The Hopefuls (19 page)

Patrick smiled at me as he came out of Bacon, happy that Rebecca had company, I think. “Everything's unpacked,” he said to her. “The air mattress is all set up for Jonah. Hopefully he'll be okay with it.”

“Hopefully,” Rebecca said. “Otherwise, he'll end up in bed with us.”

“Which would be just like home then,” Patrick said to me, but he had a laugh in his voice. He turned back to Rebecca. “Do you need me to do anything else? I was going to go join the guys on the dock, but if you need anything…”

“No, I think we're all set,” Rebecca said, although you could tell that she wished she had a reason to keep him there.

I didn't blame Rebecca for disliking Babs or not wanting to spend time with the Kellys—it certainly wasn't my favorite thing to do. But then I'd look around at this beautiful vacation house and think, Oh, poor you. Suck it up. Being around Rebecca was a reminder of just how miserable you could make yourself, and I decided then that I would have a good time that week—there is nothing like being around a negative person to make you determined to be positive.

Jenny and Nellie came out of the house then, both wearing Lululemon cropped pants, tank tops, and sneakers. “You made it,” Jenny said, leaning down to hug me. “Do you want to come for a walk with us? We're going to power-walk every day. Burn some calories.” As she said this, she slapped her right thigh, which was thin and muscular and didn't move.

“I think I'll skip today,” I said. “Our bags are still in the car.”

“Is Matt already out there with the other boys?” Nellie asked. She shaded her eyes and squinted out at the dock. “God, they act like teenagers here, don't they?” But her voice was full of affection, and I knew she was glad that Will was having fun, even if it meant he'd be drunk by dinner and she'd have to deal with the kids alone.

“Rebecca, what about you? Are you up for a walk?”

“I think I'll sit this one out,” she said.

“Good God, is Meg still lying by the pool?” Nellie asked. “She must have gotten wasted last night. As soon as we picked her up, she asked if we could stop at McDonald's, and then she shoved an Egg McMuffin in her face and fell asleep immediately. She reeked of booze. Conor and Lily spent the whole ride putting stickers on her while she slept. They ran out of stickers before she even moved at all.” But just like when she talked about Will getting drunk, there was amusement in her voice. All of the Kellys got a kick out of it when someone drank too much. My parents would have been horrified, but even Babs laughed at the story of a drunk Will throwing up on the country club golf course as a teenager.

They walked toward the dock, and Jenny yelled, “We're going for a walk. Are you watching your children?” Michael gave her a thumbs-up and Will held up his beer in response.

It always surprised me how relaxed the Kellys were about their kids on vacation. (Minus Rebecca and Patrick, of course.) The children were allowed to run wild, playing in the woods and swimming as long as an adult was “present,” which meant anywhere on the property. And I couldn't believe they were going to let the kids sleep in Eggs by themselves. Weren't they scared that some child predator would come and steal them? Apparently, the Kellys weren't as paranoid as I was.

After Jennie and Nellie left, Rebecca and I chatted about Jonah's school, and she told me about a boy in the class who had been a biter at age three and this year pulled down his pants at least once a week and chased kids around asking them if they wanted a hot dog. “Can you imagine?” she asked. I laughed, which wasn't the response she was looking for. “I think he must have been abused,” she said.

“Maybe,” I said. “But some little kids are just really weird.”

Rebecca gave a low grunt, which was her way of telling me she didn't agree, and then she called out across the grass to where the boys were playing. “Bobby? It's just about time for Jonah to eat.” Of course, I thought. When is it not time for Jonah to eat?

Bobby nodded and bent down to pick up Jonah, which was unnecessary and also a little bit of a struggle since Jonah was six and almost too big to be carried by someone Bobby's size. He waddled over to us and set Jonah down.

“Do you want me to get him a snack, Aunt Rebecca?”

“No, that's okay. We have everything in the cottage.”

Jonah didn't seem hungry, but this was apparently a mandatory snack time. And it looked like he was used to being interrupted and forced to eat, because he followed behind Rebecca without protesting.

“He's so lucky to have you as a big cousin,” I said to Bobby.

“I'm so lucky to have him as a little cousin,” he said. His mannerisms and eagerness had an Eddie Haskell vibe to them, and when he talked to Jonah, he did so in a singsong voice that he'd no doubt heard other adults use when talking to little kids. I figured he must be trying to prove that he wasn't little anymore, that he was a grown-up.

Bobby ran off to join the other boys in the woods, and he left so quickly that I suspected he must have really wanted to be with them all along. I stayed on the porch, enjoying the peace and quiet, until Babs and Charles came back with groceries. I walked over to their car to help them carry the bags in. Babs gave me an air kiss and said, “You two finally made it. We thought we'd have to send a search party out for you.” And with that, vacation with the Kellys officially started.

I spent the week reading, keeping score during volleyball games, and playing with my nieces and nephews. During a game of Cornhole, I slipped on the grass and banged my elbow, and when I said to Matt, “I figured I'd be safe throwing a beanbag at a hole,” he laughed so hard he cried.

At least with more people around, Matt had a bigger audience to discuss his future plans. Babs would (and did) listen to him talk for hours. I wouldn't say that I ignored him, but I did spend a lot of time with the little ones, relieved that none of them wanted to talk about career paths with me.

One morning, while I French-braided Lily's hair (Grace was waiting patiently next to me for her turn), Rebecca set up a station for all the kids to paint rocks. She had googly eyes, pom-poms, and some other accessories that they could glue on, and the girls were wiggly with excitement. Jonah looked less thrilled, and gazed longingly at the older boys playing Marco Polo in the pool.

Rebecca's entire childcare regiment looked like it deserved its own Pinterest board. She had individual containers for Jonah's snacks that he could carry around, kits of rainy day activities, outdoor art projects, scavenger hunts. Anytime she brought out one of her creations, I could feel Jenny and Nellie exchanging a look. Those two liked to act like they were too overwhelmed and busy to pay attention to what their kids were doing, let alone have time to put together crafts. They were constantly congratulating themselves on having three kids by saying, “Once they outnumber you, anything can happen.” They posted pictures of their kids with paint on their faces, with the caption “Mother of the Year.” They thought Rebecca was fussy, that she tried too hard. It wasn't difficult to imagine them in high school, making fun of anyone who put forth effort and showed that she cared. And while they made sure their girls had enough Lilly Pulitzer dresses to choke a horse, they continued to give the impression that motherhood left them too busy to care about any of it.

Rebecca wasn't a big drinker. Compared to the rest of the Kellys, she was usually downright sober. When she showed up at Sunday dinner, she'd have one glass of wine, which she'd sip on throughout the meal. I think it was her way of silently judging the rest of us. If someone tried to pour more in her glass, she'd put her hand over the top, which often led Babs to mutter “Teetotaler” at her, like it was a dirty word.

But on vacation, all bets were off. Maybe it was the close proximity to everyone, or the fact that she knew she was stuck on the Kelly compound, but most days she started drinking white wine in the afternoons and by dinner she was often tipsy.

On the last day of the trip, she and I sat on the patio, each of us relaxing in an Adirondack chair, a bottle of wine between us. The rest of the family was on the lawn playing a huge game of touch football—even Jonah was out there. When Rebecca said she didn't want to play and the numbers became uneven, everyone looked at me and waited for me to bow out, which I did. It was just as well. I didn't need to end up on crutches.

The two teams were huddled separately, shouting funny threats back and forth, pretending to whisper secret plays to each other. They were loud and the kids were laughing. The last game of the trip was always the rowdiest.

“They think they're the fucking Kennedys,” Rebecca said, and I coughed on my wine as I laughed. She wasn't looking at me, she was staring at them, and for a second I wasn't sure if she even knew she'd spoken out loud, but then she continued. “Look at them. They think they're so special. Charmed.” She paused and squinted like she was trying to figure them out.

“They do,” I said, because it felt like I had to say something. I'd always wanted Rebecca to like me, but I didn't want to become her confidante. I wasn't exactly like Jenny and Nellie, but I didn't want to be included in the outcast portion of the family. I was quick to mock the Kellys, but not belonging to their club would be worse than belonging.

Rebecca turned to look at me. “You have it the worst though,” she said. She started laughing—hard, and not in a particularly nice way. I gave her a confused smile while I waited for her to continue, and then she said, barely able to catch her breath, “Because if they're the Kennedys, then you're married to John-John.”

A
couple of weeks after we got back from St. Michaels, we were sitting on the couch, watching
The Daily Show,
when Matt's phone rang. We glanced at each other, wondering who would be calling, and then Matt looked down at his phone and said, “It's Jimmy.” For a second, I thought he wasn't going to answer, but then he swiped the screen and said, “Hey man, what's up?”

He was quiet for a while, only saying, “Really?” or “Okay,” and once, “Wow.” I kept trying to catch his eye so he could let me know what was going on, but he wouldn't look up. I bent my head in front of him, which was maybe a little obnoxious, and he held up a finger to me, telling me to wait a minute, and then walked upstairs. I muted the TV to listen to the conversation, but Jimmy was doing most of the talking. When Matt finally came downstairs, he looked a little shocked.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, it's fine.” He was speaking slowly, like he was trying to find the right words, and I waited for him to continue. “Jimmy was approached by some people asking if he'd want to run for the Railroad Commission.”

“What? What people?”

“Some ‘major Democratic stakeholders,' he said. Apparently, they want someone new in the Democratic field. There's one guy with some sketchy financial stuff and another old guy who's run like three times already.”

“That's crazy. Is he going to do it?”

“It sounds like it. I mean, it's kind of a long shot for him to win the general. But it's great experience. And you never know. They want someone young who can bring energy to the party. They also think he can raise a lot of money.”

“What's the position again?”

“Railroad commissioner.”

“I've never heard of it.”

“You're not from Texas,” Matt said.

“Neither are you.”

“Jimmy's talked about it before. He thought it would be something to aim for in the future. Like years down the road.” Matt closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the couch.

“He wants to be in charge of the railroad?” I asked.

“That's not what they do. They deal with gas and oil regulations. It's hard to explain.”

“Was he calling just to tell you?” I asked. I was already bracing myself for this to send Matt into a spiral—one more thing Jimmy got that he didn't, one more step forward that he wasn't taking.

“He said he wanted my advice. If he does this, he's going to have to start fund-raising soon,” he said. Then he gave me a wry smile. “He also just wanted to show off, I think.”

“The Jimmy Dillon Show has officially started,” I said. “He's probably looking in the mirror, smiling at himself and brushing his hair.”

Matt made a small “hmmph” sound, but then he laughed and nodded in agreement. “No shit,” he said.

Jimmy officially declared that he was running in November, and that same day he asked Matt to help him put together a fund-raiser in DC. “Can he do that?” I asked. “Get money from people outside of Texas?”

“Oh sure,” Matt said. “That's part of why they wanted him to run. He has all these DC connections.”

They wanted to get the fund-raiser together quickly, to get people excited about the campaign. “We're going to aim for two weeks from today,” Matt said. “We think it'll be good for momentum.”

Right after that, there'd be another fund-raiser in Houston, hosted by Jimmy's parents. “We'll raise a lot more money at that one, but the DC one will be great to spread the word.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” I said. I almost didn't notice that Matt referred to Jimmy's campaign as “we.”

I called Ash that night to have her fill me in on everything. “This is bonkers,” she said. “It's all happening so fast. Jimmy is running around like a chicken with his head cut off. He doesn't know which end is up.” But I could hear the pride in her voice. I told her they should stay with us when they came to town for the fund-raiser, and she accepted right away. “That would be so great,” she said. “I've been thinking it would be hard to be stuck in the hotel room with Viv.”

I'd made the offer before telling Matt, and I was worried he'd be annoyed, but he just said, “Oh good.” It was hard not to notice that he'd been in a better mood since working on the fund-raiser, and when I mentioned that to him, he just said, “Yeah, this is exciting,” and I kissed him on his temple, which made him smile and say, “Thank you.”

For the next couple of weeks, Ash and I texted all the time and called each other at least once a day. A lot of it was just going over the logistics of the trip—they were only coming for one night, but it felt like there was so much to sort out. We'd been in touch since they moved, of course, but it wasn't with the same frequency as when they lived here. It was nice to have a reason to be in contact so often, and as I texted her one night to tell her that the owner of United States of Spinning was getting a divorce, I realized just how much I'd missed her.

Ash rented a portable crib and high chair from some company that specialized in traveling with infants, and it was all delivered early on the morning they'd arrive. I set up the high chair in the dining room and hauled the crib upstairs to the guest room, then spent the rest of the day cleaning the apartment.

They got there in the afternoon, and when I opened the door, they were standing on the front stoop, each of them holding a bag with two suitcases behind them. There was so much stuff that I almost made a joke about them moving in, but stopped when I saw their strained smiles.

Instead, I leaned down to Viv and unsnapped her from her stroller. As I picked her up, I noticed the little gold balls on her tiny earlobes. “Look at you, Viv,” I said. “With your ears pierced already. Such a lady.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy said. “Ash surprised me with that a couple weeks ago. You should've seen my mom's reaction. She said, and I quote, ‘Your baby looks like a gypsy.' ”

Ash rolled her eyes. “I don't think we're going to start taking fashion advice from your mother, Jimmy.” Then to me, she said, “Doesn't she look sweet?” I just smiled and nodded, afraid that if I spoke, my voice would reveal how much I hated earrings on babies. Viv still didn't have much hair, but she was nevertheless an incredibly cute (if almost bald) baby. She smiled at me, like she knew what I was thinking.

“To be honest, I wasn't thrilled with them either,” Jimmy said. “Which is probably why Ash didn't tell me until after there were two holes in our baby's head.”

“We just wanted to surprise Daddy, didn't we?” Ash said, leaning down to adjust the bow on Viv's head. “And we also wanted people to stop thinking you were a boy.”

“How on earth could anyone think this child was a boy?” Jimmy asked. “She wears pink every day and always has a bow on her head.”

We were all still standing in the doorway, but it was like the two of them were so busy bickering they didn't notice. I figured they were nervous about the fund-raiser and tired from traveling with Viv, so I said, “We're so happy you guys are here. Come in, it's getting cold out there.”

Matt had run out to pick up posters for the fund-raiser and to swing by the bar to check on the space one last time. I told Jimmy that Matt had been obsessing about the event all week. “He hasn't talked about anything else,” I said.

“That makes two of us,” Jimmy said.

Viv was quiet in my arms, looking around the apartment with a serious face, like she was trying to figure out where she was. “Do you remember it here?” I asked her. “Do you miss DC?”

“Nah, she's a Texas girl. Isn't that right?” Jimmy leaned in and made a face at the baby, shook his hair back and forth like a wet dog. Viv laughed and smacked her hands on top of his head.

“Jimmy, don't get her all riled up,” Ash said.

“Do you guys want lunch or do you just want to rest? What time is Linda coming?” I asked. Linda was the Dillons' old sitter who was coming to watch Viv that night.

“She'll be here around five. I'm going to feed Viv now,” Ash said. “And then I can feed her again before Linda comes.” She was on her knees, unzipping the bags and rifling through them, taking things out and placing them on the floor around her. “Where did I put that bib?” she asked, looking around the room. They'd been there for less than twenty minutes and already their stuff was everywhere. The apartment had been clean when they walked in and now looked like a disaster.

“I'm going to jump in the shower and change if that's all right with you,” Jimmy said. He was already carrying his bags upstairs.

Ash was still sitting on the floor with stuff all around her, and she just watched Jimmy walk up the stairs, then turned to me and said, “He thought we should leave Viv with his parents for the night, but I didn't want to. And now I think he's trying to prove his point by not helping with her at all. Not that he ever does all that much, anyway.”

“Well, I'm happy she's here,” I said, kissing her cheek. Above us, we heard the shower turn on, and Ash reached into a bag and pulled out a bib. “Found it!” she said, holding her arm up in triumph.

The fund-raiser was in the upstairs of Darlington House, a small bar right off Dupont Circle, just a few blocks from our place. The four of us were there an hour before it started, to make sure everything was set up. “We should get a good turnout,” Matt kept saying. We hung signs out front that told people where to go, and a poster with Jimmy's picture on it at the top of the stairs. That took about five minutes, and then there was nothing to do but wait. We all got a drink and sat at a high table and tried to make small talk. Matt was fidgety and it was rubbing off on the rest of us. Ash chewed her straw and kept looking around the room like she was making sure no one had slipped in while we weren't paying attention. Jimmy kept clapping his hands together, like he was going to make an announcement, but then not saying anything. I had butterflies in my stomach even though this night had nothing to do with me. I could only imagine how Jimmy felt.

People started to arrive right at 6:30, and as soon as we heard footsteps on the stairs, Matt said, “Here we go!” The first person to walk in was Benji, and he pretended to look around the room and then said, “I'm looking for the Good Guys Club. Is this the right place?” Jimmy laughed and walked over to him, shaking his hand and pulling him into a hug at the same time. “It is so good to see you, brother,” he said.

I'd offered to sit up front and check off the names of the people who had already donated and take money and checks from those who hadn't. As soon as Benji came in, I went over and took my place. The invite suggested a minimum of fifty dollars, but almost everyone was far more generous. Right after Benji, there was a constant flow of guests, and even though I was working as fast as I could, there was a line for most of the night.

Whenever I looked up, it was easy to tell where Jimmy was in the room. Just like the first night I'd met him, there was always a small circle around him. Ash stayed right by his side the whole night, smiling and hugging everyone she saw.

The event was only supposed to last for two hours, but at 8:00, Matt came over and told me that he'd just arranged for us to have the room until 9:30. As long as people were still coming in, he said, he didn't want to miss the chance for donations.

A lot of people stopped by just to donate, have one drink, and shake Jimmy's hand, but plenty more stayed to hang out, and by the end of the night, it was getting a little loud in there. When it was all done, over four hundred people had come through, and I knew Matt was pleased from the way he kept smiling and rocking back on his heels as he looked around.

Toward the end of the night, Alan rushed in looking flustered. “I didn't make a contribution yet,” he said, reaching for his wallet. “But I'd like to now.” He looked at me as though we'd never met, and I said, “Alan, hi, it's Beth. Matt's wife?” He blinked and finally said, “Oh, hi. Are you working for the campaign?”

“Just helping out,” I said, pulling the money from his fingers and placing it in the box.

Benji was not just the first to arrive but also the last to leave, drunk and a little bit sloppy. He stayed with us, swaying as we gathered our things and took down the posters. We all walked out to the sidewalk together and Jimmy asked him if he was going to get a cab home.

“Home?” he asked. “No, there's a party around here that one of my friends is having.” He hugged us all good-bye, and then put his two fingers up as he walked away and shouted, “Peace, brother.”

“Must be nice to be twenty-eight,” Jimmy said.

“Okay, old man,” I said, and everyone laughed.

Matt was holding the poster with Jimmy's face on it, and I made the two of them pose around it for a picture, making sure to get the Darlington House in the background. Matt looked straight at the camera and smiled, and Jimmy turned toward the poster and gave himself a thumbs-up.

“Perfect,” I said. “That's a keeper.”

The four of us walked up Connecticut Ave to another bar, Maddy's, which was still serving food. We crowded into a booth, and I tucked the money box next to me, keeping one hand on top of it. “Do you think someone's going to steal that from you?” Matt asked.

“You never know,” I said. “I don't want to be responsible for losing the campaign funds.”

We were all a little giddy, overtired and relieved that the night had gone well. “I think that was a pretty good turnout,” Matt said, holding up his beer to Jimmy.

“Good?” Jimmy said as they clinked glasses. “Kelly, you outdid yourself.”

Jimmy ordered a round of tequila shots, and when Ash and I protested, he said, “I'm the candidate, and if I buy the shots you have to take them.” But when he ordered another round, I held up my hand. “Sorry, I know you're the candidate and all, but I have to sit this one out.”