Tangled Thoughts (23 page)

Carter

W
hat are you working on, son?”

Startled, I looked up to see my uncle's tall frame leaning in the doorway to my cube. He'd snuck up on me. That was rare. I put on a smile. “I didn't hear you coming.”

He smiled back. “I know. Come work with me in my office. I don't get to spend enough of that kind of time with you lately.”

True. He didn't. In some ways, I felt like I talked to him less now, when I worked for him, than before I'd moved here. He hadn't been running for president then. Or in love.

Everything had been nuts since the news broke. The headlines were ridiculous, like romance novels. T
HE
S
ENATOR IN
L
OVE
. T
HE
S
ENATOR
'
S
B
ABY
. Some of the less friendly publications added S
ECRET
to that one. In the worst, it was T
HE
S
ENATOR
'
S
M
ISTRESS
.

Tessa was handling it remarkably well, a true media darling. Her face was everywhere within seeming hours. Magazines, tabloids, TV. Despite some analysts calling it a stunt to attract women and minority
voters, and some religious groups painting her as little more than a whore, the response was positive. I imagined the value of Tessa's work was climbing along with Uncle Dan's numbers in the polls. He'd moved solidly into second place, just out of first.

Williams had orchestrated us all at the emergency press conference, down to our outfits, an unconventional but delighted “family.” He'd practically begged for Lainey to be there but she'd refused, for which I was glad. I'd never smiled so much, and I wasn't sure I could have kept it up if she'd been standing next to me. It was exhausting. I'd hated it, but most of all I'd hated myself for hating it. For not being good at it.

In Uncle Dan's office, I dropped my spreadsheets at the small table by the window, the one with the best view in the entire building. He didn't settle behind his desk right away but instead stood beside me. We stayed quiet for a second, looking out at a dreary city day. The biggest spot of color was a tour bus—belonging to Uncle Dan's leading competitor—resting at the curb.

Uncle Dan nodded at it. “Ostentatious, no?”

“I wouldn't think they're allowed to park there.”

Uncle chuckled. “Allegedly, he's treating the touring staff to their own tour of the Capitol and lunch in the cafeteria. The guards are ‘keeping an eye on it.'”

“He just wants us all to see it,” I said, and Uncle full-on laughed.

After another few beats of silence, he said, “How are you doing?”

I glanced at him. The fact that he was asking told me he knew the answer. “I'm looking forward to going back home for a while, sir.”

“Son, it's just us. You don't need the ‘sir.' And you can just go ahead and tell me you hate the attention.”

“I hate the attention,” I admitted, and felt some tension leave my shoulders. It felt good to say it out loud after so much forced smiling. “Harlan told me that I wasn't cut out for this. He's probably right.”

“You're doing beautifully,” Uncle Dan said. “And I appreciate that you're doing it for me. You and Jill. I couldn't be doing this
without
you.”

“Sir—” He made a light
tsk
-ing sound. “Sorry. I—About Jill. I wish you'd told me she was coming home.”

He touched my shoulder. “I know. I'm sorry. I should have told you right away. I didn't expect you'd see each other before I could speak to you or that Angela would allow her to go to that blasted party. She shouldn't have.”

“It was a surprise, is all. It's hard for me. Being around her.” It felt good to say that out loud too.

Jillian handled the media with surprising ease, which made me feel even more a failure. She was Uncle's first heartwarming story, with her near-death and their subsequent reconciliation. If only they knew. No one suspected her of anything, with her big blue eyes, tiny little self, and new French-influenced sense of style. Finally, she had what she'd wanted all along: her father
needed
her.

“I know, son. And I thank you for understanding about why we've handled her…situation the way we have. There was no other way to be discreet, and I promise you, she's getting help and being monitored. The party was a lapse. It won't happen again.”

I nodded, not knowing what else to say.
Thank you
wasn't the right sentiment. I couldn't remember having felt more awkward in my uncle's company. I wasn't used to being a disappointment, and that's what I felt like. I thought more than I should have about what Jill had said to me on Halloween. I couldn't trust anything from her, I knew that much, but I still wondered who she'd been talking about. Who didn't I know? Who did I need protection from? Lainey? I thought I'd known her, but she'd left me anyway.

“You still think about her, don't you?” Uncle Dan's voice interrupted my internal confusion.

“Yes.” There was no question whom he meant, and it wasn't Jill. I touched the pocket with her note in it.

Uncle Dan sighed. I was surprised when his hand fell again on my shoulder and stayed there. “I'm sorry. For bringing her up and for not thinking more about how Jillian's presence would affect you. I don't want to be as careless with your trust as Elaine was.” I let out an involuntary puff of air when he said their names and he squeezed my shoulder. “Is she why you wouldn't join us for Thanksgiving? Or Jillian?”

I shook my head. “No. I needed to be home.” I said it so convincingly, I almost believed it was the whole truth.

“Your sense of duty is admirable. One of your best qualities. I'm proud of you, son.” He paused. As if it hadn't occurred to him before, he added, “Miss Morrow really does suit you better. I'm proud you've realized that, too.”

Had
I realized that? I wasn't sure. But I was trying. Not wanting to disappoint him, I sat down and arranged the spreadsheets on the table. “Sorry—I want to finish this before we leave.”

He hesitated as if he might say something else, but finally said, “You're right—let's get to work.” With one last glance out the window, he added, “It really is ostentatious, isn't it?”

Nodding, I put my head down and got to work. I barely remembered the rest of the afternoon passing until we said goodbye.

The next day, a wheel fell off the tour bus. Improperly tightened lug nuts, according to reports. There were no serious injuries except to Uncle's competitor's schedule and pride. He was late to a charity appearance and Uncle Dan got all the good coverage on the news that day. He was really on a roll.

Lainey

A
ny more questions?” Jack asked, looking at each one of us in turn. The last day of classes had finally arrived, cold and bitter and gray, much like how I'd been feeling. We huddled in our basement classroom, cramming in our last review before the exam.

It was a big one. This class would be a heavy part of my first semester GPA and that mattered to me. I wanted to do well. I
always
wanted to do well, but especially now that I was in college, studying the things
I
wanted for the future I'd chosen for myself. Maybe it was silly, but I wanted to do well for Jack, too, to impress him or reflect on him as one of his students, or probably both.

When none of us said anything, he smiled. “Good. You're ready. And in case you're
not
, here's a neat study sheet along with your last assignments. Good luck everyone—it's been a pleasure.” His eyes stopped on me when he said that, and I smiled down at the table as I passed the stack of papers over to Serena.

The yellow sticky note over my grade bore a smiley face, so I knew it was good. Underneath was a surprise second note. I pushed it up carefully, so I could just see it.

Meet me Friday night?

Friday was the day of our exam, and the last official day of the semester. Jack stood at the front, listening to another student. I couldn't help looking up at him, and he caught my gaze from the corner of his eye. He was smiling, and I was pretty sure it was at me. In the last few weeks, I'd done
plenty
of thinking about Jack Kensington.

With no more thought at all, I nodded and his smile widened. He nodded back, just a tiny bob of his head, and I couldn't stifle my silly grin as I looked back at my paper. A third note read:

If no, please?

If still no, okay. At least I tried.

If YES,
followed by a club name and time.

Underneath all that was finally my grade, an A-. I was still smiling when Serena cleared her throat. She was already standing, tying her scarf and waiting for me. My cheeks were hot before I even managed to meet her eyes, and she raised her eyebrows.

“That must be a pretty good grade…”

I laugh-coughed to hide my embarrassment. “Something like that.”

Since she pretty much knew anyway, I let her peek at my stickies while I shrugged into my coat. She made that approving noise of hers, softly sucking air through her teeth, and cut a glance between me and Jack. He winked at us, and I felt a little bad for the kid who only had half his attention. Serena handed back my paper, which I folded in half twice before sliding it in my bag between my notebook and the card I'd been carrying around for more than a week.

“I never thought I'd want an exam to hurry up and get here, but maybe I do now,” she said.

“Me too,” I breathed.
Me. Too.
I practically vibrated with…something. Excitement? Nervousness? Possibility? We both peeked at Jack once more before we were out the door.

“Bye, ladies,” he called. “Until Friday.” We waved to him as we passed into the hall. “And Lainey?” I paused, wavering at the threshold.

“Yes?” I sounded breathy to myself and felt a little embarrassed by that.

He smiled, showing me the dimple and all his perfect teeth. “Don't be late.”

I waved again, and I could feel my cheeks flush once more. I knew he wasn't talking about the exam. Serena slipped her arm through mine. “Well,” she said. “Looks like we've got some work to do.”

“Studying?”

“No!” She laughed. “
Shopping
. Studying can
so
wait. That place is as H.O.T. as your date. Let's go pick out what you're going to wear.”

Out on the street, we stopped for traffic before crossing to catch the T. Next to us was a post box, navy blue and slightly dinged up from years of students mistreating it. It was nothing out of the ordinary, but the longer we waited, the more
it
seemed to be waiting for
me
. In my bag, I could practically feel the card shaking to get out, to get into the box and away from the paper with the stickies in Jack's handwriting.

Traffic broke and Serena started across. “Lainey! C'mon,” she called.

“I'll be right there!” I promised. And then, before I could think about it a single second longer, I yanked the card out of my bag and slipped it into the mail box's waiting mouth. I rushed across the street, narrowly dodging a car and getting honked at, but who cared? I was doing
all
the dangerous things now.

Carter

T
here was a bomb in my mailbox. I stood frozen in my vestibule, staring at the envelope. It looked like a Christmas card, but no, it was a bomb, ticking inside me. My memory easily called up the handwriting and did moronic cartwheels at the sight of it. My memory
loved
this handwriting, the awful, messy scratch of it.

I blinked. The envelope was still there. I didn't want to believe my eyes, but they were the thing that never lied to me.

Of course I knew who it was from.

What I couldn't fathom was
why
?

“You okay, man?” I turned to see another resident closing his mailbox door and watching me with an expression that fell somewhere between mild concern and wariness.

“No,” I told him. “Excuse me.” I stepped past him without looking back and skipped the elevator, taking the stairs two at a time to the fifth floor. I had to get to my apartment before something exploded.

Alone behind a closed door, I tore the envelope open fast enough to slice my finger on the thick card inside. I wanted to laugh as I shook my hand from the sting. Of course it cut me. It was a weapon designed for the task.

The front read F
ELIZ
N
AVIDAD
below a picture of a stupid fucking snow man in surf shorts and sunglasses, just like the one stuffed in my closet back home. Inside was blank but for her scrawl of

Happy Birthday

Love,

Lainey

That was all. Four words and a thousand pounds of heartache.

The stove burner came to life with a satisfying
whoosh
. I tried to burn the card, but I couldn't do it. Which made me want to burn something all the more, so I settled for the envelope. I held the corner of the starched white paper in the flame until it caught. Watching my name in her handwriting disintegrate felt perfectly awful. I held on to it for a few seconds, until the first bit of flame licked at my fingers, then dropped it in the sink and watched it burn.

Why? Why the fuck why? Why
now
?

I did not understand. In May, she'd driven away without looking back and had refused all contact with me. Then she'd shown up at the office in August without warning and I hadn't heard from her since. Until today, the last day of finals and a few days before Christmas. I was supposed to drive eight hours home tomorrow.

I get to where I don't think of her
every
second of the day and now this.