Cleo started crying again, batting her hands in front of her face as if that ever in the history of meltdowns slowed the crest of tears. She hadn’t spent a lot of time missing her mother until recently and now, having unearthed her paintings from the storage space and having also evidently unearthed a swarm of unresolved feelings about at least five to a dozen regrets, she found that she was an open wound. She wished very much that Lucas’s nurse could come in and re-dress hers as well.
“Oh, Cleo,” Georgie said. “I didn’t mean anything by that. You look fine. Really.”
“Thank you for c-coming,” Cleo sputtered and spotted Lucas staring at her with astonishment.
“Oh, baby sister, all you had to do was ask.”
On Thursday, the next day, Cleo was working from home, which she never, ever did during the week, but the condo was closer to the hospital than the office, so she allowed herself this convenience. Senator Jackman, who had raised two children of her own, told her that she and her legislative staff could put the finishing touches on the housing bill before they sent it off to Leg Counsel for the legal jargon, but Cleo didn’t want to sit it out.
“It’s nice to actually be putting forth some policy that really will spur positive change,” Cleo had said in their last sit-down.
“Spoken like a presidential candidate,” Senator Jackman had replied and winked, then grew serious. “If you run, I’ll do everything I can to help you. God knows that women of my generation didn’t have a shot.”
Cleo promised her that she would be among her first calls.
“Not really if I run,” she had said. “Rather when.”
Senator Jackman thumped her manicured hands against her heart and beamed. Cleo wasn’t even sure when she had made the concrete decision that she would, that she was wholeheartedly going to chase the presidency. She hadn’t had much time to really weigh it, what with one recent calamity after another, but maybe it was one of those ideas that lurked around your subconscious, hidden but quietly calling out, until one day you woke up and you just knew. Maybe deciding to run for president for Cleo McDougal was a little bit like falling in love. One day she realized that she was done for.
Emily Godwin stopped by with two casseroles just after Cleo wrapped up doubleheader conference calls. Lucas had a steady stream of friends stopping by the hospital who were, she guessed, ditching school to say hi, in and out, so he practically begged her to give him some privacy and/or not embarrass him in front of them. Georgie had gone to a yoga class that she’d researched online. (“Why don’t you come?” she’d implored, as if Cleo couldn’t think of many things more embarrassing than attempting to morph herself into a pretzel in public, and then Cleo remembered that she’d agreed to dance in public this weekend.) So it was just Cleo, home alone, when Emily rang her doorbell.
Emily stood in her kitchen, and Cleo fumbled with her words. She hadn’t seen her since that night when Jonathan had tucked his arm around that (extremely) young woman and exited the ballroom. It felt like two years ago, but Cleo met Emily’s eyes and realized, good Lord, that was last week.
“Listen,” Emily started. “I saw what you did with your old professor. I was really proud. I hope you aren’t second-guessing it.”
After Gaby’s stint on Bowen’s show, the protests outside her office had grown even rowdier. Arianna had emailed this morning to say that she was calling the Capitol police in to help. I did make sure to give them all the finger tho, she typed, then added the middle finger emoji.
Cleo shook her head. “No, not second-guessing it, though I probably didn’t think it through as well as I should have. A lawsuit has been filed against one of the young women. I didn’t mean it to spiral that way.”
“Well, he deserved it,” Emily said emphatically. “Fuck that guy.”
Cleo emitted something like a hiccup, which she meant to sound like a laugh. Then she said: “I wasn’t the only one he did it to, I guess. He’s taking a ‘leave of absence.’” She bounced her shoulders. Nobells facing his comeuppance felt good, but maybe not as good as she expected. But then, she didn’t know what she expected.
“Also,” Emily started, then stopped, wrung her hands and dropped them.