “You’re right.” He cringed and laughed. “I guess that’s not any better.”

  “Not really.” I chuckled.

  We had shared a smile before he gestured to my foot. “So you’re off your crutches. Do you feel better?”

  “Yeah. My ankle works again. Thank God. I can’t wear heels, though, which just makes me look even more out of place.”

  After a quick appraisal from head to toe and shrugged, “So you don’t look like your average congresswoman with gray hair and always wearing a suit and high heels.”

  “Exactly. Which is why I try to look doubly professional.”

  “I understand, but couldn’t you embrace the fact that you’re different—you know, work it to your advantage?”

  I was just about to tell him all the reasons why that wouldn’t work when he spoke again, this time with some trepidation. “You’re very pretty, you know.” The compliment was like a shock to my heart, and before I could even mumble a thank you, he qualified it like he was only stating a fact. “I can’t be the first person to tell you that.”

  Maybe he was just speaking plainly, but hearing it from him made me giddy. My cheeks flamed, as I found my voice to say a muted, “Thanks.”

  “So Jessie, my work here is done,” Larry said, appearing from a few feet away.

  I was thankful for his interruption until I saw the stupid grin on his face. Great. He must’ve heard everything. I minded my manners and gestured back and forth between the two men. “Larry Wingren meet Michael Grath.”

  A jovial Larry pumped Michael’s hand. “Evening, Congressman. Nice to meet you.”

  “Please, call me Michael.” He smiled. “And I’m not sure if it’s nice to meet you. You caught that last touchdown that knocked my Bears out of the playoffs last year.”

  “Aw, you’re gonna hold that against me?”

  “Hell, yeah.”

  Larry turned to me. “I like this guy, already.” Then he said to Michael, “So, you like sports?”

  “Sure. I’m excited for the NCAA Tournament coming up. A couple of Illinois schools are in the first round.”

  “Yeah, that’s right. My alma mater, North Carolina State, is in it, too.”

  “As is mine,” I said. “Arizona is a second seed.”

  Larry’s face brightened like he’d come up with a great idea. “Hey, Michael, my butt is gonna be parked on the couch all next weekend. You should come over one day and watch some of the games.” He then nodded to me. “Maybe Jessie will come up from the basement and watch, too.”

  I’d already been smiling, but my teeth clenched as Larry assumed the role of matchmaker. I wanted to hide with embarrassment as Michael turned to me. He was the one who’d been asked the question, but clearly, my opinion was the one that counted. What was he expecting? Was I supposed to say “Please come over”? Or did he want me to let him off the hook with something like “Next weekend isn’t really good”? I kept my frozen smile, hoping that was enough encouragement.

  “That sounds great,” Michael said as he looked back at Larry. “I don’t have many friends my age in D.C.”

  “Me either,” said Larry. Then he turned to me. “What do you say, Jessie? Will you be joining us?”

  Despite wanting to both punch and hug Larry for what he was doing to me, I managed to be nonchalant. “Sure. For a bit.”

  “Unfortunately, I need to take my mother home now.” Michael pointed to Evelyn, who stood by the door, staring us down, again. He asked, “How about I come over late Friday afternoon? I think that’s when Southern Illinois is playing.”

  Larry grinned. “The Salukis. Excellent. You can tell me then why a state school has such a prissy dog for a mascot.”

  “Sure.” He laughed. “I’ll do it then.” With a direct smile at me, he said, “It was really good talking with you. I’ll see you later.”

  Finding myself without words, I summarized what he said. “It was nice talking with you, too. Have a good night.”

  When Michael was far enough away, Larry whispered, “Does Trish know you like him?”

  It was better to ignore Larry for assuming I had a thing for Michael. Instead, I told him something he was going to have to deal with since he’d invited Michael to his home. “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you, but Trish hates his guts.”

  Larry’s abs of steel shook as he laughed hard, and he put his arm around me. “I bet she does hate him. Don’t worry. I’ll handle her.”

  “What are you going to say?” I pled. “Because there’s nothing to say.”

  “I’m not saying anything other than I met a guy my age who isn’t a meathead Redskin, and I invited him over to watch some basketball.”

  “Well, you can tell Trish I’ll join you for a little while, but only because it would be odd if I didn’t. Michael is a colleague who’s going to be at my chief of staff’s house on a social visit. I happen to live in that house, too. I have to drop by. Otherwise, it would be impolite to avoid him.”

  It all sounded logical to me, but Larry didn’t buy it. He nodded. “Uh, huh. Yeah. Work. That’s the reason you’re dropping by.”

  “And I like basketball.”

  “Don’t worry.” He winked. “
Your secret is safe with me.”

  He was such a big, lovable teddy bear. I had to smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  ~~~

  When I got home to the safety of my apartment that night, I let Severus outside and then sank into my sofa with way too much Michael Grath on my mind. Because I was so lost in my jumbled thoughts, I was startled when the phone rang. I scrambled to find it in my purse, and was confused to see Alan Young’s name on the screen. Huh. Why is he calling so late?

  “Hi, Alan. How are you?”

  “Hey, Jessie. I’m good. How are you? I don’t see you as much now that you’re not gimping around.”

  “I’m doing okay. It’s nice to be able to walk again.”

  “I bet it is. So, how about you let me take you out on Saturday?”

  Whoa. That came out of nowhere. I should’ve expected him to ask at one point, but it came as a surprise when my mind was squarely on Michael. Those thoughts were silly, though. For the briefest moment, I considered an actual date with Alan. I wasn’t sure I liked the idea, but turning him down seemed like very bad politics, especially after he’d been so helpful to me. A voice of reason rang in my head. Why can’t you at least go out with Alan for dinner? He’s great. Michael is just a crush. Nothing can ever happen there.

  Pragmatic Jessie heeded the voice. “That would be great, Alan. Thanks for asking.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Michael

  As we walked to my car from the Boys and Girls Club building, my mother said nothing important, mainly commenting on the weather. If she hadn’t been around, I would have been happy thinking about Jessie: what she was doing, remembering how pretty she was, thinking ahead to Friday, and maybe even wondering what it would be like to kiss her. Instead, I waited for the other shoe to drop.

  It was only a matter of time before my mom brought up Jessie. She waited only until I had pulled out of my parking space before she commented all too casually, “I said goodbye to Fanny Hampton. She’s a board member from California. She’s also a Democrat, so I asked her about Jessica Clark. She says that Jessica is a real firebrand—a little star within the party.”