The Hopefuls (20 page)

“Me too,” Ash said. “Since I have a feeling our daughter isn't going to humor us by sleeping in tomorrow.”

“Well, Kelly,” Jimmy said. “Are you ready to pick up the slack?”

They did the next two shots quickly, both sucking on limes at the end. I could almost feel the alcohol hit Matt as his body relaxed, and he turned to me with a shit-eating grin. “Careful,” I said. “Who do you think is going to carry you home?”

He nuzzled his face in my neck and said, “You, Buzzy. You'll carry me home, of course.”

We couldn't stop laughing as we ate, and it felt like we were our old selves—not just the four of us together, but me and Matt too. I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen him like this—the success of the fund-raiser combined with the tequila had made him happier than he'd been in months.

After we ate, Ash and I walked back to the apartment and Matt and Jimmy stayed for another drink. “Just one, I promise,” Jimmy said, holding up his hand like he was taking an oath.

“That's the biggest lie I've ever heard,” I told him, and he grabbed me and pulled me into a hug. “Maybe I have to work on my poker face,” he said.

“Oh my God, Jimmy,” Ash said, pulling me away from him. “Please don't strangle our host.”

I woke up a few hours later when they came in the front door and I held my breath, hoping they wouldn't wake the baby. But no such luck. They were trying to whisper, I think, but they weren't even coming close. I heard a crash from the kitchen and then the sound of Viv's crying. (In the morning, I discovered the Brita pitcher lying on the floor with a bunch of paper towels around it, the cause of all that noise.)

When Matt came into our room, he closed the door behind him and stood there for a minute, letting his eyes adjust to the dark, swaying a little. He stripped down to his boxers, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor, and got into bed.

“Fun night?” I asked, reaching out to touch his head.

“Yes,” he said, his eyes already closed. “Jimmy Dillon is fucking crazy.”

The next morning, Ash and I took Viv for a walk to get coffee. Jimmy and Matt were still asleep—Matt hadn't even moved when I got out of bed—and we thought we'd be nice and not wake them up. It was chilly, but not freezing, and Ash bundled Viv up in a hat and layers of blankets, so all we could see was her little face peeking out. “I'm sort of jealous of her right now,” I said, as we started down the block. “She looks so warm and she gets to be pushed around.”

“I know,” Ash said. “She's probably tired since Jimmy snored like an animal all night. Once I woke him up, and he told me that I was the one who was snoring.”

We walked the three blocks down to Starbucks and sat at a table by the window. “Do you miss it here?” I asked.

“I do,” she said. “But it's weird being back. It feels like we never lived here or like it was a dream or something.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” I said.

We stopped at Bethesda Bagels on the way back, picking up bagels and cream cheese for ourselves, and bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches for the boys. “Lord knows, Jimmy will need all the help he can get,” Ash said. “I have no idea how he's going to get on a plane today.”

“I bet they're still sleeping,” I said, but when we walked in the door they were sitting on the couch drinking coffee, looking exhausted and rumpled. They stopped talking as we walked in and turned to look at us, making me feel like we'd interrupted them, like they were trying to hide something.

“We brought bagels,” I said, holding up the bag and giving Matt a curious look, trying to figure out what was going on. But he wouldn't meet my eyes.

“Oh, thank God,” Jimmy said. “You two are a vision.”

I set up everything on the dining room table and made another pot of coffee. Ash popped Viv in her high chair with some Cheerios on the tray in front of her, and Viv happily picked them up, holding each one in the air to examine it before placing it in her mouth. “Good job, Vivie,” Ash said. “Good job eating your Cheerios!”

“We have to cheer for everything she does so that she doesn't get low self-esteem,” Jimmy said, with a smirk. But then he clapped his hands together. “Look at Viv eat her Cheerios. Look at her go!”

“Where did you two end up last night?” I asked.

“Jimmy suggested Russia House,” Matt said, looking like just saying the name of the bar made him sick. Russia House was around the corner from us, a dark and musty place with chandeliers and red upholstery. It was a favorite of Russian and Eastern European expats, and people always claimed to see Alex Ovechkin (who played for the Caps) drinking vodka there.

“I'm sure he really had to twist your arm,” I said to Matt, and he laughed but didn't meet my eyes.

The Dillons' flight wasn't until late afternoon, but Ash started packing right after we ate, which was a good thing since their stuff was everywhere. We hugged them good-bye and made promises to visit soon, and they hadn't even been out the door a full minute before Matt said, “I know that seemed weird when you walked in this morning, but Jimmy had just asked me to work on his campaign and then you guys came in and I didn't want to talk about it with everyone there.”

“Oh, so that's what that was about.” I felt relieved to know it wasn't something more scandalous. “It did seem a little strange.”

“I know,” Matt said. “Anyway, I told him I'd talk to you about it but that it probably wasn't going to happen, that I didn't think we'd be up for it.”

“We?” I asked.

“Well, that's the thing. I wouldn't do it without you. I'd have to be in Texas for almost a year and I'd want you with me. And I know that's a lot to ask, which is why I told him it wasn't likely.”

“Huh,” I said. I wasn't totally surprised. In a way, I'd been expecting it. Jimmy always used to joke about Matt running his campaigns, and ever since he'd asked Matt to put the fund-raiser together, I'd been almost waiting for it.

“Buzz?” Matt asked, and I realized I'd been silent for a while.

“Sorry,” I said. “I was just trying to picture us in Texas.”

“Really?” he asked.

“I mean, we might as well consider it, right?”

Matt let out a long breath. “Look. It's a lot. I'm not even going to consider it unless you're completely okay with it.”

“So what would you be?” I asked. “His campaign manager? His fund-raiser?”

“Both, really,” Matt said. “I'd probably be the only paid person on his staff, depending on how much he raises. He's thinking—and I agree—that a small team is best.”

“Is it something you really want to do?” I asked.

“I do,” he said. “But look—if I don't do it, I'll live. Honest. I don't think Jimmy has a huge chance of winning, but you never know. It would be good experience. And it would be a reason to leave my job now. Which is probably the most appealing part.”

“You're not stuck there,” I said. “You'll get another job.”

“It doesn't feel like it,” he said flatly. “But that's not the only thing to consider. Let's think about it for a few days.”

But I didn't need a few days. We talked about it all that night, and the next morning I said, “I think you should do it.” Matt looked up at me surprised, and I continued. “You'll never get to do something like this again. And it's Jimmy.”

“Beth, are you sure? You really have to be sure. We'll be living in Texas for almost a year. And I don't want you to regret quitting your job.”

I thought back to the last pitch meeting we'd had, where after every story idea, Ellie had tilted her head and said, “But can you make it sexier?” I looked at Matt, and nodded my head. “I'm sure,” I said.

When I think back to why I said I'd go, part of me blames the night we spent with the Dillons after the fund-raiser. We'd had so much fun and Matt had seemed like himself again. He'd seemed happy. And I felt desperate to hold on to that, was willing to do anything to keep him that way. Even move to Texas.

When Matt called Jimmy to tell him he'd take the job, Jimmy let out a whoop and then said, “Wait, hold on.” He put the phone on speaker and repeated the news to Ash, who started screaming. “This is going to be the best,” she yelled.

“We've got a lot to figure out, obviously,” Matt said, “but we'll start working on it right away.”

“Hold on,” Ash said, “we're going to call you right back.”

A minute later, my phone rang with a FaceTime request, and when I answered, Ash and Jimmy were crowded in my screen. I held the phone so Matt could see them, and Ash said, “Look, we've been talking about this. And we really want you guys to come live with us.”

“We're asking you to uproot your life,” Jimmy said, turning the phone so we saw more of his face. “And we have tons of room. There's no sense in having you pay for a place when you could stay here.”

“Wow,” I said, and Matt said, “That's so generous of you guys.”

I couldn't get a read on Matt's voice and I wanted to turn to him, but I was aware that Jimmy and Ash were watching us. I honestly didn't know how to feel. On the one hand, it would be so easy to move in with them—who wanted to search for an apartment and go through all of that? On the other hand, we'd be living with them, sleeping under the same roof every night.

“How about this?” Ash said. “You move in with us and try it and if you want to get your own place later on, that's great.”

“We'll definitely think about it,” I said. “That's so nice of you guys.”

“It's also nice of your husband to come and help out his poor friend,” Jimmy said. He took the phone out of Ash's hand and held it so we saw only his face. “I wouldn't want to do this with anyone else.” Then, Jimmy paused and smiled, looked us in the eye like he was already campaigning, and said, “We'll take Texas together.”

Sugar Land, TX
2014

Every politician should have been born an orphan and remain a bachelor.

—LADY BIRD JOHNSON

It has been said that politics is the second oldest profession. I have learned that it bears a striking resemblance to the first.

—RONALD REAGAN

W
e left for Texas on January 2, and so Babs insisted on having the whole family over for a New Year's Day lunch. Even Meg, who'd been out late with friends the night before, was there, although she spent most of the afternoon lying on the couch, only sitting up once to ask, “So, is your apartment going to be, like, empty?” when she saw Matt giving a spare set of keys to his mom.

“No,” Matt said. “It's going to be rented out most of the time and very much full.”

This wasn't exactly true, but we'd found a friend of a friend who was moving to DC and looking to rent a furnished apartment for at least a few months, though we hoped he'd stay longer. I was the one who didn't want to get rid of our apartment—it seemed more trouble than it was worth to put everything in storage, and I'd convinced Matt it made more sense to hold on to it, especially if we could rent it out part of the time. “I'm sure we'll be back a few times during the year,” I pointed out. “And we'll want a place to stay.”

The truth was, getting rid of the apartment seemed final, like we were leaving DC for good. And we weren't. We'd be in Texas for eleven months at the most (less if Jimmy lost the primary) and then we'd return to DC, and surely we'd want to move right back into our place, at least at first. It made me feel calmer to think that we'd still have a home, a place that was ours, even if we weren't living in it.

We got to the Kellys' around one, but it was clear that Rosie had been there for hours. There was chili on the stove and corn bread in the oven and the dining room table was set. In the TV room, college football was on and there was a fire going. Matt and I each accepted a Bloody Mary from Rosie and settled on the couch. Everyone was tired and the noise level was noticeably lower than normal. All of the kids had disappeared to the basement, each holding armfuls of new Christmas toys and games. I chatted with Nellie about the dinner they'd been to the night before, but for the most part everyone just sat and watched football.

Between the fire and the Bloody Mary, I felt like I might just close my eyes and take a nap. But next to me, I could feel Matt fidgeting and checking his watch. He was anxious for this lunch to be over so we could get home and finish packing. We planned to leave by 7:00 the next morning and still had a bunch of things to do, and I knew he was already worried about getting it all done. Matt had been flying back and forth to Houston for the past couple of months and was more than ready to be settled in one place. He'd even tried to get out of the New Year's lunch when Babs first suggested it, which (of course) didn't go over well.

Rosie set crab dip on the table, and Meg practically flipped off the couch to get to it, sitting cross-legged on the floor so she could be within arm's reach.

“Meg, slow down. No one else can get to the dip with you inhaling it,” Babs said.

Meg looked up and showed no sign of being offended as she said, “Whatever, I'm starving,” then went right back to eating the dip.

As we sat down to eat, I was almost getting a little sentimental about being away from the Kellys for so long. And then Babs turned to me and said, “How will you be spending your time in Texas?” It was almost like it had just occurred to her that I'd be there too.

“Well, I'll be helping with the campaign however I can,” I said.

“That should be interesting,” she said. “It's not exactly your skill set though.”

“No,” I said. “Not exactly.”

“She's going to take some time to write,” Matt said. He'd been bringing this up ever since I agreed to quit my job, and sometimes it seemed that he was more attached to the idea than I was.

“You'll have to find a hobby of some sort to keep you busy,” Babs said, taking a tiny bite of chili.

“Yeah,” Jenny said from across the table. She winked quickly at me. “You should start knitting.”

After lunch, everyone hugged us good-bye like we were never returning, and Matt kept saying, “You guys, we'll see you really soon.” Grace and Lily made a big deal out of presenting a good-bye card that they'd made for us on a large piece of cardboard. On the front, they'd drawn me and Matt with oval limbs, long smiles, and cowboy hats. There was a scrawny-looking horse in the corner and a fat cow by our feet. Matt had a lasso in his hand, and across the bottom they'd written in glittery letters:
YEE
-
HAW
!

“I think they're confused about Texas,” Jenny whispered to me.

I traced my finger over the chubby cow and said, “Who isn't?”

As we packed the car, Matt started to worry that we should've gotten a U-Haul. “I think we'll be okay,” I said, but I wasn't so sure. We were trying to arrange the bags so that we still had a sliver of visibility out the back window and somehow kept making it worse. Most of what we were taking was clothes, but there were some other things I hadn't wanted to leave behind. When I packed the coffeemaker, Matt gave me a look, but didn't stop me. Once we were finally done and everything was in there, the car sagged low to the ground.

“Is that going to be okay?” I asked.

“Sure,” Matt said, and then he bent down to look at the tires. “I mean, I really hope so.”

We took three days to drive to Houston, even though we could've done it in two. We didn't want to feel rushed and I think Matt assumed (rightly so) that he'd be doing the majority of the driving. I did take over during a quiet stretch in Alabama so that Matt could rest. I was nervous at first, but after a while it felt okay. I didn't dare go over the speed limit and I stayed in the right-hand lane, but I still considered it a success. Matt's eyes were closed and I was sure he was asleep when I heard him laugh lightly beside me and say, “Slow and steady wins the race.”

Ash and Jimmy lived in Sugar Land, a city about twenty minutes outside of Houston, which was (as Jimmy always said) considered part of the “greater Houston area.” I laughed when I first heard the name, and Matt said, “It gets better. The motto is ‘Sugar Land, where life is sweet.' ”

I'd seen pictures of the house and Matt had described the neighborhood to me, but it still didn't prepare me for actually driving into their community and seeing all the sprawling lawns and open land. There were manmade ponds all around us, golf courses and pools; we passed a town square that was so artificial-looking it felt like a movie set. And as we pulled into the Dillons' driveway, I turned to Matt and he shook his head. “I told you,” he said. “It's huge.”

Ash opened the front door before we'd even turned off the car, and started waving like an excited little kid. I'd texted her about a half hour earlier to let her know we were close, and it seemed like she'd been watching out the window for us ever since. “I'm so glad y'all are finally here,” she called, running out to our car. She had a sweater on, the sleeves pulled over her hands, but no jacket, and she shivered as I hugged her. “Jimmy just ran to the store, but he'll be back to help you unpack all of that.”

She grabbed me by the hand and started pulling me toward the house. “I've got to give you the tour,” she said. I turned back to look at Matt, who just shrugged like there was nothing we could do to stop her. He grabbed a couple of bags from the backseat, and Ash looked back and said, “No, no, wait for Jimmy!” but didn't slow down at all.

When we got into the front hall, she finally dropped my hand and turned to face me. “Okay, we'll start here, of course.” She clapped her hands together, almost giddy, and I couldn't help but laugh.

“What?” she said, but then she laughed too. “I know, I'm acting like a complete nut, but I'm just so excited that you're finally here!”

The Dillons' house was grand—that was the first word that popped into my head. The ceilings were high and there was a long curved staircase in front of us. There were five bedrooms, and a guest suite downstairs, and I understood as soon as I stepped inside why they'd insisted that we live there. There was no way they could possibly use all this space; it was almost obscene.

As we walked through each room, Ash talked about the different paint colors she'd chosen, explained in great detail why she'd decided to use wallpaper in the bathrooms. She talked like she couldn't get the words out fast enough, almost like she'd been dying to tell someone all about the house and I was the first person she'd come across.

I recognized some of the furniture as the pieces they'd had in DC, but there were also lots of new things. It didn't surprise me that the whole house was already completely and perfectly decorated, but it was still impressive. I had friends who moved into houses and let rooms sit empty for years, but Ash had every detail taken care of. Every side table had little groupings of tchotchkes, tiny ceramic boxes and silver picture frames arranged just so.

“This is gorgeous,” I said. “I can't believe you've done all this already.”

“Oh, it wasn't that much,” she said, pretending to be modest. “My mom helped a lot. And so did Jimmy's mom, although I didn't ask her to.”

We walked out to the back patio, where there was a fire pit and the biggest grill I'd ever seen built into a stone wall. “Jimmy is obsessed with this thing,” she told me. “I think it's what finally sold him on the house.”

She waited until the end to take me downstairs, where we'd be staying, which made me a little nervous, but once we walked in, I saw there was no reason to worry. Matt had assured me that the area felt completely private, but I'd still wanted to judge it myself. It was basically a little three-room apartment in their basement. (Ash kept calling it a mother-in-law suite, which I thought was hilarious since she'd probably burn the house down before letting Jimmy's mom move in.) There was a sitting area with a flat-screen TV on the wall, a tiny kitchenette, and a bedroom with a master bath attached. Ash and Jimmy's room was two floors up and on the other side of the house, so while I'd been afraid that the four of us would feel like roommates, the size and layout of everything made it more like we were tenants in the same building.

“This is perfect,” I said, standing in the middle of the room and turning in a circle.

“I'm so glad,” she said and squeezed my upper arm tightly.

While Ash was showing me the house, Jimmy had come home, and he and Matt were carrying all of our bags in from the car and dropping them by the front door. Ash and I came upstairs and met them in the hallway, where Jimmy lifted me into a hug. “Do you believe you guys are here?” he asked. “You're going to love it. I'm going to make Texans out of you two if it's the last thing I do.”

We had steak fajitas that night (which Jimmy insisted on cooking on the grill even though it was pretty chilly outside) and Ash made a corn and avocado salad, and as we all sat down, I had a moment of déjà vu—how many times had we eaten dinner together in DC at this very table? I was tired from our drive and had that disoriented feeling that comes from traveling, when you first arrive somewhere and have to remind yourself of where you are. I'm in Texas, I kept thinking, and almost laughed at how absurd it sounded.

“Tonight, we're celebrating,” Jimmy said, pouring us each a margarita from a pitcher. “And then tomorrow we can go back to work.”

We all clinked glasses. “What are we toasting to?” I asked, and Jimmy gave me a look like I'd just asked the dumbest question in the world.

“Oh, Beth,” he said. “To Texas, of course.”

When I told Colleen that we were moving to Texas so Matt could run Jimmy's campaign, she'd rolled her eyes and said, “Seriously, Beth?” like we were doing it just to piss her off. I'd explained all the reasons why I'd agreed to go, and her face had softened just a little, and then she'd said, “Well, at least the happy couples can be together again. You'll be like one big dysfunctional polygamist family, all living under the same roof.”

“Ha-ha,” I said.

“Just don't stay there, okay?”

“Oh my God, never.”

Colleen gave me a look. “Never say never. Weird things happen in Texas.”

The next morning, I woke up all alone in our room, and even though it wasn't even 8:00 a.m., I had a panicky feeling like I'd overslept. I got dressed quickly and went upstairs to find Ash, Matt, and Jimmy all sitting around the kitchen table drinking coffee. It was clear that they'd already eaten—the remnants of their breakfast were in front of them—and they all turned to look at me as I walked in, making me feel self-conscious.

Viv was in her high chair with a handful of sliced strawberries in front of her, and when she saw me, she held one up in the air proudly, and then shoved it in her mouth. Ash got up to pour me a cup of coffee, and I accepted it and then turned to Matt. “Why didn't you wake me up?” I asked.

“You were really out,” he said. “I figured I'd let you sleep since you didn't have anything to get up for.”

This was true, but strangely embarrassing—Ash had to get up with Viv and Matt and Jimmy had work to do, but I had no real reason to get out of bed. No one was relying on me and I didn't have anywhere to be. I could sleep all day if I wanted to. But from that day on, I set the alarm on my phone to make sure I was awake at the same time everyone else was, sometimes racing to the kitchen to be the one to start the coffee, like I had something to prove.

“I made some oatmeal,” Ash said, getting up again to get me a bowl even though she'd just sat down.

“I'll get it,” I said, following her to the stove, but she swatted me away, spooning some oatmeal into the dish and topping it with cut strawberries.

As I ate, Matt and Jimmy went over their schedule for the week. That afternoon, Jimmy was meeting with a group of small business owners in the area, and Matt was briefing him on things he should cover. “We want to get on their radar,” Matt said. “We want them to care about this race.” Jimmy nodded and Matt continued to coach him. “Here's the thing we really need to shove down their throats—you're young and you're coming to this position with a whole new perspective.”