The Hopefuls (26 page)

“He said he wanted to talk about my career and where I see it going. I think he has some ideas for me.”

“He's sort of an asshole,” I said. “Don't you think?”

“Not really,” Matt said.

“We've been here for six months and he's never taken Jimmy out to dinner. Don't you think it's sort of rude for him to take you?”

“He's so well connected, Beth. He likes me and wants to help.” There was a tiny bit of pleading in Matt's voice, like he was asking me not to push the issue any further, and he looked grateful when I just kissed him good-bye and told him to have fun.

I wandered upstairs a few minutes later and found Jimmy on the patio having a beer. “Hey,” I said, poking my head out the door. “What are you up to?”

“Not much. It's just you and me for dinner tonight, you know.”

“I know. I figured we'd head to Torchy's?” Torchy's was Jimmy's favorite taco place, and he was thrilled that I loved it as much as he did. The only thing they served was tacos—breakfast tacos, fish tacos, fried avocado tacos. My favorite was one called the Dirty Sanchez, and it said a lot about how delicious it was that I was willing to overlook the embarrassment I felt when I ordered it.

Ash thought Torchy's was gross and Matt just didn't see the appeal. “They're okay,” he said once. “Kind of like Chipotle, I guess.” I was appalled at this comparison, shocked that he couldn't appreciate how great this place was. “It's my favorite thing about Houston,” I said, and Matt just shrugged. Now whenever Jimmy and I found ourselves alone for a meal, we drove to stuff our faces with a bunch of tacos.

“I was thinking something different tonight,” Jimmy said.

“Probably for the best,” I said, sitting on the bottom of the lounge chair next to him. “I'm starting to blame Torchy's for my rapid weight gain.”

“Oh stop,” Jimmy said.

“It's true. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't live here. Texas is making me fat.”

“Beth, that body of yours has never looked better, so let's cut the self-deprecation crap.”

“Ha-ha,” I said. Jimmy gave out compliments to everyone so frequently, I usually didn't even notice. But the things he said to me were normally a little milder, more of the “you look nice” variety. I was pretty sure he'd never mentioned my body before in any capacity, and I was trying not to show that it had flustered me.

“I was thinking,” he said, “since Matt's off having steak and Ash is peddling her wares, that we should take ourselves somewhere nice tonight.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Great. Let's leave at eight.”

We ended up going to a diner-type place, and I was relieved that this was Jimmy's version of “nice” and that we weren't headed to a fancy dinner somewhere. The restaurant had an over-the-top fifties theme with jukeboxes and vinyl booths. “I know it's a little much,” Jimmy said, “but the burgers here are really good.”

We each ordered a cheeseburger, fries, and a beer, which wasn't any healthier than Torchy's, and I almost made a comment about it but didn't want to call attention to the conversation we'd had earlier, like I was fishing for compliments.

A couple walked by our booth, and I saw the girl do a double take when she spotted Jimmy. She backed up and waited for him to notice her before saying, “Jimmy, hi!” She kept looking over at me, quickly, like she was trying to be sneaky. Jimmy took a sip of his beer and said, “Hey, Alexis. How's it going,” but made no move to introduce us. Finally she put out her hand to me and said, “Hi, I'm Alexis.”

“Beth,” I said.

Jimmy smiled as we shook hands, and I could tell he hadn't introduced us on purpose. “You haven't met Beth yet?” he asked her. “She's Ash's best friend from DC and the wife of my campaign manager.”

“No, we've never met,” Alexis said. She looked slightly disappointed that I wasn't some secret girlfriend, but she managed to shake my hand and then turned to the guy standing next to her. “This is my husband, Fletcher.” Fletcher gave us a small nod and stood off to the side, making it clear he had no interest in joining our conversation. Alexis stood at our table awkwardly for a few more seconds and then said good-bye.

After they walked away, I looked at Jimmy, who had an amused expression on his face. “What was that about?” I asked him.

“She was in Ash's class in high school,” he said. “She's the worst.”

I laughed and looked past him to make sure Alexis was out of earshot. “Really,” he went on. “She's even worse than the coven that Ash is always with now. She would have loved nothing more than to be able to report to the whole town that I was eating dinner with an unidentified attractive woman.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Really. She's nothing but awful. In high school, she once fed so much beer to someone's pet bird at a party that it died.”

“Oh, God,” I said.

“I know. She had all the makings of a serial killer. Poor Fletcher better watch his back.”

The waitress brought our food over then, and we didn't talk as we arranged the onions and tomatoes on our burgers, poured just the right amount of ketchup on them. I'd just taken a huge bite when Jimmy said, “So the question is, do you think my dad will legally adopt Matt as his son by the time dinner's over?”

I laughed because I knew that's what he wanted me to do and then managed to swallow and ask, “What do you think they talk about all the time anyway?”

“You know, how smart they both are, stuff like that.”

“Ha,” I said. And then because I felt like I couldn't ignore it, “I'm sorry if it's weird for you, them going out to dinner. I feel like I'd be annoyed if I were you.”

Jimmy shrugged. “Nah,” he said and then laughed a little bit. “It's fine. Plus, I'd much rather eat dinner with you than with my dad.”

I thought then how happy I was that Jimmy was still himself, that while Matt and Ash were morphing into weird personalities, Jimmy stayed the same. Ridiculous sometimes, sure. Self-centered, maybe. But that's who he'd always been and I felt the most relaxed when he was around.

I put my cheeseburger down on my plate, wiped my hands on my napkin. “You know,” I said, “I bet we had more fun than anyone tonight.” And Jimmy looked up with a serious expression before winking and saying, “Obviously,” then shoving the last large bite of his burger into his mouth.

Later that week, Matt and I watched Viv while Jimmy and Ash went to a birthday dinner for her friend Ainsley. All of the Dozens were attending with their husbands, and Ash had reminded Jimmy of the dinner no fewer than twenty times. We were sitting on the floor with Viv in the TV room when they came to say they were leaving, both dressed up.

“Have a good night,” I said, and Jimmy said, “Oh, I'm sure we won't.”

Ash decided to pretend he was joking and she swatted him on the arm. “Very funny, Jimmy.”

After they left, Viv wrinkled her brow and cried a little, but she recovered quickly and soon seemed delighted that she had our undivided attention. It felt a little odd to be alone with Matt—since we'd moved to Texas, it had rarely been just the two of us. But I tried to ignore any weirdness and be happy that we were spending the night together now, even if it was just because we were babysitting.

Viv had a koala bear that she was very attached to (Ash sometimes worried that her obsession with it wasn't normal) and she kept handing it to Matt and then taking it back, shoving its arms and legs into her mouth.

“Koala is going to need a bath soon,” I said to her, and she smiled and whipped him on the ground.

“Are you mad at Koala?” Matt asked, and Viv looked up at him as if she were considering the question. “Maybe you're just bored with him. You probably want another baby to play with. You should ask your aunt Beth to help you out. Maybe she will. You just have to ask her.” Matt said all of this in a singsong voice while looking at Viv, but it was clear he was waiting for me to respond.

I didn't say anything at first, just stared at Matt. It felt like this was coming out of nowhere—we hadn't talked about having a baby in months, not in any serious way. In fact, we hadn't even mentioned it casually, and I couldn't tell if Matt was joking now. Finally, I just said, “Funny, funny.”

“I'm not trying to be funny,” Matt said. He was looking at me strangely then, and I had the feeling that he wanted to start a fight, to make the night unpleasant.

“You seriously want to have a baby in Texas?” I asked.

“Sure,” he said. “Why not? We wouldn't be in Texas when the baby was born anyway.”

“Why not?” I asked. “Why not?” was his reason for wanting to have a baby?

“Yeah, why not?”

“Right. So, let's say I got pregnant right now. Then I'd be back in DC looking for a job while I was visibly pregnant? That timing doesn't seem great.”

I was aware then that Viv was watching us, and while I knew she didn't understand what we were saying, I still felt strangely guilty having this conversation in front of her.

“I don't think the timing is ever completely right,” Matt said. There was a challenge in his voice.

“Maybe not,” I said. “But this timing seems completely wrong.” I didn't say what I was really thinking—which was that I couldn't imagine having a baby with someone who was so angry all the time. That he barely talked to me lately, that he didn't seem like himself and the thought of negotiating the complications of a child while he was like this seemed impossible, or at the very least, the thing that would end us.

Also, a tiny part of me thought that maybe he wanted a baby because it was something that Jimmy had, that it would be a way to even the score between them. But I just stayed quiet, because it seemed that telling him any of this would most certainly lead to a fight. And finally he sighed as though I were deeply disappointing him and said, “You know, you can't keep making excuses forever.”

“D
id you see this?” Matt asked, pointing to his computer. We were all in the kitchen eating breakfast and Matt's laptop was in front of him, but I didn't know if he was talking to me or Jimmy or all of us.

“See what?” I finally said.

“
The Dallas Morning News
reported that Candace Elroy raised ten times what we did last quarter. And half of the money came from donations from oil and gas companies. This is so fucked up.”

“I'm so sick of this shit,” Jimmy said. He was pouring himself a cup of coffee and my heart jumped for a second, thinking he was talking about Matt's constant delivery of bad news. But then he went on, “How can people not see how corrupt this is?”

“I thought we made a rule about these things at breakfast,” Ash said, lightly tapping the top of Matt's laptop. He gave her an apologetic look as he closed the computer and placed it on an empty chair. A couple weeks earlier, Matt had sat at the breakfast table and read us an article about Jimmy that picked apart his career, claiming he had no experience with anything remotely related to oil and gas, that his résumé was fluffy and light, that he was trading on being Obama's aide. We all stared at Matt as he read out loud, and I kept thinking he'd stop eventually, especially when it started to get nasty. But he just kept going. The article had appeared on some conservative blog, but Matt said it got a lot of traffic, that plenty of people would read it. After he read the last line, “A Democrat hasn't been elected to the Railroad Commission in two decades,” he finally looked up and realized that he'd just ruined everyone's day, all before 8:00 a.m. It was after that that Ash started insisting everyone (meaning Matt) keep the computers off the table while we ate.

That morning, even after the computer was gone, Matt kept muttering about Candace Elroy. “We need everyone to stop reporting on how little we're raising. It's taking away from the real issues of the race.” No one responded to him—we knew he wasn't looking for an answer, just thinking out loud.

“What's on the schedule for today?” Ash said in a cheerful voice, a little louder than normal. She was toasting a loaf of sourdough bread and carrying it over to us, four thick pieces at a time. She'd already set out butter and fancy strawberry jam, and a bowl of hard-boiled eggs sat in the center of the table. When I got up to help her carry things, she'd put her hands on my shoulders and said, “Don't you dare,” which even with her friendly southern accent, sounded a little bit like a threat.

“We're leaving for Odessa today,” Matt said.

“Oh, right. That's today?” Ash set down the last four pieces of toast and then finally sat down herself and picked up her coffee. “I almost forgot.”

“How could you forget?” Jimmy asked. “We've been talking about it all week.”

My eyes met Ash's across the table just for a second, and then we both looked away, waiting to see if this would escalate. Both of us let out a breath when Jimmy changed the subject, knowing that our breakfast—for that day at least—would be argument free.

The Odessa trip was a point of contention—Jimmy thought it was too far to go for such a small event (a round-table discussion with oil field workers), but Matt insisted it was important and argued with him until he gave in. The plan was to leave Tuesday morning and drive eight hours to Odessa, where they would spend the night and have the round table first thing in the morning, then drive to San Antonio for a fund-raising dinner and return home late Wednesday. All of the campaign trips involved a lot of driving, but this was pretty extreme with the quick turnaround.

I'd woken up at 4:00 that morning and found Matt sitting on the couch outside our bedroom, his laptop balanced on his knees. “What are you doing?” I'd asked, half asleep.

“I'm trying to get the points for the water conservation plan down. We need to get it on the website, make sure Jimmy starts working it into his talks.”

“It's four in the morning.”

“I know.”

“You should get some sleep,” I said, “if you're going to drive tomorrow.”

“I will. I just need to get this done.” Matt looked up at me then and I could see how tired he was. Part of me wanted to hug him, to make him come to bed. I knew that his recent irritability and bad moods were made worse by the fact that he wasn't getting nearly enough sleep. But there was another part of me that didn't want to bother because I knew how it would play out—I'd try to convince him to come to bed and he'd tell me he had too much work to do and would eventually get annoyed and huffy with me. It seemed like no matter what I did or said lately, it wasn't the right thing.

“Okay, then,” I finally said. “Good night.”

Matt and Jimmy were out the door by 10:00, and Ash and I just looked at each after they drove away. “It's so calm in here,” I said.

“I know,” she said. “Thank God.”

It was a relief to have Matt out of the house, to know that he wouldn't be back that night. Which only made me worry that it wasn't normal to feel that way, wasn't right to only be able to relax when your husband wasn't around.

Ash and I wandered back to the kitchen and sat at the round table. It was sunny and cheerful in there—like everywhere else in the house, there was thought put into every detail. But this room was by far my favorite, with its ruffly curtains and distressed table. I had a feeling that I'd never be able to create a similar space in a home of my own. Decorating skill, it seemed, was one more thing that I was lacking.

We discussed our plans for the day—Ash didn't have to work and so we were free to do whatever we wanted. We were debating taking a walk to the park and having lunch there when I felt Ash hesitate and then she said, “I'm sure this is all normal campaign stuff, and maybe I'm just being sensitive, but I hate the way they're acting with each other. It's nasty.”

She'd clearly been thinking about mentioning something for a while—I could tell by the way it just spilled out, like she wanted to say it before she changed her mind. It was strange that we'd never discussed what was happening between Matt and Jimmy. We'd exchanged glances and a couple of comments, but never really acknowledged how bad it had gotten. Their arguments colored everyone else's moods, cast a shadow over the house. If they were on good terms, everyone could be happy. If not, we all had to be on guard.

“I know,” I said to her. “It's almost like they can't help it. Like they can't stop the fighting now that it's started.” I was aware of how we both kept saying “they,” like neither of us wanted to assign blame to the other's husband.

Ash was about to say something else, had her mouth open and ready, and then we heard Viv cry from upstairs and she sighed. “Duty calls,” she said, getting to her feet.

We ended up walking to the park, Ash pushing Viv in the stroller, Viv's legs kicking out in front of her. It was a beautiful day—hot of course, but it still felt great to be outside. We stopped to get sandwiches on the way, and once Viv was set up in the sand, we unwrapped them and started eating. Every minute or so, Ash had to get up to stop Viv from putting sand in her mouth, or to take a stick out of her hand and replace it with a plastic shovel. I'd finished my entire lunch before Ash had even gotten through half of hers, and so I moved to sit next to Viv, trying to entertain her so Ash could eat.

It was interesting to be able to observe Ash as a mom so closely. What struck me nearly every day was how almost all of Viv's care fell to her. She had help from all the family around, of course, which was more than most people got. But on a day-to-day basis, Jimmy didn't do much to take care of Viv. Maybe it had always been that way—we hadn't lived with them when she was first born, so how would we know? Or maybe it had changed once the campaign started. Either way, I was pretty sure there was no going back now. Jimmy would hold Viv or carry her to the kitchen, but he unapologetically handed her off to Ash when she needed to eat or get a diaper changed.

It was so personal, what Matt and I were witnessing, a twenty-four-hour view of the Dillons' parenting. And it seemed extreme to me, although I couldn't say how unusual it was since I'd never lived with anyone else who was raising a child. But when we were on the road, Ash never ate a meal uninterrupted. She'd try to take a few bites while feeding and entertaining Viv, but more often than not she just abandoned her plate altogether, while Jimmy sat back, relaxed and taking it for granted that he had both hands free. I wondered sometimes, watching this, if Ash knew what she'd signed up for.

Ash finished her sandwich quickly and carried our trash over to the garbage can. She walked back toward us and held out her hands to Viv, pulled her up to standing. “Do you want to go on the swings?” she asked, already leading Viv over there. I watched as they walked away, as Ash freed one hand to wave to another mom-and-daughter duo. “Hey, y'all,” she said, “isn't this a perfect day for the park?”

Most nights, Ash put Viv down around 7:00, before we all ate dinner. Lately, I'd go upstairs with her and sit on the floor while she changed Viv into her pajamas and read her a story. It wasn't like we needed any more time to talk or that she even wanted me there, it was just that I didn't want to be left downstairs alone with Matt and Jimmy.

But with them gone, I stayed downstairs to watch TV as Ash put Viv to bed, and it felt so freeing—like the first time my parents left me alone when they went out. I poured us each a glass of wine, and when Ash came down, she said, “Oh, that is just what I need.”

Neither of us was all that hungry, so Ash just set out cheese and crackers to snack on. Ash chewed on a piece of cheese thoughtfully and then said, “I wonder what the boys are up to.”

We hadn't heard from them since they arrived. Matt had just sent one text that said,
Made it to Odessa.
I'd written back to ask how the drive went, but he hadn't responded. I checked my phone once more, just to be sure, like I could've missed something when my phone had been no more than six inches away from me all day.

“They probably just got dinner and went to bed,” I said.

“Do you think they're getting along?” Ash asked.

“Maybe,” I said. “Maybe being alone will be good for them. Maybe they'll be able to talk some things out.” I doubted this was true, but we were both skirting around what was so obvious—that Matt thought Jimmy was being a prima donna and Jimmy thought Matt was jealous.

“Maybe,” Ash said, although I could tell she didn't believe it any more than I did.

“It's making Matt so irritable though,” I said. “The campaign, I mean. Like he's just mad all the time. Even at me.”

This was the most I'd disclosed about what was going on between me and Matt. It was embarrassing, but I figured she was seeing it all anyway and was the only one who could really understand the complications of our situation.

“That must be hard,” she said, giving me an exaggerated look of sympathy. She'd snapped back to her Texas Ash voice, the one she used when she talked to the Dozens.

“Yeah, I'm sure it's just stress,” I said, hoping we could drop it.

“I'm sure it is,” she said, and again her voice had a syrupy sweet tone to it that made me want to slap her. Why was she acting like this? Like everything in her life was so perfect? I'd wanted to tell her so much, how weird things were with Matt, how we barely talked anymore, how we hadn't had sex in weeks, how I'd been shut down so many times when I tried to initiate it that I felt humiliated.

But now I couldn't confide in her. Six months ago, I could have told her everything. But in that moment, I didn't trust her. She'd probably run to the Dozens and tell them all about her poor friend Beth, who was having marital problems. I didn't say anything else, and then she reached over and touched my arm and said in a voice so dramatic it was almost funny, “Don't worry, I know you two will work it out.”

Matt and Jimmy returned late the next night, and I was already in bed but still awake and reading when Matt came in, tossed his bag in the corner of the room, and closed the door behind him.

“That was the most annoying twenty-four hours of my life,” he said. He wasn't bothering to whisper.

“Why?” I asked, putting my book down.

“The round table was fine. Jimmy did well, although he spent the first twenty minutes shooting the shit with everyone instead of talking about safety concerns. He kept straying from the talking points, but eventually he got there. But then we got to the dinner tonight and we'd been in the car for hours at that point and I'm trying to give him some feedback, some constructive criticism, and he acts like I'm out of line. Like I'm insulting him just for fun.”

“So what happened?” I asked. I wasn't happy that they'd fought during the trip, but for once it felt like Matt was confiding in me, like he was finally seeing that we were on the same team. I didn't want to encourage what was happening between him and Jimmy, but I did want him to keep talking to me.

“Nothing happened, really. We got to the dinner and he got pretty drunk right away, which meant that I was going to have to drive the whole way back, which is fine, I guess, but whatever. And then he started talking to this woman, just one on one in a weird way, like no one else was there. Every time I tried to introduce him to someone new, he basically ignored me. Not to mention that he didn't care how it looked that he was hitting on this woman in front of the whole room.”

“He was hitting on her?” I asked.

“I mean, yeah. I don't know. You know him.”

“Who was she?”

“One of the donors. She sought him out, but he didn't back away. I think he was trying to piss me off.”