Twitter Girl

by Nic Tatano

  “Hang on a minute. Gotta check something. Dear God, please let my network access code still work.”

  I run to my laptop, turn it on and hit the bookmark that takes me to the network’s information site. I type in my user name and password, hit enter, and cross my fingers. “C’mon, please—”

  Welcome, Cassidy Shea

  Thankfully, the lazy slug in the network’s IT department hasn’t deleted my account. I navigate to the section that can search personal information and start to fill in the blanks.

  Name: Brian Becker

  Date range: April, 2005

  I hit enter and drum my fingers on the table as the little hourglass spins.

  The information I need pops up.

  “Okay, that part checks. He was born on April thirteenth.”

  “But you knew that already, right?” asks Sam.

  “Right. Now for the part I need to clear up.” I navigate to death records and fill in the blanks. And wait.

  The little hourglass spins, and when the screen clears my blood runs cold.

  Your search has returned no results.

  “Dear God, Sam…”

  “What does this mean?”

  “It means there’s no death certificate, which means Becker has a son out there. Somewhere.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. Why would his daughter tell you the baby died?”

  “Because that’s what her father told her.” I lean back in my chair as I try to process everything. “Okay, so we’ve got a three month leave of absence from Congress, two million dollars in a trust fund for a person who apparently doesn’t exist, a dead baby with no death certificate and a wife who suddenly hates her seemingly perfect husband. Then, as soon as Becker goes back to Congress he announces his candidacy for the Senate.”

  “You said the baby had a lot of health problems? And that his wife was in bed for nine months?”

  “Yeah, that’s what his daughter told me.”

  “So, let’s say the baby needed constant care and his wife was recovering from a tough pregnancy. And they had two small daughters at the time. Would he have been able to run for the Senate?”

  I don’t want to believe it, but the reporter in me is saying it all makes sense. “Becker would have had to wait six years for the next Senate election, and he would have been running against an incumbent instead of for an open seat. And how would it look for him to have a child with serious health problems and him immediately going on the campaign trail for a year dumping the kid off on his sick wife or a nurse? People would think he was heartless and he couldn’t win. The only way to win was to get rid of the one thing holding him back. He obviously put the baby up for adoption. That has to be it.” My jaw clenches as my eyes narrow. “The kid was too much of an inconvenience. He threw the child away, Sam.”

  Sam reaches over and rubs my shoulder. I feel my eyes well up as I grab his hand. “Hey, you said there was a priest at the house?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Then you know we have to call Uncle Steve.”

  You have resources I do not.

  I nod and grab my cell phone so I can call our uncle the priest, who works for Catholic Social Services.

  In the adoption agency.

  ***

  My mom’s younger brother is known as Father Steven to most, but Sam and I have never called him that. He’s simply our uncle who happens to wear a collar, and is a superhero in his own right. He may be fifty, bald and paunchy, but he’s got an invisible cape.

  He finds homes for children who otherwise wouldn’t have one.

  And if anyone found a home for Becker’s son through his agency, he would know.

  But could he tell?

  My uncle greets me with a hug as I enter his office. “Cassidy, it’s been too long.”

  “Really, Uncle Steve.”

  “You’ve certainly made a name for yourself lately.”

  “For some of the wrong reasons.”

  “And some of the right ones. I’ve read what you did for the subway hero.”

  “Just being a good Catholic.”

  “There’s a switch. When’s the last time you went to Mass?”

  I bless myself. “Bless me Father, for I have not been to church in awhile.”

  “You’ve done plenty of good deeds and I absolve you.” He makes the sign of the cross in front of me, then kisses me on the head. “Anyway, I’ve been conflicted about calling you.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “Well, as you know adoptions are supposed to be private and I’d be breaking a rule in this case. However, I was worried my niece was ending up in a serious relationship with a man she really didn’t know. So I prayed about it.”

  “And?”

  “C’mon. Let’s take a ride.”

  ***

  I hear steps moving toward the front door. My uncle takes my hand as he’s done so many times. “Remember, she doesn’t know who the parents are, so don’t mention Becker.”

  “Got it.”

  The door opens and we’re greeted by a slender woman around forty with jet black hair and a huge smile. “Father Steven, come on in.”

  “Hi Marilyn. Want you to meet my niece, Cassidy.”

  She takes my hand and shakes it. “Right, you said you were bringing one of your volunteers. I didn’t know it was a relative. Nice to meet you, Cassidy.”

  “Same here.” Thankfully, she doesn’t have the look I usually get from being recognized.

  My uncle closes the door. “I thought it would be good if she met one of our most special children.”

  Her dark eyes beam at the compliment and turns to me. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. Brian is coloring in the kitchen.” She leads us through the modest home and into the kitchen, where I see a boy about ten at a small round table, head down, gently holding a crayon as he slowly colors a picture on some pale construction paper. “Brian, look who came to visit!”

  He looks up and his face knocks the air out of me.

  He’s a dead ringer for Will Becker.

  “Father Steven!” he says, in a distorted voice that sounds like it’s underwater. He gets up and moves toward him, one leg swinging out wide while the other goes straight, wraps his arms around my uncle’s waist and gives him a strong hug.

  My uncle hugs him back and strokes his hair. “Hello, Brian! Good to see you, buddy.” He holds on for a moment, the gently pushes the child back and turns him toward me. “Brian, I want you to meet my niece, Cassidy.”

  The kid looks at me and his eyes light up. He comes to me and gives me the same treatment, a strong hug. “Hello, Cassidy!”

  My eyes well up and I hug him back. “Great to meet you, Brian.” I turn to his mother. “Quite a welcome.”

  “That’s his standard greeting,” she says. “Brian loves everyone. I always say if all people were like him there would be no wars. He doesn’t know the meaning of hate.”

  The child looks up at me. “Do you like to color?”

  “I love to color, Brian.”

  “Let’s draw a picture.”

  “Okay, sure.”

  He takes my hand and leads me to the table where we both sit down. He grabs a fresh piece of construction paper, then grabs a bunch of crayons and holds them out toward me. “Pick one, but don’t take red.”

  “Okay.” I scratch my head. “Let me see, which one do I want… how about green?” I take the green crayon from his hand and he sets about drawing.

  “He brings such joy to our home,” says his mom, looking at me. She lowers her voice. “It boggles the mind that someone didn’t want him, but he’s been a blessing to us. Our other two children love him like you wouldn’t believe. And if my husband were home you’d see the incredible bond they have.”

  I quickly glance at Brian who is totally focused on his drawing. “Did you have any qualms about adopting—”

  “A special child? No, not at all. Look, he takes a ton of care and has a lot of medical problems, but I wouldn’t trad
e him for anything. He has such an innocence, such a purity of heart that you never see in so-called normal people. Like I said, he makes anyone who meets him feel better.”

  “I can see that.”

  “Sometimes I think special children are angels sent by God to remind the rest of us to be thankful for what we have.”

  “That’s a beautiful way of looking at it.”

  Brian grabs my arm. “Green. Your turn. Two dots.”

  I glance at the drawing which doesn’t look like anything yet. “Okay, where do you want the two dots?”

  He points. “There and there.”

  I dab the crayon on the paper. “Is that all you want me to do?”

  “Yep.” He goes back to the drawing.

  “Well, that wasn’t too hard.” I turn back to his mother. “So, what’s the prognosis?’

  “You’re looking at it. This is as far as he’ll ever progress, which is fine. And we have enough money for his medical care since the birth parents were apparently wealthy and set up a trust.” Her smile fades. “Amazing that some people threw money at what they perceived to be a problem to make it go away. What kind of person does that?”

  “Really.”

  She shakes her head. “I wonder how those people can live with themselves.” She looks back at Brian. “But to us he’s a gift, not a problem.”

  My uncle puts his hand on Marilyn’s shoulder. “Cassidy, this is why we placed Brian here. I’ve known Marilyn and Jack for years from my parish. We knew he’d be loved and well taken care of.”

  Brian grabs my arm. “Finished.” He hands me the sheet of paper.

  I look at the crude drawing of a tall red haired woman, a smile that looks like a slice of watermelon, the two dots I placed with my crayon now her green eyes.

  “Picture of you,” Brian says, with a huge smile.

  My emotions well up as I look at him. “Thank you, Brian, it’s beautiful. It’s the best picture of me I’ve ever seen.”

  “His point of view is always positive,” says Marilyn. “And he seems drawn to people who have a good heart.” She suddenly gets the familiar look of recognition and her eyes widen. “Now I know where I’ve seen you.”

  I start to answer but she interrupts.

  “You’re the subway hero’s girlfriend.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  @TwitterGirl

  Subway hero Tyler Garrity fully recovered and back to work!

  “Welcome back,” I say, as I stick my head in Tyler’s office.

  “Thanks. Feels good to get out of bed.”

  “No after affects?”

  He shakes his head. “Nope.”

  “Hey, I’ve got a hypothetical question for you.”

  “Shoot.”

  I close the door and take a seat next to him. He studies my face. “Okay, what’s bothering you?”

  “It’s that obvious?”

  “Yeah.”

  “This is hard for me, Tyler, but you’re the only one who will understand.”

  He reaches out and takes my hands. “Just tell me.”

  “Okay, here goes. Let’s say you found out something about Becker, something horrible. Something that told you he wasn’t fit to be President. What would you do?”

  He furrows his brow. “Is there some reason you’re asking me this?”

  “Just tell me what you’d do. And don’t forget, it would cost you your job and the jobs of everyone else in the campaign.”

  “Why are you—”

  “I’ll tell you in a minute. What would you do?”

  “Well, first of all, all political campaign jobs are temp jobs, as they are in every campaign. I personally don’t need this job and I know the rest of the staff would easily catch on somewhere else. But that’s not the important part of the question. The important part is one of ethics.”

  “I see why people say you’re so smart.”

  “If I found out something horrible, I’d first need to know what the fallout would be if I leaked the story. Who else would get hurt? I would have to consider that part. But if the collateral damage was minimal, I couldn’t live with myself helping someone get elected President who had covered up something horrible.”

  “Makes sense.”

  He slowly nods. “You’ve got something on him, don’t you?”

  I look down at the floor and don’t answer.

  “You gonna tell me what it is, or should I just begin cleaning out my desk now?”

  I look up at him and we lock eyes.

  I have to tell him everything.

  My words come pouring out, accompanied by emotions I cannot fully explain.

  Tyler listens, not saying a word for five minutes, his look one of both shock and disgust.

  “That it?” he asks.

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  He shakes his head. “Good God, that’s awful. I never would have guessed he would do something like that.”

  “So what should I do?”

  “I know you’ll do the right thing.”

  “But how do I do it?”

  He folds his hands in his lap and leans back. “Okay, if you leak it to one of your media friends, it will be devastating to his daughters. But here’s the really bad part; you’ll turn every camera on the adoptive family and Brian. I know you wouldn’t want to do that.”

  “No, of course not.”

  “But, there is a way…”

  I sit up straight. “Yeah?”

  “You know the trick I used on the party chairman when he was gonna do that sex poll? The one I use on everyone?”

  ***

  Will Becker is all smiles as he arrives shortly before noon, shaking hands as he makes his way through the campaign headquarters. I’m already in his office, blinds drawn, fists and jaw clenched, sitting across from his desk. His face lights up as he sees me. “Damn, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” He moves toward me, arms extended, waiting for an embrace.

  I don’t stand up and simply glare at him.

  He studies my face. “Something wrong?”

  “You got some ’splainin’ to do, Senator. Shut the door. Have a seat.”

  He furrows his brow. “Cassidy, what’s going on?”

  “Shut the door and sit down. We need to talk.”

  He puts up his hands. “Okay, okay.” He closes the door to his office, walks behind his desk and slides onto his chair. “Obviously I’ve made you upset.”

  I fold my arms. “Why didn’t you stop by the hospital to see Tyler?”

  “Oh, that.” He exhales deeply and leans back. “Look, I thought Frank explained to you my schedule was packed solid. I couldn’t get away.”

  “You’re the candidate. You can do whatever the hell you want.”

  “A lot of people paid a lot of money to be at those fundraisers. I couldn’t stand them up. Besides, you were already there representing the campaign.”

  His words launch me out of the chair. “I wasn’t representing the campaign. I was there because Tyler’s my friend. Is he simply a staffer to you? For God’s sake, Will, you’ve known him for years. He almost died. Did you happen to notice the President of the United States even came by?”

  “Well, I’m sorry. I’ll go speak to Tyler.”

  “It’s too late and that’s not the point.”

  “Okay, fine. How can we—”

  “I’m not done.” I rest my hands on his desk and lean forward. “Mind telling me why you wanted to do a poll on whether or not we should sleep together?”

  He looks down. “You, uh, weren’t supposed to know about that.”

  “Well, uh, I do. So, did you also commission a poll on whether you should kiss me? Whether I was suitable enough to be your girlfriend? Maybe you should have put my picture next to Ripley’s and let the voters decide. Oh, wait, you didn’t need to do that because I already had approval numbers. You were behind that, weren’t you?”

  “I’m sorry, Cassidy. The sex poll was a bad idea, and I know Tyler killed it. Frank didn’t know about i
t and was furious that I’d even suggested it to the party chairman.” He looks up at me. “Please forgive me, Cassidy. We can get past this. You have to understand—”

  “Understand what? That anything is fair game in politics? What, you pick a girlfriend like you pick a Vice President? You’re supposed to be the candidate that’s an actual human being, that’s why you’re winning. And you treat me as if I’m one of your talking points? Was there some focus group behind one-way glass when we had dinner?”

  “Again, I’m sorry. I should have considered your feelings.” He stands up and extends his arms. “Let me make it up to you.”

  “How? By putting two million dollars in a trust account? I’ve got two words for you, Will. Brian Fillorio.”

  The color instantly drains from his face as his knees buckle and he plops down into his chair. “Oh, dear God.” He stares at his desk and says nothing for a few seconds, unable to look at me. “How did you find out?”

  “You’ve been dating an Emmy Award winning reporter, or were you so obsessed with using me as a campaign prop that you forgot?”

  “I never used you.” He looks up. “I could never use you because I love you, Cassidy.”

  The words I once hoped to hear now make me feel sick. “Don’t you dare say that to me. But I really don’t care what you did to me, I’m more concerned about what you did to your wife and kids. Was that little boy so much of an inconvenience that you would throw him away? You broke your wife’s heart, Will. Just so you could run for the Senate. You threw away a human being, your own flesh and blood, for political gain. Because he was getting in the way of your own ambition. What kind of person does something like that?”

  He doesn’t say anything for awhile, then looks up, eyes moist. “So where does this leave us?”

  “Us? You gotta be kidding me! There is no us. I seriously doubt there ever was. Do you really think I could love someone like you after this? Did you happen to notice I have a brother in a wheelchair and I’m close friends with Tyler? Did it ever occur to you that I’m not the type of girl to throw people away because they’re not physically perfect? I put my career on hold when Sam got hurt and it was the best thing I ever did. It made me a much better person. But you did just the opposite. Because you’re selfish.”

  “So I guess you’re also leaving the campaign?”