Chapter 19
nineteen
Alex
I’ve been trying to improve the coffee situation in my workspace since I took office. Ensuring quality for such a large staff is nearly impossible while also keeping to a budget. I’d settled for buying a single-cup machine with my own money that theoretically provides for the tea and hot chocolate drinkers, too. As far as I’m concerned, the coffee is still inferior to the French press I have at home.
Fortunately, I’m in a great mood the morning after a night with Cindy and I don’t care how weak my first cup tastes. That is, until my chief of staff asks if I want to run a private poll asking how voters feel about the vice president conducting a hypothetical relationship.
“No, I absolutely do not want polling done.” I say, carefully setting my shitty coffee back down on the counter in the kitchenette.
The staff that ambushed me first thing—Toby and Deena—now exchange glances. I have cultivated a workspace where people are encouraged to push back. I’d wanted that because there are limits to my own insight. Right now, I’m regretting it.
Toby, my chief of staff, must draw the short straw in their nonverbal battle. He speaks up: “Sir, it’s a big decision. More information can help you make it. That’s the reason we’re suggesting this.”
It’s a good argument, damnit. I like having as much information as possible before I make a move, and right now I’m uncharacteristically myopic. “OK, I understand. But let’s have this conversation later. No need to jump the gun when we’re only a few weeks into this thing.”
The two of them exchange another look, but apparently decide it’s not worth arguing again and nod. They would have had an easy time if they’d tried; I’ve never made it this long in a relationship as vice president. My staff recognizes a few weeks is significant, especially when they’ve been some of the best weeks of my life.
I pick up my coffee mug and lean against the counter, even though everything in me wants to walk away. “You really think I need to get ahead of this?”
Toby’s face tells me he does. “This kind of thing doesn’t stay secret.”
My brain shies away from the possibility of my relationship going public in a way that’s out of my control. “What if we limit our in-person meetings,” I suggest, hating the idea. Hiding a relationship by never seeing the other person seems like a good way to end the relationship. “We can talk on the phone.”
Toby, one of the best strategists in Washington, is merciless. “Putting off the inevitable.”
“Well, buying time is the goal,” I counter. “I want this thing to be rock-solid before we go public. It’s a relationship , not a contract.”
On a bald, Black man who normally displays only tension and determination, Toby’s sour expression behind his glasses is jarring. I add, “OK, think of it as pre-contract negotiations, Toby. It’s very delicate.”
“Not as delicate as your evangelical endorsements. Which you will lose if this thing comes out looking sordid.” Toby doesn’t pull his punches, which is another reason I’d wanted him as my chief of staff.
“Don’t call it a thing .” I ignore the other comment, because no one has ever given me a satisfactory answer when I’ve asked whether my weak “family values” are the result of being single. I straighten. Deena, sensing an end to my patience, goes back to her desk but Toby falls into step with me on the way back to the VP’s office. “Let’s come up with solutions, not hypothetical problems.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Also, she’s coming with me to California.” Best to break all the bad news at once. I believe in optimism. Cindy is coming with me. It’s just right .
“Sir…”
“Everything is negotiable except the fact she’s coming. I already talked to her about traveling separately. We’ll stay at the secure complex the whole time. It’s private.”
Toby sighs. We pause at my door.
“Why don’t you come up with a list,” I say. “Of risk mitigation ideas. Containment, not elimination.” The other man looks reluctant, so I add, “There’s more to life than politics, Toby.”
“Is there?” Toby grumbles as he turns away.
I sit down at my desk and turn away from the door, because I don’t want anyone to see my staff’s doubts got to me. Perhaps I’m being greedy. I want a relationship that’s passionate and healthy. And I want the office I’ve been working toward for 20 years.
But maybe even a president cannot have it all.
Cindy
Of course, the very first question is about family values.
I would already receive a higher-than-average number of questions coded as “family values” because I’m a woman, but add on the fact I’m single and politically progressive and the number is exponential. It doesn’t matter whether I’m hosting a town hall in Denver or the suburbs within my district, I always get several.
This constituent is asking about “putting family first” in Washington. “My kids don’t need more marjuana around, that’s already all I smell every time I leave the house,” he says. “I have to tell them it’s a skunk in the city.”
To validate him, I nod thoughtfully. I ask what school district his kids are in, and remind him how much money the district gets from sales of legal cannabis.
“Your concern for your kids is such an important part of being a parent,” I add. “That’s one reason I have opposed any measures to increase access or remove protections from legal cannabis. As far as I’m concerned, and I hope you agree, recreational drugs and alcohol shouldn’t even be a choice for kids while they’re still developing.”
Thankfully, he’s nodding, so I move on to the next question, walking across the front of the school gym we’re borrowing for tonight’s event. It still smells a little like sweat in here. I’ve done the armpit check twice already on bathroom breaks, paranoid it’s me and not all the teenagers who usually use this venue.
As an organizer, I loved holding town halls and leading groups. Then I became an elected official and I became the bad guy to a lot more people. The straw man, rather than the rally point. I’ve been screamed at and spit at, and called a bitch, a tyrant and Cersei from “Game of Thrones.” It’s hard to enjoy the abuse, as much as I believe in being accessible to voters.
Days like today, it’s tough to tell if the job has changed or I have. Maybe I’m not the crusader I once was, not as willing to crash through all barriers to achieve what I want. Perhaps I’m softer in my older age, and choosier about my battles.
A few questions later, I get the “are you dating anyone?” question. It comes from a gaggle of high schoolers I’m positive were assigned to come to tonight’s event, and probably invented a dare to make the time pass.
Smiling at them, I pivot. “You’ve done your research. I hope your teacher gives you credit for that because I don’t have an answer for you. Unlike Zack Ryder, I don’t make my dating life public.”
I regret the sentence the minute I say it. I’d meant to joke about Hollywood, play it for laughs, but I shouldn’t have named names. Zack Ryder’s was the first to pop into my head.
Max, in the back of the room, makes a rolling motion with her hand. Keep going. So I do, through another grueling hour.
“I’m sorry for that dumb Ryder name-drop,” I tell Max after.
Max is driving us back to the district office. I’m looking out the car window from the passenger seat. It’s dark outside and I love the Denver skyline, the statues lit up in the park and the manageable cluster of tall buildings downtown. Denver, for all its options, is still a small town masquerading as a big city. It has that in common with Washington, a surprisingly claustrophobic town.
“It was fine. I’m glad you didn’t make a bigger thing of it; the last thing we need is people thinking you are dating a movie star.” Max is driving us in her car, which smells a little like a dog.
“He’s nice, but not that nice.”
She snorts. “It was nothing compared to that statement the White House put out from the vice president’s dog. Talk about keeping the conversation going.”
I pause, aware of how strongly Alex had felt about defending his dog. “Oh?”
“You saw it, right?” Max takes a right after the Capitol building. “So many late-night jokes about the vice president’s penis size.”
“Yes.” Alex told me about some of the jokes. And I also took one of the pictures of Thor his Instagram account shared in the wake of the controversy. I clear my throat. I almost change my mind, then push ahead: “Speaking of the vice president’s penis, and I’m sorry for the segway.”
Max laughs. “Yessss?”
“I’m…” I hesitate, but I need to do this. Someone needs to know and I trust Max, who has always been honest with me, even when it’s messy. “Well, I’m dating him.”
“I’m sorry?”
I wait for Max’s brain to catch up.
“You’re dating the vice president,” Max says, teetering on the edge of belief.
“You’re the only person on staff I’ve told,” I tell her. “I thought someone should be prepared.”
“Excuse my language, but are you fucking kidding me, congresswoman?”
I shake my head, struggling to gather words to affirm verbally. Max pulls the car over blocks from the office, under a street light shining into the car and illuminating her intent expression. “How long?” she asks, turning her full body to me.
“A few weeks. Well…” I hesitate. “I guess it depends on when you count from. We met in February. We’ve been talking off and on since then. But it became a thing at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner. And then more official when we went to Detroit.”
“OK,” Max says. She grimaces. “I need to know what you mean when you say things like that. You had a DTR? You slept together? I’m sorry. It’s important.”
It’s like I’m the teenager in the car and Max is the mom. I take my seatbelt off because it’s constricting and plunge ahead, “We kissed at the dinner and slept together in Detroit.”
Max nods. “When it comes out, you’ve been dating since February. We don’t share details, we let people think it was love at first sight.” This is why I chose Max: Her practical mind is strategic. And, maybe, I wanted to tell Max partly because I needed to share with somebody.
“Do you want to announce it?” Max asks.
“No!” I meet Max’s eyes. They’re not judgmental. “It’s a secret,” I repeat.
“For...how long?”
I shake my head. “Forever?”
Max laughs, an edge of scoffing to it. “I can’t get you that number. Listen...is there someone on his staff I can talk to? We should coordinate on this.”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t?” Max seems surprised. “Oh,” she says suddenly, sitting back in her seat. Her expression melts from intent to warm. “I’m sorry, Cindy. I didn’t realize you were telling me as a friend.”
Abruptly, I want to cry. I blink up at the sky, above the apartment buildings lining the road. “I didn’t either. I want you to be prepared. But I also hadn’t told anyone yet. I didn’t realize how it would feel.”
“Are you...happy?” Max’s voice is tentative, unlike her earlier tone.
I pause. I’m scared. Confused. Surprised. But. “Yes,” I say.
“Well, he’s adorable, and smart, and has a cute dog. So I hope so. ”
That prompts a small laugh. My hands are clasped in my lap, trying not to fidget from nerves over this conversation. “He’s also a pretty good communicator. He’s careful. And direct.”
Max’s eyebrows go up. “He sounds like a keeper, if you don’t mind me saying so.”
I smile and purse my lips. “You’re not the only person to think so, considering he was People’s Sexiest Man of the Year last year.”
Max wriggles her eyebrows a little. “Not something I can say about my man.” We are both quiet for a moment. “He also comes with some high-level challenges,” she adds, her voice hesitant.
“I know.” I swallow down the wobble in my voice, because, wow, this is terrifying. “To be honest, I’ve been ignoring those.”
Max nods, like it’s settled. She turns back to the front and puts the car into drive again. “Well, make that my job then. To stop ignoring those things. Then you can just enjoy yourself.”
Blinking again at the surprise swell of emotion, I gaze out the window. I didn’t realize the depth of my worry, hiding behind the excitement of a new and working relationship. My connection with Alex seems so fragile, like a miracle I’m afraid to hold too tight. Yet this whole time, looming beneath our little cloud of happiness is a deep pit of consequences that might swallow us up if we make a wrong step.
I’m thankful to have someone like Max on my team. I can finally take a deep breath again.