Don't Ask, Don't Tell

by M. T. Pope

  Gasps went across the table. “Oh ... my ... God,” was the collective response.

  “I knew it!” Carla exclaimed. “Once Victor started sniffing around you two I knew it was something big.”

  “You did it, Raven,” Alice chimed in. “Congratulations. You really worked that.”

  “So what’s it going to cost you?” Carla said with a straight face. “There’s always a catch with these guys.”

  “She’s right, Raven,” Alice said. “I heard they made one president, who shall remain nameless, kill a man before they would choose him.”

  “Don’t scare her, Alice,” Carla chastised. “Raven, that’s just a rumor that’s been floating around for years. I’m sure it won’t be anything like that.”

  As the women shared urban legends, Raven thought, I guess I got off easy. I only had to fuck an old man.

  Every week the latest progress in the race to the White House had been the main topic of discussion with the ladies at their lunch.

  The pork wars raged on between Reva and Li Yeng. At least three times a week the smell of either baked, fried, or roasted pig fill the house. Little’O would give Li Yeng a slight nod of approval when Reva threw her tantrum and Li Yeng would apologize profusely and retreat demurely to the kitchen with a smile on her face.

  This was one of several little ways Li Yeng would quietly punish the entitled girl. She had been subjected to Reva’s ingratitude and dismissive attitude for so long that she grew to resent the “little princess.” Another way she would silently taunt Reva was to always forget to buy any items she would request from the market. Chocolate-covered Häagen-Dazs ice cream bars were Reva’s favorite treat and there had never been a bar in the house.

  Li Yeng loved the general. He’s a good man, she had often said to herself, and Little’O is such a fine boy. She treated them with the same care and attention that she gave her own family. The meats were always prepared just the way they liked them. The house was always stocked with Little’O’s favorite chips, ice cream, and cookies. She was too intimidated by Raven to have any feelings toward her other than fear. She didn’t dare attempt any hidden digs or taunts against the woman who had berated her so on one occasion that the sting had lasted for years.

  Li Yeng had made the mistake of discussing Roulette family affairs with the cook of one of Raven’s close friends. When word got back to Raven the scene was cataclysmic.

  “It is very important to me that you understand what I am about to say to you, Li Yeng,” Raven had said, towering over her in the privacy of the kitchen. “There is not much I wouldn’t do to protect my family. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Li Yeng said, slightly confused.

  “You have no idea what damage I’m capable of when I hear that my privacy has been breached or the Roulette name has been disparaged. If you ever discuss my family with anyone outside of this house again you will learn first-hand just how destructive I can really be.”

  After that experience, Li Yeng avoided eye contact with Raven and always met every demand, regardless of how unreasonable, made by the lady of the house.

  The Sunday San Francisco Chronicle landed with a thud on the Roulette front porch. A picture of Orpheus, in full military dress, was on the front page with the headline GENERAL ROULETTE CONSIDERED TOP CHOICE FOR VICE PRESIDENT PICK. Raven, Little’O, and Reva gathered around the kitchen island and marveled over the news. Li Yeng was off on Sundays, so the family had the kitchen all to themselves.

  “Reva, go wake up your father and tell him to come downstairs right now,” Raven said excitedly.

  “Daddy. Wake up, Daddy,” Reva said, pounding on the bedroom door. “Come downstairs. You’re in the paper.”

  When Orpheus finally entered the kitchen in his robe and slippers he was greeted with a rush of hugs from the children and kisses from Raven.

  “Look at this,” Raven said, handing him the paper. “Isn’t it wonderful!”

  “Father, this is amazing,” Little’O said, reading over his father’s shoulder. “I can’t believe it’s really going to happen.”

  “Give it to me,” Raven said, snatching the paper from Orpheus. “Let me read it out loud.”

  “General Orpheus Beauregard Roulette III,” Raven read, while pacing the floor with her bathroom robe flapping at every turn, “is considered by many to be the top choice for vice president for Republican presidential candidate Governor Milo Fredericks’s 2012 bid for the party’s nomination. Roulette is a decorated four-star general who rose to national prominence due to his leadership in the Iraq war.

  “General Roulette lives in San Francisco with his wife, Raven, and two children, Orpheus IV and daughter Reva.

  “‘General Roulette is a true American hero,’ according to former Secretary of State Victor Trugonoff. ‘I believe in these dangerous times he is just what our country needs. I’ve only met his wife once at a dinner party but in that brief time I was thoroughly impressed with her love for America and for her husband.”

  “I thought you also had lunch with him that week,” Orpheus said with a puzzled expression.

  “I did,” Raven answered hastily. “Remember, darling, this is just theater. He’s only saying what he thinks people want to hear.”

  Raven continued reading, “Governor Fredericks is the front runner in a crowded field of Republicans who have already declared their intent to seek the party’s nomination. ‘Governor Fredericks has a proven track record of fiscal responsibility and General Roulette has the experience with national security and international relations. I think they would make a perfect team,’ said Secretary Trugonoff.”

  The article went on to chronicle Orpheus’s military career. No honor went unmentioned. It ended by saying, “General Roulette did not respond to this reporter’s request for a comment.”

  “That’s a lie,” Orpheus protested. “They never called me.”

  “Honey, I told you it’s just theater. They say that when they really don’t want a quote.”

  Orpheus took the paper from Raven. “How did this happen? I haven’t talked to anyone about this. Milo hasn’t called me and I only met Trugonoff that one time at his house. Something about this doesn’t feel right.”

  “I suspect it’s their strategy,” Raven said innocently. “They leak the story to the press without you knowing so your response will seem unrehearsed.”

  “Well, they might be surprised by my response.”

  The kitchen fell silent. Raven, Reva, and Little’O looked curiously at Orpheus.

  “What do you mean, Daddy?” Reva asked. “Don’t you want to be vice president?”

  Orpheus laid the paper on the island face down. “I’m not sure, honey. I haven’t really had time to consider it. Daddy has had a lot on his mind lately.”

  Darius’s suede moccasin house slippers skidded to a halt when he saw the man he knew as “Michael” on the front page of the morning newspaper. The stop was so abrupt that coffee from the mug he held lapped over the side and splashed onto the cement floor. The black fabric had been pulled away from the windows and the room was flooded with light as Darius stood transfixed by what he read.

  “Four-star General Orpheus Beauregard Roulette III is rumored to have participated in a series of secret meetings with high-ups in the Republican Party for months now. Party insiders, who chose to remain anonymous, are quoted as saying, ‘Governor Fredericks has already approached General Roulette about joining him as VP on his ticket and the General has accepted.’

  “Sources close to the Roulettes say they are the perfect couple. Most consider him to be a devoted husband and father, well respected by those who serve under him and a devout Christian.

  “Roulette recently made headlines when he testified before congress on the repeal of the ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy in the military. In his testimony Roulette urged congress to not overturn the policy, saying, ‘It is my firm belief that allowing gays to serve openly in the military would undermine the foundation of tr
ust and camaraderie that are the bedrock of our armed forces.’”

  Darius stood confused and dazed in the middle of the room with the newspaper dangling at his side. It felt like someone had punched him in the gut and knocked the wind out of him. The room slowly began to spin around him. He couldn’t reconcile the Michael he had come to love with the hate-spewing, right wing soldier he saw on the front page of the newspaper. The Michael he knew was kind and loving. The man in the paper was hard and unforgiving. The man he held naked in his arms on those sunny afternoons had the gentlest eyes that made him weak when he looked into them. The eyes on the front page were hard and intimidating.

  He didn’t know what hurt him the most. There were so many contradictions and lies to choose from. Devoted father and husband rose to the top of the list.

  “You’re so secretive. Are you sure you’re not married?” Darius had asked him on more than one occasion.

  “I’m sure,” had always been his simple reply.

  Darius had a strict policy against dating married men. Not for moral reasons but rather practical ones. Someone was always hurt in the end. With his luck in love, he reasoned, it would most likely turn out to be him. That coupled with the thought of a scene with an angry wife was more drama than he could handle.

  “Two fucking kids,” Darius said out loud, identifying the next crime on his list. “How could he do that to them?”

  And finally, the hypocrisy of it all slammed him in the face like a fist. It was the thing he detested most in people. Saying one thing in public and living a polar opposite life in private. The politician espousing family values on CNN and fucking his secretary in his office. The televangelist preaching the evils of adultery and sleeping with anything with a pulse, be it man or woman. The right wing zealot who proclaimed that homosexuality was a threat to the very moral fiber of our country, but never missed his weekly rubdown at the gym from the hunky masseur who always promised a happy ending for an extra twenty-dollar tip.

  Michael. The lying bastard couldn’t even bother to come up with a more original name.

  Darius spent the day locked in his apartment, too embarrassed and hurt to face the world. He felt exposed and vulnerable. The sun pouring through the windows seemed to burn his skin as he moved from the sofa to a chair, to the kitchen then back to the sofa over and over again. He had in the time it took to read the article lost his place in the world. A place that had seemed so solid and safe on the day Michael appeared on his doorstep.

  Orpheus, Raven, Little’O, and Reva sat on the front row of their church, New Episcopal Protestant Church in the city. The choir, decked in sky blue robes, sang the morning hymn.

  All things bright and beautiful,

  All creatures great and small,

  All things wise and wonderful:

  The Lord God made them all.

  The 11:00 service was filled with some of the same faces that could be seen at the Fairmont Hotel on a Monday at tea time. They all looked the same except they weren’t holding wine glasses in one hand or the latest gossip on their lips. New Episcopal Church was just one more place to be seen with those who were worthy of being seen.

  The cold wind the winter,

  The pleasant summer sun,

  The ripe fruits in the garden,

  He made them every one.

  Raven wore a wide-rimmed black hat that surrounded her face like a dark halo. Her black dress showed just enough cleavage and was only tight enough to remind all who saw the mother and wife that she was in fact an extremely desirable woman. Orpheus sat next to her in a solid black suit, white shirt, and red tie. Little’O and Reva looked like the perfect modern-day prince and princess.

  The choir was a sea of vocalizing pink faces with a smattering of color in the soprano and tenor sections.

  He gave us eyes to see them,

  And lips that we might tell,

  How great is God Almighty,

  Who has made all things well.

  The handsome, tall minister with a full white beard walked to the podium at the end of the song. His white robe with gold embellishments glowed from the morning sun shining through the stained-glass windows.

  “Good morning, New Episcopal family,” he said in a booming voice. “This is the day that the Lord hath made and I will rejoice and be glad in it.”

  The Roulettes were the most ”ethnic” people in the room except for a Filipino usher standing near the rear door and the two Latin choir members. Voices echoed off the walls of the gothic church built in 1816. It had been the place of worship for most of the people whom the streets of San Francisco were named after. Henry Haight, Charles H. Gough, James Van Ness, and Frank Turk had all sat in the same pews and sipped from the same communion chalice.

  “We are very proud of one of our own this morning,” the minister continued. “Stand up would you please, General,” he said, motioning to Orpheus. “I don’t know how many of you have seen the Chronicle this morning, but you just might be in the presence of the next vice president of our great United States.”

  For the first time that morning the congregation made a noise. Their applause turned the sedate service into the final moments of a rock concert. The extended applause soon brought members to their feet. In no time, the entire room was giving Orpheus a standing ovation. Raven beamed in her black hat. She knew she could not have planned the moment better herself. Orpheus was moving closer and closer to the point of no return. A place where it would be impossible for him to turn down a place on the ticket.

  Orpheus slowly spun around to face the audience and nodded his head humbly. He was greeted with excited faces, pointing cell phones, and proclamations of support. Reva craned her neck to see all the people standing for her father and flashed an embarrassed smile, while Little’O looked up at his father with pride. There was genuine enthusiasm in the room. Everyone felt they had cemented their part in a momentous moment in history.

  After the service ended, the Roulette family was surrounded by well-wishers and those who offered advice on the economy, Israel, abortion rights, and every other modern-day concern they felt Orpheus might one day impact. They took their one opportunity to make sure he would make the right decision.

  Orpheus shook hands politely and modestly stated that he had not made any definite decisions at that point. Raven accepted kisses on the cheeks and hugs from members all while keeping one ear on Orpheus’s conversations.

  “This all happened rather quickly,” Orpheus said to one gushing woman. “I haven’t really had time to weigh all the pros and cons.”

  “He’s just being modest,” Raven interrupted. “Don’t you think he’d make a wonderful vice president?”

  “I do. I really do,” the woman oozed. “I hope you decide to run, General. You already have my vote.”

  The parade lasted for almost an hour after the service. Everyone with a cell phone wanted to take a picture with Orpheus and Raven and the children. “Just one more with me and my wife, General,” and “I’m going to send this to my mother. She won’t believe I go to the same church as the vice president.” Raven felt like she was already on the campaign trail. She signed the backs of church programs, kissed the cheeks of ruddy-faced little babies, and shook the hands of members she would have never spoken to before that day. She was well on her way and nothing and no one would stop her.

  That evening Orpheus and Raven lay side by side in bed. In the course of one day their lives had changed. Nothing in their world seemed the same. The article in the newspaper and the reception from members at the church service had caused a slight shift in their reality. It was as if they had become actors in a movie reading the lines from someone else’s script. They were still the Roulettes but somehow bigger.

  The telephone had rung nonstop the entire day and well into the evening. Orpheus was invited to Sacramento to meet with Milo Fredericks. Raven received numerous invitations from the wives of senators from around the country to sit on fundraising committees and to participate in various ch
aritable functions. Little’O and Reva were invited to birthday parties of rich kids they had never met.

  The one call, however, that Orpheus wanted the most did not come. He hadn’t heard from Darius the entire day. There were no text messages and no e-mails. Orpheus had called him several times during the course of the day and into the evening, but he never answered.

  “Darius, it’s me,” was the message Orpheus left on his fifth call from the privacy of his study. “Since I haven’t heard from you I’ll assume you’ve seen the newspaper. I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t know how to tell you the truth about me and then all this happened. I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please call me. I love you.”

  “What are you going to say to Milo?” Raven asked Orpheus in bed that evening.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Baby, you’re going to have to decide soon,” Raven said, curbing her frustration. “You can’t put this off much longer. People are talking about you all over the country.”

  “I know. I’ve just had something else on my mind.”

  “What?” Raven asked, sitting up in the bed. “What’s wrong, honey?”

  “Nothing to worry about, just a problem on the base.”

  “Whatever it is it can’t be more important than this.”

  “You’re right, it’s not,” he said, turning his back to her.

  “You haven’t said all day what you’re thinking about all this. I need to know. The kids need to know. Are you going to run?”

  Orpheus sighed deeply and rolled onto his back. “Part of me says no and part of me says yes. I’ve never been known to turn down an opportunity to serve my country.”

  “I know.”

  “And the experience would be wonderful for the kids. They would have a front-row seat for history in the making.”

  “That’s true,” Raven said neutrally.

  “And I know it’s what you want.”