Cleo didn’t know what she was looking at and frowned.
“The tide has shifted. At least half of these comments—” Gaby paused and scrolled lower. “At least sixty percent of these comments think MaryAnne was in the wrong.”
“Yeah,” Lucas said. “But I’m looking at her Facebook page, and no offense, Mom, but the people who actually know you do not seem on board.” He paused. “Wow, like, I actually had to go on Facebook. Don’t tell anyone.”
“Fuck those people you know,” Gaby said. Then: “Sorry, Lucas. Pretend you didn’t hear that.”
“I’m fourteen, Gaby; we all say ‘fuck.’”
Cleo groaned. “Please, God, is it too much to ask for you not to swear . . . like that . . . in front of me?”
They both swiveled their necks toward her, unsure to whom she was speaking.
“You, Lucas, you. Gaby is my chief of staff, so it’s OK if she says . . . ‘the f word’ to me.”
“Mom, just say ‘fuck.’”
“Oh my God!” Cleo actually slapped her palm against her forehead.
“Oh, by the way, I think I’m gonna get a coffee with Esme later.”
This time both Gaby and Cleo swung their faces toward him.
“You’re what?” Cleo said. “And since when do you drink coffee?”
“I don’t.” He shrugged. “But everyone in Seattle does. I think. I mean, I don’t know. Would you rather I said I was going to meet her for a beer?”
Cleo groaned again, this time louder, and the Uber driver, perhaps thinking she was ill, said, “You OK? Should I pull over?”
“Sorry, sir, I’m fine. Just having a bit of a midlife crisis.”
“You’re that senator, right?” His eyes moved to Cleo in his rearview mirror.
Cleo swallowed. She didn’t realize that she was recognizable outside the Beltway. Hell, even there, half the time she was mistaken for someone’s secretary, someone’s mother (she was someone’s mother, obviously, but as, like, anyone’s mother, since she had breasts and a uterus), or someone else ancillary who hadn’t earned her keep or hadn’t merited the respect male senators received. (It would be untrue to say the respect that older female senators received, since they still didn’t receive as much respect as the men, even when the men were idiots or introduced far less legislation than the women.) Which, even if she were merely someone’s mother or secretary or bookkeeper or just restocked the tampon machine in the lower-level bathroom of the Capitol, did it really matter? Was it too much to ask for a little respect regardless?
“It was the YouTube video, wasn’t it?” Gaby interrupted, leaning forward to glean the opinion of a man who was not one of Cleo’s constituents.
“No, ma’am.” He paused, easing the sedan to a stop at a light. “Well, I did see that this morning, but I read that article. By your friend. Saw it on my Facebook three times.”
“What did you think?” Gaby pressed. “You can tell us. This is a perfect random poll of an unbiased person.”
“You don’t know if he’s unbiased,” Lucas said. “Maybe he thinks all women belong in the kitchen. Maybe he hates his mom. Maybe he chops up women and leaves them in a freezer.”
Cleo wasn’t sure whether she was raising a feminist or a serial killer.
“What?” Lucas said upon seeing her face. “If you were to, like, actually poll him, you’d find out where he stands before you ran his answers.”
Gaby smiled widely. “I think I’d like to hire you.”
“Hard pass.” Lucas sank back into his seat and resumed looking bored.
From the front, the driver said, “No, I like women, and I think they’re a hell of a lot smarter than men, that’s for sure. But to answer your question, I thought your friend was pretty petty for writing that article. But then I thought you were pretty petty for being a bad friend in the first place.”
Cleo glanced at Lucas. She didn’t want him thinking she was a bad friend, even if it were years ago, even if it were true. He met her eyes, offered a little shake of his head. They understood each other, the two of them. He was OK. He knew who she was now, and he was letting her off the hook for MaryAnne Newman. Cleo reached over, squeezed his arm.
It was nice that someone was, even if it were just a small kindness between the two of them, not on display for the world to see.
Cleo’s old house had been repainted, and the new owners had added on a floor to only