Compromising Positions

by Mary Whitney

  “Here you go,” she said, setting me up at the tiny kitchen table. “Just mince it.”

  “That’s really small, right?”

  “Yes,” she said with a chuckle. “Do you need help peeling it?”

  “I think I can handle it.” I smirked and set about slicing off the ends of the garlic.

  “Good. Then I’ll slice and butter the bread.”

  There was some silence between us, and I sat debating whether or not to ask the question. I was dying to know the answer, but was afraid to ask. Sadly, ignorance wasn’t bliss, and if she actually liked Alan, I should know before I began working with her closely on an amendment. While keeping my eyes directly on the knife, I cut the garlic and asked, “So are you going to tell me about your date?”

  “Nosy, aren’t we?” She snickered and focused on her own slicing.

  “Well, was it a date or not?” I looked up at her with a wry smile. “Was I right?”

  “You were right,” she said, without meeting my eye. “I suppose it was a date.”

  There was my answer. It felt like a knife in my heart, so I thought I might as well twist it and be done with my little infatuation. “So you kissed him?”

  “Huh?” Jessie turned to look at me with a gaping smile. “You are nosy.”

  “Maybe. I’m curious.” I knew by the blush on her cheeks the answer was yes, and I regretted asking the question. I’d committed enough emotional suicide in my life. I didn’t need any more. I’d already done that with my marriage.

  She shook her head, and looked again at the bread, she let out a breath. “A little. On my porch. No big deal, but I stopped it.”

  That was surprising, and too much, but not enough information. “If it was no big deal, why did you stop it?”

  “I guess I’m not ready for anything like that right now.” Her eyes shifted to me and then quickly back to her work.

  “Not ready for anyone or not ready for him?” The question came out as dead serious as I meant it.

  “Um… I don’t know about that. I told him I wanted to keep it light.”

  “Light?” I stopped chopping and placed the knife down. “You said you wanted to keep it light?”

  “Yeah.” She also put her knife down. “Is there something wrong with that?”

  “No.” I smiled because it was a good thing to me, but not to Dr. Alan-I-Want-to-Do-House-Calls-On-You. I shrugged. “If you’re trying to tell him you’re not really interested, then there’s nothing wrong with it.”

  “Is that what it means? I heard the term once, and I thought it was appropriate. He’s a colleague.”

  “Well, that’s what it would mean to me. If I was kissing a woman and she stopped it to say she wanted to keep things light, that’s not a good sign.” A wicked grin shone on my face while thinking of Alan getting shut down. “Until then, he probably thought you were going to invite him in.”

  “Yeah. I didn’t want that.” She shook her head.

  “Then you did the right thing.”

  Jessie stared at me for a few seconds, but was quick to look away. My smile grew, realizing Alan was, for all purposes, out of the picture, at least temporarily, while I was inside Jessie’s home. I handed her the cutting board with chopped garlic. “Here you go.”

  “Great. Thanks,” she said, and took it from me. “This is perfect.”

  “Yes, it is.” I grinned. As she fixed the garlic bread and readied it for the oven, I asked, “So how long does it need to cook?”

  “About fifteen minutes or so.” She looked up at the kitchen clock. “You can go back upstairs. I’ll wait for it.”

  “No. I’ll stay with you… if that’s okay.”

  “That’s fine.” She smiled and put the bread in the oven. “Let’s go in the other room and watch the game.”

  “Great.” As she led me past her dining area and onto the sofa, I looked around the rooms at the simple décor. A few modern prints hung from the walls, and collections of photographs were clustered on bookshelves and tabletops. I wanted to look through them all, to know more about Jessica Clark.

  After we took our seats, and she turned on the game, things were quiet for a while. Then out of nowhere, I heard her say, “So you know all about me. What about you? Are you dating anyone?”

  “Um…” My throat closed in shock. Did she not know?

  “Oh. Is it the divorce?” she asked.

  “Well, yes. It’s… difficult.”

  Jessie watched for my reaction.

  “I understand it’s hard. If you ever need to talk to someone, you should talk to Larry.”

  “Oh yeah,” I said, tilting as I thought back. “I think I remember hearing about that on ESPN. It was pretty ugly.”

  “It was before he met Trish, but he speaks openly about it. He says it made him a better husband for her.”

  “That’s a positive way of looking at it.” At this point, I couldn’t imagine being that positive. I exhaled and put my hand to my forehead. “It’s just been hard. I’m rectifying a big mistake, but it’s public and messy and at least in my Catholic family, there’s an added dose of shame and guilt on top of it all.”

  “I’m sorry. Is there an end in sight? It can’t go on forever.” There was a hopeful sounding lilt at the end of her statement.

  I gazed at her and slowly shook my head. “It’s dragging out. The settlement negotiations… I feel like such a slimebag talking with you about this because I can’t imagine you would ever be in this position.”

  “Whatever,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’ve made plenty of mistakes—just ask Trish.”

  “I doubt they’re big mistakes.” She seemed like she’d never done anything wrong in her life. I smiled. “So to answer your question, no, I’m not dating anyone, but when it’s all over, I’ll be ready.”

  “That’s good.” She held my gaze as if I’d just said something important, but then she smiled and joked, “The women of America are waiting for you.”

  “Come on.” I tossed a throw pillow at her. “Here I am bearing my soul to you, and you taunt me.”

  “You’ve been teasing me, Mr. Nosy. I think you can handle a little of your own medicine.”

  “Is this what it’s going to be like working with you on this amendment?”

  “Probably,” she giggled and held the pillow against her chest.

  “Good,” I said, showing what had to be a goofy grin. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  ~~~

  A few days later, I absentmindedly adjusted my tie as I waited for my dad to arrive for lunch. I looked around The Monocle’s tweedy room, full of well-heeled lobbyists and members of Congress. When my grandfather was a senator, he’d come here often. I knew my father picked the place for that reason.

  After a brief glance at the menu, which consisted of beef in all forms, I looked up to see my dad working the room. As the former governor of Illinois, Gerald Grath was well-known. He couldn’t walk through a place like this without slapping the backs of old friends and shaking the hands of his many acquaintances. I knew it was the other reason Dad had chosen it for lunch.

  When our eyes met, he simply waved to his other well-wishers and headed straight to me at the far back table. As usual, we shared a genuine father-son hug before he sat down. He looked about the room one more time and announced, “I miss my trips to Washington.”

  “I can see that.” I chuckled. “How are you?”

  “Good. Good,” he said, as he placed his napkin on his lap. “And how are you doing?”

  “Fine. Busy. But that’s a good thing.”

  “Yes, it is a good thing. It means you’re working hard. You’re contributing.”

  Our conversation was interrupted by the waiter taking our orders. When he left, Dad lowered his voice and said, “And an extra benefit of your working hard is that it keeps your mind off the divorce.”

  “It does help.” I frowned and looked around to reassure myself that we were far from prying ears. “Though it’s hard to ignore th
e constant back and forth with these negotiations.”

  “I can’t believe she’s acting this way.” Dad shook his head. “Lord knows, Stacy has never been my favorite person, but she’s acting like a completely different human being. The things she’s saying about you…”

  There wasn’t a great comeback to that. I’d occasionally seen glimpses of this side of Stacy.

  Before I could answer, Dad continued, “Money. It makes people greedy.”

  “She would say we’re stingy,” I pointed out.

  “We’ve offered her more than enough, given the length of your marriage. The confidentiality agreement shouldn’t be her opportunity for extortion.”

  “Well, I’m tired of it all.” I took a sip of water, wishing it would all go away. “I’d like to make a deal and get on with things. I don’t care how much it costs.”

  “Easy for you to say. She’s already got your money. It’s the family’s money she’s after now.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound cavalier, but it’s just that it’s better for everyone if this ends sooner rather than later.” I stared at his grim face and saw that he wasn’t impressed. Maybe if I threw out the religion card, I could motivate him. I tried to sound positive. “Because the sooner I’m divorced, the sooner the marriage can be annulled like it never happened.”

  “Well, I have to admit your mother would appreciate that,” Dad replied as his face softened. “She wants you to get on with your life—we both do.”

  “I do, too.”

  Dad reached over and gave me a strong pat on the arm. “Don’t worry. I think we’re getting close to a number we can all live with. I don’t like it, but I know it’s the only way to get you out of this mess. That’s the most important thing.” He briefly looked around the room, again, and smiled in wonder. “Look where you are. You’re a newly elected congressman. You should be enjoying yourself.”

  Despite everything, he was still my father wanting me to have a good life. I loved him for that. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “So, I think it’s great that you’re throwing yourself into your work.” Dad sat back as the waiter placed his soup before him. “How’s that amendment coming along?”

  “Very well.” I grinned. “I’m really surprised. Everything’s taken off. Peters is going to offer it in the Senate.”

  “Rusty is offering it? That’s wonderful. I’ll have to call and thank him, but how in the hell did you get him? He’s a pretty conservative guy.”

  “To be honest, I wasn’t really the one who got him.”

  “Who did?”

  “My co-sponsor in the House—Jessica Clark.” On purpose I had said it as a matter-of-fact. I wanted to see my father’s reaction simply hearing her name. If my mom had said something to him, it would show.

  “Jessica Clark?” Dad asked as he cocked his head in thought. He gave no other sign as to what he knew of her. “She’s an interesting choice.”

  “Well, she’s a moderate and popular within her party. When I told her about it, she jumped at the chance.”

  My father wrinkled his brow as he pondered my answer. “So how did she get Peters on board? He’s from New Hampshire. She’s from the other side of the country. I can’t imagine they know each other.”

  “They don’t as far as I know. But she had a hunch and approached Kelty about sponsoring it in the Senate after I found a Republican sponsor.”

  “Ah…” Dad nodded. “That’s it. So Kelty went to his friend Peters.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Bipartisan friendships are helpful that way,” he said and smiled. “Well, I’m impressed. The amendment will only pick up steam as more people know of the support you’ve lined up.”

  “I hope so.”

  Dad took a few slurps of his soup before asking, “So, you’re friends with Jessica Clark? Your mother mentioned meeting her.”

  “Sure,” I said, trying to downplay it. “Mostly, I’ve become friends with the husband of her chief of staff. We’ve watched some basketball together.”

  “That’s odd. Her chief of staff’s husband? Why are you spending time with him? I’m sure he’s a Democrat.”

  “Actually, I’m not sure Larry Wingren is much of anything.” I laughed.

  “Larry Wingren, the football player?”

  “That’s him. If he has a party affiliation, he wouldn’t talk about it.” Finally, I was getting to a comfortable place with this topic.

  “True. Politics and professional athletes don’t really mix.”

  “He’s a great guy. I like it that we don’t talk politics.”

  “And Jessica?” Dad’s eyes narrowed. “Obviously, you talk politics with her.”

  “Of course.”

  “Yet, you’re still friends?” My dad asked the question like it was a double edged sword. Were we friends, and if so, what kind?

  “Just friends,” I said flatly.

  “Your mother says she’s very pretty.” He arched an eyebrow. “I was curious, so I read up a little about her. She’s had quite a life so far. She must be interesting.”

  “She is.”

  “Michael,” Dad said in an admonishing tone. “Why aren’t you talking about her? What’s going on?”

  It wasn’t like Mom to tell my dad about our private conversations. “What did Mom say?” I became grumpy.

  “Nothing other than what I said. But it’s obvious you must be interested in her. When you don’t want to lie to me, you act the same way. That behavior hasn’t changed since you were five.”

  “I’m not lying to you. I said we’re friends.”

  “I can see why you’d be attracted to her. You’re recovering from a terrible marriage. Jessica couldn’t be more opposite of Stacy, and she’s sort of helpless.”

  “Helpless?” He might as well have said she was a Hare Krishna. “Helpless is not the word I’d use to describe someone who took down a long-term incumbent. She’s tenacious. Look at how she got Peters on board.”

  “I meant helpless as a woman. She’s unmarried, getting older…”

  “Jesus Christ, Dad. This is the twenty-first century. Just because she’s never been married doesn’t mean she’s damaged goods. She’s not a spinster or anything.”

  “Oh, you know what I mean.”

  “Actually, I don’t. I don’t see her that way at all.”

  “How do you see her then?”

  I looked outside the window for a moment to collect my thoughts. I was frank, but with few words. “I think she’s beautiful and strong, and I like being around her.”

  “And is she the real reason why you want us to settle the divorce as soon as possible?”

  “Yes.” I admitted it without hesitation, but with some fear in my voice.

  “Oh, Son.” Dad sighed. “I know it’s been years since you were around a woman you were interested in, but now is not the time to start something. And even if you weren’t in the middle of a divorce, she’s a Democrat and—”

  “I agree with you that it’s the wrong time for me to be dating,” I said, sitting back in my chair. “But for argument’s sake, what’s so wrong with her beyond her party affiliation? I’ve talked with her enough to know we share the same values. We just believe in different ways of achieving them. It’s not unheard of.”

  “It’s not unheard of, and I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with her. Your mother said she was lovely. But you barely know her, and there are divides which can’t be breached.”

  “I’d like to at least try.”

  Dad solemnly nodded as if he were contemplating the matter. Eventually, he declared, “Just watch yourself, Son, because there are a lot of eyes on you.”

  “I will. Don’t worry.”

  “All right then.” Dad smiled again. “In the meantime, I’ll be interested to see how you and Congresswoman Clark pull off this amendment.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Jessie

  Michael walked into my reception area just as I was finishing up a meeting with a tribe f
rom Arizona. He first spoke to my receptionist who I knew had a crush on him. Because I was totally smitten, I forgave her. She pointed him out to me, and his lips turned up into a surprised smile when he saw me surrounded by a large group of Native Americans. I took a step over to him and said, “Congressman Grath. I’d like to introduce you to some folks from the Hualapai Nation.”

  “Why certainly,” Michael said, maintaining his smile.

  “This is Chief Glenda Eagle Smith.” I gestured to a white haired woman. “Her tribe is here lobbying on a water rights bill.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Michael said and extended his hand. “That’s something I know nothing about. You’ll have to come to my office sometime to tell me.”

  As the tribe members and Michael greeted one another, I stood back and admired how he easily interacted with a set of people with whom he had nothing in common. When the group left a few minutes later, I touched his arm, “Sorry to have sprung them on you. You’re kind to meet with them.”

  “They’re interesting. I’m happy to do it.” He shrugged. “How was your day?”

  “Good,” I answered and ushered him to my door. “Come on in.”

  As Michael followed me into the office as Trish’s voice rose from behind him. “Hello, Michael.” We turned to see her wearing the same knowing smirk she always had for him.

  “Evening, Trish,” he said, dryly. It was like he knew she was being snarky. Did he care? Did he not care? I wished I knew.

  Just as we had each night since beginning work on the amendment, he joined me in the sitting area of my office and we talked shop. Most of the time our conversation was about the amendment, but occasionally it also veered into a general discussion of what was going on in Congress and politics in general. I kept the door wide open for all to see. It looked like any other meeting with another member of Congress, except we laughed a lot more.

  After we had caught up for a bit, Michael cut the conversation short. “I’m sorry I need to go early tonight. I have to go back home tomorrow. Can I have your number in case I need to reach you while I’m gone?”

  “Oh, sure,” I said, sad I wouldn’t see him. Then I realized it didn’t matter. “But I’m going back to my district, too. I won’t be here either.”