by Mary Whitney
“Thanks, Mom. She’s special. I know.” She’d made me smile, but if she only knew. I gulped. “But there doesn’t seem to be a way out.”
“I know you don’t want to tell me things. That’s the way you handled Stacy with me, but I might be able to help—more so than your father.”
I sat motionless, but my insides went on red alert. Talking to my mother about the abortion issue and Jessie was a dangerous proposition. “Sorry, Mom. I just don’t think you’ll have an answer.”
“Try me. I knew this was going to be difficult for you two. I even told your father, I thought you were being naïve.”
“We aren’t anymore,” I replied.
“Just tell me, Michael.”
“It has to do with a controversial issue, and I don’t want your opinion of Jessie colored by it.”
Mom rolled her eyes. “Oh, dear. She’s a Democrat. She has plenty of positions I disagree with, and I still like her as a person. She’s good for you.”
“That’s what Jeff says.”
“Then you should feel safe to talk to me.”
“I don’t know...”
“If it’s about abortion, I know her position, and while I abhor it, I don’t think any less of her.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, rubbing my chin.
“Yes. Is this about that Planned Parenthood amendment?”
“It is…” As usual, she’d figured it all out. What the hell, I thought. I might as well tell her everything. I launched into a summarized version of events, though unlike with Jeff, I omitted the details about Jessie’s own abortion experience. I knew that would distract Mom no matter what she said to the contrary. I also kept secret my own conflicted beliefs about abortion. That was a can of worms not to be opened in her presence, as well.
When I finished telling my story, Mom pursed her lips. “This is all very unfortunate.”
“Yes, it is.”
“To be honest, I really don’t like this amendment either.” She shook her head. “I want Planned Parenthood to stop its abortion factories, but I don’t like taking away health care for poor women in order to do it, and I fear limiting access to contraception will only increase the number of abortions.”
I snorted. “The Catholic Church is opposed to contraception, yet I have yet to find a Catholic woman who is opposed to it.”
“Who agrees with every single tenant of their religion? If a life isn’t conceived, I have no problem with it,” she said emphatically. “Millions of women are trapped in poverty because they have too many children. Contraception has its purposes. How is it any different than the rhythm method?”
I may have been thirty-five, but Mom talking about the rhythm method was a little too much sex talk with a parent for me. I cut to the chase. “So what do you think I should do?”
She was quiet but never broke her stare. “Eventually, you want to marry her don’t you?”
“Yes. Sooner than you might think or like.”
“I shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve always acted quickly once you’ve made a decision. I’d just ask that you make it a long engagement, so the annulment is final first.”
I grimaced. “I was planning on asking you for the family ring.”
“The ring you never gave Stacy, you want to give to Jessie?”
“Yes. I do, or I did, but now I don’t know if she would accept it.”
Extending her hand to touch mine, she patted it with encouragement. “Oh, she loves you, too. You know that.”
“I guess so.”
“The only advice I can offer has nothing to do with the actual issues you’re facing.”
“Then what do you have for me?” This was so frustrating. Nobody knew how to help me get out of it.
“You should focus on what’s important. Relationships are like legislation. They won’t be strong if only one side supports it. There needs to be a compromise, so both sides are invested. It’s the only way.”
“Right…” I said. I kept my thoughts to myself. I didn’t see the connection at all. “I’ll think about it.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Jessie
The weeks without Michael began to blur together, and I lost the temptation to call him. Was it easier not to call him because I was becoming entrenched in my stubbornness? Or was it easier not to call him because I didn’t want to know he’d moved on?
One weekend back in Arizona, Mom showed up for my event with her local garden club. Because it was Arizona, the members were all into cactuses and succulents, and I had to listen to a couple of presentations on xeriscaping. After I had made my speech about updates from Congress and thanking them for their support, a woman who was a throwback to another time approached me. She actually wore a hat and gloves in Arizona with the temperature hovering near the hundred and ten degree mark. She extended her white gloved hand and said, “I’m Josie Weathers… just wanted you to know how much I support what you’re doing to support Planned Parenthood. We didn’t have it when I was young, and my life would’ve been much different if we had.”
“Well, thank you, Ms. Weathers.” That was my standard answer when someone expressed gratitude for my work. Usually I didn’t say much more, needing to move on to the next person in the reception line. She was different, though. I cocked my head to the side, as I considered what she’d revealed. “Can I be so bold to ask what happened to you?”
“I’d rather not.” She wasn’t from a generation where people spoke openly about their troubles. “I’m happy with my life, but it would’ve been different.”
What was there to say to that? I found a smile for her and simply said, “Thank you.”
As my mom and I drove back to my parents’ place after the event, she said, “I was surprised when Josie spoke to you. I think it shows you how important your work is.”
“I suppose it does,” I said, trying to focus on the road. “It’s nice to hear.” It was moments like that which reinforced my belief that I was doing the right thing, regardless of what happened with Michael.
Either out of maternal instinct or plain old curiosity, my mom then asked, “So how are things with Michael?”
Because I was driving, I took some comfort in the ability to speak without having to look anyone in the eye. With my eyes on the stop sign ahead, I said, “Not good.”
“Why?”
“Why” was a good question, and I was at my breaking point. I’d faced every crisis of my life with my mom. This one could be no different.
Weeks of pent up emotions flooded out of me as I told my mother every last bit of my terrible predicament. My wonderful, patient mother sat there and listened with no judgmental response. Unfortunately, we were nearing the house by the time I finished, and I didn’t want to continue the conversation in front of Dad. At the end, I summed it up. “So that’s my situation, and there’s no way out. I fear he’s already forgotten about me.”
“Unlikely.”
“But maybe.”
“Then call him and find out.”
My mother was such a no-nonsense woman, and under her stare, I realized I was being ridiculous. I felt like I was fourteen again. “I’m afraid,” I admitted. In a way, there was relief for confessing what I was really feeling, but I also was pathetic for even being in this situation.
“Afraid he’s moved on?” She gave me a disapproving look. “If that’s the case, you need to know immediately and get on with your life.”
“I know. I know.” I gripped the steering wheel as if that might lend me some support. “Maybe I’m also afraid we’ve hit an impossible impasse, and we have to acknowledge it and break up.”
As I parked the car in the driveway, she wrinkled her nose like something didn’t pass her smell test. “An impossible impasse? If you two are committed to one another, there is no such thing.” She then shook her head. “Do you believe your father supported every war the United States has participated in?”
“No, of course not. How could he? We’ve done some stupid things as
a country militarily.”
“Do you think I’ve supported everything he’s ever done or vice-versa?”
“Well, no…”
She opened up the car door and gave me the same admonishing look she had since I was four, whenever I was doing something silly. “I think you and Michael both need to get off your high horse and take this down a notch. Yes, you’re members of Congress, but you’re still people. I promise you the day after this vote that the sun will rise again and life will go on. I’m guessing you’d want to live it together.”
She gave me one last maternal scowl and got out of the car. I sat alone there for a while, taking it all in. Despite my mom’s advice, I was paralyzed in every way. Only the buzz from my phone alerting me of a text made me move. It was from Trish.
Just heard the vote is going to be this week.
The universe wasn’t going to let me wallow and dither anymore. I was going to have to act. Maybe my mom was right.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Michael
The following Wednesday, I frowned as I stared at the form on my desk. Unlike other members of Congress, I was very particular as to when and where my name was used. My father had always taught me that the Grath name was something that needed to be protected. In Congress, “Dear colleague” letters were often used to show strength in numbers on a particular issue by showing all the names of supporters. Many members simply let their staff decide if they would sign on to a particular letter—not me. I’d instituted an internal form in my office that required my personal signature before any dear colleague letter bore my name.
Picking up the paper, I leaned back in my seat and exhaled. The time of reckoning had arrived. Would I sign the letter urging my colleagues to defeat Jessie’s amendment?
The door to my office opened, breaking my concentration, and I looked up to see Jeff walking in. He tapped his watch. “Just a reminder, you’ve got a meeting in ten with those insurance guys.”
“Yeah, I know,” I grumbled.
Taking a seat in the wooden chair near my desk, Jeff pointed to the paper in my hands, “You still haven’t signed that, have you?”
“No, not yet. What are we hearing from the district? How are the calls?”
“Things haven’t changed,” he said, looking at his notes. “About sixty percent of the calls are opposed to defunding Planned Parenthood. About forty percent support it. You could vote either way, and you’d have backing.”
“Hmph.”
“What’s holding you back? The vote’s tomorrow. They want the letter out by two.”
I slumped in my chair. “I wish I had a little more resolution with Jessie before I do it.”
“You haven’t talked at all?”
“No.”
“Still?” He looked befuddled. I’d told him about my little encounter to Cathy.
“I’ve been waiting for her to contact me. She said she’d call me if she had an idea.”
“But you told me she asked you to do the same.”
“Yes, but…”
“But what?”
“I don’t know.” I sighed. “I’ve begun to wonder how she really feels about me.”
“Huh?” Jeff scratched his head in thought. “Come on. She loves you. Everyone can see it. You two are the congressional lovebirds.”
“But it seems like she’s willing to sacrifice our relationship for some cause. Do I want to be with a crazy crusader like that?”
“Dude.” Jeff shook his head, looking at me like I was nuts. “The same can be said about you.”
“Pot calling the kettle black?”
“Uh, yeah…”
“I just wish I could talk with her.”
Jeff’s mouth twitched, and I knew the expression well. It always occurred when we were in disagreement and right before he’d say nothing more on an issue.
At that moment, there was a soft knock on the door. I called out, “Come in.”
The door opened, and a shy legislative assistant, Jennifer, entered holding a piece of paper. “Excuse me, Congressman Grath. Jeff.”
“Yes, what is it?” I asked.
“Um,” she said, her voice straining to find strength. “Jeff told me to monitor the press for any stories about the Planned Parenthood amendment where your name is mentioned. He told me to notify him immediately.”
“And there’s a new one?” I asked. I worried whenever I heard of a new story because so far the media had been kind to Jessie and me. I’d informed my staff that the only statement my office would make to the press on the issue was “Congressman Grath has a strong pro-life record and will continue in that regard.” I liked it because it simultaneously said everything about my position in general and nothing about the specific amendment.
“Yes,” she walked toward us and passed out two pages. “One just popped up. I printed it out for you.”
“Thank you, Jennifer,” I said, taking the paper.
“You’re welcome,” she said and scurried out the door.
As she exited the office, Jeff and I focused on the printouts. When I finished reading it, I said nothing, but looked at Jeff, who was still reading. Our eyes soon met, and Jeff raised his eyebrows. He held the page up and read aloud. “When asked how she felt about her congressman-boyfriend publicly opposing her amendment, the Congresswoman issued the following statement: ‘Congressman Grath and I agree and disagree about many things in life—just as I do with all of my loved ones. I believe his anti-choice position on abortion is wrong-headed, to say the least, and as a Phoenix Cardinals fan, I also think his support of the Chicago Bears is foolish.”
My smile grew as Jeff read. After he had finished, Jeff raised his head and laughed. “That’s an awesome quote.”
“It’s great, isn’t it?” I said with a mixture of pride and relief.
Setting the paper on the desk, Jeff asked, “So do you think this was some sort of signal for you? Like she wants you to know things are okay?”
“Maybe. I don’t know…” My voice trailed, but the smile didn’t leave my face.
“So are you going to call her? I think since you’ve read this, it’s appropriate for you to call her first.”
“I’m not going to call her.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m going to go see her.”
“Really? When?” Jeff chuckled.
“I’m going to surprise her tonight,” I said with a wink.
“I’ve been married for ten years, and I’d say that’s a good idea.” He nodded toward the door. “I bet those insurance execs are here now. I’ll bring them in.”
“Thanks. That would be great.”
He headed for the door, but soon turned around and smirked, “Oh, and you might want to wipe that shit-eating grin off your face, or they’re going to ask why you’re so happy.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Jessie
Late that night, I trudged home. My mind was still busy, though my body was about to give out. As I rattled through the things I needed to add to my to-do list, images of a bath and pillow popped into my head like little reminders of my weary body. When I turned the corner to my street, I smiled when I saw the darkened upstairs. Trish had obeyed my order to go home and spend time with Larry.
Then my smile dropped into a gape when I spotted Michael sitting on the stoop.
The early August night was hot, but because he, too, had just come from work, he still wore his suit pants and dress shirt. The missing tie and rolled up shirtsleeves were the only recognition of summer. His phone added a little glow to the night, as he sat reading it. Though my heart warmed just seeing my handsome boyfriend, I instantly became unsure why he was waiting for me.
Was he coming to make up or to further hash things out? Or was this the end? Drawing closer, I gulped and found a smile for him. “Hello, stranger.”
Michael’s head popped up as if I’d pressed a button, and he chuckled, stashing his phone in a pocket. “I’d say you’re the beautiful stranger.”
He’d called me beautiful. That was a very good sign. All the barriers that had come between us in the last few weeks disappeared for me. My lonely heart and tired body only sensed the love of my man. I walked up to him and touched his shoulder. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“So are you,” he said as his hand grazed my arm. His expression hardened. “I felt that we needed to talk.”
“Yeah?” I asked with trepidation.
“With what you said in the press today…” Michael first shook his head. I was sure he was pissed, but then his lips soon formed into a sneaky smile. “I know I screwed up before with my pillow talk comment, but I can’t have you saying things like that about me and my Bears.”
Relief overcame me, and I grinned in liberation. I was tickled. “You didn’t like that?”
“Not at all.”
“Got your attention though, didn’t it?”
“It did.” He smiled and took my hand. “Great quote, Congresswoman.”
“Thanks.” I gestured down to my apartment door. “Want to come inside?”
“Hell, yes.” He jumped to his feet.
After I had shut the door behind us, I dropped my laptop and purse on the little desk, where they landed with a thud. I turned to Michael, who frowned. Walking toward me, he said, “You seem awfully tired, babe.”
Now, he’d called me babe. Things were definitely looking up. “I am tired,” I admitted.
“I’m sorry. What can I do for you? Do you want some food?” He looked down at Severus and scratched his head. “I know Severus does.”
“Severus wants to be let out, and I ordered pizza at the office.”
“Then sit down.” Now closer to me, he kissed my forehead. “I’ll let your tragic hero outside and get you a drink.”
His kiss reminded me that I’d started the morning banking on the fact that I wouldn’t be in close physical proximity to anyone over the course of the day, especially not an estranged boyfriend. I placed my hand on my chest and took a step back. “I’m really sorry. I was in such a hurry this morning I skipped a shower.” I touched the now messy bun which held my hair together. “Do you mind if I get cleaned up?”