Although I was on a two-week field survey during the last election, so I didn’t actually vote.”
“Aw, Jesus. Don’t ever tell my mom that, unless you want to get lectured about your civic duty for an hour.” Austin knew better than to miss even a primary election or a local council vote. The one communication he could count on from his parents was an email or text on Election Day: Did you vote yet?
“So I guess if she’s from Massachusetts, it’s not a problem for her to have a gay son, huh?” Sean asked with a raised eyebrow.
Austin snorted. “Hardly. It gets her votes, for sure.”
“Do you have to go to rallies and stuff?”
“During an election year, sometimes. But she’s pretty hardcore about keeping us out of it. And because she inherited her seat from her dad and, like, eighty percent of her district votes for her, she doesn’t have to make us do that stuff. She can pretty much just show up on Election Day and wave to her voters and they send her back to DC.”
“I guess that’s pretty good, then.”
“I got sucked into some stuff once, when this super PAC tried to whip up support for blocking a continuing resolution. They made the NEA budget their battle flag.”
“It’s like you’re talking a foreign language. I don’t even know what this stuff means,” Sean said, laughing.
It was kind of nice, actually, that all of this was just words and the big picture to Sean. Austin got the same kind of I don’t get your background vibe from Rafi, but that came with a whole mountain of awkwardness because Rafi’s pride was always on the line when he found himself in a conversation where he didn’t understand something and the reason came down to how he’d grown up. How different his background was. And Vinnie and Denny understood too well maybe, because they knew the kind of pressure that came with the money and the influence, so it was harder to forget all that baggage and just be a normal guy when he was with friends like that.
But Sean fell somewhere in between, perfectly in between those two different reactions to learning Austin was the son of one of the most powerful Democrats in Congress.
It didn’t mean much to him, because he was only a casual participant in American politics, like so many people with lives full of challenges and passions that meant more to them than arguing over the next appropriations bill.
But Austin didn’t think it ever occurred to Sean to be intimidated by him either. Or to feel that Sean’s own background made him less than.
Which it doesn’t, so that’s great.
Not that Austin thought Rafi felt less than him. Rafi had enough self-esteem to bulldoze his way through the world if that’s what he needed to do.
No, where Rafi’s vulnerability shone through was in his worry about what other people thought of him. Not what he thought of himself. And Sean simply didn’t have that worry built into his make-up.
After spending most of his waking hours with a bunch of friends who, Bob aside, made worry a second major, sitting at a campfire eating brown stew out of a collapsible metal cup with the press of Sean’s leg against his own, was a strange kind of magic.
* * * * *
Their breaths fogged in the cold, dark night when they arrived back on campus, Sean delivering a sleepy Austin to his dorm’s front doorstep and grabbing him for one last kiss before shoving him out of the car and sending him to bed.
Must be after midnight. Practice is gonna come way too soon.
The mountain was still with him, along with swirling thoughts about layers that didn’t make sense but told a story, and new vs. old techniques and materials not mattering as much as the end result. Austin’s dreams were a hot mess of vivid images that melted and broke into each other, leaving random parts and pieces behind that didn’t match their backgrounds.
And yes, his alarm blaring in the pre-dawn hours was as painful as he’d imagined it would be. Crawling out of a warm bed into a
“Aw, Jesus. Don’t ever tell my mom that, unless you want to get lectured about your civic duty for an hour.” Austin knew better than to miss even a primary election or a local council vote. The one communication he could count on from his parents was an email or text on Election Day: Did you vote yet?
“So I guess if she’s from Massachusetts, it’s not a problem for her to have a gay son, huh?” Sean asked with a raised eyebrow.
Austin snorted. “Hardly. It gets her votes, for sure.”
“Do you have to go to rallies and stuff?”
“During an election year, sometimes. But she’s pretty hardcore about keeping us out of it. And because she inherited her seat from her dad and, like, eighty percent of her district votes for her, she doesn’t have to make us do that stuff. She can pretty much just show up on Election Day and wave to her voters and they send her back to DC.”
“I guess that’s pretty good, then.”
“I got sucked into some stuff once, when this super PAC tried to whip up support for blocking a continuing resolution. They made the NEA budget their battle flag.”
“It’s like you’re talking a foreign language. I don’t even know what this stuff means,” Sean said, laughing.
It was kind of nice, actually, that all of this was just words and the big picture to Sean. Austin got the same kind of I don’t get your background vibe from Rafi, but that came with a whole mountain of awkwardness because Rafi’s pride was always on the line when he found himself in a conversation where he didn’t understand something and the reason came down to how he’d grown up. How different his background was. And Vinnie and Denny understood too well maybe, because they knew the kind of pressure that came with the money and the influence, so it was harder to forget all that baggage and just be a normal guy when he was with friends like that.
But Sean fell somewhere in between, perfectly in between those two different reactions to learning Austin was the son of one of the most powerful Democrats in Congress.
It didn’t mean much to him, because he was only a casual participant in American politics, like so many people with lives full of challenges and passions that meant more to them than arguing over the next appropriations bill.
But Austin didn’t think it ever occurred to Sean to be intimidated by him either. Or to feel that Sean’s own background made him less than.
Which it doesn’t, so that’s great.
Not that Austin thought Rafi felt less than him. Rafi had enough self-esteem to bulldoze his way through the world if that’s what he needed to do.
No, where Rafi’s vulnerability shone through was in his worry about what other people thought of him. Not what he thought of himself. And Sean simply didn’t have that worry built into his make-up.
After spending most of his waking hours with a bunch of friends who, Bob aside, made worry a second major, sitting at a campfire eating brown stew out of a collapsible metal cup with the press of Sean’s leg against his own, was a strange kind of magic.
* * * * *
Their breaths fogged in the cold, dark night when they arrived back on campus, Sean delivering a sleepy Austin to his dorm’s front doorstep and grabbing him for one last kiss before shoving him out of the car and sending him to bed.
Must be after midnight. Practice is gonna come way too soon.
The mountain was still with him, along with swirling thoughts about layers that didn’t make sense but told a story, and new vs. old techniques and materials not mattering as much as the end result. Austin’s dreams were a hot mess of vivid images that melted and broke into each other, leaving random parts and pieces behind that didn’t match their backgrounds.
And yes, his alarm blaring in the pre-dawn hours was as painful as he’d imagined it would be. Crawling out of a warm bed into a
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