Five minutes later a friendly voice asked all those on board to return their seats to the upright position and place digital devices in safe mode. Julia quickly scanned her work. Satisfied, she powered down the tablet and returned it to the bag at her feet.
Peering through the small gap of window above Tyler’s glass-pressed face, she saw the outskirts of the nation’s capital. Adrenaline surged as she anticipated walking the halls of power. The boy turned, extending his right index finger toward Julia.
“What should I do with this?”
As she searched frantically for a tissue, a man’s hand appeared from across the aisle. It was Tyler’s father passing an airline-branded napkin he must have saved for just such an occasion.
Chapter Twenty
“Kevin?” Julia was momentarily startled at the sight of the man opening the door to greet her. This wasn’t Kevin Tolbert, Angie’s hunky high school sweetheart. Nor was it the jeans-wearing entrepreneur who had made his mark before turning thirty. This was Congressman Tolbert, clean-shaven face above a slightly loosened necktie. He had unfastened the top button of his classic white dress shirt, but his dark suit still conveyed an air of authority she found impressively out of place on her friend’s adolescent heartthrob.
“That’s what they name us…” he began, pausing for effect.
“And soon we’ll be famous!” Julia joined him in unison while rolling her eyes at the recollection of Kevin’s annoying signature line. Not as much had changed as it had appeared.
Both extended arms for the kind of embrace estranged relatives give at holiday gatherings when they don’t know what to say. Slightly rigid and awkward, but better than a simple handshake, which would not have fit the occasion of Angie and Julia’s long-overdue reunion.
“Good to see you, Julia.” He seemed to mean it. “Angie’s pretty excited about this weekend.”
“Yeah. Me too,” she lied with overdone enthusiasm.
“Let me take your bag.” His extended hand stopped short. “Wait. I guess you’ll need it at the hotel tonight?”
Julia wondered who should make the next move, guest or host.
The faint sound of a plop and a splash came from around the corner, followed by the ascending whimper of a panicky toddler. Kevin winced.
“Ugh! I forgot the sippy cup lid again!” The dashing power broker morphed into a plain-vanilla daddy on cleanup duty.
“Do what you need to do,” Julia said eagerly. “I’ll be fine.”
“Angie’s in the bedroom packing,” Kevin said, as he moved toward the dining room. “Third door on the left.”
Reaching the hallway, Julia noticed several picture frames hanging on the wall. She paused, taking advantage of the moment to connect baby announcement names with gallery faces.
The five-year-old version of Kevin had to be Tommy, the spitting image of his daddy. Especially in his bright-eyed smile eager to befriend a world full of waiting adventures.
Joy looked about two and a half. She seemed graced with a hint of Angie’s delicate beauty. The photo of mom and daughter in matching dresses seconded the motion.
Leah was harder to place. Her picture, taken at about six months old, offered few maternal or paternal clues. Hardly an expert on childhood development patterns, Julia assumed the baby’s features were simply too young to resemble either parent’s.
While mentally preparing herself to knock on Angie’s door Julia paused in front of a series of pictures assembled in a single frame. None included the kids; most likely they had been taken during various romantic escapes or anniversary trips.
Angie the bikini model beside a slightly thinner Kevin on the beach. Despite sunglasses and the white sand beneath a clear blue sky in the background, neither appeared to have been spending much time in the sun.
Their honeymoon in Cancún, Julia remembered.
The happy couple sitting in what must have been a five-star restaurant beside a bottle of Californian zinfandel. He was flashing a wide grin while pointing to a thin strip of white paper with a blue dot.
Dinner celebrating the discovery Angie is pregnant with Tommy.
Kevin in a tux beside a very pregnant Angie wearing an elegant black cocktail dress and heels. They stood in front of a Les Misérables marquee next to a stretch limousine. She appeared very uncomfortable. He appeared madly in love.
Thirteenth anniversary trip? she guessed after counting fingers from their 2027 wedding year and calculating Leah’s delivery date.
The thought of two people she’d known in high school celebrating thirteen years of marriage and spawning three kids prompted Julia to wag her head in disbelief. Few of her other friends had long-term monogamous partners, let alone more than a single offspring.
Here goes, she thought while gently tapping a closed bedroom door.
* * *
They hugged, awkwardly at first, before either said a word. Their embrace released the familiar scent of Angie’s favorite perfume. Julia felt at once accepted…and suddenly ashamed. She was the one who had eased away from the friendship, made excuses to cancel trips, forgotten to send birthday cards. Angie had never stopped missing, inviting, and accepting her teen companion. Standing face-to-face after nearly five years of avoidance tactics, Julia searched Angie’s eyes for signs of a well-deserved rebuke.
Angie spoke first. “I’m so glad you came.”
A pile of discarded clothes beside the partially full suitcase suggested she had been playing musical chairs with her closet, modeling one outfit after another, hoping to look her best without appearing to have tried.
“I really need my friend.”
The comment surprised Julia as much as Angie’s apparent unease. This was the gorgeous cheerleader who had attracted guys like flies to honey just before her strict religious beliefs shooed them away. If not for a purity fetish, she might have beat Maria’s record for most requests to the senior prom. Angie had always held her head high regardless of what anyone else thought. Always seemed secure in who she was. Julia had always admired her friend’s grounded confidence. Had something changed?
Julia noticed the silence between them. It was her turn to say something. Anything. She had decided not to script this moment, intending to pick up the friendship where they had left off, two girls separated by time and space who still shared a unique history. The same teachers, favorite movies, and inside jokes. She had imagined Angie saying something to offer instant reconnection to their former intimacy. But that task now fell to Julia. She reached deeply. Nothing came.
“You look wonderful,” Julia said at last.
Angie stepped away to give Julia the once-over. “Well. You certainly haven’t changed a bit!”
Julia blushed slightly at the reference to her size-two figure, the same as it had been when they’d last seen one another. Was the comment sincere flattery from a friend or jealous envy from a woman who had matured into a less girlish size eight?
“You’re still absolutely beautiful.”
Julia scolded herself. Why did I say “still”?
The sound of tiny footsteps approached from the hallway, followed by Kevin’s distant voice. “Come back here, Tommy. Leave Mommy alone, she needs—”
It was too late. Tommy interrupted the first moments of the reunion, much to Julia’s relief.
“Well, who have we here?” Julia said, bending down to admire Angie’s first. “I bet your name is Tommy.”
He froze and nodded, unaccustomed to seeing another mommy in his parents’ room.
“What’s your name?” he asked, like a cop about to arrest a trespassing criminal.
“This is my very good friend, Ms. Davidson,” Angie said.
He lowered his guard on the word of the character witness.
“You can call me Aunt Julia.”
The offer drew a beaming grin. “I have anothew aunt?”
“You do now,” Julia said. “And I get to stay at your house after your mommy and I get back home!”
Another officer s
cowl. “Back? Mommy, are you weaving?”
“Ms. Davidson…I mean Aunt Julia and I are going out to dinner and staying at a hotel tonight, but we’ll be back tomorrow afternoon.”
He turned and ran from the room, apparently to report Mommy’s pending escape to Officer Daddy.
“Did I blow your plan?” Julia asked.
“Kevin suggested keeping it secret from the kids until I was gone to avoid a scene. I told him it wouldn’t work, but he insisted.”
The sounds of Joy’s wail turned Angie’s prediction into Kevin’s crisis.
“They don’t like it when I’m gone, which is part of the reason I need to go.” She paused to correct the impression. “I’m crazy about the kids, but I need a few hours of uninterrupted adult conversation.”
After tossing a swimsuit and toiletries into the open bag Angie latched her suitcase and playfully grabbed her accomplice by the arm.
“Let’s make a getaway while we can!”
Chapter Twenty-One
Angie didn’t know what to expect from the dinner with Julia. Catching up on the latest news from each other’s lives, laughing at shared memories of high school mishaps, or perhaps providing girl-to-girl advice on skin-care products. Anything but a massive assault on her sense of significance.
Julia meant no harm. She probably wasn’t even aware of what caused the offense, making Angie feel even more pathetic.
The first affront came when Angie noticed half of the restaurant’s eyes following Julia as she returned to the table after visiting the ladies’ room. When they were young, Angie had attracted most of the attention. Back then guys appreciated Julia for her brains instead of her body, despite the fact that she was one of the prettiest girls on campus. Angie rebuked herself for such a silly reaction. She was a happily married mother of three. Still, it stung knowing she had gone largely unnoticed.
The second surfaced when a series of innocent questions constricted air from Angie’s suffocating ego.
Had Angie continued her part-time nursing job?
Did they maintain their Colorado residence?
How often did they get to ski since moving to DC?
Had Kevin met the president?
Did she like the latest film by some foreign director whose name Angie didn’t recognize?
After an hour of conversation Julia had failed to ask a single question about the central focus of Angie’s existence, her children. The friend in whom Angie had hoped to confide, from whom she had intended to seek comfort over Leah’s condition, had not come. Julia, like nearly every other adult in her life, was engrossed in what she considered far more significant affairs.
The third affront occurred when Julia finally recognized the past five years of Angie’s existence.
“So, three kids. What’s that like?”
It wasn’t really a question. More a reprimand mixed with bewildered curiosity, as from a child whose sibling had caved in to parental pressure by actually eating the steamed broccoli. Angie held her tongue, trying to come up with a response that would give Julia the benefit of the doubt.
That’s when Julia added insult to injury. “I don’t think I could do it.”
“Do what? Have children?” Angie forced a lilt, but still sounded defensive.
The air thickened as Julia rummaged for words that might rescue the conversation. “Well, yes. I mean, no. I guess I’m just amazed by what you’re doing.”
Julia lifted her glass to take a sip of iced tea, apparently hoping the condescending compliment had soothed any offense.
“Like what?”
“Excuse me?” Julia asked.
“What’s amazing about it?” Angie wasn’t fishing for a compliment. She was calling a bluff.
“I don’t know. The whole thing.”
Angie stared silently, allowing her friend a moment to think.
Julia started to mention specifics but stopped short, clearly at a loss.
“Do you mean like giving up a perfect figure and paycheck in order to remove the crust from peanut butter sandwiches and read the same bedtime story every night for a month?”
Julia laughed more than the comment deserved, then stopped when it became clear Angie was not making a joke. “Did I say something wrong?”
The question alerted Angie to her own intensity. “No. I’m sorry. I guess I’m just…” She paused. “It’s been a difficult month. I’m feeling a bit on edge. Like I said, I need my friend.”
Both smiled at the temporary truce.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Julia asked.
Tempted by the offer, Angie decided no. “Maybe later. Let’s order dessert.”
Another mistake. They “shared” the Ruth’s Chris infamous “simply sinful” chocolate layer cake. After one small bite Julia instinctively slid her fork aside. Angie reluctantly did the same.
Opening the door to her third-floor hotel room, Angie felt more alone than ever. While exiting the elevator at floor two, Julia had claimed exhaustion from a long day as an excuse to skip the Jacuzzi. Angie had been searching for an excuse herself, hoping for a reprieve from cautiously stilted conversation. Girls’ night out had turned out quite different from what she had scripted.
Julia was supposed to gush over Tommy, Joy, and Leah. Especially Leah.
She was supposed to admire Angie’s role in Kevin’s influence and success rather than view her as an unemployed nurse demoted to baby factory.
They were supposed to talk about books they’d read, causes they’d supported, dreams they’d shared, and memories they cherished.
But both had changed. Life had created a gulf between them. They lived in different worlds. Worse, on opposing sides. But opposing sides of what? Even the most innocent topics seemed to fall in the firing line of some conflict Angie could not write off to mere differences of opinion.
Much of the conversation had focused on Julia’s career or Kevin’s agenda, giving Angie an inkling of the chasm neither seemed able to bridge.
“Do you ever read my column?” Julia had asked.
Angie stretched the truth. “When I’m able.” She had let her subscription lapse while pregnant with Tommy. Most of Julia’s readers were childless singles. Angie was neither. In a sincere effort to catch up on her friend’s writing career she asked Julia for the titles and dates of the five feature articles or columns she felt best about. Angie quickly jotted down titles. The closest things her friend had to children.
#1: Guylanders from spring of 2034. No surprise. It was Julia’s most celebrated work to date. Angie and Kevin had both agreed with Julia’s take on the growing pool of immature men.
#2: Paternal Good Riddance from February 2036.
#3: What’s Conception Got to Do with It? from October 2039.
#4: Mommy Knows Better from May 2040.
#5: Free to Thrive from the previous week.
The final title seemed safe territory. “Last week’s column?” Angie asked.
“I wrote it after a conversation with a mutual friend of ours, Molly Carson.”
“Jolly Molly?” Angie smiled in recollection of the heavyset class comedian. “I haven’t heard from her in years. I’m pretty sure her parents still attend the church I grew up in. How is she?”
Julia’s reply seemed cryptic, as if she hoped to protect Molly from Angie’s expected disapproval. “She’s fine. Trying to have a baby.”
“Molly? When did she get married?” Angie corrected herself to avoid causing offense. “I mean. Does she have a partner?”
“The column is about Molly’s decision to have a baby on her own,” Julia explained. “Although I didn’t use her name, of course.” She then seemed to start quoting portions of her own writing. “Her parents disapprove. They want her to find a partner before becoming a mom. They also caution her against engineering her child by vetting for common genetic imperfections.”
Angie was not sure she wanted to know the answer, but asked anyway. “What did she decide?”
“She hit the
brakes. But I think she’ll go ahead once she works through the conflict with her folks. She’s a pretty levelheaded gal.”
Levelheaded, Angie thought. As opposed to knuckleheaded religious types who choose marriage and natural conception.
That’s when Angie decided against discussing Leah’s diagnosis. It was also when she felt most alone.
Angie returned to unpacking her suitcase. Moments later, she called home.
“Hi, Mommy!” Tommy always beat Daddy to the draw.
“Hi, sweetheart. How’s my favorite little boy?”
“Mommy. I’m your only wittow boy!” Their usual exchange of affection.
“What’s Daddy doing?”
“He’s working at his desk. He said I could have another bowl of ice cweam,” Tommy seemed relieved to confess.
“He did?” It was then that she noticed the clock. Thirty minutes past Tommy’s bedtime.
“Let me speak to him, please.”
“Hey babe!” Kevin sounded equally ready to confess. “Uh…he said he couldn’t sleep.”
“I understand,” she said with a smile, but a sudden commotion on the other end of the line seemed to trump her pardon.
“I’m sorry, babe. There’s someone at the door. Can I call you right back?”
The phone went dead before Angie could agree.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Good evening, Congressman.” It was Franklin’s aide, the woman Kevin had intentionally avoided thinking about since their brief encounter in the senator’s office. “I’m Kari Samson. Josh Franklin asked me to stop by with a confidential memo. Is this a good time?”
It wasn’t. With Angie away, he disliked the idea of an attractive woman entering the house. “Is it urgent?” he asked.
Of course it’s urgent! Why else would the senator make her stop by my home on a Friday night?
Kevin corrected himself. “Please, step in from the cold.”
She noticed Tommy’s forehead and eyes peering around the corner. “Hello there!”
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