The Hopefuls (23 page)

An elderly couple passed us, and Jimmy smiled at them. “How're y'all doing today?” he asked, and they smiled back and said they were doing just fine. I could tell that they thought we were married, that they assumed Jimmy was my husband from the way they looked at us, which of course made sense—we were both wearing wedding rings and shopping at Costco together on a weekday afternoon.

“You should appreciate this,” Jimmy said, as the couple moved down the aisle ahead of us. “This is what's so great about Texas. Giant stores with giant carts where you can buy huge bottles of whiskey and a seventy-two-pack of frozen taquitos.”

“You know they have Costco everywhere, right? There was one in DC.”

“It's not the same,” he said. He looked at me out of the corners of his eyes. “So, how's things? You're going home next weekend, right?”

“Yeah, just to see my parents for a couple of days. I haven't been back since Thanksgiving so I thought it would be nice.”

“It must be so strange to have two nice parents,” Jimmy said, taking a bag of party mix off the shelf and then returning it.

“You have two nice parents,” I said.

“Beth, please. You don't have to pretend. We both know my father is a giant dick.” My face must have looked shocked, because he laughed and said, “Calm down. I said he
is
a giant dick not
has
a giant dick.”

“Good God,” I said. The couple who had just moments ago smiled at us like we were adorable turned around with disapproving looks on their faces. “Maybe you can say
dick
louder so the whole store can hear you,” I suggested. Jimmy opened his mouth like he was going to scream, and I hit his arm. “Don't. I was kidding.” We walked a little farther and I said, “I'm not agreeing with you, but I can see how he's hard on you.”

“
Hard
is one word for it. He actually just really doesn't like most people. But he is enamored with your boy-wonder husband.”

“They really do seem to get along, don't they?”

“Like gangbusters.”

“It's weird. I feel like lately Matt's more excited to spend time with your dad than with anyone else.”

Jimmy looked at me seriously for a few seconds, and I thought he was going to say something more about Matt, but he just put his arm back around my shoulders and said, “Come on. Let's get you a giant tub of animal crackers.”

Ash was perfectly pleasant on Viv's birthday, but she did dress the baby in a T-shirt that said
BIRTHDAY
GIRL
on the front and told every person we met at the gumbo festival that Viv's first birthday party had been delayed for the campaign. “But we don't mind,” she said, smiling and squishing Viv's cheeks. “We just want to show our support for Daddy, don't we, baby girl?”

I talked to Colleen at least a few times a week—she was back at work and called me when she was walking to and from the Metro or out grabbing lunch. We talked about nothing really, which was sort of our specialty. (We'd spent so many hours of our lives in conversation with each other that a disappointing salad she'd ordered from Sweetgreen could give us twenty minutes of discussion material.)

It was weird, but when I spoke to her she felt so far away, farther than she really was. It reminded me of junior year, when we were both studying abroad—she was in London and I was in Cork—and when we'd call each other, it felt like she was living a made-up life, because I didn't know anything or anyone she talked about. “Describe your room to me,” I said to her on one of these calls. After living in the same space with her for so long, it didn't seem right that I couldn't picture where she was sleeping at night.

And that's how it felt when I talked to her in Texas—I wanted so badly for her to understand what it was like there, and I'd tell her about the weird towns we'd visit, would describe the Dillons' house, repeat the things that Ash said about her friends.

But I might as well have been telling her a fairy tale, and even though she'd respond by saying, “Wow” or “That's so interesting,” I knew she had no idea what I was talking about, that no matter how much I explained, she'd never really understand my life in Texas.

It looked as though Jimmy had a good chance of winning the primary—he was up against an eighty-year-old man who had run for the commission (and lost) three times already. But still, Matt wasn't taking anything for granted. “You never know,” he kept saying, like he didn't want to get his own hopes up.

The primary would be the easy part—or at least much easier than the general, but it still wasn't certain. “I can't imagine losing and just having this whole thing be over so quickly,” Matt said one night. He was lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, which was a habit he'd picked up since moving to Texas.

“That would be awful,” I said, thinking about packing ourselves right back up after basically just getting there.

“I know,” Matt said, sounding almost irritated, like he hadn't been the one to bring up the possibility of Jimmy losing in the first place.

“I'm sure he'll win,” I said. I doubted this was reassuring, but I felt like I needed to say something.

“I'll feel sure when it's all over,” Matt said and continued to stare at the ceiling, like he was waiting for answers.

Katie was taking the lead on planning the watch party for the primary. “It should be somewhere fun,” I heard Matt tell her one afternoon. “Not stuffy. Somewhere that reflects how young Jimmy is.” As always, Katie took down notes and nodded seriously. I'd seen her smile maybe three times, and that was only when she was first meeting people and forced the corners of her lips upward for a few seconds, because she knew she should. She wasn't joyless—it was more she gave the impression that there was so much to do she couldn't be bothered to waste her time with pleasantries.

Later that same day, Matt and I were sitting outside on the patio, enjoying the unusual seventy-degree late February day. Matt was in a rare relaxed mood—maybe the warm weather had tricked him somehow—and we were talking about his sister, Meg, who'd just announced that she was moving out of their parents' house.

“I can't believe it,” Matt said. “It's like the end of times.”

“I can't believe she's lived there so long. What would've happened if she just never showed signs of moving out? Wouldn't your mom eventually kick her out? Or gently suggest it?”

“Who knows?” Matt said. “I had visions of her being one of those weird adults that live in their parents' basements forever.”

“Like a really well-dressed Boo Radley?”

“Exactly.”

I was enjoying this conversation immensely, just so happy that we were talking about anything other than Jimmy and the campaign for a few minutes. Katie came out the back door and cleared her throat, like she thought she was interrupting something and wanted to make her presence known.

“I came up with some options for the watch party,” she said, still standing on the edge of the patio. She waited until Matt answered to walk closer and hand him a paper. “It's a list of five different sports bars, some pros and cons about the areas where each is, and some pictures of the interiors. We can bring our own food into all of them, which is great, since I figured you'd want it catered.”

Matt flipped through the pages, and they discussed a few of the locations before deciding on one. “That's what I thought you'd pick,” she said. “I'll send the owner a note now.” She was already typing away on her phone.

“That's great,” Matt said. “Thanks so much.” We watched Katie walk to her car and waved good-bye as she pulled out of the driveway. I figured that the spell was broken, that we'd stop talking about Meg and go back to discussing contaminated water, but Matt surprisingly still seemed relaxed.

“Don't be jealous, Buzz,” Matt said. “But I think I might be in love with that little OCD Texan.”

“Oh, I've noticed,” I said. “You probably dream about how organized your life would be with her. Your sock drawer would be legendary.”

Matt reached over and took my hand. “It would be,” he said, smiling and closing his eyes as he aimed his face to the sun. “But don't worry. I'd never leave you for her, no matter how inferior your tweeting skills are.”

When the day of the primary finally came, I somehow felt surprised by its arrival. We'd been living at the Dillons' for two months at that point, talking of little else, and still it felt like it had snuck up on us, like maybe we weren't ready.

We were all up early that morning, nervous and jittery. Ash made a huge pot of coffee and by 6:30 a.m. was already brewing another one, although it was the last thing we needed. Matt was at the kitchen table, clicking away on his BlackBerry, his leg jumping up and down in rhythm with his typing. I put my hand gently on his knee to calm him down, and he stopped the bouncing for just a couple of minutes before starting up again.

Jimmy wouldn't sit down, kept finding reasons to get up and walk into the other room before racing back to the kitchen like he'd missed something. Ash was ready for the day in a blue cocktail dress, her hair curled and makeup on, and it was only when she went to feed Viv that she realized her mistake.

“I'll do it,” I said, taking the yogurt from her. Viv had recently discovered the joy of spitting food at the person who was feeding her, and there was no doubt in my mind that she'd do it today. I'd seen her laugh wickedly after spraying Ash's face with oatmeal—she knew what she was doing.

“Oh, thank you,” Ash said. “I don't know what I was thinking. I just opened my eyes at four a.m., wide awake, and figured I'd get a jump on the day.”

“You've been up since four?” I asked her. She nodded.

“I didn't have a prayer of falling back asleep. I'll probably be a zombie in an hour.”

Viv took a bite of the yogurt, eyeing my pajama pants and T-shirt, sizing me up and then apparently deciding it wouldn't be worth wasting her breakfast on me. She was holding on to an extra spoon, banging it on her tray, telling me (I think) to hurry it up.

Katie knocked on the side door to announce her arrival, before opening it up and letting herself in. She was wearing a button-down shirt and dress pants with heels and carrying a pink bakery box. “I brought some reinforcements,” she said.

Matt and Jimmy both reached for the box as soon as it was on the table. I shook my head when Matt first nudged it toward me (my Texas eating habits were quickly becoming frightening), but then I said, “Oh, what the hell?” and took a vanilla glazed. Ash watched me and then did the same and through a mouthful of donut said to me, “We need all the energy we can get today, right?”

The day passed in a blur. Ash and Jimmy went to the polls to vote early in the day with Viv in tow. Ash had dressed Viv in a shade of blue that complimented her own dress and had (no surprise) strapped a huge bow on her head. Because Viv still had barely any hair, Ash had to rely on the stretchy headbands, which looked uncomfortable, even to me. All morning, Viv kept reaching up to pull off the bow, throwing it to the floor with a defiant look.

Right before we left, Ash was following Viv around, replacing the headband over and over and begging, “Please, baby girl. Please keep it on for Mama.”

“Maybe today's not a day for a bow?” I suggested, and Ash looked so close to crying that I quickly said, “Or maybe she just needs a break? Maybe you can put it on when you get there?”

By some miracle, Viv was in a better mood by the time we arrived at the polling place and stayed still as Ash strapped the bow on her head. Jimmy picked up Viv, then he and Ash walked into the building together, holding hands and smiling. Katie stayed in front of them, taking pictures and posting to Instagram without breaking her stride, which was extremely impressive. I wondered how she could work that into her résumé.

When Jimmy and Ash came out, there were a few people outside, and a couple of them clapped. Jimmy smiled like he was embarrassed, but then walked over to the group, shaking hands and saying, “Thanks for coming out to vote, y'all.”

I got to the bar early with Katie, to help her make sure that everything was set up right, although she didn't really need me there. The caterers brought in the food—shrimp, red beans, chicken, and salad—and Katie stood right by them as they arranged everything. “This looks good,” she said to me, and I agreed. “Simple but homey.”

“It does,” I said. “You've done a great job.”

But she didn't answer, just went back to typing on her phone. We sat in silence in the empty bar and waited for everyone to arrive, and finally I took out my own phone and examined it closely, as though I had important things to attend to as well.

There were about sixty people at the party, including Jimmy's parents and Ash's family. Ash's sister, Lauren Sybil, was there but her boyfriend was not, and she was drinking white wine at an impressive pace. She worked the room in a circular fashion, coming back to us every twenty minutes or so and saying, “I'm so nervous. Aren't you nervous? I could just die!” The fourth time she looped around, Ash handed Viv to me. “Lauren Sybil, let's get you a glass of water,” she said and led her to the bar by her elbow, turning back to give me an exasperated look.

I lowered Viv to the floor, and she gripped my fingers as she took some unsteady steps. She'd been so close to walking for a while now, but as soon as any of us let go of her, she immediately sat down on her bottom like she thought we were trying to trick her.

I wouldn't describe the party as fun, at least not the beginning of it. There was a sense of impatience all around us, everyone trying to distract themselves with other things, but really just killing time until the race was called—like we were all just standing on a subway platform, waiting for a train. I held Viv's hands and walked her around the room for a while, her wide wobbly steps making her look like a little drunk lady, and then Lauren Sybil took her and I went back to where Matt was standing near Jimmy, picked up my drink, and resumed marking time.