Jennifer Close - The Hopefuls

But now I couldn’t confide in her. Six months ago, I could have told her everything. But in that moment, I didn’t trust her. She’d probably run to the Dozens and tell them all about her poor friend Beth, who was having marital problems. I didn’t say anything else, and then she reached over and touched my arm and said in a voice so dramatic it was almost funny, “Don’t worry, I know you two will work it out.”

—

Matt and Jimmy returned late the next night, and I was already in bed but still awake and reading when Matt came in, tossed his bag in the corner of the room, and closed the door behind him.

“That was the most annoying twenty-four hours of my life,” he said. He wasn’t bothering to whisper.

“Why?” I asked, putting my book down.

“The round table was fine. Jimmy did well, although he spent the first twenty minutes shooting the shit with everyone instead of talking about safety concerns. He kept straying from the talking points, but eventually he got there. But then we got to the dinner tonight and we’d been in the car for hours at that point and I’m trying to give him some feedback, some constructive criticism, and he acts like I’m out of line. Like I’m insulting him just for fun.”

“So what happened?” I asked. I wasn’t happy that they’d fought during the trip, but for once it felt like Matt was confiding in me, like he was finally seeing that we were on the same team. I didn’t want to encourage what was happening between him and Jimmy, but I did want him to keep talking to me.

“Nothing happened, really. We got to the dinner and he got pretty drunk right away, which meant that I was going to have to drive the whole way back, which is fine, I guess, but whatever. And then he started talking to this woman, just one on one in a weird way, like no one else was there. Every time I tried to introduce him to someone new, he basically ignored me. Not to mention that he didn’t care how it looked that he was hitting on this woman in front of the whole room.”

“He was hitting on her?” I asked.

“I mean, yeah. I don’t know. You know him.”

“Who was she?”

“One of the donors. She sought him out, but he didn’t back away. I think he was trying to piss me off.”

“Was it bad?”

“It wasn’t great,” Matt said. But then he seemed to snap out of it and changed his tone. “It wasn’t a big deal, really.”

“It sounds weird,” I said, hoping he’d say more.

Matt climbed into bed, leaned back and rubbed his eyes. “It was just a long night. I’m so tired.”

It was funny, for all of the things that Matt would say behind Jimmy’s back, he never discussed the way Jimmy acted around attractive women, how it sometimes seemed just shy of inappropriate. Matt had always dismissed all the rumors about Jimmy as just that — rumors. But lately, I wondered if he knew something more, if he was just protecting Jimmy the way you protect your candidate.

“What was the woman’s name?” I asked, but next to me, Matt was already asleep.

—

When I think back to our time in Texas, it doesn’t seem possible that we actually lived in the Dillons’ basement for nearly a year, that we ate almost every meal with them like we were part of some strange commune. There were days that seemed so long, so open — I didn’t have a job or a baby, we were staying in someone else’s home, and while I was helping with the campaign, it didn’t even come close to taking all of my free time. Some afternoons, I did nothing but read, finishing whole books in a day. But somehow, it didn’t feel like the time passed slowly, just the opposite really — it seemed like we were moving into the basement one day and out the next.

During those months, it felt like I was floating, in suspended time. When my birthday came that year, I felt truly shocked to have turned a year older. Everyone around me had a real purpose — sometimes more than one — and while I could mock Ash’s jewelry business (when I was feeling hateful), there was no denying that she was successful, that she enjoyed it. And so most of the time when I watched her pack up her samples and get ready to go to a party, it was jealousy that I felt.

There was a lot of fighting that happened in that house, a lot of anxious and tense moments, and days when it felt like we were just marking time until the next argument. But still, when I think about that year, what I remember most is one night that the four of us sat outside on the back patio, first eating dinner and then staying there to split a bottle of wine. Our plates were still on the table, but none of us were in any hurry to clean up. Viv was asleep upstairs and I remember being nervous that our laughter was going to wake her up.

Things hadn’t yet turned sour between Matt and Jimmy, and we were all talking about an event we’d been to that day, where an older man had cornered Jimmy to talk about railroads for almost an hour, while Jimmy tried to explain (unsuccessfully) that the Railroad Commission didn’t have anything to do with actual railroads. Matt kept impersonating Jimmy during this conversation, and we couldn’t stop laughing.

“I think he was a retired Amtrak driver,” Jimmy said. “No joke. He was very concerned about our rail system.”

“Let’s have one more,” Matt said, picking up the empty bottle of wine. “You know, in honor of the railroad.”

“We should clean this up,” Ash said, but she didn’t move.

“Nope, Jimmy and I will get it,” Matt said, standing up and piling plates on top of each other. “And we’ll be back with more wine.”

We watched as the two of them filled their arms with dishes to carry into the kitchen. As Jimmy held the door open for Matt, the two of them laughed at something he’d said. We couldn’t hear what it was.

“Look at those husbands of ours,” Ash said to me. “How did we ever get so lucky?”

—

Jimmy was invited to speak at the Texas Democratic State Convention at the end of June, which was a big deal — a much bigger deal than I realized when we first heard about it. “This is huge,” Matt said. And then again with more emphasis, just in case we missed it, “Huge.”

Before the convention, I’d never seen Jimmy get nervous. He could be jumpy before events, but that was mostly just adrenaline and he always calmed down as soon as he started talking. But this was different — from the moment he first found out about the convention, he was terrified. Anytime someone mentioned it, he got a look on his face like he might be sick. He’d be speaking to over seven thousand people — by far the largest crowd he’d ever been in front of — and he’d be alongside much bigger, more well-known Texas Democrats.

He and Matt worked on the speech every night. It contained a lot of the same talking points that he’d used while campaigning, but they’d made it more personal, a little more theatrical. Leading up to the convention, Matt and Jimmy read the speech out loud over and over, tweaking each word, rehearsing it a thousand different ways. On the car ride to Dallas, Jimmy practiced while Matt drove, jumping in every once in a while with a suggestion, and by the time we arrived, I was pretty sure I could’ve recited the whole thing from memory.

Matt and Jimmy left the hotel early in the day to go to the convention center for a walk-through, and when they returned Ash and I were just sitting down to have lunch at the hotel restaurant. Viv had stayed behind with Ash’s mom, and Ash was clearly excited about having a free day, and was on her phone trying to find a place we could get manicures when we were done eating.

I could tell something was wrong as soon as Matt and Jimmy walked into the restaurant. They sat down with us, and immediately Matt said, “There was a little miscommunication,” as if he were a PR person trying to smooth over a mishap.