Part 4
The phone and my head have been smashed together for ten minutes and I ease up on the pressure and let the ear breathe. I believe he may have stopped talking but I can’t be sure and wait to see if he is going to continue.
“So what’cha think now?” I hear him ask from his end and I panic when I realize I haven’t been listening to what he has been talking about.
“I think it’s a fine idea,” I offer and and wait in to see if he buys it.
“Good. Good. I know this isn’t something you have had to touch on in any of the debates thus far but I wanted you to know our stance on it so you can decide for yourself. You don’t come from a border state but neither do Ackley and frankly, from what he has come out and said lately, I don’t think he has a clue. Now whatcha’ want to do-”
The Governor's voice is making it’s way into my ear but it is not breaching my head. Nothing is entering my head because everything has been overtaken by the feeling. It’s hard to describe exactly. If I had to explain it I guess I could say it feels and tastes like youth, or at least what I remember of it. I have a sense that everything and anything is possible.
The feeling is strongest in the mornings before I’ve had a chance to see Will. My dreams from the night before seem to continue into the day and don’t let up until I see him in the flesh and blood. His skin and his eyes and his lips are all in my head and nothing can take my mind off them. When I see him in the office he smiles at me and I nod politely like I do with all the interns and volunteers. Then Clay is talking and I can concentrate on other matters because Will is no longer just in my head, he is there in the room, and the feeling burns lower, to a manageable level.
“Does that make sense?” the Governor asks and I reply that it does although I have no idea what he is talking about.
“Great, you get ‘em girl. You’ve got the backing of all the Evangelicals in my state, including me, and I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before you got the backing of all church folk. I mean Ackley can’t stand next to you! Sure he goes to church on Sunday but please, the man don’t have the Lord in his life-”
Every time I’m with Will it feels like it could be the last and it’s gotten to the point where when we have a situation where we can be alone then we don’t hold back, we attack each other. There is no control and I scare myself which creates the feeling that lingers with me. When we met by the ice machine of the hotel the night before last I noticed his back was covered in long red scrapes from my finger nails and I helped him put his shirt on so I wouldn’t have to look at it.
“You are aware that this is his second wife are you not?” the Governor asks and I take a deep breath, trying to clear my head.
“Ackley?” I ask.
“Yes. Did you know this was his second go around?”
“I’m not sure. Someone may have mentioned it,” I reply stupidly.
“Yes siree, his second. This one he got now? She worked for a lobbyist firm that dealt with his people and it was six months after she came on board before Ackley had his Jew lawyer out writing up the divorce papers. You follow me?”
“I believe so.”
“Now don’t tell me there whatd’nt no hanky panky with them two now. Please. This is not a moral man. They can go and start a new marriage but the record shows it; this is not a moral man.”
“Emm hmm.”
“Now you and Don are the portrait of a Christian marriage and I salute you for it. It is too bad that there are no children but that does also allow you to follow the path that you are on now.”
“Yes.”
“Remember, we’ll all be watching the California debate and we’lll be praying for you.”
“Thank you.”
“God bless you Marsha.”
He hangs up and I’m relieved and worn out by the conversation. I’m not worried about the debate but everybody else seems to be and that irritates me. Don’t they know what I’m capable of now? Anything can be mine once I put my mind to it. It is God’s will. He gave me the feeling so I would understand that I can’t be stopped.
I have been in the cramped little office for almost two and a half hours and I step out into the bustle of the headquarters. I can’t see Will when I first step out but I can feel him and when I do finally spot him at one of the tables with Sandra he looks up like he can sense me too. I ask Pam where Clay is and I am relived when she informs me that he won’t be back from Washington until late that night. I make my way around the room, taking my time, and when I get to Sandra and Will I explain that I need to get over to a session with Frank Wagner and that Will needs to drive me. Sandra looks puzzled and glances at her smart phone.
“That’s not in the agenda Mr. Logan e-mailed this morning. I thought that-”
“Clay does make mistakes Sandra.”
My voice is harsher than I mean it to be and I try to cushion the moment by grinning at her. She looks shocked before the round face softens back to it’s cunning sweetness.
“You sure look beautiful Mrs. Bates. Have you been doing something different?” she asks.
I force myself from grimacing and keep the grin on. I’ll be gosh darned if I’m going to take any needling from her.
“What do you mean sweetheart?” I ask softly.
“You just look good Mrs. Bates. Your skin looks great. Have you been using something on it?”
“No. Just been eating well. Thanks for saying so sweetie.”
I stay in the car while Will gets the room and then I watch him make his way to the back of the motel before I follow him. I walk through the parking lot and I think of a photographer over by the freeway and and another near the lobby and a cold finger makes it’s way up along my spine. I kept my eyes peeled since we got out of town and I could tell Will was looking as well but we never talked about it. We never talked much at all the whole way. Luckily I can usually feel when a photographer is nearby, it’s just a sense that I have, and I also know that the Lord doesn’t give rewards just to take them away again.
I let the feeling engulf me once we’re in the room. I let all the layers of Marsha Bates presidential candidate fall away and I let instinct and desire free to roam until we are both exhausted and we are lying still among the sheets. I roll over in the bed and drape my arm over Will’s chest. His face is pointed up towards the ceiling but his eyes are closed and he looks content. We have been in the room for forty five minutes and neither of us has said a word since the door closed.
“You remind me of a boy I knew in high-school,” I tell him and his eyes open slowly.
“A boyfriend?” he asks.
“Just someone I knew. He was young and sweet and handsome like you. And weird.”
“Am I weird?” he asks.
“You don’t say anything. Usually everybody wants to talk my ear off.”
“But you don’t talk either.”
“I do enough talking. You know that.”
I inch closer and kiss him along the side of his face and neck.
“This boy from high school, did you like him?” he asks.
“I always sort of wondered about him. But then I went to college and I met Don.”
I thought saying my husband’s name there, in the bed of a cheap highway motel, would have some sort of effect on me but I don’t feel much of anything. I sense Will go a little stiff but just for a moment.
“He’s odd,” he says.
“Who? Don?”
“I just get sort of a ‘vibe’ from him.”
“Vibe? What does that mean?”
“What is it he does exactly?”
I’m a little annoyed that we’ve talked so little and now that we have some real time to ourselves the topic of conversation is Don. I also don’t appreciate him calling my husband ‘odd’.
“He’s a licensed therapist. He helps people cope with self damaging behaviour,” I say sharply.
“He works with gay people right?”
“Mostly gay men, yes.”
“And he does what? Straightens them out?”
“That’s not the way he would describe it but yes, he tries to temper their learned behaviour.”
“He doesn’t think people are born that way?” he asks and I’m surprised. I turn my head so I can look into his eyes which are open and staring back.
“Of course not. And I don’t either.”
We’re going to have to go soon and return to town. I’m going to have to apologize to Sandra and tell her it was my mistake that I had put Frank Wagner in my calendar. I’m going to have to lie and I don’t care but I do want this time to be worth it.
“You don’t think there’s any possibility that people are just born that way? You’ve never questioned it?” he asks.
“No.”
“But why would people go through what they go through? It doesn’t make sense.”
“What who goes through?”
“Gay people. Why would they go through all the insults and the degradation. Why would they risk their lives to be that way and live openly?”
“Maybe they like it? I don’t know.”
“They like it?”
“How should I know. I don’t know any gays.”
He goes silent and turns back towards the ceiling. I want him to look at me. I want every moment to be concentrated on me.
“Are you willing to admit that it’s possibly a natural thing?” he says, still looking at the ceiling.
“No.”
I peer up at him and and I can see he’s thinking about it and preparing to speak again so I give in a little bit.
“Maybe,” I say. “People’s attitudes are changing.”
“So it’s possible?”
“Maybe.”
I’m hoping that will shut him up and just to make sure I put my mouth on his and crawl on top of him.
A few days later I have a real session scheduled with Frank Wagner. Will drives me and I’m silent and annoyed because we left too late to stop somewhere and we have to get back for an event that evening and won’t have a chance to get a motel. I sit in the passenger seat with my chin in my hand and stare at the endless misty fields off of the freeway until Will takes my hand and holds it. It’s simple but it brings my mood up and we drive the rest of the way with my hand in his.
Wagner is slightly drunk when we get there but I don’t let it bother me. He is excited about the progress I have made and he speaks loudly and uses his hands to make his points, spilling his drink on the carpet.
“This debate on California is your moment, you understand? People are looking for the upset. This is when you go in for the kill.”
He flashes a ferocious smile at me and I want to share in his enthusiasm but the feeling is with me and I don’t feel anger with Ackley or anybody else. I can feel Will on the other couch watching me and I think about what it would be like to take him up to one of the bedrooms upstairs and ravage him.
“I watched the last one and not only were you sharper but Ackley was off his game. His presence is limited and when he allowed you to go toe to toe with him he looked like a genuine jack ass. I know his people are in a panic.” He grins at this and takes a sip of his drink. “They are going to prep him specifically against you. They’ll bring up the connection with Courtier and few other dingbats and try to force you into a corner.”
I think of what it would be to have never joined the school board or run for congress. I would be a woman like any other. I would have the freedom to be with Will however I wanted. People would judge, they always do, but it would not be a nation. There would be a freedom to it. A long time ago I dreamed of being in the position I am now but this day, sitting in Frank Wagner’s living room, I am not so sure it is what I really want. Maybe I am not the person other people think I am or even what I think myself. God has given me Will to realize this and I’m not frightened but grateful.
“Marsha?” Frank asks and I look over at him.
“What?”
“Where is your head? You have a big fucking opportunity and you're out to lunch.”
“What do you mean? I’m here.”
He puts his drink down and leans towards me.
“I just mentioned Bob Courtier and dingbat and you didn’t even flinch. What the hell is going on?”
His eyes are probing into me and I glance over at Will on the other couch. I catch myself and bring my eyes back to Frank but it is too late. He has gone strangely pale and he slowly eases back into his chair before looking over at Will with contempt.
“God damn it,” he mutters and his eyes fall to the carpet.
“What is it?” I ask and try to compose my face to what I hope he will perceive as my own irritation with his behavior. He doesn’t look up, he just stares at the carpet for a long silent moment.
“This session is over now,” he says and gets up from the chair without looking at me.
“What do you mean it’s over?”
I stand up as well and try to get angry but the feeling has me numbed.
“What are you doing Frank?” I growl at him. “We haven’t even started.”
He’s already gone down the hall and is slowly making his way up the stairs.
“This is totally unacceptable. My campaign has paid your fee. Now get back here and let’s go over the strategy!”
He’s disappeared up the stairs and I look over at Will who sits petrified on the couch. I pick up my coat and put it on. The old drunkard knows nothing and I will be darned if I let him effect me. I head towards the door and Will follows and I am already thinking about how Frank ending the session early has given us at least an hour to stop at a motel on the way back.
Will comes back from the bathroom and sits on the side of the bed. The scratches along his back have healed quickly but there are a few fresh one’s on his right shoulder from ten minutes ago.
“That was weird with Frank,” he says and I pass my hand lightly down his back along his spine.
“He’s a drunk. I’m going to tell Clay to fire him.”
“Should you tell Clay?” he asks and he turns towards me wide eyed.
“Of course I should tell him. Frank has no right to act like that.”
“Maybe he knows.”
I sit up in the bed and pull the sheet up so it covers my chest. I have never been happy with my breasts, they vary in size, the right noticeably larger than the left, and I don’t want Will to have enough of a look to notice.
“He doesn’t know a freaking thing. He’s a drunken idiot. And I’ve never liked the tone he uses when he talks about faith.”
Will turns towards me and his face looks pained.
“He seemed to know. You saw the look he gave me,” he says.
“Nobody knows anything. We’ve been careful.”
He turns away from me to stare at the wall.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he mutters and I wish I could see his face when he says it.
“Everything is God’s will,” I tell him but he doesn’t turn around and I have no idea what his face looks like.
Clay has me booked solid for the next three days and I see nothing of Will. I want to ask Clay why he doesn’t have Will drive me to some of the events but it is a bad idea. I think about bringing up Frank Wagner and making sure Clay knows I don’t want to work with him any more but there aren't any sessions scheduled before we go to California so I let it lie. I speak before crowds and do interviews and I let the feeling carry me through it all.
We are in a car on the way to a rally when Clay hands over the list of interns being flown out to California. I see Will’s name towards the bottom and the feeling pulses through me. We will have two days there, the debate being the only thing on the schedule that I won’t be able to get out of, and it will give us time to be together if we play our cards right. I hand the list back to Clay and he is on his phone and oblivious to the smile that has spread across my face.
I get back to my hotel room that night around nine o’clock and I find a note from Don explaining that he has gone back home to oversee a group session at the clinic. I call Will right away using the hotel phone and he is at the door in less than an hour. I know it is risk but I can’t take it anymore. My body has been calling for him since the moment I woke up that morning and it has distracted my mind while I was rushed from event to event. We shower together and then we are in bed together and it is a tremendous relief. It is passed midnight when we are finally resting with the sheets wrapped up around us.
“Why are you doing this?” Will asks with his arm under my neck and cradling my head.
“What do you mean?”
“The campaign. Why are you putting all this time and work into something that’s such a long shot?”
“What kind of question is that?.”
“I know you have said that God asked you. You actually heard a voice? Is that what you meant?”
I feel more at peace in that bed than I have in years and see no reason to hold back.
“It just seemed like the next logical thing to do. Everyone always told me I should get involved in politics.”
“But you never heard a voice say: run for president.”
“No, but everyone around you is saying you should; isn’t that a way of Him telling me to go for it?”
He pulls his arm from under me and rubs it above the elbow to get the blood flowing again.
“Do you think He is on your side?”
I turn my body towards him and he glances at me and continues to rub his arm. He has a sweet face, an innocent face, but there is a confusion on it like someone who has just woken up from a dream.
“What would He think of this? What we’re doing?” he asks.
I prop myself up on my elbow and try to kiss the worry off his face.
“I think He brought us together,” I tell him and he rolls slightly away so that I have to stretch to kiss him.
“Something like this has never happened to me, believe me,” he says “I never expected for this to happen. I can’t even explain what happened. You of all people. It’s very strange. And I think you're a good person-”
“That’s why you joined the campaign isn’t it?” I say and he looks over at me with even more confusion. “You thought I was a person that was doing the right thing.”
He looks away and peers into the hotel carpet next to the bed. He blinks and seems on the verge of saying something but no words leave his lips. He looks like a little boy and the guilt I have been waiting for bubbles up ever so slightly into my stomach.
“I’ve let you down, haven’t I?” I mutter and I roll away from him. “You expected more of me. But all the words people use for me are too much to live up to sometimes. I am only a human being Will. I didn’t expect this to happen but it did. This would have never happened with anyone else. What we have together is, unique. Special.”
He nods slightly and forces a smile but his face looks pained.
“You are a human being,” he whispers and I know that I love him.
He gets up and begins to put his clothes on and I want to say something to stop him, to get him to stay all night with me, but I can think of nothing and soon he walks over to the bed fully dressed and gives me kiss on the cheek. I watch him go out the door and the room feels much colder. I pull the sheets and blankets up over my head and stay under them.
The morning comes and Will is the first thing I think of. Don will be gone at least until that evening and I don’t need to go the campaign office until that afternoon. Will and I can spend the entire morning together. I shower and put on one of my robes before calling him. His cell phone goes right to voice mail so I call directly to his room and there is no answer there as well.
I put on a my gray jogging suit and take the elevator down to his floor. The thought crosses my mind that one of the other interns may be staying on the same floor but I am ready with the excuse that I have left some debate notes in Will’s car. I get to his room and the door is partly open. I enter and find the maid vacuuming the carpet. She turns off the vacuum and looks at me with a puzzled expression. She probably recognizes me but isn’t sure where. I feel a panic building inside of me and I quickly leave the room, unsure if I can control myself.
I take the elevator all the way down to the lobby, my heart beating faster and faster.
“Mrs. Bates, good morning to you,” says the man behind the desk. He uses a cheery upbeat tone but I know he is a liberal of some kind and despises me. I can tell by his eyes. I fortify myself and bring my heartbeat down.
“Good morning. I’m trying to track down one of our interns. He was in room 242.”
“Have you called the room?”
I repress the need to reach over the desk and slap his face and simply say: “I have. I thought there might be some sort of message left for me by my staff.”
“I can check.”
He begins to click away at his computer and I peer around the room searching in vain for Will. Two business men notice me and begin to whisper to each other. I bring my eyes back to the desk clerk and use all of my strength to keep my composure.
“I don’t see any messages left by your staff,” he reports “Surely someone would have called you if there was something important?”
He flashes a quick look over his glasses and I force myself to nod.
“As far as room 242 goes it looks like the occupant checked out,” he says.
“When?” I demand and he looks up, startled by the urgency in my voice.
“Well, I have that they left around five thirty this morning.”
I walk away from the desk like a sleepwalker. I feel the clerk saying something to me but I don’t hear and don’t acknowledge it. I get on the elevator and when the doors close and I am alone I feel like I have been punched in the stomach. I steady myself with a hand against the wall of the car. I feel bile in the back of my throat and am worried I may vomit until the doors open on my floor. The hallway is silent and vacant as I rush back to my room and once I’m inside I throw myself onto the bed and smother my face into the pillow. The gravity of the earth seems to have increased and I am smashed deep into the mattress. I stay like that until my breathing goes back to normal. I avert the panic and tell myself that something must have come up with the campaign and that Will must have been summoned by Clay or someone else. It must be that since nothing else makes sense.
Sandra calls later in the afternoon and I have her drive me to the headquarters. We are downgrading to another office as the campaign shifts to New Hampshire and most of of the main office has been cleared out. Boxes full of computer monitors and phones sit near the door and Clay sits alone at one of the conference desks and chats into his phone. He spots me and hangs up as Sandra and I approach him.
“Moore has dropped out,” he says cheerily. “It’s a pretty much accepted fact that the people following him are shifting our way. They don’t like Ackley and there’s a good chance that Moore will endorse us if we have a good debate.”
I nod and give him a weak grin. I was hoping there was a chance that Will would turn up here and I mask my disappointment by looking over the empty room.
“This was one of the nicer offices,” I tell him.
“Sure, but wait until we get to New Hampshire. We have a place right downtown with a whole team already in place. You’re going to love it. And I made sure you had a good sized office to yourself. I had Pam send me pictures of it and it’s about five time bigger than the closet we have here. Not that you’re going to have a lot of time to spend there. We’re going to have you out pounding the pavement. With the momentum we have right now we can-”
I drop into one of the chairs that has been left behind and go limp, my head sagging back so that I’m looking up at the ceiling. There is a tightness in my throat and I feel more tired than I have ever felt before.
“Marsha, are you okay?” Clay asks and I want to tell him that my guts are tied up into knots and that I can’t eat and just want to go back back to the hotel and hide in the bed.
“Just tired. I didn’t get a lot of sleep.”
“Well you better tonight. We’re flying out right at twelve and we’re going to do an in studio interview with Fox that night in LA so you need your rest.”
I try to nod but I don’t have the energy.
“Sandra, can you take Mrs. Bates back to the hotel? She needs some rest.”
“I thought you wanted her on the phone with the Moore people?” the intern says and I have a sudden vision of putting my hands around Sandra’s flabby neck and strangling the life out of her.
“I can take care of that. You just make sure she gets back to the hotel and takes it easy,” Clay replies and he pats me lightly on the shoulder.
I force myself up out of the chair and me and Sandra make our way towards the door.
“By the way Sandra,” Clay calls from the desk “You’re going to be driving Mrs. Bates around when we don’t have hired service from now on. That kid who was driving, the Cedar kid, he quit on us. He left me a voice mail this morning. Said he was already on a plane out of here and didn’t give an explanation or anything. Completely unprofessional. Don’t even think of doing that to me if you want a recommendation in the future.”
She smiles and nods back at him and it takes ever ounce of will and self control for me to make it outside and into the car and then out and into the hotel. I get back to my room and everything shatters. I don’t make it to the bed, I’m on the floor with the tears pouring full and hot down my cheeks. I stifle the cries into the carpet and hope that no one comes to my door.
To be concluded in Part 5.
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