Maybe she was onto something. But how could anyone love the woman behind the curtain? “He got a job offer overseas and I, uh, might have bitten his head off because he didn’t tell me right away. His father did.”
“The plot thickens.”
The plot was hardened concrete at this point. “I don’t know how to open up to him.”
“You open up to me.”
“That’s different.”
“Honestly, Chrissy. You’ve done this to yourself by building up these multiple versions of you to the point that no one is ever allowed to figure out who you really are. I have no idea how you keep track of all those distinct personalities. And now you’ve gone and muddied things enough that you’ll find a way to justify pulling away from anyone if things don’t go to your perfectly plotted expectations.”
“Caroline—”
“You’re afraid to deal with your grief. That’s understandable. I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve tried to get through to you about it. You should have been in therapy years ago. But Alex has never, ever tried to make you forget Tom or Jess. That’s on you. You’re the one who seems determined to pretend your loss isn’t this giant hole in your life, and that’s not fair to either one of you.”
I wanted serious, but this was a bit too serious. As well as off topic. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to be me?” I snapped.
“Oh, cry me a fucking river, Christine.” Caroline glowered at me. “I knelt on the carpet in the Oval Office, on the fucking Great Seal of the United States while a fucking madman who claimed to be a leader pointed a fucking pistol at my head, while I waited for my backup to arrive and end his reign of terror but please, do go on about how rotten it is to be you. Grace me with your command performance. I’m happy to grab the world’s tiniest violin to play you offstage.” She held up her hands and pointed to her face. “Want me to lift up my shirt so you can refresh your recollection of what happened to me thanks to that asshole? Shit fucking happens.”
The slash across her abdomen and the scars across her back. Chilling reminders of her time as a political prisoner under the Santos regime. I was still trying to forget what the West Wing and the rest of the White House looked like after Caroline and the California rebels had finished with it. Needless to say, most of it wasn’t worth salvaging. After Jack was shot defending his wife, I wanted nothing to do with the Oval Office. His blood spattered across that Great Seal was too apt a metaphor for everything that had happened. I'd appeared in the Oval for a brief daily rundown from my staff, the occasional photo-op, and little else.
Caroline rarely tossed around such hurtful accusations. Such snide comments. Even if they were dead accurate. “You have someone,” I grated out. “You didn’t lose him in the war.”
“I very well could have. I almost did anyway because I shut everyone out, including him. And yes, you lost Tom, but you had Alex until you pushed him away. And now you’re trying to do the same thing to me. Don’t think I can’t play this game with you, Chrissy. I invented the goddamn rules.”
Oh please. She would dare insult the woman who taught her everything she knew? “You can’t have, because I did it first,” I retorted.
“Oh, really? Did you register that patent?”
“I—” What had she just said? “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Her shoulders started to shake, and I could tell she was doing her best not to collapse into laughter. “Are we really going to argue like this? I know I yelled at you, but I don’t have the heart to keep being mean about it.”
“When you ask irreverent questions you make it damn hard for me to keep going,” I said. “So, I guess not.”
“I made you curse.”
That must have been what had provoked her giggling fit. “Yes,” I said. “I noticed. Congrats on taking the intellectual property humor route.”
“Listen,” she said, after taking a minute to compose herself. “It’s hard for you. It’s hard for all of us. I get it. It was hard when we were congresscritters and it’s harder now that we’re under an even brighter spotlight. It doesn’t matter that we theoretically won the war or whatever the hell it was we fought against Santos. We will never, ever be able to regain that innate trust in people that we had before he took office. Even now when I’m out in public I look at the people around me and wonder, did you turn a blind eye? Did you? Were you willing to overlook atrocities because your bank account was overflowing and your belly full? Did you stand silent while your neighbors disappeared? Did you condone the language of fascism all while claiming you were a believer in the purest, most fundamental tenets of democracy? Would you vote for a candidate of his ilk if given another opportunity?”
I was tempted to interrupt her but Caroline’s self-righteousness was a thing of beauty when performed in real time. Far be it for me to wreck her momentum during one of her moments of glory. So I kept nodding occasionally, and she kept going.
“What are we supposed to think of the people who used to work for us who either fled the country or remained in the bureaucracy?” she asked. “Were they the ones who sold Jack and me out when we were trying to find ways to minimize the damage Santos was doing? Half of our former colleagues are wearing fucking masks and we have no idea who they really are. That’s not even counting all the people we never met and never will. Don’t even get me started on white women. They’ll cut your legs out from under you before you even realize you’ve been attacked.”
“My goodness, Caroline,” I said. “I don’t know what you’re paying your therapist, but clearly you’re not getting your money’s worth if you’re laying all of this on me instead of her.”
“Hush, I’m on a roll. You know how many supremely advantaged fucks woke up every day for the last two or three years and said, ho hum, Santos is president, this is no big deal, let me count my money, and then the day after everything went down they wiped the sleep out of their eyes and said, oh, Christine Sullivan is president now, whatever, and they moved on without missing a goddamn beat. Like not a fucking thing changed. That’s our reality. This country can’t go back to what it was, Chrissy. And neither can we. All those insecurities we held so close prior to Santos taking power are magnified a thousandfold. On top of all the shit Americans faced over the past two years, you and I have to find a way to process all of the unspeakable things that happened not only to us, but to the people we love. And the worst part of all of this is, I’m not the person you should be talking to about any of this. Alex is. With me, you’re just preaching to another member of the choir.”
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled.
“Don’t be sorry. We’ve all apologized too many times for things that were never our fault. The only reason you and I can scream and rail at each other like we do is because we know we’ll let the other person get away with it. Because for whatever peculiar reason, that’s how you and I choose to demonstrate love.” She took my hand. “With that said, I don’t think Alex is one of the untrustworthy people. He has a good heart. He wants to know yours. That man loves you. I don’t know why and I don’t know how because he doesn’t know a tenth of what I know about you, but holy shit, he loves you.”
“That’s just it, though. He knows so little of me. I’m afraid he won’t like what he sees when I give him the whole thing.”
“Commitment is what gets you the whole thing in the first place. You know that. It’s a risk you’re going to have to take if you want to see this through. You don’t have to change who you are. But he deserves to know all of you, not just the parts you choose to show him.”
“I miss who I used to be,” I said softly.
“I miss that person too,” Caroline said. “And Tom. And Jess. And Katie. And Jen. And Ellen. And Bob. And everyone else we lost. I miss the old me, and the old Jack. I miss who Mo and Feef might have been if none of this had happened. And fuck, I can’t list any more people I miss because that’ll force me to schedule an emergency session with that therapist you think so highly of and
I’d much rather spend more time with you.”
If she wanted to deal with my problems instead of her own, I intended to take full advantage. “What do I do about Alex?”
“How bad was the fight?”
Oh yes. That. The reason I’d come seeking sanctuary in the first place. Maybe Caroline had a point about deflection because our little quarrel had provided a most convenient distraction.
Alex. I covered my eyes. Caroline and I had cried in front of each other more times than I could count but I still didn’t particularly like when it happened.
She slid off the desk and sat down next to me, pressing a tissue into my hands. “That bad, huh?”
“Worse.” I didn’t bother holding back the tears. I let them come. Which apparently was an invitation for Spencer to climb out from under the desk and onto my lap. “You, dog, are not helping.”
Caroline laughed softly as Spencer cuddled closer to me and started licking my face. “Oh, Chrissy, she’s trying to give you comfort. Spence is a very emotionally intelligent doggo.”
I was more inclined to think she was trying to ingest the remnants of my remaining mascara, but whatever. “Can she help me fix a giant fuckup?”
“It couldn’t have been—”
“He told me his father thought I was a shrill harpy.”
“Okay.” Caroline pulled another tissue out and handed it to me, patting Spencer on the head for good measure. “That’s pretty harsh.”
“He’s right,” I sniffled. “Don’t you think he’s right?”
“Alex’s father?”
“Or Alex. I don’t know.”
“Alex didn’t say that, though. He was repeating it. Correct?”
Was now a time to get bogged down in semantics? I’d had time to reflect and make it worse on myself, thus I now pretty much assumed that Alex agreed with his father’s assessment of me. “I’m sure that’s what he thought.”
Caroline rocked forward on the couch, thinking. “Let’s not jump to conclusions here. Don’t go making him out to be a terrible human being simply because his father is.”
“Alex did say I’d destroyed him. I didn’t misinterpret that.”
Caroline rested her chin on my shoulder before placing a very firm arm around my shoulder. “Your problem is that there are very distinct ways of interpreting a statement like that, and you’re always going to run toward the definition that paints you in the most negative light.”
I blew my nose. “And the worst part of all of this is, I said horrible things to him, he said horrible things to me, and then I just stood there and let him walk out the door. And now he’s going to go to Barcelona without me and I’ll never see him again.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.”
Sometimes my best friend’s earnestness was just a tad too supercilious. “How am I supposed to stop him? Re-enact some scene from a movie where I run to the airport and stop him just in the nick of time?”
Caroline glanced at her watch. “His flight doesn’t leave for another few days. And he’s got a refundable ticket. I assumed you would just call him and meet to chat.”
Christ, I didn’t even know when his flight left. Some romantic partner I was. “How do you even know?”
She averted her eyes. “He called me last night. Probably right after he finished ripping you a new one. Frankly, I’m a little hurt he called me before you did. Why didn’t you tell me about this before now? It’s been, like, eighteen hours since it happened, right?”
“I was crying my eyes out. It wasn’t pretty.”
That earned me an entire back rub. “Oh, Chrissy.”
The pieces were starting to fall into place. “He called you. And you didn’t tell me.”
“I was working up to it. I wanted to see if you’d come to me before you went to him. I had a timeline set up. And then when you burst in here with guns blazing I figured I’d let you put the puzzle together yourself.”
Trust Caroline to take the situation to MC Escher levels of unnecessary complexity. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. Or at least text. How hard is it to text?”
“Because,” she said. “Maybe it’s time you start to figure these things out on your own, Ms. Closed Off and Aloof. I can’t always be your emotional translator.”
Oh. He’d told her about that. Ouch. “I don’t know how to people.”
“You know perfectly well how to people. You’re just… shy.”
I tried not to laugh. “Caroline, come on.”
“Okay, fine. You’re a giant bitch. But so am I. I just hide it better. Your problem is you’re too honest. You gotta learn how to sling it, Chrissy. Even if you’re faking. You’re terrible at reading cues.”
“You should have told me.”
“Because yelling at you just now wasn’t enough?”
Normally she would have found a way to restrain herself. I couldn’t help but think she’d let her emotions run free on purpose, to force me to go head to head and revelation for revelation with her. “Apparently not.”
“I spent twenty minutes on the phone with him. Twenty minutes! I don’t even talk to you on the phone for that long. You fucking owe me.”
“You’re still not giving me any details.”
“He leaves at the end of the week. Iberia Airlines. Sounds like it might be an exploratory trip as opposed to a firm commitment. Nothing is set in stone because he insists he isn’t going anywhere with things between the two of you left unresolved. He was really mad at himself and didn’t give me specifics but, well…”
I’d done that part for her, I supposed. “He’s mad?”
“At himself,” she said. “Don’t forget that.”
“He’s got to be mad at me too.”
“Justifiably so. But that can be fixed.” She gave me a Cheshire grin. “You can call him before then or camp out at PHL and wait for him. That would be ever so romantic.”
I hoped she wouldn’t swoon for effect. “You make it sound so simple.”
“Of course it’s simple. Why wouldn’t it be simple? Why would you want to make it complicated?”
“Because it is.”
“Analyzing budgets is complicated. The New York Times Sunday Crossword is complicated. Reprogramming a garage remote is complicated. This seems pretty easy to me, as long as you’re willing to be honest with him, and yourself, about any issues the two of you have to iron out. Pick up the phone. Call. Talk. Win.”
She didn’t understand, at all. This wasn’t merely a matter of a clarifying conversation. “Punky, you know it’s more than that. Look at how long it took you to tell Jack about everything that happened to you.”
Caroline got a distant look in her eyes, the one that indicated she was remembering things she wished she could forget. Perhaps bringing up that topic was a mistake. “It’s not quite the same but fair enough. I see your point.”
“Have Marguerite and Sophie ever told you about… that night?”
She hesitated. “Bits and pieces. I get the feeling they’ve shared a lot more with their therapists. I’ve told them that I’m willing to listen but I think they might be afraid they’re burdening me with it. I know you still haven’t told me everything.”
Her children were probably using the same reasoning I was. Caroline had gone through enough. She didn’t need anything else on her plate. “I don’t know if I can tell Alex either.”
“Then tell him what you can. It’s better than nothing, and the rest will come after that. And I promise it will make you feel better.”
“Hard to get much lower than I am now,” I said.
Caroline cleared her throat. “Do you know what I loved most about Tom?”
We were delving into seriously gloomy territory. I plowed ahead anyway. She had told me to start picking up on social cues. I had to trust her to get me where I needed to go without questioning her methods. “His ugly Christmas sweaters?”
She laughed. “Those things were terrible. I wish I’d burned the one he made me wear.”
<
br /> “That was a good Christmas, though. Even under the circumstances.”
She nodded in agreement. “We’ve both been knocked down a bunch. The key is to keep getting up. Which is something Tom would say.”
“Is that what you loved most about him?” I asked.
“No.” She smiled wanly, tearing up a little. “He loved you, Chrissy. God, he loved you. And he loved so easily. The way he stepped in after Nicky died… I was an emotional disaster that year anyway, but I kept seesawing back and forth between gratitude and jealousy because he gave the girls so much of himself without asking anything in return, and he balanced it all with his obligations to you and Jess.”
Our discussion could hardly advance if we both collapsed into hysterical sobs. “Caroline—”
“I’m getting there. I swear this has a point.” She wiped her eyes. “He was such a giving, loving man, but what I loved most about him was that he chose to give that love to you. Because he knew you needed it. And he knew you were worth it. I wish you’d remember that when you get into these funks where you think you’re some horrible person who doesn’t deserve love and loyalty. Because it’s just not true. It’s not.”
I had to blow my nose and take a few deep breaths before I responded to her. “Thank you,” I whispered.
She patted my hand. “You’re welcome. And I love you. Don’t forget that.”
“You think Tom and Alex are a lot alike, don’t you?”
“In a way. They have some similar qualities. They’re both good men. They’re patient, and comfortable giving and receiving affection. But they’re not the same. And that’s good. I could say the same of Nicky and Jack. Your wants and needs might evolve with time but when you strip your psyche down to the bare bones, your most basic desires are going to be the same. You want stability and security. You want a man who’s decent and kind. Which doesn’t sound like a big ask but… it is, because you have to find that something else that binds it all together into more.”
“You should write self-help books,” I said.
Caroline guffawed. “Sweet Jesus, Chrissy. I am the last person to give anyone advice.”
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