It's a Miracle!

by H. Claire Taylor

  She made her way straight to the closest bathroom to splash water on her face and reapply some makeup before her endorsement speech.

  After pulling her straight brown hair back with the hair tie she kept around her wrist, she cupped her hands underneath the running faucet and ladled the water onto her face. She hadn’t meant to moan, but she did.

  A flush in one of the stalls snapped her out of her indulgence, and she looked up to see Dr. Fractal appear in the mirror before walking up to the next sink over.

  “Jessica! So nice to see you here again.”

  “Good to be here,” she lied.

  “Are you resuming your internship?”

  Jess shook her head. “No, just here today.”

  The woman narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “Hmm … Is it a coincidence that you’re here the same day they’re building a red, white, and blue stage in the parking lot for Polly Cox?”

  How’d she put that together so quickly? Well, I guess she’s a doctor, so …

  “No coincidence. I’m endorsing her today.”

  Dr. Fractal bit back a smile. “Ah. Okay. I’m sure your support will go a long way.”

  “I really just don’t want to see Jimmy win.”

  Dr. Fractal nodded solemnly. “I get that. No sane person wants to see him win. But, you know, Polly Cox hasn’t been a particularly straightforward or honest politician herself. And is getting involved in politics really the best idea for you? Are you even old enough to vote?”

  Dr. Fractal proceeded to scrub her hands thoroughly.

  “Well, no, but if I could, and I lived in Midland, I would vote for Mayor Cox.”

  The doctor toweled off and then turned to Jessica. “Listen. I’m going to tell you what I told my brother. It’s one thing to go vote your conscience, but it’s another to step forward and publicly endorse a candidate. And trust me, when I vote in March, I’ll be voting for Polly Cox, even if she is involved in some shady stuff, but there’s a difference between giving someone your vote and endorsing them. In the end, a politician is a politician, which means they’re not your friend.”

  Jessica nodded. This sounded awfully similar to what Mr. Foster had told her. “Thanks. But I think I’ll be all right.” Did she appreciate the advice? Sure. But having adults tell her she didn’t know what she was getting into was starting to grate on her.

  Dr. Fractal sighed heavily but smiled. “Yeah, that’s what my brother said too.”

  “Wait. Which brother?”

  “My only brother. Jameson.”

  Jess tried to play it cool. “Oh yeah? Who’d he endorse?”

  “Well, nobody yet, but Polly Cox.” She paused and cocked her head slightly to the side. “Did you not hear that he’s also doing that today?”

  “No …” Jess said slowly, feeling a secret hope build inside her. “Is he doing that up in Vancouver, or …?”

  “No, no. Filming there wrapped last month. Wait, did you not see him outside?”

  “Outside?” she echoed moronically.

  Dr. Fractal nodded. “Yeah, he’s been hanging out in my office all day. He said he was slated to give his endorsement right after yours.”

  She felt her breakfast try to leap free of the confines of her stomach. “He knows who I am?”

  Dr. Fractal laughed. “Ah I see. Another fan. Figures. Yes, Jessica, he knows who you are. Most people in this state do by now. You’re kind of a celebrity.”

  That word. What was it about that word that felt like a punch to the throat? It didn’t even have the qualifier “local” before it.

  Jessica was a celebrity.

  She was a celebrity who was about to meet another celebrity.

  She was a celebrity who was about to meet the sexiest celebrity on the planet.

  “Well,” said Dr. Fractal casually, like she hadn’t just dropped a dirty bomb on Jessica’s emotions, “for what it’s worth, I genuinely wish both of you only the best in your brush with politics. Maybe it’ll—”

  Whatever she said after that was lost to Jessica’s mind, which had officially short circuited. “Yeah, thanks,” she murmured as the doctor left the restroom.

  Jess thought it best to hole up in the bathroom for a little longer, on the off chance that her roiling stomach decide to lose a few pounds of water weight all at once. Why was she so terrified? She repeated the new reality over and over to herself in an attempt to desensitize.

  I’m going to meet Jameson Fractal today.

  The plastic banners, some blue with white stars, some red with white stripes, billowed in the gusty, tepid late-summer wind. Media scurried around to set up, and perhaps because they were promised a good sound bite or ten from her later, they didn’t bother Jessica for the time being.

  She stood with her arms crossed, mind entirely unfocused as Wendy continued to grill her on her speech, which she’d spent the night before obsessively committing to memory so she didn’t botch things as badly as she did the last time she spoke in front of this many cameras.

  Destinee approached and stood between her daughter and the PR specialist. “Hey, baby—sorry to interrupt—I got you a bottle of water.”

  Jess took it from her and gulped it down. How had her mouth gotten so dry? She kept chugging until it occurred to her that she might be overtaken by a sudden urge to pee while she was onstage. She stopped drinking immediately and screwed back on the top. “Thanks.”

  “Start over from the beginning with those note cards,” Wendy suggested. “Three more times, and you’ll be golden.”

  Easy enough. Wendy had written the endorsement speech for Jessica, so it flowed well and in no way implied Jessica was amassing an army of undead. The PR specialist had even spent time coaching Jess over the phone about which words to stress more than others. All she needed now was for the nervousness at meeting Jameson Fractal to stop making her want to projectile vomit on everyone within a five-mile radius.

  Outside of the media, the crowd was mostly composed of people in scrubs, who must’ve either just gotten off their shift for the day or decided to spend their dinner break watching the spectacle. Jessica passed unnoticed behind the audience toward Destinee’s car, where there was AC and more quiet to focus, flipping through her note cards, one after the other, as she walked.

  “Oh shit. Sorry!” she said, looking up at whoever she’d just run into. Her brain had difficulty processing that face in this situation. Out of the context of school, Jessica almost didn’t recognize Mrs. Thomas.

  “Jessica,” she said cheerily. “How are you feeling?”

  “Uh, fine. Why are you—” and then it became obvious. The congressman. “Oh right. Your husband’s introducing me. I guess I forget you’re married sometimes.”

  Mrs. Thomas laughed. “So do I sometimes. Almost never get to see the poor man during election season.”

  “So is that why you’re here?”

  Mrs. Thomas adjusted her purse on her shoulder and nodded. “Mostly. I almost never get to see Jack speak, outside of the occasional sound clip. And when he mentioned he’d be introducing you, I figured I could make the short drive if it meant supporting you both. Two birds, one stone, and all that.”

  Jessica tamped down the mental image of two grackles exploding upon impact with a ricocheting stone. She needed to get a handle on her adrenaline. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

  Mrs. Thomas leaned close, although she really didn’t need to since they were far enough away from the fray that no one could hear their conversation. “You know, I’m proud of you for doing this.”

  “Huh?” Jessica had naturally assumed that Mrs. Thomas wouldn’t support the idea of using her status for political purposes, considering it exploitation, which it was.

  “This!” Mrs. Thomas said, waving around at the staging area. “I’ve always wondered when you would begin to step into the role your Father gave you. I’m glad you finally are.”

  And now Jessica was flat out confused. This didn’t seem to jibe at all with what Mrs. Thomas had sai
d in the past. “Really? I thought … well, it just seems like you’ve always said I shouldn’t limit myself to what God wanted me to do.”

  “Oh, psh.” Mrs. Thomas waved off that idea. “No, I never said anything like that. I’ve always wanted you to stop limiting yourself. And I think that’s what you’re doing here today, pushing the limits you’ve set on yourself.”

  Jessica returned Mrs. Thomas’s pleasant smile. “Oh. Okay. Well, thanks.”

  “I see your mother is here to support you,” Mrs. Thomas added, nodding over at Destinee’s old Nissan, where her mother and Rex were clearly making out in the front seat. “You’re lucky to have such a good mother. I wish my own had been as supportive as she is.”

  “Yeah,” said Jessica, absentmindedly. She’d always assumed Mrs. Thomas didn’t like Destinee, but perhaps her imagination had simply concocted that out of the fact that Destinee wasn’t a huge fan of Mrs. Thomas. It was a relief, though, to know Mrs. Thomas thought favorably of Jessica’s only immediate human family.

  “I’m glad you have so many adults in your life who are willing to support you in this,” Mrs. Thomas added.

  Jess’s mind flashed back to Mr. Foster’s reluctant support, and she hesitated before saying, “Yeah. I guess that’s true.”

  The hesitation didn’t slip by unnoticed. “Is there someone who isn’t?” Her intense stare forced Jessica to meet her eyes, rather than scan the crowd for the thousandth time.

  “Huh? Oh. I mean, Mr. Foster and—”

  “Ah.” Mrs. Thomas nodded gravely. “I see. Yes. Well, you know, Mr. Foster is … well, I probably shouldn’t mention this, but he won’t be returning next year. Not that it matters to you, because you’ll be gone having the time of your life at college.”

  “Where’s he going?”

  Mrs. Thomas shrugged sympathetically. “Not sure.” She sighed. “I understand why he would be opposed to you dipping your toes into politics, considering how poorly he plays the politics at work. I know you like him, and as a person I’m sure he has many redeeming qualities, but”—she leaned closer now—“many in the staff are getting concerned about his sense of entitlement. And just between us, he has a bit of an anger issue.” Mrs. Thomas frowned, her shoulders sagging. “It’s really disappointing. I stuck my neck out to get him that job, and I really thought he would excel at it, but I guess you just never know with some people.”

  “Man, that’s terrible,” said Jess, and she meant it on multiple levels. “Sorry to hear that, Mrs. Thomas. It didn’t … you’re not in trouble because of him, are you?”

  “Oh no, no. Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself. It’s just discouraging when people bite the hand that feeds them.

  “Anyway, I didn’t mean to get into all that drama. All I wanted to say was that you have plenty of adults who support you, even if a few do not.”

  Jessica nodded and tried to smile with her eyes, but her mind was a hurricane. She never would’ve guessed about Mr. Foster, and she wished intensely that she didn’t know. Maybe she could’ve blissfully pretended he was who he seemed to be until she’d left for school. Then it occurred to her what she needed to do.

  Is Mr. Foster the Devil?

  Inconclusive.

  If she’d had to put money on it, she would have gone the other way and assumed he was an angel, but that was apparently how the Devil worked.

  “Um, I better get some more practice in before the speech,” she said, excusing herself.

  Mrs. Thomas nodded, then her eyes lit up as she remembered. “Oh! Did you hear who’s speaking right after you?” She arched a playful brow and Jessica had to laugh.

  “Yes, I did.”

  Mrs. Thomas winked. “Maybe that’s also a reason why I’m here, but shh. Don’t tell the congressman.”

  When Wendy found Jessica where she’d decided to wait in Destinee’s car with the AC blasting, the sun was dangling only a hair above the horizon. “Show time,” Wendy said excitedly, like this wasn’t the most petrified Jessica could remember being in her entire life.

  Why had politics seemed like a good idea? Perhaps Mr. Foster was the Devil, or a demon at least, but both of those things could have wisdom too, couldn’t they? She should have listened to him.

  Jess closed the car door behind her and Wendy grabbed Jessica by the shoulders. “Hey. Look at me. This is fine. You’re prepared. You’re going to do great, and this is going to go a long way toward helping defeat Jimmy Dean in this race.”

  Jessica nodded determinedly, but Wendy wasn’t convinced. “What is it? What’s got you so worked up?”

  She sighed. There was no way she could explain it all to Wendy, so she decided to pick the least confusing point. “You didn’t tell me Jameson Fractal was going to be here.”

  The only tell of Wendy’s poker face was a small twitch at the corner of her mouth. “You’re nervous about meeting Jameson?”

  “I know it’s nothing to you—I mean, you rep him, so you’re used to being around him.”

  Wendy chuckled. “Doesn’t mean I don’t think he’s fine as hell.”

  “Huh?”

  “Jessica. You don’t grow immune to looks like Jameson’s. I get it, trust me. I’m just glad you’re nervous about that and not anything else. If it’s any consolation, I’ve spoken with him, and he’s nervous about meeting you, too.”

  Jessica’s jaw dropped, and she struggled against the pull of gravity to close it again. “Why?”

  “Because you’re God’s only begotten daughter,” Wendy replied flatly. “Just relax. Once you’re done with the endorsement, you just move to the side, and Congressman Thomas will introduce him. He walks on, you shake hands with him, and then, after it’s all done, I’ll officially introduce you two. Unless you want to meet him beforehand. Would that help?”

  “No!” She hadn’t meant to shout. “God no. I’ll just meet him after.”

  Wendy nodded. “Okay, whatever you need.”

  She inhaled deeply, counted to five, and then exhaled. She felt a shade calmer now, or at least she didn’t feel the need to vomit on everything.

  Jameson Fractal wanted to meet her.

  Holy. Shit.

  She struggled to focus as Congressman Thomas started in on her introduction.

  “Today is a momentous day in Texas history. I’m United States Congressman Thomas, and I’ve worked my whole adult life to serve the state I love. When my great grandparents came to Texas over a hundred years ago, they brought with them a dream of building something, giving something back. Well, they died penniless. As did my grandparents. But my father took from that an important lesson, that the American dream is one that has to be lucked into, and after dedicating his life to lucking into things, he finally scrapped together a living as the owner of an oil company. And one day before he passed, he said to me, ‘Jack, there are two things you should know about life …’”

  Jessica leaned over to Wendy. “So is he not the one who’s supposed to introduce me, or …?”

  “Yeah, he’s the one. This is how politicians introduce other people.”

  “By introducing themselves?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And now,” continued Congressman Thomas, “a young lady who needs no introduction. Out of Mooretown, Texas, football sensation and widely proclaimed daughter of God, Jessica McCloud.”

  The audience applauded. It was a much nicer sound than booing.

  Wendy shoved her forward, and she climbed the four stairs up onto the stage, remembering the advice Wendy had given her.

  Smile, wave, smile, wave.

  She paused at the podium, pulled the note cards from her pocket, and sighed deeply before glancing at the first bullet point to refresh her memory. Then she leaned toward the mic and glanced out into the crowd. Her eyes landed on Mrs. Thomas, who gave her a reassuring smile and two thumbs up.

  Maybe I can do this.

  “Thank you for coming here today. People told me not to get involved in politics. After all, separatio
n of church”—she motioned to herself—“and state.” She grinned and the audience knew it was okay to laugh. Her mind went blank. She glanced down at the cards again, found the direction grin and then picked it up from there. “But that’s actually why I’m here. Because a separation of church and state is necessary for freedom. You should always vote your conscience, what you believe to be right or wrong, but to blur the lines by putting a religious zealot into a position of political power is a completely different animal.” She tried not to think about a two-headed giraffe, a mental tic that had developed the night before and only gained steam each time she spoke that line. “Make no mistake. If the Reverend Jimmy Dean is elected as mayor of Midland, he will govern on nothing but his religious beliefs, and that will serve the people of White Light Church and White Light Church alone. Don’t take communion from a trough? Then Jimmy Dean doesn’t care about your freedom.

  “But you know who does care about your freedom? Mayor Polly Cox. She understands that America is a land of religious freedom, and holds strong Christian faith herself. But while she might have religious figures of the community who support her, once she’s reelected, all of her decisions will be made based upon the constitution of the United States as well as the more relevant one of the Lone Star State. And that’s a government for everyone, no matter how you take your communion on Sunday.” Jess gritted her teeth and forced a smile. The line had been one she’d debated with Wendy more than once, insisting that some voters might not take communion at all, but in the end, Wendy had the winning argument: the candidate with the most Christian votes won. Period. This was Midland, after all, not New York City or San Francisco.

  “And that’s why I’m here today to officially endorse Mayor Polly Cox. And by securing my endorsement, she’s also receiving the seal of approval from someone much, much wiser than all of us put together.” This was also a line Jessica had argued the validity of with Wendy. “Thank you and I hope that you make the right choice for Midland this March when you reelect Polly Cox as Midland’s mayor.”