by Paul Cwalina
“Welcome to Washington,” Cindy chimed in with a smile. “It’s okay. I’ll take you.”
Oh, this is not good. No, no, no...
“That’s okay, Cindy. I’ll figure something out,” I told her. “I don’t want to bother you.”
“Oh, it’s no bother. It will be my pleasure,” she said, walking toward me. “And yours,” she whispered into my ear as she passed.
“I’d take her up on her offer if I were you,” Katie admonished.
Yeah, which offer? This was definitely not good. I feared we would never even make it to the airport. A man can take just so much being in the constant presence of a woman like this. The last thing I needed was alone time with her. Normally, I could rely on the woman to keep my libido in check. This young woman could never play that role. At this point, though, I couldn’t refuse the ride and it would be rude to do so.
I sighed, “Okay, thank you.”
I gathered my stuff together and met her downstairs. I was immediately uncomfortable when I got into her car. Part of me wanted to resist her and the other was trying to justify a later flight. I’m sure there’s a later flight or even a redeye. The cancellation fee wouldn’t be so bad. Everything about her, right down to her scent, was drawing me toward her and I had no idea what was on the other side of her always-open door. Would it be as she promised, just a good time? Or, would it be a sexual harassment trap? Or maybe it would be a messy fatal attraction scenario. All I knew for sure was that I had the career opportunity of a lifetime right in front of me, working for someone who may very well become the leader of the free world, and along with that would come all the benefits—security, money, power—all of the spoils for we the victors to claim. I didn’t want to blow that.
We barely made the turn out of the office parking lot when Cindy started. “So, why isn’t someone like you married?”
“Long story,” I said, hoping to avoid rehashing all of the ugly details. “Something tells me that it wouldn’t matter to you if I were.”
She smiled a devious smile. “No reason it should. It’s just words on paper. Words are a waste.”
“Words are how I earn my living.”
“Writing words for politicians? Is there a bigger waste?”
“So cynical at such a young age?” I asked.
“Nothing to do with cynicism. I’m just about doing and not talking,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’m offering you an incredible night of pleasure and all you can do is come up with a hundred words in your mind as to why you shouldn’t do it.”
“You think I should just be a hedonist?” I asked. “Jails, rehab centers and unemployment lines are filled with hedonists. Graveyards, too.”
“More words,” she said with a shake of her head. “What if I stopped this car right now and hopped into the back seat? What would you do?”
“Remind you of my departure time.”
“Now I know why you aren’t married. You must bore women to death.”
That stung. I immediately thought of Chelsea, and then, strangely enough I thought of Sarah, too. The playful tension between Cindy and me was now giving way to anger. “What happened to you in your childhood? Are your parents divorced?”
“Isn’t everybody’s?” she said coldly. “Why did you ask that?” She paused and then continued in an overacting, dramatic tone, “Oh, I see. You think I’m just this poor, psychologically frail and damaged little girl desperate to replace my absentee father’s affections with meaningless one night stands, right? Are you my knight in shining armor rescuing me from an empty life?” She laughed. “Spare me.”
I turned away from her. “Fine. Sorry I said anything.”
“Oh, don’t get all pouty on me. I’m sorry,” she said and put her hand on my leg. “Let me make it up to you.”
“Don’t you ever stop?” I asked and removed her massaging hand from my leg.
“Don’t you ever start?” she quickly retorted.
“Just pay attention to the road,” I said, exasperated.
“You know that eventually you’re going to give in. Why are you fighting it? Why this whole silly playing-hard-to-get act?”
“Just drive. Just. Please. Drive.”
We arrived at the airport a few minutes later and pulled up to my airline’s terminal. She put her car in park and started to get out of the car. “That’s okay,” I said. “Just pop the trunk and I’ll get my bags. You can stay in the car.”
It was like talking to a wall. She ignored what I had said and got out of the car and started walking toward the back of it.
I pulled my duffel bag from the trunk and slung it over my shoulder. “See you Monday,” I said. “Thank you for the ride.”
Cindy stepped toward me with open arms and wrapped them around me. “Have a good weekend,” she said and pulled me in for a tight hug. I half-heartedly responded with a one-arm hug. As she released, she made a move to kiss me, but I turned my head and her lips landed awkwardly on my cheek.
I felt a great sense of relief as she let go and walked back to her car. It was like a burden being lifted. “You’re going to miss me,” she said over the roof of her car. I’d known some aggressive women in my day, ones who were unafraid to make a first move, but for most it was a temporary thing, almost a singular act to break them out of a cycle of timidity. For Cindy, though, it was different. This was the core of her being and she was in a league of her own.
I checked in, made my way to my gate, and sat waiting for the call to board the plane. My thoughts finally turned toward home. It was the first time since Sunday evening that I thought of Jennifer and the baby. That wasn’t a good sign. I tapped my sport coat to make sure the agreement was in the pocket. I pulled it out and started reading it again when I received a text from Cindy.
‘Anytime, anywhere, any way you want. No strings...and no words ;)’
I shook my head. Unbelievable. I didn’t know how to respond or even if I should. It wasn’t until I was seated on the plane that I finally replied with a simple ‘Have a nice weekend’. I was about to send a text to Jennifer to confirm our meeting the following morning, but the hovering flight attendant demanded I shut off the phone.
The sky was clear the entire way home and the flight was uneventful. I spent most of it going over copies of the speeches that I had written that week. Even though a couple of them had already been delivered, I found myself still correcting and adjusting. I finally put them away during the taxi ride home. As the taxi cruised down the highway and through the streets of the city to my house, I suddenly felt the smallness of the city. I had only been in DC for a week, but it was having an obvious effect on me. I was feeling disappointed. I now saw my city as inconsequential and absent of the power so prevalent in Washington DC. I felt bigger than the city itself. When the taxi dropped me off and I made my way to the front door, I was already longing to be back in DC.
I settled in and sent Jennifer a text telling her that I didn’t have time to find a notary and that the agreement remained unsigned.
‘Do you plan on signing it?’ she replied.
I hesitated and gave it some thought before replying, ‘I guess so.’
‘I wish you would reconsider. This isn’t fair to me or our child.’
I sighed. I had no idea how to respond to that so I waited a few minutes before replying, ‘Give me another week, then.’
‘Fine. I think we should spend some time together.’
‘Dinner?’
‘No. Can you take me shopping tomorrow?’
‘Shopping?!? You’re killing me.’
‘Oh, grow up. It won’t be so bad. :) 10?’
‘Fine.’
I ordered a pizza and settled into my recliner for the night. I flipped through the channels before landing on a hockey game for the evening’s entertainment. I made it half way through the third period before falling asleep.
I must have been tired and worn out from the week and the flight because I slept right through until 7:30 the next morning. I
woke up with a half of a slice of pizza on my chest and a puddle on the floor from falling asleep with a glass of water in my hand.
I grabbed the remote and put on one of the news channels to see if there were any updates on South Carolina. Barely five minutes passed before they were talking about the latest Gallup numbers. Roman now had a two-point lead over his nearest competitor. Two weeks ago he had been in third place and now, for the first time, he was leading all six candidates. I could hear the cautious cheering that was surely happening in DC.
The news got even better. Gallup also released a Florida poll that put Roman in a tie for the lead for the first time. The messaging was working. I couldn’t ask for a better way to wake up. My adrenaline was flowing as I got up from the chair and got ready for the day.
I left a bit early and took a slow drive to Jennifer’s place. I arrived empty-handed and rang the doorbell. When she answered, I told her, “Hi. I tried to bring you something that I know you really want, but I couldn’t figure out the logistics of bringing you my head on a platter.”
She chuckled. “I don’t want your head on a platter. I don’t want gifts, either. I want you and your child wants a father.”
“Duly noted. Are you ready to go?”
“Yes, let me just grab my purse and jacket.”
Jennifer was gaining baby weight quickly. It was noticeable in just the one week since we had seen each other last. Her movements and the way she carried herself were starting to change with the added weight.
It was another clear day and we enjoyed a pleasant, though fairly shallow, conversation during the ride, each of us detailing the events of the past week. I am sure I came across as a touch too ebullient about DC and everything in it when it was my turn. She was kind as she listened to me talk like a little kid about my week, but I was sure deep down she didn’t want to hear anything positive about it.
She told me to go to a certain strip mall as our first stop, so I began to make my way there. My phone was in the console between us and it chimed with an incoming text message. I went to pick it up, but Jennifer batted my hand away. “Get your hand back on the wheel. You shouldn’t be texting and driving. I’ll get it,” she said. She picked up the phone, swiped her thumb across and opened the message. She wasn’t saying anything. I glanced over and noticed her mouth opening wide and her face beginning to tense with anger.
She tossed the phone into my lap. “Answer your own texts,” she said disgusted, and then demanded, “Who is Cindy and why is she asking if you miss her yet?” she asked angrily.
“What?”
“Anytime, anywhere, no strings Cindy. Who is she?”
Oh, no...Why didn’t I erase her text messages? Please shoot me.
“Answer me! Who is she?” she demanded.
“She’s one of the assistants in the office.”
“Assistant what?” she said, her voice getting louder with each breath. “Is that what you’re doing in Washington? Is that why you love it there so much?”
“Calm down. There’s nothing going on.”
“Do you think I’m an idiot? I know enough about you...” she said before I interrupted.
“Hey! I’ve had enough. Now knock it off. There’s nothing going on between Cindy and me,” I said trying to go on offense. “Here,” I said, handing the phone back to her. “Look for yourself. Do you see any responses from me?”
“Pull over. I’m getting out.” she demanded.
“I’m not pulling over and you’re not getting out,” I said sternly. “Just calm down and cut the melodrama.”
Jennifer was seething. “Whatever. You go an entire week without sending me a single text or taking the time to call me...not even once to see how I’m doing or ask about your child, but you have plenty of time for no-strings Cindy.”
I couldn’t believe it. She invades my privacy by looking through my text messages, and I’m about to apologize to her. How do women manage to do this?
I exhaled. “You’re right. I’m sorry. That was incredibly insensitive of me. I should have called you.”
Jennifer turned to look me in the eye. She wanted to stay mad, but I seemed to have cut through that with the apology. I was wholly sincere and it must have shown. “Whatever,” she said, as she sat with folded arms.
“There’s nothing going on between Cindy and me. I promise.”
“Then what’s with the texts?”
“I don’t know what to tell you. She’s...aggressive. I don’t know how else to put it. Honestly, I’ve never met anyone like her, someone who just keeps coming at you,” I said, desperate to end this talk of Cindy.
“How old is she? What does she look like?” Jennifer asked.
“Don’t start that. Please,” I said. “There’s nothing going on so it doesn’t matter.”
“I know what that means. She’s a skinny little bimbo.”
“Drop it. Can we just get past this and enjoy the day?”
“Fine,” she said in that tone a woman uses that lets a man know that everything is far from fine. “We only really have today, right? You’re going back tomorrow afternoon?”
“Yes.”
Her body relaxed and she unfolded her arms. “I’m going to believe you that there’s nothing going on. Let’s just start with a clean slate.”
“Good,” I said, as I pulled into a parking spot.
We went inside her favorite clothing store and she immediately started looking through nearly every stitch of clothing available for sale to the public. As I scrolled though my Facebook and Twitter feeds on my phone, Jennifer went rack to rack. She picked out a handful of items and took them to the fitting room and tried them on. I was blissfully oblivious to my surroundings and was very content to remain nose-down in my smartphone.
After a few minutes, Jennifer emerged from the dressing room and seemed agitated. She slammed the clothing hangers back down on the racks and began looking at the similar clothing on the same rack.
“You didn’t like those?” I asked, feigning interest.
“Wrong size,” she said disgusted. “Why don’t you go somewhere else in the store and entertain yourself.”
“It’s a women’s clothing store. What exactly am I going to do in another part of this store?”
“I don’t know. Wait by the registers, then,” she said in a dejected tone.
“Fine,” I said, exasperated, and then moved toward the front of the store near the checkout area.
For what seemed like an eternity, I stood and waited for Jennifer to be done. She finally made her way towards me and we got in line. When she got to the counter and put her clothes down, I heard someone behind me say my name.
I turned and saw Kelly, one of the campaign volunteers from the mayoral election. She was in her early 20’s, blonde with big brown eyes and a nearly perfect smile. When she got dressed that morning, she set her jeans and sweater in competition with each other as to which could be tighter-fitting and better show off her curves.
“Kelly! Hi, how have you been?” I said.
She put her arms out and hugged me. I returned the hug with one arm around her waist.
“I”m doing well. How about you?”
“I’m just dandy. How’s your dad?”