Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 108242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Human.
Not perfect. Not evil. Not a god or a devil. Just my father, with whom I won’t always agree but whom I’ll love however he comes.
My mother rises from her seat, plate in hand, and walks the length of the table to sit beside him. They share a long look, and what passes between them is familiar because I know what love looks like, but it’s foreign since they’ve rarely shown it this freely. He reaches for her hand and squeezes, and I know how that feels—to walk through life hand in hand with the woman you love, through good times and unimaginably hard ones. Their wedding rings glint in the glow of Christmas lights, and the longing to claim Lennix that way, to declare I’m hers that way, overwhelms me. I think we’re all overwhelmed, but no one tries to fix it—to pretend it doesn’t hurt or offer some stupid pat phrase that disavows the pain of the empty seat at our table.
We live in that silence, in that reality for a few moments, and then my father clears his throat, resumes eating. “So how’s the campaign going?”
“Great,” Lennix and I answer in unison. We share a glance and a laugh.
“It’s going well,” I say. “We’re anxious to see how I do in Iowa come February.”
“I think you’ll win Iowa,” Lennix says, slicing into roasted chicken.
“You could be a little biased.” I reach under the table to touch her knee.
“I don’t do bias,” she says seriously. “The numbers bear it out, and so does my gut. Millennials will break hard for you, and you’ll peel off some disillusioned Dems and moderate Republicans.”
“So you’re out on the trail with him?” Dad asks, a glass of wine halfway to his mouth.
“I’m, uh, helping a gubernatorial candidate right now,” Lennix says, glancing at me and then down to her plate.
My father’s eyes narrow at the small tell of her discomfort. “Why aren’t you running Maxim’s campaign?”
“As you know, there was a lot of gossip when our relationship came out,” I say. “Lennix and her partner, Kimba, didn’t want it to detract from the issues I want to focus on. I need to be taken seriously.”
“Who the hell wouldn’t take you seriously?” he nearly growls. “After all you’ve accomplished? This country is lucky you’re thinking about running it.”
“Speaking of bias,” I murmur dryly, causing my mom to chuckle and Lennix to grin.
“Those are facts, and back to you,” he says, leveling a stern look at Lennix. “You’re gonna let some TMZ shit keep you from locking down Iowa? I thought you made kings, not governors.”
You could hear dust settle the room goes so quiet. He and Lennix lock eyes down the length of the table, and the air hums with tension.
“Dad, Lennix—”
“Thought you said she was the best,” Dad challenges, still staring Lennix down.
“I am,” she asserts with quiet confidence.
“My son gets the best. You should be working on his campaign, not some governor in Virginia.”
“How do you know it’s Virginia?” she asks. “You’re paying closer attention to my life than I would have thought.”
“If you’re going to be with Maxim,” my father says, “you should get used to that. I keep track of mine.”
Lennix glances down at the hands folded in her lap and caresses the compass charm on her bracelet. She meets my eyes and smiles. I shrug. I stopped being surprised long ago about my father knowing everything that goes on in my life and where I am at all times. Her bracelet is testament to the fact that I’m made the same way. I think she sees that now. I only hope she doesn’t start wondering what else my father and I have in common. She might run for the hills.
Except Lennix already knows me, flaws and all, and she’s still here.
“If he loses Iowa,” my father says, steepling his hands, “he loses his shot. Am I right?”
After a hesitation, Lennix nods. “We have to win Iowa. It’s psychological warfare. Whatever candidate millennials attach their ideals to, they’ll ride to the end, even if they think that person will lose. Moderate Republicans, centrist Dems, older voters are more likely to use Iowa as a litmus test of Maxim’s viability. If they see him lose Iowa, they won’t waste their vote in the later primaries on someone they don’t think has at least a chance.”
“You mean they’ll assume I’m like every other independent candidate who has ever run,” I say, “and stop taking me seriously.”
“Right,” Lennix says with a brisk nod.
“Do you mean to tell me,” Dad says, “that the girl I saw facing down dogs and rubber bullets when she was just seventeen years old grew up to be a woman afraid of a little gossip?”
“Dad, I don’t think—”
“He’s right,” Lennix cuts in. “If you lose Iowa, I’ll never know if my direct involvement could have made a difference.”