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My mother is the only one left standing, and I can see it in her eyes, there is more she wants to say. I look over at Beth, who is already on the phone to Arthur, smiling and pacing her smaller office near her windows. I notice her outfit today for the hundredth time. A black pencil skirt—my favorite one.
“Harrison!” my mother hisses, and I whip my head around to face her.
“What else, Mother?” I ask, as I flick through my phone to find the number I am looking for.
“Be very careful, Harrison. You don’t want to turn out just like your father.” She seethes the words, disgust written all over her face as she looks over at Beth, giving her a stare that would bring anyone to their knees, although Beth is too busy in her conversation with Arthur to even realize that my mother is still here.
“What isthatsupposed to mean?” I ask her, gritting my teeth. She has my full attention now.
“Chasing the cheapest, ugliest and, in this case, fattest skirt in town,” she quips.
“Be very careful with your words, Mother, they can’t be taken back once they are said. I will not tolerate you speaking about Beth like that,” I say to her quietly but with a bite, not wanting Beth to hear.
“Seriously, Harrison, she is a baby, for God’s sake. She even has that ridiculous picture on her wall. That is not how a real woman behaves.” My mother refers to the pink giraffe I colored for Beth at the elementary school. She said she was going to hang it in our office, and she did. It brings a smile to my face every time I look at it.
“I think it is time you left.” She must see the seriousness in my eyes because she scoffs at me, then turns on her heel and leaves before more words can be spoken.
I fume silently for a beat and unclench my fists before rolling my neck, trying to let go of the cloud of tension she always seems to bring with her whenever she is in my space.
“So, Arthur said it was true. He got a call just yesterday from our competitor who said that he has put a policy together and is showing everyone who is anyone of the plans, while following it up with a request for support to his campaign,” Beth says as she walks up to my desk, handing me a glass of water.
I grab it from her, taking a gulp. She reads me like a book. I often come into the office bright and early in the morning and already have a steamy cup of coffee on my desk, or a file magically appears when I need to work on it. Water just now to get rid of the bad taste my mother left is yet another thing Beth does, knowing what I need before I do.
“Fuck,” I murmur, standing and making my way to the window, needing to move my body now my mother has made me agitated.
“It’s actually a good thing, Harrison,” Beth says, coming to stand next to me as we both look out the windows at the city.
“How’s that?” I ask, acutely aware that she sees a silver lining in every cloud. Even the darkest ones.
“Well, he is committing state funds to the wealthiest part of town, to build what? A community center? A community pool? None of which any of those kinds of people will want or use. So he will immediately lose about seventy percent of the voting public from the outskirts just on that move alone,” she says and she isn’t wrong.
“The fact that he is also committing funds to the freeway that he plans to run alongside the golf course in the very same area, well, that knocks out at least another five to ten percent of the votes he would hope to capture in Ellwood,” I add, looking at her, our end game the same.
“If you ask me, he is handing us the election on a silver platter.” She gives me side eye and a cute grin to match.
She is right, of course. Just like she is right about everything else. The tension I felt before leaves my body as I think through what she has just said. I love that golf course. It is where my brothers and I play every week. Many people have come to speak to me on a weekend when I am there to air their frustrations at having a new motorway so close.
“How did you get to be so amazing at this?” I ask, acutely aware I am stepping into unsafe territory the more I want to know about her. But I want to know everything. Every inch and special quirk.
“Oh, I studied political science as a minor at college,” she quips, and now my interest is piqued even more.
“Really? Why? What drew you to politics?” I ask, turning to face her, giving her all my attention.
“I think my desire to do better for the people. So many people miss out, Harrison. They fall through the cracks. And all the red tape that comes with working with the state on healthcare support, education support, any support, really, that struggling families need is a nightmare.” I know immediately she is talking from experience. The urge I have to take care of this woman jolts me a little.
“I’m sure you never have seen that side of things?” she challenges me, her eyes resting on me, waiting for my answer.
“No. Never. But I do know about them. I am aware that there is a lot of work we can do to make things easier. Fairer, for everyone in the community. It was the main driving force for me wanting this job. This as a career,” I answer her honestly.
I was born into wealth. The articles about me, saying I was born with a silver spoon are accurate. But my father ensured all us boys grew up knowing the realities of life. We all had to work in community support growing up. Some of us volunteered, and Ben and I do a lot of pro-bono law work through the firm.
“Why didn’t you mention your political studies earlier?” I ask her, intrigued, because that is yet another feather in her bow.
“The real world can’t be learned in a textbook. Only life lessons can teach us the real things we need to know.” Her words are heavy, and I let them seep into me for a beat.
“I hope I can make a difference in this role…” I murmur as I look out at the city through the window, feeling the weight of the position for the first time.
“Well, I think you will make a fine Governor of Maryland. You will make a lot of people proud.” Her compliment washes over me, giving me a sense of power, accomplishment, and motivation to do better. Better for her.
