Dissident (9 page)

“I haven’t forgotten.”

He looked her in the eyes. “I wasn’t referring to what you said.”

“I know.”

“I’ve done things I’m not proud of. And I knew all my skeletons would come out once I ran for office. But what I didn’t count on was realizing that I actually regretted some of the decisions I’ve made. Maybe having other people scrutinize your behavior teaches you a little bit about whether or not it’s worthwhile.”

“Or it teaches you that it’s really none of their damn business.”

“That may be true as well. But it’s the way the game is played and we can’t do much about it, can we?”

“We can still try to hold ourselves above the fray.  I hadn’t spent a single moment engaging in negative campaigning until last year. I deeply regret that misstep, too. I hated the way I felt and I don’t ever want to feel that way again. The game isn’t worth it for me.”

“I’d agree with you but my conscience isn’t as fully formed as yours,” Jack said. “I had no problem attacking my opponent and feeling clean as the driven snow the next day. Clearly the Jesuits do a better job of instilling an appropriate amount of humility in their students than the priests at Villanova.”

“Come on, Jack. Now you’re the one not giving yourself enough credit.”

Their sandwiches arrived and they chatted while they ate.

Caroline presented a somewhat disjointed diatribe on American hypocrisy regarding family values, parenthood, and public behavior. This was followed by a long-winded statement on feminism, non-revenue sports, and Title IX. She realized she’d been giving a monologue for a very long time without a response, and that Jack was focusing more on her words than on his food.

“You’ve got the best burger in Capitol Hill half eaten on your plate,” she said. “Did the Title IX thing bore you?”

“Not at all. I’d never thought about it that way before, having played a revenue sport myself in college.” Jack took a bite of his burger to mollify her. “And it’s the best burger according to this particular establishment,” he said. “Go down the street and see what they say about their food.”

“Why would they lie?” Caroline asked with mock bewilderment. “What would they have to gain?”

He took another bite. “You’re very easy to talk to. Sometimes I’d rather listen to what you have to say than eat another run of the mill burger.”

“I don’t think my philosophies on public policy are
that
engaging,” she said. “I assumed you’d stopped talking because you were falling asleep with your eyes open. My theories on the evils of the designated hitter are far more compelling than anything I have to say about the merits and hypocrisies of the feminist movement.”

Jack smiled. “You’re very genuine. I like that. It makes me quite comfortable with you. I’m sure that’s why other people respond to you the way they do. You really are nothing like I thought you would be. I might have made some assumptions about you during the last campaign that weren’t fair.”

“I think we’ve both made up for it now, don’t you agree?”

“Completely. Hey, how’d that slumber party go last week?”

“Having six ten and eleven year olds in your house on a Friday night is quite possibly the worst thing that could ever happen to a single parent. I’m pretty sure some of their behavior violated the Geneva Conventions. Never again.”

“Did Marguerite have fun?”

“She had the time of her life. She had a sugar hangover the next morning. I didn’t know such a thing existed. And I’ve eaten my fair share of sugar. She did mention on Sunday that she and Sophie want to have you back over for dinner more often. They think you cook better than I do.”

“Really? I thought my efforts were pretty lousy.”

“Better than mine. Their daddy was the cook in the family.”

Caroline felt less gloomy than she had anticipated, mentioning her husband in front of Jack. But he paused for a respectful moment anyway.

She cleared her throat. “Do you ever wish that you had kids?”

He got a faraway look in his eyes. “Sometimes. But I think that ship has sailed.”

“Anything is possible. You’re still pretty young.”

“I doubt it. I think I’m too selfish to be a good parent, anyway.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say about yourself.”

“You don’t think I’m selfish?”

“You’re not selfish around me.” Caroline grinned guilelessly. “You
are
paying for my lunch, after all.”

“I was hoping you’d forgotten about that.”

“Nope. I don’t forget the important things, like free meals.”

“I think you’re doing quite an admirable job,” Jack said. “It’s clear that you’re devoted to your daughters, and they adore you. You’re a wonderful little family. I’m sorry you’re still having such a trying time.”

“It’s been better lately. It certainly doesn’t hurt that I’ve got another person in my life to help me laugh a little more.”

Jack feigned shock. “Surely you don’t mean me? Because I’ve noticed you mostly laugh at my expense.”

“That’s why I’m glad you’re around.” Caroline laughed. “Nicky used to say the same thing you just did.”

Jack looked at his watch. “We’ve got about an hour. The snow has stopped. Shall we make our way back to the salt mines?”

“Sure.”

*              *              *              *              *

After lunch they had his driver drop them off near the park in front of the Capitol. They took a short stroll to the reflecting pool even though Caroline was wearing stiletto heels, which were incredibly impractical in the snow. But the groundskeepers did a good job shoveling and the salt kept the sidewalks from turning into much more than wet pavement.

Caroline was captivated by the layer of white covering the grass, the benches, and the trees. It made everything pure and clean. She knew that it would soon turn gray and slushy but she didn’t care. There was no one else around, not even staffers or other members of Congress; most of them were quite happy to take the underground tunnels until spring reared its head.

She and Jack meandered along the reflecting pool and pretended to say deep, profound things to one another about how they had been inspired by the dirty water to commit themselves to a better life, before deciding to walk through the park back to their offices.

On a whim, Caroline grabbed a handful of snow off a park bench and made a tight snowball.  Jack hadn’t noticed her stop, and he was more than a few feet ahead of her. She whizzed the snowball at him, hitting him square in the back.

“Hey!” He sounded angry, but when he turned around he was smiling. “What was that for?”

“Just a reminder that feminists have good aim.”

“Oh really?” He crouched down to grab two large handfuls of snow for himself.

“I bet you throw like a girl,” Caroline taunted.

“I’m going to tell the National Organization for Women you said that.” Jack packed the snow carefully. “They’re gonna revoke your membership.”

“Not a chance,” Caroline said. “I’m too likeable. Charming feminists are a rare breed in Washington.”

“Indeed they are,” Jack said. “But lest you forget, I did play Division I basketball.”

“Basketball players almost never learn how to play baseball properly,” Caroline said. “Too caught up in running suicides and doing dribbling exercises.”

He held up the snowball he’d made with his thumb and forefingers. It was significantly bigger than the one she had thrown at him.

“Wanna try those odds?” Jack asked.

Caroline spread her arms wide. “Go right ahead.”

Jack threw the snowball at her and it grazed her left arm. She was mildly impressed. “Nicely done, Mr. Point Guard.” Then she saw the bemused look on his face. “You weren’t aiming for my arm, were you?”

“Of course I was,” he said.

“You Republicans lie oh so well.”

“Wanna try those odds again?” He grabbed another large pile of snow.

Caroline ran into the snow covered grass despite the fact that she was wearing a skirt suit under her coat. The cold against her almost bare feet shocked her but she kept going. This was kind of fun.

He marched after her with a fresh snowball in his hand and she darted back and forth. “It’s probably a lot harder for you to hit a moving target,” she said.

The act of weaving through the snow in heels caused her breath to speed up. It took much more effort than if she had been wearing boots. Her feet were wet and she knew she’d have to change before she went to the hearing she was scheduled to attend later. Luckily she had a few spare pairs of nylons, shoes, and other clothing items stashed in her office in case of emergencies. Caroline started breathing even faster, realizing she’d lost some of her stamina. She really had to get back to the gym.

“It’s actually a lot easier.” Jack threw the second snowball as hard as he could, clipping her in the shoulder.

The large snowball smashed all over the place. Some of the wetness caught Caroline in the eyes and she instinctively started to wipe it away.

Jack dashed over to her. “Let me do that. Your mascara might run.” He quickly pulled a handkerchief out of his coat pocket and dabbed at the moisture on her cheek. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you quite so close to your face.”

“I might have goaded you into it.” Caroline laughed nervously. “And it’s good to know that I was right. Your aim really isn’t that great after all.”

She was surprised at how gentle his touch was, and resisted a very unexpected urge to seize onto his coat lapels. Jack tenderly wiped the last of the snow off her face, brushed her hair back behind her ear, and put the handkerchief in his pocket.

“Well, then,” he said. “We’d best get back to work, right?”

It was strange, Caroline thought, as they walked in almost complete silence back to Rayburn. She was overanalyzing what happened. She and Jack were just friends. They’d become quite chummy since January and she enjoyed spending time with him. But the way he looked at her after he’d started wiping away the snow….

It was almost as if he was going to kiss her.  But it had been her imagination. Jack didn’t view her in that way. Caroline wrapped her arms around herself and quickened her pace. She didn’t want to admit that there was a part of her, a very small part, that wished he did.

Caroline

April

It was shortly before Easter. Jack had come over for dinner that night and cooked for all of them, including Christine. Chrissy didn’t say much during the meal and muttered something about work as soon as she was finished eating. She still passive-aggressively refused to call Jack anything other than John or Representative McIntyre, a sure sign that she was not pleased to have to spend time with him.

Marguerite and Sophie enjoyed dinner very much, taking several friendly pokes at their mother’s inability to provide them with healthy yet tasty meals. Sophie then insisted that Jack read her a story before bed. She was an incredibly shy child, and Caroline was shocked that she seemed so comfortable with Jack. Marguerite kissed them both goodnight and went upstairs shortly after Sophie went to sleep.

Caroline gave Jack a piece by piece tour of her memorabilia collection. He seemed fascinated by her knowledge of baseball history, although he thought her decorative scheme was a little unique. Nicky had felt the same way. He spent hours trying to figure out why she enjoyed buying jerseys, helmets, gloves, and shoes that had been worn by other men, many of whom happened to be easy on the eyes.

After her tour, which Jack tolerated with surprisingly good humor, they settled onto the couch. Caroline pressed a DVD set into Jack’s hands.

“You have to watch this.
Ken Burns’ Baseball
. It’s incredible. And I bought it straight from PBS so it’s dripping with charitable goodness.”

He held it up by the corner. “Ew. I suppose you expect me to watch this during the hours of free time I have?”

“Make time,” she said firmly.

“I’d much rather spend it with you.”

“We could watch it together, then. I’ve seen it more than a few times.”

“I’d like that.” Jack turned so that he was facing her on the couch. “I hear Murdock is trying to get you to date him.”

“Who told you that?”

“I have sources.”

Jeffrey Murdock, a Democrat from Scranton and the surrounding area, had asked her out after a Homeland Security hearing earlier that week. It was the second time he asked, and the second time she said no. He’d also done it a couple of months after Nicky died, which Caroline found to be disrespectful and in very poor taste. Mostly because he wasn’t all that gentlemanly about it, propositioning her at a Democratic social gathering after more than a few drinks. For the most part, using lewd and inappropriate language to describe her anatomy was not the best way to convince her to go out with anyone.

Caroline thought he was slime and Christine confirmed her beliefs. Not that Representative Sullivan wasn’t biased; there weren’t all that many Democrats in the Pennsylvania delegation to begin with. But he was definitely a slug. Caroline hated the rumors floating around that he was hoping to move up to bigger and better things once he made a name for himself in the House. He certainly didn’t deserve to be rewarded for being such a horrible person. It drove her nuts that he was allowed to sit on one of the most sensitive committees in Congress.

She knew Murdock only asked her out because she was considered to be a rising star, and he’d do anything to get ahead. There was simply something about him she didn’t like. Caroline wasn’t one to speak ill of other members of Congress but if anyone asked her for her honest opinion of him, she had no trouble giving it.

“Is there some sort of Congressional gossip mill I’m not a part of?” she asked Jack.

“There is,” he said. “But that’s not where I heard it.”

“Who told you?”

“There are more than a few staffers on Capitol Hill who shall remain nameless, but who are quite enamored of me.”

“Evidently there are.” Caroline tried not to roll her eyes. “And?”

“And they might be a little jealous of you.”

What a nice little ego boost. “Of me? Really?”

“You monopolize a lot of my time.”

“I’m willing to share you if you need to have, you know, some sexy parties.”

Jack guffawed. “Those women are vultures. And they have very sharp tongues.”

“So you don’t want to have a little roll in the hay with them?”

“Absolutely not,” he said. “But it seems to be what those young ladies want from me.”

Caroline eyed him curiously, then decided it wasn’t worth it to pursue the topic further. “I hear Murdock is considering throwing his hat into the ring for the gubernatorial race next fall. Have you heard anything?”

Jack cleared his throat. “Not a word.”

“He’s a jerk.” Caroline tried not to shudder as she thought of Murdock. Such a creeper. She didn’t know why voters couldn’t see it. “I hope he runs and loses. I wonder who’ll run for the GOP nomination.”

“I have no idea,” he said quietly.

“Well, anyway, he asked me out and I cordially declined. I hope he got the hint. This is the second time I’ve turned him down.”

“Not ready to date yet?”

“No.” Caroline grimaced. “Never ready to date a jackass like that.”

“I’m glad you have no problem seeing the flaws in many of the members of your own party.”

“We’re all flawed, Jack. Some more than others. And Murdock is definitely not my cup of tea. Plus, I never liked dating,” Caroline said.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. The infatuation phase was nice, but I like knowing the person I’m with. I don’t like the mystery. I prefer security.”

“You make yourself sound very boring. And you’re not.”

“In a lot of ways, I am. I prefer a simple life. Maybe that’s why I hate the superficial side of this job.”

“So you’re not one for surprises?”

“No, they’re all right. Even though, oddly enough, I don’t like being the center of attention.”

“I noticed. But what if it was only one person paying attention to you?”

“That would probably be okay.”

“Then why not start dating again?”

“It doesn’t feel right, not yet. Maybe with the right man.”

“Maybe.”

“I do miss sex.” Caroline laughed uneasily. Where had that come from? “I’m sorry, that was rather blunt.”

“I bet there are more than a few men in Washington who could help you address that issue. And none of them are named Jeffrey Murdock.” Jack tried not to smirk.

This time, Caroline did roll her eyes. “Don’t be a douche.”

“I’m serious,” he insisted. “You’re well liked for more than your personality.”

“I’d rather not think about it. Bunch of dirty old men.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say that,” Jack said.

Caroline and Nicky had slept together the night before he died. She’d used her marginal seduction skills to coax him into it. It hadn’t lasted all that long, just run of the mill, routine marital sex.

“People never really think about the last time they’re going to have sex with someone,” she said. “The last time they’re going to kiss them goodbye. The last time they’ll hear the other person’s voice. We take our relationships, our spouses, our partners for granted until one day, poof, it’s over. Maybe we’d all be a little better off if we lived each day as if it might be the last.”

“That would be exhausting,” Jack said. “No one could do that without driving themselves insane.”

“It might be fun to try.”

“That’s because you’re crazy.”

“Probably.”

“But in a good way.”

Caroline grinned. “I guess the point of what I was saying is that yes, I really miss sex. Among the other joys of being in a committed relationship. But also the sex.”

Jack eyed her again, but he no longer looked thoughtful. There was something else there, something she couldn’t put her finger on.

“Do you find other ways to…seek pleasure?” he asked.

Caroline should have been mortified by such an intrusive question. She knew exactly what he was getting at, even though he was trying to be subtle. And she wasn’t embarrassed at all. Even though she was blushing. A little.

“I, um, take care of myself,” she said.

He gave her an obnoxious grin. “That’s all well and good, but it’s always more enjoyable when there’s someone else in the room.”

Her discomfort faded. Jack could be pretty unintentionally cute sometimes. “That’s definitely true. Are you saying I should give those dirty old men a chance?”

“Maybe.” He patted her leg affectionately. “When you’re ready.”

Caroline twirled her engagement ring, her mood changing. She still did that sometimes – go from laughter one minute to pain the next. Especially when she thought about her husband or of the very strong likelihood that she would spend the rest of her life alone.

“I took advantage of my marriage,” she said. “I assumed it would always be there waiting for me. That Nicky would always be there. That everything would stay the same while it continued to change. But I took everything he gave me for granted.  His capability as a father, his constant love and affection, his support. I was with him for so long that I never thought that anything could ruin what we had. I finally arrived at that safe and secure place I always wanted and I forgot how lucky I was to have it. And then it was gone. All of it.”

Jack was watching her solicitously, the grin long since vanished. He reached over and squeezed her hand, and she knew he didn’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry.” Caroline rubbed her hands together. “I didn’t mean to go on like that.”

“I sense you took it for granted less than you think,” he said. “And it’s not all gone. You have two beautiful children, and from what I can tell they are very much like both of their parents.”

“Sometimes I think all I ever do is talk to you about how much I miss Nicholas. How much I miss my old life.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. You’ve had a lot to process over the past year. A friend of mine who’s a psychologist told me once that friendship, love, any sort of relationship is like a diamond. When you’re trying to consider or examine it, you can’t see the entire thing. You can’t view every single angle, every cut, every aspect of it at once. All you have to do is turn it to see a part of it you’d never noticed before. It’s impossible to deal with it all at the same time.”

“You think that’s what I’ve been doing?”

“You are a very giving, loving woman. There is no doubt in my mind that you were deeply in love with your husband. Unless he was a complete idiot he felt the same way about you.”

Caroline cleared her throat. “I did love him, very much. I still do. Nicky was a wonderful man. I wish you could have known him.”

“I do too,” Jack said. “I think I would have liked him, even if he didn’t like me.”

“He would have liked you.”

“I don’t know about that. I’m not sure I’m nearly as reliable and stable as he was.”

“Doesn’t mean you wouldn’t have gotten along. Nicky loved everyone he met with very few exceptions. It was one of the best things about him.” She turned to Jack, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she sniffled. “I don’t mean to get emotional on you.”

He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “There’s no proper timeline for grief, Caroline. When my parents died, it took me a long time to work through it. I still have days where I remember what it was like to try to manage those feelings, and it brings it all back up again. But I still have my brother.” He grinned. “Even if we barely speak.”

“Maybe you should reach out to him,” Caroline suggested. “I always wished I had a sibling. Once your family is gone you can’t get them back.  I handled Nicky’s death so much more poorly than I did when my parents passed away. What upsets me more than anything is how I felt right after it happened. I think back on that and I wish I’d done things differently. I totally abandoned my children while I retreated inside myself for the first couple of days. Thank God for Chrissy and Tom, Jenny and Katie. If my friends hadn’t been around me, I might have completely lost it.”

“You’re too strong to fall apart. I think you know that, even if you can’t admit it out loud.”

Caroline patted Jack’s knee. “I feel like I’ve known you much longer than I have. You’ve done so much for me these last few months. You know that, don’t you?” She laughed. “Oh my God, you’re blushing.”

“I am not.”

“You are. I thought you were far too egotistical for that.”

“Egotistical?” Jack asked, sounding insulted. “Not in the least. I’ve just been spending too much time with you.”

“I see the chink in your armor. Deep down inside you’re a pushover, I know it. You’re not an asshole at all.”

“Douchebag with a heart of gold?”

“Pretty much. I know who you really are. You’re not fooling me.”

“Oh, I’ve convinced a great many people that I’m an asshole. Do your research.”

“I have,” Caroline said. “And I don’t believe a word of it.”

Jack’s mood changed quickly. “Well, you should,” he snapped. “Because almost everything you’ll read about me, how I made my money, how I’ve used people, how I’ve done all the things that have been deemed successes…everything you’ll read is the truth. Every accomplishment I’ve ever had is because I’ve treated people like shit in order to achieve it.”