by Magan Vernon
“Kirk, don’t forget, we have lunch with the bridge club ladies and their husbands and then a golf outing this afternoon. Another full day.” She set her napkin on her lap and kept smiling like last night never happened and she was just going to put it behind her.
I was getting sick to my stomach and not just because the smell of the frittata smell was getting to me. This was all too much. Too much political nonsense and too much of people trying to regulate me. This took the term pro-choice to a whole new level.
“Trey, Monica, what are your plans this afternoon? You’re more than welcome to join us,” Mindy said.
Before Trey could respond, I squeezed his knee. “We have to pick up his car, so we’ll probably have Melanie or Valerie come get us.”
Mindy’s smile faded. “You’re going to have one of your friends come here. To our house?”
“Um, yes? Where else would she go,” I asked.
Trey sipped his coffee. “You haven’t looked outside yet, have you?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Um...no...I just woke up a little bit ago.”
Trey nodded toward the door. “Go have a look and see what you think about leaving.”
I wasn’t sure what he was getting at but decided to play along. I stood up slowly and walked through the dining room, down the hallway and toward the formal living room. Slowly, I pulled back the curtains only to gasp when I saw a herd of reporters camped out on the opposite side of the gates.
Closing the curtains I stepped back and turned to see Trey standing behind me with his hands in his pockets. My usually put-together guy looked more disheveled than ever with his hair in disarray as if he had raked his fingers through it a million times, dark circles cast under his eyes and he hadn’t even bothered changing out of his pajamas. This wasn’t the Trey I was used to.
I shook my head slowly. “What are we supposed to do?”
“About the reporters or everything else?” He stepped closer, putting his arms out until I walked to him and he embraced me in a hug. He smelled like laundry detergent and his cologne. And home. All the things that made me feel safe and not like there wasn’t a bunch of reporters outside waiting to pounce on us.
“Everything.” I breathed in, taking in his scent and then slowly let it out.
“Me too, Mon. I wish there was some magic word I could say or do something that would make it all better.”
“Trey, Monica.” A voice knocked me out of my moment. Trey let go of me and we turned toward the hall where the voice came from. His dad and the campaign manager were standing in the hall way. If I didn’t know better I would think Michael slept there.
“Hello, Michael,” Trey said, but there was an edge to his voice. He may not have stood up to the guy last night but the way Trey took my hand and squeezed it told me he was on edge. Ready to pounce and protect me at any moment.
“Your father called this morning and told me about the situation outside. We’ve released a statement to the press but we wanted to go over a few things with the two of you this morning. If you’re up for it,” Michael said, adjusting his sleeves.
Trey looked at me, one eyebrow raised. I expected him to answer for both of us but instead he left the ball in my court.
“Yeah. Yeah I guess we could do that,” I said with a sigh.
“Great.” Michael nodded and ushered us toward the living room.
I followed tentatively. It was like I was walking into a trap. I didn’t want to be the mouse who went after the cheese even though she knew it would kill her, but I seemed to be a sucker for punishment.
Michael and Kirk sat down in two of the leather chairs and Trey and I sat in the couch opposite them. I tried to sit as straight as possible and act like I had all the courage in the world. But I didn’t. Truth be told I felt like a scared little girl that was being reprimanded for something she couldn’t even control. I was about to be a mother. A wife. All of those things and yet sometimes I still lacked a backbone.
Michael steepled his fingers and leaned forward. “Last night we talked about our plans and after the press release this morning we thought we might be in the clear, but we also knew that with this new age of the millenials that it might not be the case.” He paused, tapping each one of his fingers together. “Everyone is tweeting, facebooking, instagramming, and whatever else they can get their hands on in the digital age. One photographer snaps a picture and soon it’s all over the web. Which is why we have to be extra careful.”
“And by extra careful you mean...?” I asked. “Are we going into hiding or something?”
Michael shook his head, a small smile on his face even though I knew the situation wasn’t funny. “No, there will be no hiding, but we would prefer if you two would lay low for awhile. No talking to any media outlet and try to keep your outings to a minimum. If anyone contacts you, just direct them to us.”
“Wait, you want me to not go out anymore? Like I have to stay in my house forever? That really is like hiding.” I raised my eyebrows.
Kirk shook his head, leaning forward in the chair. “We don’t mean it that way, Monica. You can still go to work and see your friends, we just think it would be wise if you’re mindful of where you are. Remember that you two have become an extension of us and the campaign and now the world is watching to see what the two of you will be doing.” He sighed. “I never wanted to bring the two of you into this campaign. I didn’t even want Trey to take the job out of the Chicago office. But I knew his passion for politics and what’s right would outweigh everything else. I also know both of you are strong in your convictions and that you both will always try to do what is best for you and everyone else around you. I didn’t want you in the middle of this mess, but now that you both are, I know that I can trust both of you to clean it up.”
Clean up our mess? Was that all our child was? A mess and some political scandal? I was furious. I balled my hands into fists and opened my mouth to say something, but Trey stopped me, putting his hand on mine and squeezing it.
“That sounds great, Dad. We’ll do what we have to do.”
I turned to him, narrowing my eyes. What the hell was he saying?
“Great, son. I knew I could count on you. I’ll call a car to take you two back home.” Kirk smiled and I wanted to protest but Trey squeezed my hand again in warning and I looked down at the ground. He’d better have a good reason for what he was doing.
Chapter 13
Trey
The ride back to our place was completely silent. The driver didn’t want to talk to us and Monica had been giving me evil glares all morning. I didn’t want to fight with her or anyone. I also didn’t have a plan. At all. I’d agreed with my dad so we could hopefully move forward. I wouldn’t say that I thought his plan was foolproof; I just wanted to get out of his house and away from the political agendas and have some realness.
Once we got through the front door to our apartment¸ though, all bets were off.
“What the hell, Trey?” Monica spun around, barely even getting me a chance to take my coat off. “What was all of that with your dad? You just agreed with him without giving me a say? What about my feelings? Our child’s? You said it would be all of us, but you’re making decisions for you!” She poked my chest.
Monica had been extra hormonal, especially going into her second trimester, but I wouldn’t tell her that for fear she’d go even crazier.
“Mon...” I said tentatively, taking her hand off of my chest and squeezing it lightly. “I said what I had to do to get us out of there. You know how important all of this is to my dad, my family, and right now they’re just trying to scramble to get things in order. I don’t want to mess things up even further.”
“What about our family? Our lives? This is more than just your dad and his campaign, in case you forgot about that.”
I sighed. “I know, Mon. I know. It’s just...” I shook my head, let go of her hand, and took a few steps over to the couch before plopping down. It was as if I’d been walking for days witho
ut any direction or focus and finally getting to relax. Even though I knew that was far from the truth.
She exhaled a deep breath and sat down next to me. I put my arm around her and pulled her close as she laid her head on my chest. “I’m sorry. I truly am. Sometimes I think I have everything under control and that the pieces will fall together, but everything lately just feels like I have no control over it,” I said, running my fingers down the length of her arm.
“You know we’re never going to have control again. We’re going to be parents and this child has already started to take over our life even when she’s barely a fetus.”
I smiled, not just because it was a funny statement, but because it was true. My world had been turned upside down ever since Monica walked into my office with those pregnancy tests and I knew it would never be the same again.
“So what do we do now?” She asked, looking up at me with her eyes wide.
I shrugged. “I’m not the one with all the answers. I’m not going to try and pretend that I am. Whatever happens now happens and we’ll have to see where we fit in.”
She sighed. “I’m too tired to argue any of that or argue at all. I’m also hungry since I didn’t eat anything at your parents.”
I laughed. “Okay, what actually sounds good to you?”
“Bacon. Lots of bacon.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Isn’t it a little early for cravings?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t read any of the baby books or anything. I just know that everything else makes me sick but bacon sounds amazing.”
I shook my head. “I don’t understand any of it, but if bacon is what you want then let’s get some bacon...and maybe some pregnancy books.”
***
I was ready for the backlash at work on Monday. Ready for the stares and the piling of questions.
But I received none of that.
Everyone was on the phone or on their computers and too busy to even acknowledge my presence. I actually sighed with relief as I shut the door to my office behind me. Usually I liked being someone that people could talk to. I liked being in the spotlight. But not now. Now I just wanted to hide, for once. I didn’t want to be the governor’s son with the pregnant fiancée. I just wanted to be me.
A knock came at the door behind me and I jumped, quickly clearing my throat and running my fingers through my hair before I opened the door. The blonde intern, Chastity, was standing there, her red dress was way too low cut for the office and her hair cascaded around her shoulders as if she was going to a beauty pageant instead of work. She batted her way-too-made up eyes at me. “Trey, did you have a minute?”
“Um, yeah, sure.” I nodded and extended an arm out for her to come in. I shut the door behind her and expected her to go on another little tirade about social media, but that’s not what I got.
As soon as I turned toward her she grabbed my tie, pulling me against her. Her face was barely an inch from mine and my senses were overwhelmed with the smell of her way too flowery perfume and hair products that made me want to gag.
“Trey,” she said in a breathy voice.
I put my hands up, pushing back on her shoulders lightly. “Miss Chastity this is highly inappropriate for the workplace and you know I’m engaged. Even if I wasn’t, it’s still inappropriate.”
She pouted her red-painted lips and took another step forward. “I know. Your pregnant fiancée. I assume you can’t be getting any, so what’s the harm? All the great politicians had mistresses.” She ran her hand down the front of my shirt, stopping right where it was tucked into my dress pants. “And you, sir, are going to be the best.”
Before I could say anything to protest further, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I quickly pulled it out and looked down to see that it was my dad’s number.
“Pardon me, Miss Chastity, I have a business call to tend to.” I stepped back and opened the door.
She stared at me open-mouthed but I just kept my focus on my phone, sliding it up to my ear. “Hello, Dad.”
She didn’t say anything, just threw her hair over her shoulder and stomped out of the office. Thank God.
“Trey. We have a problem.”
I swallowed hard. Shit. What happened now? “Yes?”
“Tripp is back in rehab.”
My breath caught in my throat. The brother I’d once looked up to seemed to have it out to get in as much trouble as possible the last year between getting fired from his job, DUIs, and now another stint in rehab. This was just what we needed with the campaign.
“For what this time?” I asked, trying to keep my voice level.
He sighed. “I don’t know, exactly, but he doesn’t want to talk to anyone but you.”
I raised my eyebrows, even though I knew Dad couldn’t see it, but I was too shocked to do anything else. “Me? Why me? He’s closer with Trigg than he is me.”
“I don’t know, Trey. He just asked for you. No one else can get through to him. Can you please just do this? For me?”
I licked my lips, thinking I really didn’t have any other choice. “Sure, Dad, I’ll be right there.”
***
The rehab facility was located about an hour outside of the city toward Indiana. It always amazed me how quickly it could go from the skyscraper, bustling metropolis to cornfields within only a few miles.
A long stretch of white fences led down the winding road toward a grassy meadow and a large, white building that looked more antebellum than like a place people went to get clean. I followed the cobblestone path up to a small parking lot where only a few cars were parked. It was a stark contrast to the manicured lawn. The whole place looked innocent. Like a retreat. Someplace to escape. But what did I know about any of that?
I got out of the car and walked in through the front doors. I’d never been there before and didn’t know any sort of protocols. Dark hardwood floors led to a round desk that sat under a large chandelier, giving the ambience of something luxurious even if the woman behind the desk was in a pair of worn-out blue scrubs.
I approached the desk, shoving my hands in my pockets since I wasn’t sure what else to do with them. “Hello, I’m here to see a patient.”
The woman didn’t even smile or look up from her computer. “Patient’s name?”
“William Chapman.”
I rarely ever used my brother’s real name. He had always been “Tripp.” William was my mother’s father’s name and my great-grandfather’s name. So Tripp was the third, “the triple’. My oldest brother was Kirk Patrick the second and went by “Trigg.” And me, I was just Trey. The one who always had to live in his brothers’ shadows.
The woman behind the desk typed a few things on the computer and nodded. “Hold on one moment.” She picked up the phone beside her and dialed a few numbers. “Yes, this is Grace at the front. Yes. I have someone here to see William Chapman.”
She glanced at me quickly before turning away. “No. Definitely not paparazzi. Pretty sure it’s family.”
“Yes, I’m his brother, Trey,” I said, even though she wasn’t asking.
The woman nodded a few times. “Right. Yes. Okay.”
She hung up the phone and smiled at me. “Someone will be right with you.”
It was barely even a minute later when an older man in a dark gray suit and horn rimmed glasses approached the desk. “Hello, you must be William’s brother. I’m Doctor Fallon. I’ve been handling your brother’s care.”
I shook his hand briskly. “Good to meet you, Doctor Fallon.”
He let go of my hand and extended it behind the desk. “Why don’t you follow me?”
I nodded and walked with him down a small corridor. There were rooms on each side of us with people in white scrubs milling around. They glanced at me every time I went past, but I couldn’t look back at them. There was just something about their sluggish movements and the pain in their eyes that I didn’t want to understand. I didn’t want to see it. How did my brother end up in a place like this?
“You’re the only family member that William has requested to see,” Doctor Fallon said, his hands behind his back and his eyes on me as if he was waiting for some sort of a reaction. I didn’t know what kind to give him so I just stayed stone-faced.
“That’s what my father told me.”
I didn’t exactly think the doctor could go to the press about it, with privacy laws and all, but I’d have enough of my dirty laundry aired and wasn’t in the mood for talking.
“When was the last time you spoke to William?” Doctor Fallon raised his eyebrows.
That was a good question. We didn’t talk much. I wasn’t much of a texter to anyone other than Monica and Tripp hated talking on the phone. The last time I actually saw him was at the Republican National Convention.
“Awhile,” I answered.
“I see.” Doctor Fallon nodded. I had no idea what that meant or if he was trying to psychoanalyze the situation, but I wasn’t going to feed into it.
He led me out a set of glass doors to a back patio. A few people were milling around the lawn, all like zombies in their white scrubs. Others sat on small benches, staring into space.
“William?” Doctor Fallon knocked me out of my trance when he approached a man sitting on a white whicker chair with a cigarette in his hand. I could only see the back of his dark head but I’d recognize my brother anywhere.
He took a long drag of his cigarette. “Yeah, doc?”
“Your brother is here for you,” Doctor Fallon said.
Tripp nodded. He didn’t even turn to acknowledge my presence. After a long silence the doctor finally patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll let you two have some time alone. I’ll be back to check on you.”
As soon as the doctor was out of sight I slowly walked forward and took the seat across from Tripp. His greenish-blue eyes focused intently on me as he squinted, taking a long drag of his cigarette. Trigg and I were always clean-cut. No tattoos or piercings. Regular golden boys as Monica called us. But Tripp was different. In the short sleeves of his white scrubs the tattoos on his arms and chest were fully visible, not like during the election when Dad always made him cover them up. His dark, always gelled hair spiked messily around his head as if he just woke up. This wasn’t the put-together Chapman I was used to.