Imperative Fate (5 page)

“Then let’s go!” I heralded, knowing she’d be better at mingling than me.

And I couldn’t have been more right. She was chatting up a young suit before I got a hold of one of the salon doors.

“You know, Harold, you were
there
!” she laughed like a good aristocrat as I walked through the threshold.

Harold, the boyish 30-something with ash blond hair smiled, bopping his head with hers like they were listening to good Jazz. “I been a lotta places, kid, can’t remember ’
em all,” he said as jovial as Yakko Warner and took her arm. “But I remember that one.”

“You ought to with what went down when Andrew came around! I thought he’d be reprimanded by Newt or impeached for sure!” Ellie prattled as an insider, eyes lit like spotlights.

I smiled, overseeing her gerrymandering. She was good at energizing the boys in office.

“Ah, El, you know by now guys like that got too much pride to step down, wouldn’t do it for the world if the moon was on a collision course,” Harold sighed after a long suck. His head shook so much, I was sure his vertebrae were on an axis.

Ellie Anne crumpled up her mouth like a pug. “That’s why we’ve got to enlist good men. We’ll get good men.”

“Oh? What gives you hope?” Harold asked. “After ’94’s freshman mature it’s all an uphill battle.”

Ellie shook her head. “For one, you’re here and it’s not been so long since you were a freshman; they look up to you like a father. There’s a lot you can do to recruit as amicable men.”

Melted like ice-cream, he ruffled her long, braided bangs, going “Shucks” like he never heard a compliment before.

“And two . . .” my friend went on, combing the flyway from his invasive hands, “I’ve taken a look at the primary picks. You’ve got some handsome contenders and provocative voices you can mold this year. That lawyer boy, Anthony from Austin; I hear putting criminals away isn’t the only thing he’s good at.”

“Thanks for the tip, honey. I’ll be on the look-out.
Could always use more of those go-getting boys for Kolansky’s new program. Oh, and tell your dad it’s a ‘yes’ on the pipeline bill,” he assured, kissing her hands and giving a thumbs-up before being torn away by one of his female aides.

I started to understand why they call the political field a science. Ellie worked by a formula: Greet with a familiar memory, joke, fit some touching in, laugh more, ask about family, demonize the other party, discuss up-and-comings like Anthony who can take them down. Agree heartily to that candidate’s core issues with those head-shakes, say “gotta run” and do it again with the next unsuspecting schlep.

I was as sickened as I was stunned. I was horrified by the elegance. What a bombshell! Ellie Anne’s Aphrodite among aristocrats, a glambassador!

She, Congress’s darling, slipped from one man’s arms to the next like she was doing the Samba with less sex appeal.

~
***
~

“I didn’t know you drank. You don’t look like the type,” I said, watching Ellie Anne uncork the wine bottle once we were back to base. I thought she was kidding about the booze part.
Apparently not. The label read
Echezeaux Grand Cru
. I figured my lack of ability to pronounce that correlates directly to how expensive and good it is.

“I like the rush from the catch,” she explained, pouring the ruby liquor in two glasses. “I need something to do while I’m imprisoned at another toady convention, don’t I?”

“True,” I conferred, halfhearted.

Ellie soon took a seat between her two biggest sheep, swallowing soundlessly after handing me a glass. “This is nice,” she said to which I agreed. “There’s something so much sadder about drinking by myself.”

I thought it was good she found humor in it, but the image unsettles me: a small, neglected wino that hasn’t seen home in weeks surrounded by nothing but stained cups and fleeced hiccups of friends. Scary.  “Is it really so lonely, Tippecanoe?” I asked her, using her quirky nickname. “You got along perfectly with all the Congressmen at the party. Why don’t you consider them friends? Who’re they if they’re not?”

“Silly Tyler,” she persisted, “friends don’t get paid to adore you, and friends aren’t handed down from your daddy.” The fair-haired girl shrugged and pursed her baby lips. “They’re empty acquaintances, neighbors and family friends,
that’s all.”

“What about your family?” I pressed. “How often you see them, your mother? Surely, there’s someone you keep in regular contact with.” I sniffed the spirit.
Cherry and cedar.

Ellie’s head fell to her right shoulder as if a string was cut. “Much of that isn’t left. Don’t know much and wouldn’t like to. Most of them are mean-spirited crooks, liars.
Mother? Heck if I know. Haven’t seen her in two months, heard her in one. We like to keep it that way. I don’t mind all that often.”

Cautiously nipping, giving the wine a spin, my mouth felt weird and full with this dry sensation. It went down like I swallowed the strip of ribbon from Ellie’s hair. My palate stood somewhere between raspberry and plum, infused with some simple spice, something wooden. It was very powerful, but it wasn’t over-bearing. It was very good in that it was hardly acidic. Definitely not something Mama tucked away in her nightstand.

“How’s that? Is she estranged? Your father must keep an open book for the ladies.” I smirked but she wasn’t looking.

Delving her nose into her soft lamb’s tuft, Ellie Anne put her glass down, speech thoughtful and muffled. “No.
Not at all. But she’s a very independent woman, could do better without me. I was an accident. I got in the way of her career and then, with Daddy’s office win, she felt ‘smothered’ and ‘unappreciated.’ Never in love with the idea of raising a child, she’d constantly pawn me off to someone.

“That’s good and bad. I mean, why would I want to be around someone who won’t want to be around me? Why should I miss someone who won’t miss me?” She closed her eyes. “And regulars? No, not willing ones, not mutual ones. Gilbert’s always calling, trying to set things up, but his innuendo gets old quicker than his father can fabricate a story. It’s ridiculous.”

Countenance drooping, I joined her on the floor and clasped her shoulder. She shivered. “That’s too bad. At least you don’t have to deal with her when you’re with your father. Or what’s within the vicinity of him. You don’t like Gilbert much. Is there a past with him, did you date?” I wondered aloud.

Crimping her tippy toes, she scowled. “No, he’s handsome as hell, but Gil can be a real jerk.
World-class. All he wants out of anybody is to make them jealous. Only reason I stomach that’s because I want to beat him at his game, know he has a low-profile heart an’ personality. Nobody that young is completely evil or obnoxious, I think.”

I lowered a brow. My methodology was a bit different. “How couldn’t kisses get that out of him?”

“Gil would desire much more than kisses,” she insinuated, dismissively waving her hand.

I reasoned, “What he desires means nothing. He’d have to wait. He’d be lucky to have you. You get so depressed; it might be wonderful to have someone who wants so much of your attention and affection. You say his father’s a politico too. That’d be pretty perfect, huh?”

Ellie shook her head, looking distant again. “It’s not that simple. Besides, I don’t like boys. I could never have one. You’ve seen how big my dad is. He scares them all away.”

Scrunching my face, I countered, “But he’s never with you. What do you mean you don’t like boys?”

She repeated herself in the same uninterested tone.

Taken aback, I scooped, “Just cuz you’re told? You said you want to be revolutionary, you’re gorgeous!” (I was a bit jealous, in fact.) “Guys and gals must fight over you all the time. Seems like a waste to be by yourself when you could be happy thinking sagacious thoughts with someone else.”

She brought the glass of liquor to her lips to finish its contents and replenish it once more. If I weren’t looking, I bet she’d inhale mine. No way I bought she wasn’t in it to get sloshed. That’s not what sad people do. They look for pricey placebos, supposed escapes.

“You just don’t care about boys, huh?” I tried to sound compassionate, but Ellie Anne seems rather immune to talk.  “Do you like girls then, Ellie Anne?” I wondered, treading carefully. I never knew a queer before. If she was one, I’d think they’re pretty neat, like a perfect, compulsive alien race.

But this drug her brows further down. “No, I’m not a lesbian, you ignoramus!” she shouted in surprise, contemptuous of something she wouldn’t share.

“Then what is it?” I questioned, balling my hand on her closest knee. She was so warm and soft, like a kitty cat; even her few unshaven hairs were inviting to touch. I wanted her trust, a friend so comely and kind and smart. At home, friends were so basic and forgettable.

Her white hands held her distressed mug. “Goddamn it, Dahlia, my own family doesn’t have time or love for me! I’d like family love first. Doesn’t matter what I want or think, okay? That’s how it boils down.” Her voice cracked, quaver sharp as steel wool.
So moody today
, I thought.

“I’m sorry it’s that way, Ellie Anne,” I comforted to no avail, ill-equipped to convey emotion as severe as she does, lacking the education and verbal skills. I found solace in chipping away at my nail polish as that hand rested on her knee.

She threw my hands back at me. “Quit touchin’ me,” she admonished, accent broadening. “You’ll just be lyin’ anyhow. You’re entertaining. You’re just listening an’ sayin’ what I ‘want’ to hear. But nobody wants anything to do with me, I know this.” Her blonde brows kept twitching slightly, like some bad vision was being continuously scraped against her retinas.

This panged me because I was lying and I didn’t want to be anymore. I wanted to be Rhea and hug her and tell her I never
knew my father either; my mother’s a destitute snipe hunt that has no parenting skills either. I wanted to give her this credible, inspiring anecdote, but that just didn’t jibe with Dahlia.

Though I didn’t feel particularly good about jimmying a response on my inexperienced tongue, I’d feel worse about not.

“Ellie Anne,” I started, “you can’t say those things to make yourself feel terrible. That’s all black. What about all the bright white? What about all the prestige? You’re beautiful as a cherry blossom, wealthy as an A-list actress, and you have conscience enough to know Washington isn’t right, isn’t normal. You’ve got impeccable taste; all you’re missing are a few numbers in your phone.

“That’s why I started talking to you. You
are
different from everyone around you, and maybe you
are
better than them. If they don’t see that, that’s their problem. You don’t talk like they do. You talk pretty like your daddy. I bet you know right and wrong and legal better than a cop, and that’s just as useful whether you’re a saint or Satan! You don’t even walk like a normie for Christ’s sake! With all this loneliness—
freedom
—you can do whatever you want! Picking dingy old black is stupid! Pick out something as amazing as your wardrobe. Pick up some freakin’ confidence.”

Though my rhetoric could use fewer colloquialisms, Ellie buried her nose and mouth in her babydoll hand, emitting a few scuffed sniffles as her frame jerked in time. Dragging away a few tears beside her nose, Ellie cried, “Of course you’re right, and I know, to some degree I know, but I can’t comprehend much right now. You don’t understand, but you’ll see. If you and Anthony follow me and Daddy, you’ll see. Please don’t leave. Please pick me up. Please don’t go. I didn’t want to yell. I don’t want you to be mad or leave. Please, keep me close, a friend.”

I couldn’t disobey if there was a gun pressed against my throat. I couldn’t obey her abstinent rule any better. You can’t see a crying girl and not want to stop it. You can’t go through life all wrong and not do
something
right. So I embraced her until my arms went numb and my brain went dull, until the sun met the sky again. I promised her everything she yearned for and I promised myself that my lies would not go sour. 

6/9

Most of the last day of Convention, I spent without my Mossling. In the morning, she wasn’t in my grasp, must’ve slipped like a ghost and packed away her lambs. She wasn’t hidden in the lobby, reading a philosophy book, or by any watering hole. At noon, I didn’t see her surveying any of the produce shops or through the window of any café. A couple hours past and there remained no sign of engaging, innocent Ellie. By 3 o’clock, I began to worry that she’d done something stupid, gotten into some snag. Mama always warned pretty girls attract the deadliest evil.

Though I quickly trashed that approach, knowing Ellie isn’t dumb and that I shouldn’t think of her so low or vulnerable.

Right before the sun set and guilt crept into my chest, I saw that unmistakable blonde skirt across the hotel parking lot.

“Where’ve you been, Ellie Anne?” I scorched, cutting across the pavement like an apprehensive mother.
“Haven’t seen you all day!”

Her head snapped back and she beamed, fishing around her purse for her key. “You know, here, there,
everywhere
.”

“Ellie!”
I moaned. “I thought you were
abducted
!” I sensationalized. “By a creeper or aliens! How the heck did you get by me this morning?”