Tanya
The takeout pasta feels like cardboard in my mouth. I slide it across the table, not wanting to even look at it- and focus on Melissa.
"Anything?" I ask.
"Nope." She shrugs. "Not since the last time you asked- exactly forty seven seconds ago."
Darrel glances at his phone. The time reads 4:37 pm.
"Christ-" he says. "It's been almost three hours. What could they possibly be talking about that requires that much debate?"
"New procedural rules." Carlos shrugs. "A lot's changed since...."
He regrets speaking the second the words leave his mouth, because even though it's far from what he meant, Darrel'll hear: "A lot's changed since your family died."
I forcibly swallow the last bite I managed to shovel in my mouth, and I slowly glance between the two.
Instead of having a full blown panic attack from the flashbacks- he shrugs.
"A lot has changed since they died." He says. "But I'm working through it so I'd really appreciate it if ya'll would stop acting like I'm broken."
I get a mental image of a protest his daughter organized against evictions. A nice concept- but something that'd never work in reality, not anytime in the next fifty years. Her speech and voice was so powerful it was clear they raised her to be strong and speak for herself- regardless of the problems it caused him throughout his political career.
I think about how different everything would have been if I made my sexual partners take paternity tests- tracked him down by getting the guest list for that damn party and started asking around about the guy in his early thirties in the skeleton costume.
Would his daughter even exist today- or would that daughter have been Katie? Would the bombing still have happened- or would the thought never have crossed her mind because she already had one parent in politics?
Would I have ran for office if my spouse or boyfriend was the president of the United States?
Would a younger, early thirties him, having barely broken into the political scene as the mayor of Dallas,Texas- have divorced his brand new wife for the nineteen year old mother of his child? Would he have even wanted anything to do with me or his.... offspring then? It would've been another two years before his daughter was conceived.
I decide that, yeah- he would have at least been involved. His wife would have( rightfully so) divorced him when she found out- and they both would've accepted that it wasn't meant to be instead of being stuck with each other for fourteen years- as morbid as that sounds.
"Darrel-"
"Madam President?" A congressional aide peeks her head in. "Congresswoman Mathews."
I stand up- and the others follows seconds later. Finally- we're all thinking.
She steps in and the first thing I notice is a tiny piece of tissue shoved up her right nostril.
"You okay?" I raise an eyebrow.
"Nose bleed- high blood pressure. I will be." She sighs. "Madam President- you should know that my colleagues have been debating whether or not to continue with this hearing or... advance it to an impeachment one."
"And?"
"We've decided to vote. It's.... It's close. I think I may be the deciding vote." She looks past all of us, staring off in the distance. She purses her lips together- and then I get it.
"Ahh." I nod.
"While it would be... super convenient if my potential election opponent went through an impeachment trial...."
"You can't decide if that's ethical or not since you're the chairwoman of the literal ethics committee."
"Something like that." She nods, refusing to look me in the eyes. "I could cast a shadow of public doubt so easily- even though we'd never get enough votes in a floor vote to remove you from office. Your approval rating would plummet and you'd... probably never be able to win an election again in your life. I just... I can't decide if that's the route I wanna take to the Vice Presidency."
"Understandable-" I shrug. "Ya know, If I were in your position I wouldn't even consider playing nice."
"Really?"
"I think that's the difference between us." I say. "You don't act impulsively. At the end of the day.... I think you would make an amazing Vice President."
——-
"The vote will be a verbal one." She says, with everybody back in the committee room. "My aide will take the roll call."
I forget how to breathe as the aide reaches into some drawer and pulls out a sheet of paper with the committee members names on them.
"On the resolution to advance this probe to a public impeachment hearing, the votes are as follows-" the aide coughs.
"Congressman Davis?"
"No."
"Congressman Amon?"
"No."
"Congresswoman Alpin?"
"Yes."
Breathing. Breathing is a good thing people should do- I have to remind myself.
"Congressman Angevin?"
"No."
"Congresswoman Shin?"
"No."
"Congressman McLaren?"
"No."
"Congressman Sisson?"
"Yes."
"Congresswoman Livingston?"
"Yes."
"Congressman Hendrix?"
"Yes."
"Congressman Cleveland?"
"No."
"Congressman Martin?"
"Yes."
"Congresswoman Martinez?"
"Yes."
"Congressman Marcellus?"
Silence.
"Congressman Marcellus?"
"......No."he reluctantly says. "It.... wouldn't be right."
"Congresswoman Moore?"
"No."
Eight. That's 8 no's. 6 yes's- and two votes to go.
"Congressman Crowder?"
"Yes."
Godamnit. I close my eyes, lean back, and wait for the inevitable. Who's left? They've been through the speaker, the sex-offender Republican, the Vice chairman and.... Oh god.
"Congresswoman Mathews?"
I lean forward as she says nothing for over ten seconds. Like her, I've had plenty of moments that could end in political disaster no matter which way I went. Right now- I remember the unstoppable F5 tornado that tore through the entirety of the Midwest a few months ago. If I sent too much federal aide- I would have been considered a financially irresponsible leader. If I sent too little- I would've been called selfish without a real reason. In the end we used 5B in federal funds and 2B from my own bank accounts.
As I was waiting for my payments to go through, and then again when I got to watch them be put to good use replacing and repairing thousands of people's homes- I wasn't quite holding my breath. I wasn't breathing either- I was somewhere in that middle ground that's more hellish than either of the above. You know that you don't have to be worried anymore because there's nothing you can do and the outcome is unalterable- yet you can't help worrying because of how engrained it is in your brain.
"Congresswoman Mathews?" The aide repeats herself, a pen ready to tally the final vote.
Evelyn looks like she might be sick as she forces herself to speak. My heart leaps out of my chest.
"No."
No?
I watch the aide write something out and furrow her eyebrows in concentration. She pushes her glasses up on her nose.
No? That means-
"On this vote- the yay's are 9 and the nay's are 7. This will not be turned over to the judiciary committee."