Always

by Timmothy B. Mccann

  We were given a list of questions Henry would be asked, but when the red lights came on, Bryant asked him anything but the questions we were expecting. A media professional had warned us about this tactic, and actually it ended up working in our favor. Henry was in a zone, and a couple of sound bites from the interview were so effective, they were repeated on NBC Nightly News with Tom Brokaw.

  After the interview even Bryant commended him on his performance and, much to Teddy’s chagrin, invited him to play golf in his charity tournament. Although his golf game is pretty bad, Henry hated to say no, and the possible contacts would not allow him to say anthing but “yes.”

  It was about this time that reporters started to seriously ask Henry if he had dreams of running for the White House. He had a well-rehearsed stock answer. “If any man, or woman, who has entered Congress says they have never thought about Pennsylvania Avenue, I think they’re being a little disingenuous. But this country has too many problems for me to think in great detail of such things. For instance, in Kazakhstan it was reported . . .” and then he would proceed to take a world event and simplify it so that a layperson could understand the problem and offer a viable solution.

  He once had a rule against discussing world events because this old half-crazy congressman told him he should not, but I convinced him that doing so instantly made him look presidential. Reporters would then take the bait and say right on cue, “Senator Davis, you’re sounding more and more like a presidential candidate every day.” Which would give him the opportunity to show that smile of his and gracefully indicate that he had the best job title in America and did not see himself making any immediate changes in his career.

  And then . . . well, then there was the debacle on Meet the Press.

  I have known Teddy all of his adult life and I have never seen the look I saw in his eyes that morning. There’s a saying, “Never let them see you sweat.” Well, America almost watched him throw up, it was so bad.

  Some of our friends suggested that he could have been drugged. Even he made suggestions to me in private that something may have been placed in his coffee, which is why even to this day he never drinks anything when he’s on the road unless it’s given to him by his inner circle.

  Personally, I think that is a cop-out. I mean yeah, they kept tabs on a number of politicians and people in show business at one time. But could they be out to hurt the chances of a junior senator who had not declared his candidacy? I think he just flopped. It happens. Pavarotti has hit a bad note, The Greatest lost a couple of fights, and Teddy simply dropped the ball. They’re all human. It was the most important appearance he had ever made and he screwed up. That’s life.

  When he got home that night he was a little emotional and acted a little strange, but after I teased him a little to get him in the mood, we made love beneath the stars. It was about 2:00 A.M. and he was very nervous at first. We have a privacy fence, but it is not too private. So after we played a little game, we were kissing in the living room and I undressed him very slowly, took his hand, and led him to the patio. He looked like a condemned man going to the guillotine at first, so I had to relax him.

  As he was standing in the sliding glass doorway, I went down on him, and just as I’d expected, he was like putty in my hands from then on. We made love that night until about 5:00 A.M., and then it was too close to sunrise to drift off to sleep, so we talked. At first it was about politics, which I did not mind, but then we started talking about our fears.

  “What’s your biggest fear?” he asked me.

  “What do you mean?”

  “What scares you? More than anything else in this world?”

  “Uew, I don’t know. At this stage in life I guess something happening to my mom and dad? I’m a little concerned about Myles, also, up there in New York, with that old hooker he married. Why do you ask?”

  “Umm, nothing. Just curious.”

  Then I looked at those thick black caterpillar eyebrows, and rubbed one of them slowly with my fingertips as I asked him, “So tell me. What’s your biggest fear?”

  “That I won’t win in 2000.”

  He said it just like that. That he would not win the presidency of the United States in the year 2000 was his biggest fear. This was the dream he carried with him each and every day of his life, and anything short of it would be unacceptable. Even if he lost in 2000 and ran and won in 2004, I don’t think it would bring him ultimate joy.

  There’s a saying that you should always shoot for the moon, because if you miss, you’ll be among the stars. With Teddy, the stars would never be enough. It wasn’t life or death for my husband. For him, it was more important than that.

  After the Meet the Press fiasco, we turned into a national joke. It’s said that it’s a short motion from a pat on the back to a kick in the ass, and we found out just how short the move was. You could turn the dial to almost any station and hear a Davis joke that week.

  On Leno: “The one good thing to come out of this is Senator Davis will be in the dictionary. Yeah that’s right. Under the word “duh.”

  On Letterman: “Hey, Paul, I hear Regis is leaving Millionaire. That’s right. He’s doing a new show for Fox with Henry Davis, Who Wants to Tutor a Senator!”

  On Politically Incorrect: “But seriously, I kid the stupid!”

  Saturday Night Live did a skit with an actor with a huge Buckwheat wig who stood behind the podium, and just kept repeating, “One’s a day, I wanna be yo . . . umm . . . lemme see . . . don’t tell me . . . Das right. I wanna be yoooo prezy-dent.”

  After the week of comedic injustice, “Have you heard the latest Davis joke?” was the talk coast to coast. Instead of people walking up to us in restaurants for autographs, they would pass by with pointed fingers and snickers. We would laugh at some of the funnier jokes when others were around and show them how big we were, but when the doors closed, the silence could hurt your ears. I think as much as it pained him, it hurt me more because it was unfair. He was the most intelligent man I knew, yet people were calling him a buffoon. Yes, he set high goals, but only because he wanted to help others. Never for personal gain. If people only knew how many times I’d seen him reach into his pocket and give a person a few dollars because he thought he or she needed it. But the people who watched the comedians taking liberties never knew this. All they saw was the blunder, and we knew we would have to live with that.

  And then right after that fiasco, there was a report that he’d had an affair with a young lady in Atlanta. The irony of it all was, if we had not been in Time and on Meet the Press, it would have been a nonstory. Thus the price of fame.

  Let me just state for the record, I believe in my husband and I believe he is faithful. And I even say that in spite of the fact that after his layover in Atlanta, he called me Cheryl while we were making love. I’ve never asked him about that night, nor will I, because I felt it was petty. I know he always has a lot on his mind and I think some women take things like that a little out of context. But having said that, I think any man, in the right situation, will do things he might be sorry for later. Especially when his intentions, character, or intelligence are called into question.

  Do I think he had an affair with this Alicia Simmons person? No. Am I 100 percent sure he did not? Not hardly.

  At a time when we should have drawn closer, sadly, we divided. For the first time since I’d met him, Teddy started to drink heavily. Scotch, bourbon, beer—if it had alcohol in it, it started to show up in our bedroom. I tried to get through to him, but for some reason he had built up a wall as he tried to resolve how to handle this situation by himself.

  The breaking point came when he missed a flight out to the state of Washington for a conference on campaign finance. I knew that was an important meeting and one we had to be a part of. So when I got home and noticed him in his underwear sitting on the couch watching TV, I was dumbfounded.

  “Henry? Henry, what are you doing home?” He said nothing. “Henry, the flight left an hour a
go. Why are you here?”

  “Leslie, I just don’t feel too good,” he said rubbing his stomach. “I had Penelope call and tell them I couldn’t make it.”

  “You don’t what? You don’t feel too good? Are you kidding me?”

  “Leslie,” he said, and rubbed his temple as if he had a hangover, “don’t start with me, okay? Not today.”

  “Don’t! Don’t! Don’t start with you? You just missed a conference that will be live on fucking C-SPAN tonight in which you were going to be the keynote speaker and you say don’t fucking start with me? Nigger, have you lost your mind!” I had never called him that name before, but I lost it. This was the perfect opportunity for him to redeem himself and he was sitting on the couch watching Home Improvement reruns.

  Looking up at me with glossy eyes, he diverted his attention to Tim Allen.

  “Oh, hell no!” I shouted at the top of my lungs. I wanted to shock him back into reality. “You and this goddamn TV have got to go!” And then I kicked over the television. I don’t know where the strength came from because it was a mahogany big-screen TV. But I’d had enough, and the tube in the set exploded. “Poof!”

  “What the fuck,” Teddy said, and before I knew it, he had slapped me. Before I could hit the floor, my mind flashed back to a hot fall day when Kathleen knocked me over the ottoman. As I lay on the ground, before the pain could settle in, he stumbled his intoxicated body over to me trying to apologize.

  This was never going to get beyond our four walls and I didn’t want to hit him back. Needless to say, he had never done anything remotely close to this before, and I knew he hit me out of weakness. I could smell the alcohol on his morning breath and it made me nauseous. He was crying like a two-hundred-pound baby, and his hot tears fell on my cheek, which was pulsating. At this point I was still in shock. Everything was moving for us at warp speed. From emerging star, to national embarrassment, to the clean-and-sober Time magazine husband, to this Negro sitting around in his drawers putting his hands on me. I struggled to get him off of me by putting my elbow under his chin.

  Then I looked down on him as he laid on the floor with one foot on the couch, afraid it had all come to an end. But even in these darkest of hours I knew my love for him had no limitations.

  How many things would you die for? Your mother, your religion, a child? Those are easy. Your country? Your core beliefs? Your career? Those are more difficult. In his weakest moments, Henry was actually dying before my eyes for a dream, and I knew I had to find a way to bring him back. No one else could do this. I’d married a man whom I loved more than life, and that man’s dream was to become president in the year 2000. So in spite of everything that had happened, somehow, someway, I’d make it a reality.

  Washington, D.C.

  November 8, 2000

  NBS News Studio

  1:30 P.M. EST

  “Well, America, with all of the talk about a possible assassination attempt on the life of Senator Henry Davis, we have not given you an update on the election. Here’s an up-to-the-minute tally.

  DAVIS 174

  STEINER 179

  BALDWIN 126

  “With all of the polling places closed in the continental United States, NBS News is reporting Ronald Steiner will win in the state of Oregon and Governor Tom wins in his home state of Arizona, but it may be all she wrote for the governor, who is running in single digits in the Golden State, and we are told they will be conceding the race within the hour. Now we will go back once again to the Fontainebleau Hotel and our correspondent, Butch Harper. Butch, can you hear me?”

  “Yes, I can, Franklin. As you can see, it’s much quieter and there is an almost spectral aura hovering over the ballroom. After the assassin-in-hiding story broke, about half of the attendees left. The mood is mixed with the supporters who have stayed. Half of the individuals I have spoken with believe it to be a hoax, while the other half want to be in this hall, in spite of what may or may not happen with the alleged assassin, to be a part of history.

  As a footnote to the story, Franklin, back in 1933, right here in Miami on the night of Franklin Roosevelt’s first election, an assassin made an attempt on his life and actually shot Mayor Cermak of Miami. The gunman, Joe Zingara, was standing only a few feet away from the president-elect when a hundred-pound woman forced up his arm and possibly saved the life of FDR. So there is a historical precedent for the fear in the hall tonight.”

  “Butch, has there been any official response from the Davis campaign regarding any of this?”

  “Well, no. Throughout the campaign the Davis spokesman, Ed Long, has been adamant about addressing issues as soon as they occur. A sort of ‘nip it in the bud’ approach to campaign management. But that has not been the case regarding this issue. The last time we in the press corps saw anyone from the Davis campaign, it was Penelope Richardson addressing the prospects of a Davis divorce. So I do not know if their failure to address this issue is a sign that there are serious problems afoot or that they do not think such an issue merits a comment, and they are instead focusing on the numbers.”

  “Butch, do we know if the Davises are even in the hotel at this time? One report indicated they may have been taken to another spot downtown through a service elevator and into their secured limos, while another reported that an FBI helicopter was seen flying away from the roof of the hotel about twenty minutes ago, escorted by two other choppers. Can you confirm either of those stories?”

  “I am sorry to report that I have heard both stories and I cannot confirm either. We were told by one source that the senator from Florida was seen with his wife speeding through downtown Miami in an unmarked vehicle. So as of now we are just awaiting an official word. Possibly the helicopter was a diversion. We don’t know at this point.”

  “Interesting, Butch. One can only speculate as to what the mood is with Mr. and Mrs. Davis after all of the controversy with their marriage over the past few days, losing their home state of Florida, and now this suspected assassination attempt. NBS election night coverage will resume after this commercial break.”

  Carol City, Florida

  The Allen Residence

  Cheryl looked at her daughter, who was snoring on the couch, and kissed her softly on the forehead. She was abrupt at times and had made some bad choices in her life, but Cheryl knew so many times when she could not count on anyone else, Sarah was a constant force.

  After hearing the latest on the campaign, she didn’t want to watch anymore, but like a passerby gaping at a car accident, she could not turn away. She would say another prayer for Henry and then pace the room wondering where her husband was. Then the phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  After a pause, a dark voice said, “It’s me. Can you talk?” Cheryl’s heart stopped and she could not breathe as she lowered her body into the love seat in front of the muted television.

  “Cheryl? Are you there?”

  “Yes. Yes, I’m here. Oh my God, I am so scared for you. Is what they’re saying true?”

  “I don’t know. It’s something I can’t think about. It’s a part of this job and I’ve prepared myself . . . well, as much as one can prepare oneself for this. I always knew it would be a possibility.”

  “Henry, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry things worked out like they did.”

  “Listen to me. Let’s not go there. Things happened and that’s that. There is nothing we can do to fix it. I just wanted to call you to say I am sorry. I really don’t know why I’m sorry or what I am sorry for, I just know I need to apologize to you. I guess for dragging you into this mess. Reporters are swarming around me . . . I mean Leslie and me, like vultures trying to make everything they even think is happening headline news.”

  “Henry, you know you don’t have to go there. I’ve loved you before I knew what love meant, so I know you would never intentionally hurt me.”

  “I take it Brandon’s not home,” he replied after a brief respite.

  “No. He, well, he left hours ago and I have n
o idea where he went. We had a heart-to-heart talk tonight, and you know me, Henry.”

  “Are you crying?”

  “You probably know me better than anyone in this world outside of Sarah and my mother, and you know I won’t lie. I just can’t do it. He asked me point-blank if I loved you.”

  “And you said?”

  “Henry, I just told you. I can’t lie to him or anyone else. I told him yes. And then he looked at me and asked me if I loved you more than I loved him. I told him love is different with everyone and that the love you share for your mom is different from the love you share—Well, then he got mad and asked me again. And I told him—” The tears chased each other down Cheryl’s face. “I know I shouldn’t love you. I know I don’t want to love you. Actually, Henry . . . actually I hate loving you. But I do, Henry. For me, our love is for always.” Wiping her nose with a tissue, Cheryl said, “I thought time would erase you from my mind. But the older I get, the more I think about us as kids and what we could have been as adults.”

  Henry held the phone in silence with the noise from the half-full room of staffers in the background.

  “Henry, I have wanted to ask you this since we met again. Henry Davis. Do you love me? I mean really love me? I need to know.”

  CHERYL

  In 1993, my world started to change, in many ways for the better. For starters, I got my degree in nursing, which I had worked so hard for. I bought a house in a subdivision of North Miami named Carol City, and Jesse James and the foster children I’d taken care of for so many years all left the nest one way or another. It was also the year Brandon Allen reappeared in my world.