Dropping Stones / Kingmaker SET

by Paul Cwalina

  I know I don’t have to, but I want to. “If I’m not in their faces, if I’m not in front of them on a daily basis, if I’m not contributing in other ways to the campaign, I may be forgotten when the jobs are handed out after the election...the really good jobs, anyway.”

  “Is that what you’re sacrificing us for, the promise of a job?”

  “Jennifer, please. We’ve been over this. Do I not need to provide for our child? My prospects are limited here.”

  “I don’t want to go through this alone,” she said as she began to choke up with tears. I didn’t know what to say and I don’t think she wanted to hear anything other than me volunteering to leave the campaign. And that simply wasn’t happening.

  I was deflated as we pulled up to the terminal. I started the day excited to get back to DC, but now I was weighed down with Jennifer’s oversized dose of guilt. I got my bag from the backseat. Jennifer remained silent and in place while I got out of the car. Before closing the door, I leaned in, thanked her for the ride and said, “goodbye.” She finally turned toward me. Her mascara formed two thin black lines from her eyes to her jawline. “Please promise you’ll be here for the ultrasound appointment next Saturday.”

  I sighed, “I’ll do my best.”

  “Don’t sign the agreement until after that appointment. Please,” she said with her bottom lip beginning to quiver.

  “I won’t,” I said and closed the door. I checked in, boarded the plane and wondered if the plane could ever leave the ground carrying the weight of my guilt.

  As the Pentagon and the other elements of DC came into view, I felt a lifting in my spirits. There was no baby here. There was no woman here demanding my time and making plans for my life. There was hope here. There was promise here. There was adulation, success, and freedom here. My guilt lifted when the plane landed.

  Greg had decided to take Sunday off and flew home Saturday night and picked me up at the airport. It was good to see him again. He was a comfortable presence for me and we always had good conversations.

  He talked almost the entire way about how things were going on the ground in South Carolina. He was upbeat when talking about the volunteers, their work and results, and was confident Roman could win the state that Tuesday.

  He asked if I had met with the landlord about getting one of the apartments and I told him I didn’t have time but would that week. He also broke the news that Heather was pregnant. It came as a surprise and I congratulated him. I also saw it as an opening to tell him about Jennifer.

  “Well, I really don’t mean to play a game of ‘me, too’ or steal your thunder, but I’m going to be a father, too,” I said. He was far more shocked by that piece of news than I was at his.

  “What?” he exclaimed. “Who? How?”

  “Well, now that I think of it, it’s kind of your fault,” I said.

  “This ought to be good. How so?” he asked curiously.

  “It was the night of your bachelor party. If we weren’t at the Good Knight, I wouldn’t have met Jennifer.”

  “You’re kidding. Who is she?”

  “Works at Omega Bank & Trust. Actually a vice president...has a master’s degree. Very smart, very tough, though.”

  “I know you so I‘m sure I don’t have to ask about her looks.”

  I smiled. “Smokin’,” I said.

  “Can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this. Is she moving here with you?”

  “No chance,” I said quickly. “I’m not even sure we’re going to be together. Remember that document I was looking at last week? It’s an agreement to give up all rights to the kid.”

  “Did you sign it?”

  “Not yet. Needs a notary and I promised Jennifer I wouldn’t sign it until next weekend.”

  “Why do you think she wants you to wait?”

  “No idea. I can’t figure this woman out,” I said and turned to look out the window, before quickly turning back to Greg and continuing. “Get this. She fully expects us to get married...before the kid is born,” I said with emphasis.

  “Really? Wow. So, when’s the wedding?” he joked.

  “Not funny.”

  “Maybe you can get Roman to be the best man.”

  “Still not funny.”

  “Maybe you’ll meet somebody at the bachelor party.”

  “Looking to make Heather a widow and your kid fatherless?”

  Greg laughed. “Okay, I’m done,” he said as he pulled up to the hotel’s entrance. “Staff meeting at 8. It will probably be intense. Heather will pick you up around 7:30. I’m heading back to South Carolina at six in the morning.”

  I checked in, went to my room, and unpacked. I hadn’t eaten since the late breakfast with Jen, so I looked through the room service menu and settled on a simple cheeseburger with steak fries. While I waited, I searched the television guide and turned to a Capitals hockey game.

  I dug my laptop out of its bag, plugged it in, and fired it up. As soon as I was online I went straight for the news and political sites for any and all information on the South Carolina and Florida races. Nothing really new, just some added speculation about two of the minor candidates possibly dropping out after South Carolina if they couldn’t finish higher than fifth place, but it was just that, speculation until the results came in on Tuesday. I was anticipating the final poll numbers sometime tomorrow morning. If Roman still had at least a two point advantage, we would all feel like we had the momentum heading into Tuesday.

  I checked the campaign’s Facebook and Twitter feeds for anything out of the ordinary, but the same supporters and same trolls continued to yell at each other on the pages from their laptops and smartphones. As I continued to search, I received a text from Cindy.

  ‘Back in town?’ she asked with a winking emoji.

  Unbelievable. She’s like white on rice. I put the phone down without answering. She then sent a simple question mark in the next text.

  A minute or two later, she sent another. ‘Are you staying at the Marriott again?’ That freaked me out because there was no way she could know that.

  I text back, ‘How do you know I’m at the Marriott?!?!?!?!?’

  ‘I didn’t. You just told me. ;)’

  That little... ‘Not funny’

  ‘Oh, lighten up. Let’s go out. You can’t sit in your room all night.’

  ‘No. I just ordered room service. Tired from flight. See you tomorrow.’

  ‘What did you order?’

  ‘A cheeseburger. Happy? Good night.’

  She didn’t reply. She stopped texting altogether, which I found odd. It seemed like she was going to be relentless the entire night, but she simply stopped cold. I went back to my laptop and went to the campaign website to view some of Rick’s speeches and take notes. It had been nearly half an hour since I placed my order and I was getting impatient. I picked up the phone to call, but before I could press the room service speed dial button, there was a knock at the door.

  “Room service,” a woman’s voice said.

  About time. I opened the door and there was Cindy in a robe holding a room service tray. The shock of the sight of her being there paralyzed me and she came right through the open door.

  “Hi,” she said with a big smile. “Your cheeseburger, sir.”

  “What is wrong with you? What are you doing here?”

  “Nothing. I’m at your service.”

  “Cindy, you are going way over the line here. This has to stop.”

  “Oh, will you relax already? I’m just having fun.”

  “How did you get my food order?”

  She laughed. “I know the kitchen staff here. I know everyone in this town.”

  “Cindy, this is not funny. You need to leave.”

  “How did you get to be so uptight? Too many words, I bet,” she said, still smiling and not moving.

  My cell phone rang. I pulled it from my pocket to check the caller ID. It was Jennifer, so I wasn’t going to answer, but Cindy tried to grab the phone and when
I tightened my grip on it I pressed the answer button.

  “Hello?” Jennifer said. I put my finger to my lips and motioned to Cindy to be quiet.

  “Hey, how are you?’ I said.

  Then Cindy said loudly, “Hi whoever you are!” I was furious and I’m sure my face and body language conveyed that to Cindy.

  “Who was that?” Jennifer demanded.

  I hesitated and before I could respond, Cindy shouted, “My name’s Cindy, whoever you are!” Then she laughed. Jennifer hung up.

  “That’s it,” I said. I walked angrily to the desk phone, dialed the front desk and asked for security. When the gentleman answered, I turned and Cindy was gone. I told him to hang on and I walked toward the door and checked the bathroom and closet. She was nowhere in sight. I came back to the phone and said, “I’m sorry. Never mind.”

  I pulled my cell phone from my pocket again and called Jennifer. It rang four times and went to voice mail. I tried again, with the same result. On the third try, it simply went straight to voice mail. Jennifer was ignoring my calls. I tried ten more times throughout the night, but Jennifer never answered.

  I was furious, tense and restless the entire night. At one o’clock in the morning, I received another text from Cindy.

  ‘Give in already. You can’t win.’

  Chapter Nine

  I woke groggy from the poor night’s sleep. The first thing I did was check my phone to confirm that I, indeed, received a text from Cindy around one o’clock in the morning or if I was just dreaming. There was a text and it was no dream, but it had the potential to become a nightmare.

  A quick shower and the adrenaline flow switched on by the thought of the next day’s election in South Carolina were enough to sweep the cobwebs from my head. I sipped coffee from a paper cup as I waited in front of the hotel for Heather to pick me up. I slung my laptop case over my shoulder and tried calling Jennifer again, but just as the night before the call went straight to voice mail. She was still ignoring my calls. My day was starting with a tension stirred up by Cindy’s out-of-control behavior.

  Heather pulled up a couple minutes late. We hadn’t seen each other since her and Greg’s wedding, so it was good not only to see a familiar face but to see her after so long. We exchanged warm greetings and did the usual small talk to catch up.

  “So, congratulations there, mommy. Greg told me the good news last night,” I said.

  “Thank you. I’m still in shock a little bit,” she said through a wide smile.

  “You’re both pretty excited. Greg was certainly proud.”

  “I just can’t believe it happened so fast for us.”

  “Well, I don’t know if you keep up with the medical journals, but they know what causes pregnancy now,” I joked.

  She laughed. “Maybe you should be reading those journals, daddy.”

  I chuckled. “Very funny.”

  “Congratulations. How are you feeling about it?”

  I exhaled hard and ran my hand through my hair. “Honestly, I have no idea. You go through the last year of my life and all the changes and problems and I have no idea where my head is. The only clarity I have is here in DC and in the work I’m doing.”

  “Yeah, Greg went through a tough period, too, but obviously nothing close to what happened to you.”

  I thought about what she said and it struck me that hers was another life that I had poisoned with my self-centered behavior. “Heather, I...um...I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am that I messed things up for Greg...and well...you, too. Please forgive me.”

  She turned and offered a sad smile. “Oh, sweetie, it’s okay. You went through a lot and Greg and I landed on our feet. He’s about as happy as a man could be. It worked out.”

  “Thanks. I’m glad it did. Hang on to each other. You have something special.”

  We were silent for a while as the traffic built around us. She broke it by saying, “Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight? I hate all these nights of eating alone while Greg is away.”

  Normally, I would have politely passed, but it was good to be around her and I needed a familiar face here. Besides, sitting in the hotel room was already getting old. “I think I will. Sounds great, actually. Thanks.”

  “Wonderful. What do you like?”

  “Food, any variation.”

  “I’m vegan.”

  “I’ll stop at McDonald’s on the way,” I joked.

  She laughed. “How about a pasta dish?”

  “Is that the compromise you’re offering?”

  “Final offer.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  She dropped me off at the office and agreed to pick me up at four o’clock. The brief time I was with her did wonders for me. The Cindy-induced tension had dissipated and I had a spring in my step. I sprinted up the stairs and into the office where Ed was herding everyone into the conference room.

  “Eight o’clock! What don’t you people understand about eight o’clock?” Ed barked and then drew a long drag on his cigarette.

  I grabbed a seat next to Marcus. “Isn’t this a non-smoking building?” I asked, nodding toward Ed.

  Marcus turned with wide eyes. “Don’t say a word unless you’d like this to be your last day with us.”

  “Duly noted.”

  We were all seated and Ed stood at the end of the table. “Where’s Cindy?” he growled. I looked around the room. There was no sight of her. Katie spoke up and said she’d be here and that she was stuck in traffic.

  “You solve the traffic problem by leaving earlier,” Ed answered unsympathetically.

  I looked again around the room and noticed that the only empty seat was next to me to my right. Please don’t show. Please don’t show. Please don’t... And there she was running toward the conference room.

  She burst through the door. “I’m here. I’m here,” she said as she raced around the table to the chair next to mine. “Hey there, handsome,” she whispered to me. I didn’t respond and just looked around to see if anyone heard what she had whispered. It thankfully went unnoticed.

  Ed held a stack of papers that he divided into two piles and handed one stack to each person on his right and his left. “Take one and pass them down. Weekend poll numbers from South Carolina. We haven’t moved. Still two points up. Media people, any shot at getting more inventory?”

  Valerie looked up, “Not this late, Ed. I’ll call the stations, but I’m sure to get nothing more than a laugh.”

  “Stick to the Columbia and Charleston markets. Pay any price.”

  As Ed continued the meeting, I looked through the data. Roman improved his numbers with women in every age group by two or three points. That’s where the surge is coming from, I thought.

  “I don’t like two points, folks. That’s just a tie. We shouldn’t be this close. Tomorrow, dress casual because you’re all going to be on the phones and you’re not leaving until the polls close,” he said. Then he pointed at me. “You. Focus on Florida. Hang on,“ he said, stressed and rifled through some papers. “Here, write these down. Thursday. Orlando. Chamber of Commerce. Standard economic policy speech. Fifteen minutes tops. Friday. Miami. Foreign policy and international trade. Be careful with any wording regarding Cuba...”