Compromising Positions (28 page)

“I’m just checking in with all the moderates. I can’t have you all going wobbly on me. We can still count on you to speak, right, even though your girlfriend is across the aisle?”

I took a sip of my drink because I really needed it at that point. Time was running out, but I still had a week to decide what to do. I opted for calm obfuscation. “If I don’t speak, it won’t be because of her.”

I expected him to fly off the handle, but instead he gave me a perturbed smile. “Damn moderates.” He pointed to Bob. “Now go raise us some money. At least I can always count on you guys to do that.”

For the rest of the evening, I checked my watch every few minutes, hoping it would finally change to an acceptable time where I could leave. While it had sucked over the last few weeks being in a limbo with Jessie, at least in limbo, there was a status quo. With the vote on the horizon, things would finally be resolved between Jessie and me, one way or another. That was unsettling because resolution might mean things would officially be over. When eight twenty finally appeared on my watch, I took a deep breath of relief. I could spend the next ten minutes hitting the john and saying goodbye to the hosts before I left at eight thirty.

I went to the bathroom I’d seen off the side of a hall, but the door was locked.
Damn it
. I didn’t want to wait around, but I was in one of those small, narrow row houses in Georgetown that usually only had one toilet on each floor. The stairs rose temptingly to my right, so I bounded up them only to find that floor’s bathroom also locked. There was another flight of stairs, but that led to the top floor. It felt a little rude to be that far away from the party on the first floor. By that time, though, I really needed to take a piss, so I climbed the stairs. It took me a minute to find the john on that floor because they’d gutted the whole thing creating a master suite. The bathroom was the size of a whole bedroom, but I finally got my toilet, plus some privacy—or so I thought.

After I did my business and washed my hands, I left the bathroom and began walking through the suite toward the bedroom door. I took a step back when it opened up and in walked Cathy Mathers. She wore a seductive grin. “Hi, Michael. You wandered off, so I came to find you.”

“And here I am,” I said dryly. “Though not for long. I need to head home.”

She closed the door behind her and said, “Leaving so soon? We haven’t had the chance to talk.”

“Now really isn’t the right time.”

Taking a few steps toward me, she said, “Oh, you have some time.” She looked about the room. “And for once, we’re not in public.”

“I actually don’t have time.” I was all calm and cool on the exterior, but inside, I was reeling. The way she spoke, the way she walked, and the look in her eye were all signs of a woman on the make. My immediate reaction was to get the hell out of there, but a faint voice in my head said no.
Maybe I should stay. Maybe I should kiss her. Maybe I should play the field.

My indecision must have been apparent because she came within inches of me. In her heels, I could look her in the eye. Placing her hands on my chest, she stroked my suit jacket. “We’re alone. Let’s have a little fun,” she said. “No one will know.”

While my rational brain rang out warnings, my physical side was taken in by the scene. There was a beautiful woman practically on top of me who was ready and willing for whatever I wanted to do to her. It was a tempting situation for any man, but especially an emotional wreck like me.

She leaned in and whispered, “We could be so good together.”

“Cathy…” It was meant as a warning, but it sounded half-hearted.

She then looked me dead on, and we were so close I could see the details of the hazel irises in her eyes. “Kiss me,” she said, as she slid her hands down my jacket and onto my legs. “I know you want it.”

Did
I want it? She was hot, and the situation was titillating, but did I want to be with her? I was caught up in my own rhetorical question as her lips moved toward mine. At first I panicked, but the closer they came the more sure I became of my answer.
Of course, not.

But I couldn’t just tell her “no.” She was a colleague who was throwing herself at me. I had to be able to extract myself without humiliating her. As I felt her hand coming near my dick, I whispered, “I can’t.”

“
Can’t
?” she asked smugly. “Why can’t you?”

I wasn’t going to let this happen. Gently moving her hand away, I stepped back to a more comfortable distance between us. “Cathy, you’re beautiful. Every man wants you, but I’m not the right one for you. I’m in love with someone else.”

I hadn’t planned on saying the last part, and as I realized what I said, it felt right and true. I also felt like an idiot. I
was
in love with someone else. How in the hell had I let myself get in the position of having Cathy Mathers feel me up in a donor’s bedroom?

She crossed her arms and became indignant. “If you’re so in love with her, why are you two never together anymore?”

That was a damn good question, but I couldn’t tell her that. “It’s complicated, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love her.” I had to do something to get the hell out of there. I shouldn’t be debating my love life with anyone but Jessie herself.

Hoping to soften the blow, I touched Cathy’s shoulder and said, “You deserve someone who can give you more than me.”

Before she could say anything else, I walked out of the room.

~~~

That weekend, I found some distraction on my trip back to Illinois, though Jessie was never far from my mind. When I ended the trip with dinner at my parents’ home, I became sullen again as I faced what would be a daunting week ahead. Mom was quick to catch on.

After my father had left the room to take a call, Mom cleared her throat and pushed her dessert plate to the side. “Michael, why are you so moody tonight?”

“Moody? I don’t think I’m moody. I just have a lot on my mind,” I shrugged, not even really listening to her.

“Well, I say you’re moody. What’s going on? Is it about Jessie?”

I eyed my mother. It wasn’t like I was going to get into an abortion discussion with her. I
was
a moody asshole though. I’d been that way for weeks, so I decided to be open, but offer limited information. “We’ve hit a rough patch. Don’t worry about it.”

“You’re worrying about it.”

“It’s my business.”

“Is it about that horrible thing you said about her?”

“Not directly,” I mumbled, feeling like a scolded child. Why did my mom have to read all the stories about me?

“I have to say I side with her on this one. I think you need to make it up to her.”

“Yes, Mom….”

She twisted the diamonds on her ring finger, her eyes studying the gems. She always did that when she was about to say something important. “You love her, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then you need to work it out.” She smiled the same soothing grin that usually helped me. “Because your father likes her, your sister likes her, and I do, too. I’m not sure you’ll find another woman who pleases the entire family
and
you.”

“Thanks, Mom. She’s special. I know.” She’d made me smile, but if she only knew. I gulped. “But there doesn’t seem to be a way out.”

“I know you don’t want to tell me things. That’s the way you handled Stacy with me, but I might be able to help—more so than your father.”

I sat motionless, but my insides went on red alert. Talking to my mother about the abortion issue and Jessie was a dangerous proposition. “Sorry, Mom. I just don’t think you’ll have an answer.”

“Try me. I knew this was going to be difficult for you two. I even told your father, I thought you were being naïve.”

“We aren’t anymore,” I replied.

“Just tell me, Michael.”

“It has to do with a controversial issue, and I don’t want your opinion of Jessie colored by it.”

Mom rolled her eyes. “Oh, dear. She’s a Democrat. She has plenty of positions I disagree with, and I still like her as a person. She’s good for you.”

“That’s what Jeff says.”

“Then you should feel safe to talk to me.”

“I don’t know...”

“If it’s about abortion, I know her position, and while I abhor it, I don’t think any less of her.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, rubbing my chin.

“Yes. Is this about that Planned Parenthood amendment?”

“It is…” As usual, she’d figured it all out. What the hell, I thought. I might as well tell her everything. I launched into a summarized version of events, though unlike with Jeff, I omitted the details about Jessie’s own abortion experience. I knew that would distract Mom no matter what she said to the contrary. I also kept secret my own conflicted beliefs about abortion. That was a can of worms not to be opened in her presence, as well.

When I finished telling my story, Mom pursed her lips. “This is all very unfortunate.”

“Yes, it is.”

“To be honest, I really don’t like this amendment either.” She shook her head. “I want Planned Parenthood to stop its abortion factories, but I don’t like taking away health care for poor women in order to do it, and I fear limiting access to contraception will only increase the number of abortions.”

I snorted. “The Catholic Church is opposed to contraception, yet I have yet to find a Catholic woman who is opposed to it.”

“Who agrees with every single tenant of their religion? If a life isn’t conceived, I have no problem with it,” she said emphatically. “Millions of women are trapped in poverty because they have too many children. Contraception has its purposes. How is it any different than the rhythm method?”

I may have been thirty-five, but Mom talking about the rhythm method was a little too much sex talk with a parent for me. I cut to the chase. “So what do you think I should do?”

She was quiet but never broke her stare. “Eventually, you want to marry her don’t you?”

“Yes. Sooner than you might think or like.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve always acted quickly once you’ve made a decision. I’d just ask that you make it a long engagement, so the annulment is final first.”

I grimaced. “I was planning on asking you for the family ring.”

“The ring you never gave Stacy, you want to give to Jessie?”

“Yes. I do, or I did, but now I don’t know if she would accept it.”

Extending her hand to touch mine, she patted it with encouragement. “Oh, she loves you, too. You know that.”

“I guess so.”

“The only advice I can offer has nothing to do with the actual issues you’re facing.”

“Then what do you have for me?” This was so frustrating. Nobody knew how to help me get out of it.

“You should focus on what’s important. Relationships are like legislation. They won’t be strong if only one side supports it. There needs to be a compromise, so both sides are invested. It’s the only way.”

“Right…” I said. I kept my thoughts to myself. I didn’t see the connection at all. “I’ll think about it.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Jessie

The weeks without Michael began to blur together, and I lost the temptation to call him. Was it easier not to call him because I was becoming entrenched in my stubbornness? Or was it easier not to call him because I didn’t want to know he’d moved on?

One weekend back in Arizona, Mom showed up for my event with her local garden club. Because it was Arizona, the members were all into cactuses and succulents, and I had to listen to a couple of presentations on xeriscaping. After I had made my speech about updates from Congress and thanking them for their support, a woman who was a throwback to another time approached me. She actually wore a hat and gloves in Arizona with the temperature hovering near the hundred and ten degree mark. She extended her white gloved hand and said, “I’m Josie Weathers… just wanted you to know how much I support what you’re doing to support Planned Parenthood. We didn’t have it when I was young, and my life would’ve been much different if we had.”

“Well, thank you, Ms. Weathers.” That was my standard answer when someone expressed gratitude for my work. Usually I didn’t say much more, needing to move on to the next person in the reception line. She was different, though. I cocked my head to the side, as I considered what she’d revealed. “Can I be so bold to ask what happened to you?”

“I’d rather not.” She wasn’t from a generation where people spoke openly about their troubles. “I’m happy with my life, but it would’ve been different.”

What was there to say to that? I found a smile for her and simply said, “Thank you.”

As my mom and I drove back to my parents’ place after the event, she said, “I was surprised when Josie spoke to you. I think it shows you how important your work is.”

“I suppose it does,” I said, trying to focus on the road. “It’s nice to hear.” It was moments like that which reinforced my belief that I was doing the right thing, regardless of what happened with Michael.

Either out of maternal instinct or plain old curiosity, my mom then asked, “So how are things with Michael?”

Because I was driving, I took some comfort in the ability to speak without having to look anyone in the eye. With my eyes on the stop sign ahead, I said, “Not good.”

“Why?”

“Why” was a good question, and I was at my breaking point. I’d faced every crisis of my life with my mom. This one could be no different.

Weeks of pent up emotions flooded out of me as I told my mother every last bit of my terrible predicament. My wonderful, patient mother sat there and listened with no judgmental response. Unfortunately, we were nearing the house by the time I finished, and I didn’t want to continue the conversation in front of Dad. At the end, I summed it up. “So that’s my situation, and there’s no way out. I fear he’s already forgotten about me.”

“Unlikely.”

“But maybe.”

“Then call him and find out.”

My mother was such a no-nonsense woman, and under her stare, I realized I was being ridiculous. I felt like I was fourteen again. “I’m afraid,” I admitted. In a way, there was relief for confessing what I was really feeling, but I also was pathetic for even being in this situation.