by Mary Whitney
We both knew she wasn’t talking about being busy, but I ignored it. I pretended I was driving during an uncomfortable conversation and turned my attention to the road ahead. “What are you busy with?”
“Oh, you know the rat race around here. I’ve got a new gun rights bill I’m working. Have you heard of it?”
By the standards of the National Gun Association, I wasn’t always a reliable vote on gun rights. I believed in the right to firearms, but not without limitations. It was such an ideological debate, and I stayed out of it until I had to cast a vote on something. “No, I haven’t,” I said with a small laugh. “But you know I don’t follow those issues. Tell me about it.”
“I want to make sure our schools are safe. The legislation would only grant federal funding to public schools if all teachers were trained and armed.”
That made my head spin from the sidewalk I’d been staring at. I was incredulous. “You want every teacher in America to carry a gun?”
“Well, only public school teachers at first, and the teachers would be armed, but not carry the weapon. They’d just have it in their classroom, in a safe place of course.” She smiled as if she was encouraged. “I’m sure the private schools will follow suit once they see how well it works in protecting our kids.”
And this was just one example where Jessie was right. Cathy Mathers was crazy, though it wasn’t really something I could say to a member of my own party. I gave her a circumspect look. “Do you really think creating teacher militias will stop gun violence in schools?”
She blinked rapidly, appearing to be happy I was engaging with her. “Well, they’re not militias per se, but yes, I do think a shooter would think twice about ever entering a school.”
“And what if teachers don’t want to be law enforcement officers?”
“Then they shouldn’t be teachers.”
I tried one more argument, though I knew she’d disagree. “Don’t you think it’s more likely that the guns would end up in the hands of the kids, including disturbed kids who want to kill other kids?”
“No. Not at all, and I think most Americans would support it.”
She was so chipper and adamant as she spoke that I had to smile. She really didn’t have a clue about the rest of America beyond Idaho. I shook my head. “Yeah, I don’t think that would fly in my district.”
“But you would support it, wouldn’t you?”
“No.” I laughed. “Never.”
She became persnickety. “I see that all this time with a liberal has changed you.”
“Hardly. If that bill had come up in the Illinois State Legislature I would’ve voted against it.”
“Oh, pooh,” she said, swatting my shoulder. She then let her hand rest a moment on my arm before she stroked it up and down. “I had no idea you were so muscular.”
At first, I was shocked she’d crossed such a line and touched me. How the hell was I going to get out of this one? I looked at her, and for the briefest moment, I admired her. She really was a beauty, deserving of that Miss Idaho crown, and the look in her eye was that of a woman ready to roll in the hay or bed or wherever I wanted. I wouldn’t be a man if I didn’t notice these things, but I thought better of it. The woman was crazy, and I was in love with Jessie. At once, I shrugged, and her hand dropped away from my arm and to her side. I nodded down the street. “If you don’t mind, I need to pick up the pace.” My steps quickened as I added, “Have a good night.”
She gave me a knowing smile. “Suit yourself.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Jessie
At first I didn’t call Michael because I thought I should take time to figure out what I wanted. Besides, I was pretty sure he was going to reach out to me. Of course, then the vote was delayed and delayed, and I had all the time in the world to think, though I didn’t come up with any answers. After a while, when he didn’t call me, I was simply too stubborn and prideful to call him first. Then, I started seeing him with her, Cathy Mathers—of all people. It wasn’t like they were touching or anything, but she was around him again—laughing and talking just like before.
Only it wasn’t just like before. I wasn’t crushing on him from afar. We’d been dating, and now we were in the middle of a fight. In the back of my mind, I wondered if he enjoyed all the attention he got from her. Surely not, but what if he did? The thought made me sick to my stomach, and the feeling increased as the days went on without any communication from him. I began to wonder if he’d moved on and decided not to bother to tell me. Was I so easily replaced? Michael was irreplaceable for me. Ultimately, that was what made this so devastating for me.
My problem was that I really didn’t have time for emotional upheaval in my life. It wasn’t like I was a teenager who could sit and brood all day. I had a job and a big one at that, so during the day I stuffed everything about Michael away best as I could. At night, I allowed myself to wallow and cry—a lot. The next morning, I’d wake again to the same reality—no Michael, and no way out of my dilemma.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Michael
One hectic morning, I was late for a meeting and rushing back to my office after a vote. I heard Cathy call from behind, “Michael.”
I turned, and my testiness about her came out loud and clear. “Hey. I’m in a hurry.”
She sashayed up to me. Yes, she was one of the few lookers in Congress, but there was no reason for her to be Marilyn Monroe in the Longworth basement. I just couldn’t take this woman seriously. “What’s up?” I said, hoping to move the conversation along.
“I just wanted to know if you were going to the fundraiser at the Chelbourg’s home tonight. I’m going. Are you?”
“I think it’s on my schedule.” I checked my watch and then looked up to see Jeff walking down the hall. He was obviously searching for me because I was late. “I’ve got to go. See you there.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” she said, a little too coyly.
I couldn’t dwell on her. I doubled my pace as I met up with Jeff who gave me a stern look said under his breath, “Please don’t tell me you’re late because you were talking to Cathy Mathers.”
“No.” I laughed. “I’m late because I got tackled by a reporter asking me about the damned Planned Parenthood amendment.”
“What did you say?” he asked, leading us up the escalator to my building.
“Nothing, of course.”
“Good.” After a moment, he lowered his voice and leaned in so no one could hear. “I’ve seen you talking with Cathy Mathers a lot, though, lately.”
My whole body stiffened. Had we really become that obvious? I felt cold all over, and my tone was just as chilly. “I believe you’ve seen her talking with me. There’s a difference.”
He nodded and kept mum—so mum that I was curious what he really thought. I looked around, and few people were around us. Still I kept my voice low. “But what do you think of her?”
His eyebrows shot up in surprise, with his eyes then shifting toward me. I’d clearly caught him off-guard. He whispered, “Why are you asking?”
“Just wondering.”
“I think… I think.” He shook his head. “I’m gonna plead the fifth on this one.”
“Oh, come on. Now that really makes me curious. You’ve got to say something.”
He took a deep breath, and then in the most practiced sounding voice said, “She’s very attractive. She’s a Republican. Given your recent divorce, I can understand why you’d be interested in her or at least want to play the field a little before you make any decisions about Jessie.”
“Huh.” I eyed him warily. “Do you mean that? Or are you just saying those things because you don’t want to violate Ronald Reagan’s rule ‘Thou shalt not speak ill of another Republican’?”
He gave me an equally suspicious look. “I don’t want to violate the rule, but also everything I said is true.”
Though we’d reached the top of the escalator, I wasn’t doing the prudent thing and watchin
g as I stepped off. I was distracted by what he might actually think about Jessie. I stared at him. “I thought you liked Jessie.”
His voice finally rose above a whisper and became animated. “I do. A lot. I think she’s great.”
“Then why are you telling me to play the field?” My eyes drifted down to his wedding ring. “You married your high school sweetheart. You didn’t feel the need to play the field.”
“No. I didn’t, nor would I ever.” He chuckled. “I think it’s like sky diving. People say it’s fun. It looks like it might be a blast, but it could be very dangerous. All things considered, I really have no interest in ever trying it. I’m perfectly happy.”
I stopped walking altogether. I was late, but I wanted a straight answer more than I wanted to keep a bunch of lobbyists from waiting any longer. When he saw I’d stopped, Jeff halted with a jerk. He took a step back as I moved in closer to him and asked, “Then why are you telling me to play the field?”
His expression turned to one of exasperated dismay. “I’m not really and certainly not with her, but you’re unhappy. If you’re not going to call Jessie, then you should do something to get out of this funk and get on with your life, and that’s the last thing I’m going to say about my boss’s private life.” He pointed down the hall. “Now, let’s get back to work, if you don’t mind.”
Work. That was my refuge, and I smiled and started walking again. “Thanks, Jeff. I appreciate everything you’ve said, and as for getting back to work, I don’t mind at all.”
~~~
The fundraiser for the Republican National Committee that evening might have been small and at a private home, but it still felt like work to me. That was a good thing. I could focus on my job and not my personal life which was even more confusing after my conversation with Jeff that afternoon. I was happy that Cathy kept her distance from me the whole time. She was working the room, probably trying to shake down some contributions to her own campaign.
While I was fully engaged in a conversation with a donor who was a friend of my dad’s, I felt a strong hand on my shoulder. I turned to see Alex Monroe, the House Majority Whip, who was no doubt there to tell me what to do on an upcoming vote because that’s what whips always did. He smiled at the guy I’d been talking to. “Bob, if you don’t mind, I just need to talk to Michael for a minute.”
“Not at all,” said Bob, touching his knitted tie. Only old, rich, and dorky guys owned sock ties, and he was all three. He held up his glass. “I’ll go freshen my drink.”
“Thanks,” said Alex.
“I’ll find you at the bar,” I said to Bob.
As Bob walked away, Alex’s smile disappeared, and he became all business. “I just wanted to let you know we’re going to be moving through a series of spending bills next week.”
“Okay…” I said, my stomach slowly sinking at what was coming next.
“I understand Jessica Clark is going to lead the opposition on the floor to the Planned Parenthood amendment.”
“Yeah?” It was all I could muster, if I said anything else, I’d surely get myself in trouble one way or another.
“I’m just checking in with all the moderates. I can’t have you all going wobbly on me. We can still count on you to speak, right, even though your girlfriend is across the aisle?”
I took a sip of my drink because I really needed it at that point. Time was running out, but I still had a week to decide what to do. I opted for calm obfuscation. “If I don’t speak, it won’t be because of her.”
I expected him to fly off the handle, but instead he gave me a perturbed smile. “Damn moderates.” He pointed to Bob. “Now go raise us some money. At least I can always count on you guys to do that.”
For the rest of the evening, I checked my watch every few minutes, hoping it would finally change to an acceptable time where I could leave. While it had sucked over the last few weeks being in a limbo with Jessie, at least in limbo, there was a status quo. With the vote on the horizon, things would finally be resolved between Jessie and me, one way or another. That was unsettling because resolution might mean things would officially be over. When eight twenty finally appeared on my watch, I took a deep breath of relief. I could spend the next ten minutes hitting the john and saying goodbye to the hosts before I left at eight thirty.
I went to the bathroom I’d seen off the side of a hall, but the door was locked. Damn it. I didn’t want to wait around, but I was in one of those small, narrow row houses in Georgetown that usually only had one toilet on each floor. The stairs rose temptingly to my right, so I bounded up them only to find that floor’s bathroom also locked. There was another flight of stairs, but that led to the top floor. It felt a little rude to be that far away from the party on the first floor. By that time, though, I really needed to take a piss, so I climbed the stairs. It took me a minute to find the john on that floor because they’d gutted the whole thing creating a master suite. The bathroom was the size of a whole bedroom, but I finally got my toilet, plus some privacy—or so I thought.
After I did my business and washed my hands, I left the bathroom and began walking through the suite toward the bedroom door. I took a step back when it opened up and in walked Cathy Mathers. She wore a seductive grin. “Hi, Michael. You wandered off, so I came to find you.”
“And here I am,” I said dryly. “Though not for long. I need to head home.”
She closed the door behind her and said, “Leaving so soon? We haven’t had the chance to talk.”
“Now really isn’t the right time.”
Taking a few steps toward me, she said, “Oh, you have some time.” She looked about the room. “And for once, we’re not in public.”
“I actually don’t have time.” I was all calm and cool on the exterior, but inside, I was reeling. The way she spoke, the way she walked, and the look in her eye were all signs of a woman on the make. My immediate reaction was to get the hell out of there, but a faint voice in my head said no. Maybe I should stay. Maybe I should kiss her. Maybe I should play the field.
My indecision must have been apparent because she came within inches of me. In her heels, I could look her in the eye. Placing her hands on my chest, she stroked my suit jacket. “We’re alone. Let’s have a little fun,” she said. “No one will know.”
While my rational brain rang out warnings, my physical side was taken in by the scene. There was a beautiful woman practically on top of me who was ready and willing for whatever I wanted to do to her. It was a tempting situation for any man, but especially an emotional wreck like me.
She leaned in and whispered, “We could be so good together.”
“Cathy…” It was meant as a warning, but it sounded half-hearted.
She then looked me dead on, and we were so close I could see the details of the hazel irises in her eyes. “Kiss me,” she said, as she slid her hands down my jacket and onto my legs. “I know you want it.”
Did I want it? She was hot, and the situation was titillating, but did I want to be with her? I was caught up in my own rhetorical question as her lips moved toward mine. At first I panicked, but the closer they came the more sure I became of my answer. Of course, not.
But I couldn’t just tell her “no.” She was a colleague who was throwing herself at me. I had to be able to extract myself without humiliating her. As I felt her hand coming near my dick, I whispered, “I can’t.”
“Can’t?” she asked smugly. “Why can’t you?”
I wasn’t going to let this happen. Gently moving her hand away, I stepped back to a more comfortable distance between us. “Cathy, you’re beautiful. Every man wants you, but I’m not the right one for you. I’m in love with someone else.”
I hadn’t planned on saying the last part, and as I realized what I said, it felt right and true. I also felt like an idiot. I was in love with someone else. How in the hell had I let myself get in the position of having Cathy Mathers feel me up in a donor’s bedroom?
She crossed her arms and became i
ndignant. “If you’re so in love with her, why are you two never together anymore?”
That was a damn good question, but I couldn’t tell her that. “It’s complicated, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love her.” I had to do something to get the hell out of there. I shouldn’t be debating my love life with anyone but Jessie herself.
Hoping to soften the blow, I touched Cathy’s shoulder and said, “You deserve someone who can give you more than me.”
Before she could say anything else, I walked out of the room.
~~~
That weekend, I found some distraction on my trip back to Illinois, though Jessie was never far from my mind. When I ended the trip with dinner at my parents’ home, I became sullen again as I faced what would be a daunting week ahead. Mom was quick to catch on.
After my father had left the room to take a call, Mom cleared her throat and pushed her dessert plate to the side. “Michael, why are you so moody tonight?”
“Moody? I don’t think I’m moody. I just have a lot on my mind,” I shrugged, not even really listening to her.
“Well, I say you’re moody. What’s going on? Is it about Jessie?”
I eyed my mother. It wasn’t like I was going to get into an abortion discussion with her. I was a moody asshole though. I’d been that way for weeks, so I decided to be open, but offer limited information. “We’ve hit a rough patch. Don’t worry about it.”
“You’re worrying about it.”
“It’s my business.”
“Is it about that horrible thing you said about her?”
“Not directly,” I mumbled, feeling like a scolded child. Why did my mom have to read all the stories about me?
“I have to say I side with her on this one. I think you need to make it up to her.”
“Yes, Mom….”
She twisted the diamonds on her ring finger, her eyes studying the gems. She always did that when she was about to say something important. “You love her, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Then you need to work it out.” She smiled the same soothing grin that usually helped me. “Because your father likes her, your sister likes her, and I do, too. I’m not sure you’ll find another woman who pleases the entire family and you.”