Campaign Widows

by Aimee Agresti

  “I give you, DC’s version of the Spanish Steps.” He gestured. “You’re welcome.”

  She followed him up to the fountain, where the statue of a lion stared back at them.

  “I never knew this was here, and I’ve been living just a few blocks away all this time,” she said, taking it in.

  “I know. That’s what’s so great about it,” he said. “I used to live near here and found it by accident one day, and I wondered why no one had told me about it.”

  “Probably because everyone who knows it’s here wants to think they’re the only ones who know,” she said.

  “Exactly. But, you know, secrets don’t keep that long in this town,” he said.

  They climbed the staircase to the landing above the fountain, which connected to S Street, and sat on a ledge overlooking the lion’s head.

  “So anyway, my point in all of this is, there are plenty of distractions here, no matter how messed up you feel,” he said, staring out into the darkness.

  “Point taken,” she said.

  “Have you done the purge yet?”

  “The what?”

  “It’s pretty key, for your well-being. Gimme your phone.” He held out his hand, shook his fingers. “C’mon, you’ll thank me.”

  She dug her phone from her bag and relinquished it.

  “Let’s delete him,” he said, all business.

  “Seriously?”

  “Delete him and block him or just delete him?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “You know what? We’ll go easy for now, just delete.” Parker fiddled with her phone. “I’m all over this. I just did this stuff. I’m like the Geek Squad for Breakups now.”

  “Thanks?” she said, unsure.

  “I promise, you’ll be glad. Then you won’t be tempted to call, and let’s face it, no good can come of us calling these people. He’s not blocked though, so you know, nothing that can’t be undone.”

  “Oh, it’s okay. I think it’s done,” she said quietly. “I mean, I know it’s done. I guess.”

  “It won’t always feel this bad,” he said, tossing pebbles into the fountain below.

  She watched them fall. Several long seconds passed, so many that she forgot for a moment that Parker was there beside her. Her mind was all over the place, sorting through and trying to make sense of things, a jumble of conflicting impulses. Finally, she was drawn back to the present, her voice lower now, more cautious, as she spoke.

  “I find you kind of annoying,” she said slowly, just stealing a quick glance at him. She liked how his lips seemed to curve into the slightest smile, even at rest.

  “Possibly not the first time I’ve heard that. But what’s your reason?” he said.

  “Why are you handling your breakup so much better than I am mine?” She had vowed to move on, fast, not be one of these sad sacks with plenty of other good stuff in their lives but with their self-worth tied up in a guy.

  “Me? Are you kidding?” His tone just a shade darker than it had been. “I am a complete disaster.”

  “You don’t seem that way,” she said, almost accusatory. “Aside from the broken arm a while back, you seem all healed, overall. I’m sure you’re meeting babes at your bar every night, no problem, living the good life.”

  “Well, I appreciate that you have this warped idea of me. I probably should just agree with you, yes, that is exactly how it is to be me. It’s awesome. But seriously, I’m a mess. Still. And just because I’m a nice guy, I’ll tell you all about what a fuckup I really am so you can feel better about yourself.”

  “Oh, good,” she said, cheerful.

  “Yeah, settle in, there’s a lot. So. Despite all of the great press, all orchestrated by you, I might add—thank you—”

  “Anytime.”

  “—we are still barely breaking even, which freaks me out. I heard that Melanie moved in with the guy she left me for. Which I totally don’t care about because I’m done with her, but she’s allegedly fully moved on. And has a new place. Meanwhile, I am living in my office at the bar. No joke. Sleeping on the sofa.”

  “It is comfy,” she argued.

  “Yeah, well, not every night.”

  “And some congressmen do that, stay in their offices.”

  He continued. “I can’t get those guys from my old office to stop coming in and harassing me.”

  “This isn’t sounding so horrific.”

  “My arm is still messed up and my elbow stiffens up—” he held his arm out, studying it “—and, like, won’t bend when it’s about to rain, which is practically every fucking day in the summer in Washington.”

  “Okay, true. That kind of sucks.”

  “And even though it’s gross, I saved my cast after they sawed it off, and I have it in my desk because it was signed by the girl I’m kind of, maybe, completely in love with even though she probably thinks I’m just a friend, with the exception of when she’s drunk, which doesn’t really count. And it’s probably not smart to be in love again yet. But—”

  Cady felt the blood in her veins run green, envious. “Wait.” She looked at him, disappointed. “I thought I was the only one who signed that cast.”

  He was quiet for a moment, throwing endless pebbles into that fountain. “You are.” He sighed.

  Her heart beat too loudly in her chest, and for a second she remained frozen.

  But then she felt a gravitational pull, a rip current. It swept her, and she didn’t want to fight. She leaned into him.

  “Jeez, it doesn’t help when you look at me like that,” he said.

  “Like what?” she asked, unsure, taking a breath.

  “Like that. With your eyes.”

  “How else am I supposed to look at you?”

  “No, with your eyes all deep and whatever. That messes me up. It’s not a nice thing to do.” He looked away again.

  “Really.” She said it as a statement.

  “Yeah, really,” he said, meeting her eyes again, focused.

  “Then you’re definitely not going to like this.” She inched toward him, her lips finally landing on his and finding them willing participants this time. His hand gripped the back of her head, pulling her closer, while his other arm held her firmly against his body. Her arms wound their way around his neck.

  “I don’t know why you think I’m your friend.” Her words came out just breathless enough, her eyes locked on his. “I don’t want to be your friend,” she said, just now fully understanding it herself.

  “Say that again,” he whispered into her lips before kissing her again.

  She breathed him in. “I am defriending you. Right. Now.”

  “Me too,” he said softly into her ear, tightening his arms around her, kissing her again, lowering her along the ledge as he did.

  Each breath he took she could feel in her own chest. She felt a good kind of dizzy, like that other night, but not from any drug this time. His hold on her the only thing keeping her from sliding, it was a considerable feat they hadn’t fallen down into the fountain by now. But she couldn’t think of that. Only physical; only him.

  She thought the siren was in her head at first, some kind of internal flare telling her to take another breath. But then he pulled away too, and they both jumped, startled. They turned back as a police car raced down S Street, followed by another, to a destination unknown.

  He grabbed her hand and pulled her as they took off running, not stopping until they reached her block.

  “I don’t know why I ran.” He laughed as they slowed their pace to a stroll.

  “Seemed like a good idea at the time,” she said, their fingers still entwined.

  “It’s not like they were looking for us, right?” he joked. “Worst thing I’ve done in months was bounce a check, and it was just the one and there were extenuating circumstances.”

  “Hardly the
stuff of police car chases,” she said. She was still drunk on him, not paying attention as he stopped in front of her building.

  “I have to tell you—I wanted to kiss you the night you showed up at the bar, but I’ve always had this policy about not kissing girls who won’t be able to remember it.”

  “That’s a good policy,” she said. “I have to tell you, I’m kind of not living here right now.”

  * * *

  By the time they finally arrived at Jay’s U Street apartment, she was feeling as she had before the sirens; she didn’t want Parker to leave.

  “I hate that I kind of don’t really live here,” she said into the golden flecks of his eyes.

  He answered her with another kiss and then, “I hate that you kind of don’t really live here too.”

  “You should—” She was about to say come up. He should definitely come up. Now. Maybe Jay was out. Or else she could just kick Jay out. Of his own apartment. Or something. She would figure it out during the elevator ride between here and there.

  But Parker ruffled his hair, in that shy way of his, and said, “I should probably quit while I’m ahead—I mean, I’m ahead, right?”

  “Yes,” she said. “You’re definitely ahead.”

  “For the record, I’ll regret this as soon as I get back to the bar,” he said, like it was a promise. “But as mistakes go, there are worse, right?”

  Mischievous smile, hands in his pockets, he turned and walked away.

  30

  I THOUGHT WE WERE A TEAM

  In his heady, blissful prereunion haze, Jay had little focus left for such mundanities as editing, so he turned on the TV. “The fascinating thing going on with the Haze movement—and I think we can safely call this a movement at this point—is that this is a person who’s told us that character and loyalty are important,” Buck Brandywine told Grant Foxhall and a panel of strategists on CNN’s morning show. No matter that Jay’s office TV wasn’t HD, he could see there was no ring on Buck’s left hand. “She’s not using the playbook we’re used to. This unity ticket is shocking enough. Two parties, one ticket, God love her for trying this. She told us labels don’t matter, and now she’s showin’ us that.”

  “And let’s talk about that running mate,” Grant said. “New Hampshire Governor Frank Fisher is safe, but he’s also from the only state she doesn’t need help winning. Again, loyalty and character in that decision?”

  “Absolutely,” Buck said, adding with a laugh, “Not the kinda thing we’re accustomed to seeing in the political landscape—loyalty and character. But Fisher was first in line with his endorsement. He legitimized her campaign. It seems she likes to reward those who’ve been good to her. We’ll see how far she can take this. Fun to watch, that’s for sure. Can’t get much more antiestablishment than this.”

  “Your wife still listening to a lotta Haze?” Grant asked in that glib way of his.

  Was he blind? What was wrong with him? Jay wanted to email Birdie, but they weren’t that kind of close. He still felt the distance that came with reverence and respect. And she hadn’t said a word about it that night at Madison’s, a natural time as any for her to have brought it up.

  “She’s always had great taste in music, as in everything,” Buck quipped. “Except maybe men.” They laughed.

  Jay flipped back to MSNBC, not wanting to kill his buzz by thinking about his favorite couple on the rocks. There was too much joy to revel in: Sky would be coming home today, a pit stop for a few days since Rocky was campaigning in the area. He touched down at one thirty and would be coming straight to the office. Jay had been too excited to sleep, staying up late talking with Cady after her impromptu date. He was lucky Ted was back in town, otherwise Cady would have been staying with Reagan instead, and he’d needed the reminder of what it felt like to have someone want to be with you. He had fallen in love with how he felt around Sky and how he felt about himself around Sky, but had been desperately clinging to the feeling. He only hoped Sky had been too.

  He had finally gotten through a theater review—the Woolly Mammoth had already staged a send-up of the election, they sure worked fast—when he heard the knock. Jay looked up and felt his eyes and heart leap from his body. Sky opened the door, amber eyes glowing, looking like a hipster newshound in black jeans, a vest and short-sleeve button-down.

  “Never thought I’d say it, but I missed this place,” he said, swinging the door shut behind him and dropping his bag on the floor to embrace Jay tightly.

  “Almost forgot what you looked like,” Jay said. “Almost.” Sky kissed Jay’s cheek, and then his pillowy lips were full, firm and fast on Jay’s, taking him by surprise. It was their first kiss in the office, but Jay had stopped caring; they had earned it.

  Sky collapsed into the chair in front of Jay’s desk, and Jay took his seat again. They watched each other a few seconds; Jay wished they were at home, his, Sky’s, anywhere but here. But he would take what he could get. “Tell me everything,” Jay said.

  “Oh my God, Rocky has been—”

  Jay cut him off. “Everything that I haven’t already read in your copy and reporting files.”

  For half an hour they caught up in rapid-fire bits and pieces, so much to fill each other in on.

  “Wanna hang with the press pool tonight? Oh! So, Paz and Steve are like, a full-on, thing now. Be prepared. They’re not even trying to hide it. It’s almost unprofessional, gotta say,” Sky said, slouching in the chair, scrolling through texts and emails.

  “Wow, good for them,” Jay said, unsure if they were supposed to be supportive of this or wary of it. He still didn’t know Sky’s campaign friends well enough to have formed an educated opinion.

  “But Rocky’s whole campaign vibe is so loose. I mean, you know, I totally have to write about this today, but we took her jet here. She’s upgraded us from the buses.”

  “Seriously, write it up,” Jay said.

  “She said now that her candidacy is cemented and all, it makes sense. And remember when Rihanna had that party jet we covered? It feels like that. Rocky was handing out drinks and snacks herself and answering everyone’s questions, like, nothing off-limits, and she had this acoustic jam session. It’s a long way of saying I wish you were there.”

  Jay’s phone rang: “Helena,” he said with reflexive dread.

  “That’s my cue for sure,” Sky joked.

  “No, it’s okay,” Jay said, not wanting him to leave so soon. He wasn’t ready to share Sky with the newsroom.

  “Better get to my desk, look busy.” He smiled and let himself out.

  * * *

  Not even an hour later, Sky appeared at Jay’s door as he went over edits with a reporter on a profile of Dave Grohl pegged to his upcoming show at the Black Cat. (“We need more on life now, family, et cetera et cetera. Everyone knows he didn’t graduate from that high school in Alexandria, no one cares. He’s like the best ad ever for dropping out.”) This time Sky just barged right in, hands on his waist, concerned look in his eyes. Jay jumped off the phone abruptly.

  “Hey, you okay?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me they wanted me off the campaign?” Sky asked and folded his arms across his chest in a way Jay did not like to see.

  He felt like he’d been knocked out. “What do you mean?” Jay said, instantly regretting it. Sky’s reporting was always solid.

  “You know what I mean,” he said. “I’m sitting at my desk and Sophie comes up and tells me there was this whole thing in a meeting. She says your speech has become ‘legend.’”

  “Well, I don’t know I would go that far,” Jay said, secretly flattered that people were still talking about it. Sometimes it was good to shake things up, especially if you had a nice-guy reputation. The way he saw it, that speech was one of the greatest things he had done for his career since accepting the Arts editing gig over that Opinions section job in the ea
rly days.

  “Well, it seems kind of like a big deal, maybe you would’ve at least mentioned it in one of the millions of texts or calls in the past week.”

  Jay took a breath. “First of all, if Sophie spent a little more time writing and a little less time trying to audition for a gossip reporting job that isn’t available, then it would be better for everyone.” He was getting tired of Sophie. She hadn’t even been in that meeting.

  “This doesn’t really have anything to do with her.”

  “Okay,” Jay said, shaking his head. “I was acting as your representative here, your agent, your coach sort of, you know? I wasn’t going to let any of the drama here get in the way of you doing what you do on the playing field.” He liked sports metaphors even though he wasn’t much of a fan. “I was protecting you and your work. I don’t see how it’s a bad thing. You should’ve seen this meeting. It was completely unfair.”

  “Maybe you should just be my editor and tell me what’s going on,” he said. “I don’t need you to treat me like a child.”

  “I wasn’t, I’m sorry. It’s obviously exactly the opposite of what I wanted to have happen.” Jay stood now, upset at how this was going, unsure how to turn it back around. “I had the best intentions.”

  “I don’t like secrets,” Sky said.

  “No, I know, me neither,” Jay said.

  “I thought we were a team.”

  “I know, we are. I made a mistake, I’m sorry.”

  But Sky just walked out. Jay followed to the door, where he watched Sky stride past the cubicle colony and keep going.

  Jay sat down in his chair, like he might be having a heart attack. Yes, that’s exactly what it was: it was a broken heart attack. He felt the same as everyone who found themselves ambushed, engaged in a fight that made no sense to them. Pure misunderstanding. He had mounted no defenses; he hadn’t thought he’d need any.

  He didn’t see Sky the rest of the day, despite passing his empty desk three times and shooting daggers at Sophie as she left the yoga studio. He texted Sky on his way home: I’m sorry Sky, not sure what happened today.