by Claire Adams
“I must speak with you at once. Alone, and in my office. Now.”
He took his fingers away from my vein once more. I shook out my arm, feeling the blood pulse into my arm once more. I felt his shadow pass beyond me, toward his office. I turned and followed him, hanging my head like a dog. His feet were so fast, sweeping into the room. I nodded toward the agent on the way in, acknowledging my defeat. I knew, in so many ways, that this was the end of me. I had to be alone with this man. Everything would unravel at once.
Everything would cease.
He closed the door behind us. The sound was oddly muffled. He brought his arm out, gesturing forth to allow me to move into the room further. I was trapped. I sat at the first couch, feeling the cushion breathe beneath me. I folded my hands in my lap. I blinked toward him, and he paced back and forth, his eyebrows folding over his eyes. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he turned toward me. His eyes blinked ravenously. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, and he sighed.
“Listen, Amanda. I owe you an apology.”
I swallowed, knowing that I was about to fall apart. My voice quivered. “I thought this was about business,” I murmured. I looked toward my hands.
He took a step forward. “In a way, this is about business. It’s about you and I getting along in order to produce the best result.”
I continued to look toward my hands.
“But I don’t care about the best result anymore. I don’t,” Xavier whispered, finally falling into a whisper, a voice filled with passion. “I just. I want to tell you that I made a terrible, horrible mistake, as far as we are concerned.”
“There is no ‘we’ Xavier,” I began.
But he talked over me, drowning me out. “When you told me about that slimy snake, Jason, I surely thought that I would kill him. I was in such shock. I felt that—that my career was in jeopardy. Can you understand that?”
I didn’t say anything. I still didn’t look toward him. I maneuvered my fingers through themselves, lacing them up tight.
“I never meant anything I said about you. I didn’t mean anything I said about—about you not being qualified for the position, certainly. You’re very qualified. You’re meant to be here, on your own merits.”
Something inside of me—perhaps a sense of anger—had begun to grow, to flourish in that moment. I frowned, bringing my fingers tighter and tighter together. I wanted him to skip to the business portion of this meeting; I wanted to resort back to what I was meant to be doing. I felt the tears growing hot in the back of my eyes, drizzling to the surface. I had cared about him with my entire being. But he couldn’t just take those words back. My heartbeat began to pilsate in my face, in my hands.
“Amanda. Did you hear me? You’re incredibly qualified, one of the smartest women I’ve ever met.” He swallowed, stupidly. “I was in shock. But the only thing I really want—after several days of not seeing you, after several days of finally realizing the carelessness of my words—is you. All I want is you, Amanda.”
The air hung around us: so dry, so archaic. I wanted to rush out of their immediately. I wanted to fall away from this relationship, to pretend like nothing had ever happened between us. I blinked up at him, suddenly. “Is that all?”
Xavier shrugged his shoulders slowly. His eyes grew sallow, sad. I could see his shoulder bones beneath his suit.
I finally pulled my fingers apart in the midst of the silence. I wiped the new sweat over my fine business dress suit. “All right. I’m prepared to hear the business side of things, now,” I stated. My eyes drew up toward his, and I knew they were dark, filled with judgment.
But his voice quaked, then. He brought his hand before him, pointing toward me. “What do you—“
“The business element of this conversation,” I stated, gesturing. “You said to come in here to speak with you about business. And so I came. Please. Proceed.”
“Did you even hear everything I just said?” Xavier murmured. His eyes were quizzical. I could see a single bead of sweat sweep down his face.
“I did,” I retorted. “And I don’t see how it’s relevant. Please. Proceed.” I nodded emphatically, knowing that my words were ripping through him. I couldn’t care.
Finally, Xavier smacked his hands on his legs. “Fuck, Amanda. I didn’t have anything else. I just—I just said I wanted to see you professionally so that I could see you privately. I wanted to say my piece. Can’t you understand that?”
But I stood, quaking. I glared at him, crossing my arms over my chest. “So. You told me you had something incredibly important—and work-related to talk about—and then you bring me in here to talk about something privately. Something that should be kept out of the confines of this office.” I felt my voice growing hot. “And you still expect me to believe that you honestly hired me just because you thought I was professionally appropriate for the job? You lie about everything, Xavier. You lie about fucking everything, and I can’t hack it anymore. You’re no better than anyone else. You’re a cheater, and you’re a liar. I didn’t earn this position. That much is clear to me, now.” Every word I spoke seemed like an emphatic bite into the air, taking a strand of life from the president’s shoulders. He bent lower and lower.
But I continued. “You’re even worse than Jason,” I growled. “Jason is taking advantage of me, sure. But he’s doing it cruelly, outwardly, with that gross sneer on his face. You, Mr. President. You’re taking advantage of me in very, very different and personal ways. You’re hacking into the very essence of my soul and expecting me to fall all over you, to give you all of myself.” I shook my head. Xavier had opened his mouth, ready to retort, to argue back. But I wouldn’t allow him. “You don’t keep to your word. You’re angry with me; you kick me out of bed; and then you come stumbling back, searching for my body because your wife doesn’t give you what you need.” I sniffed, stomping my heel on the carpet. I started pounding toward the door.
Xavier reached his hand out toward me, trying to grab my arm once more. But I reared back, hissing through clenched teeth. “If you touch me, I’ll scream.”
“But—“
“No. Xavier. No.” I righted myself, feeling the passion and power fueling from Xavier’s eyes. I wanted to toss water on it, to give myself the time to breathe. This was my moment. I tried to imagine my life before me: I tried to comprehend if this political scene was really where I belonged. I shook my head, knowing what I needed to do. I felt my stomach flip over as I began the sentence. “I’ll be leaving the campaign team until further notice.” The words came out in a stream of near-laughter. I almost didn’t believe them, myself.
“What?” Xavier asked, taking another step forward. But I held out my hand, warning him not to come closer.
I reached toward the Oval Office door—the camouflage that snuck out toward you in the wallpaper. I ran my eyes around the room, knowing this would be my last time. I searched Xavier’s face for a moment, as well, finding only pain, only suffering.
As I turned the handle, Xavier spoke once more. His voice was resigned, if hesitant. “Amanda. I urge you to take a few days to think about this before making a final decision.” He tucked his hands in his pocket and looked at me like an old, schoolboy crush. My heart did a flip flop.
But I turned back, not willing to answer. I swallowed and prepared myself for a new life, a new line. I tapped into the hallway, willing only to grab my purse from my desk and scurry from the shell of this terrorizing White House. I heard the Oval Office door slam behind me as I walked quickly, noting that the entire west wing was empty, void of the many milling workers of the usual day-to-day. The office was still cluttered. I found the young campaign girls’ coffee mug shards on the ground. I picked one up and felt my finger begin to bleed. The blood dripped onto my fine business dress suit. The stain spread a bit as I walked quickly, out toward the hall and into the cool night air.
October was coming. I would dismiss myself from the political world. I would find a new line of work. Perhaps I cou
ld find someone to love—someone who loved me the way I was meant to be loved. Perhaps I could find happiness.
I shivered in the taxi on the way home, wishing for this strange feeling to pass. I knew everything took time. And time, in this new, unemployed future, was all I really had.
Chapter 6
Yes. I had time in this new, unemployed future. But I had a friend, as well. I wasn’t alone. I opened the door to Rachel’s apartment and sat, drinking wine at the table and waiting for her to come home. I tapped my fingers against the table’s wood, sensing that the stress from the past few months was falling from my shoulders. I tried my hardest not to feel disappointed, not to feel like my entire world was crashing around me. I tried not to remember that being involved in the political spectrum was all I had ever dreamed of for my entire life. I didn’t have time for such sadness. Not now.
Finally, Rachel burst into the apartment. She took a single look at me, and she brought her hand to her heart. “What’s happened?” she whispered. She looked stricken.
“What do you mean, what’s happened?” I asked her. I shook my head, biting my lip. “Nothing’s happened!”
But Rachel tapped forward and placed her hand on my cheek, wiping at a tear I’d allowed to escape, unnoticed. “Honey.” She shook her head. “I don’t regret getting out of that political world for one second, I can tell you that. Look at what they’re doing to you?”
I wanted to tell her I was out—that I’d moved on, as well. But it felt like such sacred knowledge. And so, instead: “Hey. Would you want to go for a run by the monuments tonight? It’s one of our nicer evenings—one of the last of the year, surely, before winter.” I swallowed, my eyes peering up toward her. “What do you say?”
She raised her eyebrow toward me. “It’s not such a bad idea, is it?” she said, tipping her hip to the right. She checked her watch. “We can get there before the sun falls away for good.” She winked at me.
We rushed into our separate rooms and pulled on our running clothes. I felt the running tights align so well with my taut muscles. I hadn’t been running in several weeks, I knew, but the strain of the past few weeks’ terror had initiated a great boost in my metabolism. I had actually lost weight.
We met in the kitchen, stretching our limbs and easing our arms into the air. I felt my back pop. Rachel wasn’t asking any further questions. It seemed that she understood: I wanted to stay away from the subject, at least for now.
We leaped into a taxi, and the man took us toward the monuments. They seemed to catch fire in the orange from the sunset. I grabbed both my knee caps with my harsh fingers and felt the strain of my bones. I grinned into the sun, closing my eyes.
Naturally, with my eyes closed like this, I could only see Xavier; I could only imagine a life with Xavier. I nearly felt his fingers cup my breasts, play with my nipples. I could nearly feel his smile on me as we walked by each other in the White House, each fueled with the secret of our affair. That life had been so beautiful, so true.
“Hey! Amanda!” Rachel called to me, rattling against my shoulder. We had arrived at the monument park, and I was jostled out of my reverie.
I blinked toward her, finding a smile. “You ready?”
We rustled out into the cold sunset air and began an easy job through the park. I liked the feeling of having a companion beside me, someone to run with. Someone who could hear the rattling of my breath as I moved forward. We were both natural runners; we used to run together when we’d both worked on the campaign for Xavier’s first reign. I remembered that we used to cackle together in the park, two slim, young women (just twenty-five years old!) with our futures looming ahead of us.
We whizzed past the Washington Monument. I stopped, watching as the stark sword shot into the orange sunset. I was breathing heavily. Rachel continued jogging, leaping ahead of me, until she understood that she’d left me behind. Because I’d been left behind so much, lately, it seemed natural—natural to be the one falling behind. I brought my hand in the air and waved ahead, toward her. As if to say: “Jog on.”
But she didn’t. She walked back toward me, her neck bobbing this way, then that, stretching out. She frowned, a small patch of fear appearing in her eyes.
I spoke lightly, efficiently. “I’ve left the White House.” The orange wafted over my cheeks, over my lips. I heard the words echo over the water. “It’s over.”
Rachel nodded primly.
“I just need a bit of time to think about everything that’s happened,” I continued. I didn’t know why I felt I needed to verify myself to the woman before me; I didn’t know why I felt that she was my protector, she was my only savior. “Xavier and Jason—the whole spiel. It was all becoming far too much for me. So I took a step back.”
“I think you made a good choice,” Rachel whispered. She brought her hand to my shoulder and helped me right myself, helped me come out of my lean. Her eyes affirmed: you must stand up straight. You must live strongly. I knew what she meant. She’d ducked out of the political field so long ago, and yet her eyes still spoke of the harsh reality of what that world truly was. She knew the reality, and she knew how to stand in the aftermath, an affirmed woman.
“Thanks for understanding,” I whispered. The park around us was eerily quiet. Everyone in D.C. had given up on summer officially and wafted into their homes for the duration. We’d see them again in April.
“You know you always have a place to stay with me,” Rachel continued. “You don’t have to go back to your apartment ever again, as far as I’m concerned.” She swallowed. “I was ever so lonely without you, before you came. I didn’t have a friend in the world.”
I bowed my chin. “With everything going on at the White House—with everything falling apart in other aspects of my life, I couldn’t be happier to have a friend and a place to feel safe, right now,” I admitted.
The tension between us was great. All too often, we’d been drinking buddies, just girls who got together and gabbed, gossiped, talked about boys and sex and getting ahead in the world. But we were getting older, then. We were discovering the wisdom of the world. We were discovering what kinds of friends we had to be in order to get each other through.
Rachel interrupted the tense silence, finally. She chortled before saying it. “Do you want to go grab a drink somewhere? I know this great wine bar.” She raised her eyebrow. “I think we should celebrate you making these active choices in your life. Don’t you?”
I brought my hand over my stomach, feeling the anxiety dissipate. “God. A drink. Yes.”
We stretched our legs and ran back to the apartment. We showered and changed quickly, feeling the vitality come back into our hearts, our muscles. I wore a slim, black dress, one I knew made my breasts grow so high on my chest. They seemed to glow beneath my chin. My hair coursed down over my shoulders, and my eyes blinked, big and wide. I half-heartedly thought about meeting a man at the bar that evening, but the only person I could think about was Xavier. I imagined meeting him with this look. How he would grab my waist and pull me on top of him, ready to kiss me, to make love to me. I shivered in the bathroom, finally hearing Rachel out in the kitchen.
“Amanda? You almost ready?”
We burst into the bar only twenty minutes later, both of us looking stunning, sensual. The wine bar was quite ritzy, with this suave-looking bartender leaning against the counter, a bowtie tied beneath his chin. “Ladies,” he began in a French accent. “Please. Zee corner table.”
The corner table was already well-lit with candles. The wine menus were draped over the fine wood. I eyed the wines: from France, from Argentina, from Australia, bringing my finger down the long list. I knew that Xavier knew the texture, the feel of each of these wines. But I was a bit lost on my own.
Rachel leaned toward me, a bit of gleam initiated in her eyes. “Argentina. 1977. You game?”
I raised my eyebrow. Aged wine had never been a part of my regime. “Do you remember college, when we’d buy the cheapest wine possible? I
think I bought bottles for three, four dollars.” I laughed, taking a sip of water. The candlelight wafted from the glass.
She nodded, returning a giggle. “We’re high-class broads now.” She turned toward the waiter and pointed at the wine, unable to pronounce it.
“Very good, my lady,” he murmured, bowing his head. “And I suppose you ladies would enjoy a cheese plate, as well?”
I nodded voraciously, my stomach rumbling beneath my dress. “Oh, yes please,” I murmured. Rachel smiled at me across the table.
“You look happier,” she said as the man skirted back, toward the wine cellar.
I shrugged. “Maybe just the endorphins from the run. Maybe just from quitting today. I don’t know!” I allowed my hands to fling back, blasé.
She shook her head. “I can’t believe you finally did it. Are you feeling—relieved in any way?”
I shrugged my shoulders, nodding a bit. “Falling in love was quite an experience. Perhaps it was wonderful, sometimes. But more often than not, it was stressful, far too much to handle while also trying to run the president’s campaign. I don’t know. Maybe I was far too young for the job.” I shrugged my shoulders, blinking up toward the sky.
Suddenly, the server was back, presenting the 1977 wine to us at the table. A different server placed the cheese plate before us, allowing the smell to emanate into our noses. I closed my eyes and nodded to the first server, who twisted the cork from the top and poured the deep red drink into my glass. Rachel and I turned toward each other and clinked our glasses, allowing the noise to flow throughout the near-empty wine bar.
The wine drizzled down our tongues, making our bodies warm and loose. I placed my hand on the table and peered at it, wondering what to say next. All this time, my mind was whirring with thoughts of Xavier, with thoughts of what I was meant to do next.
Rachel cleared her throat. “Listen, Amanda,” I she began.
My eyes darted up, blinking toward her. I was removing myself from my tense thoughts.
“I was thinking about what you’ve said about everything, about your relationship with Xavier. And I just wanted to tell you that I think—I think that his reaction to what you told him about Jason really sucks, of course. It was completely unconventional, and you have every right to be upset. In fact, you know that I would have been upset, as well.”