So Close by Emma McLaughlin Page A

was reminding us at three a.m. to be sure Tom’s lucky suit made it back on the plane with him or that he wasn’t to be spotted eating a burger the weekend before the Safe Foods Act went to the floor. 
    “I will,” she said.
    “I better shower.”  He placed Chip gently back on the bare floor. 
    “You all set?” Lindsay asked me.  “Take anything from the fridge, assuming there is anything, and we’ll order in for you guys before we leave.”  She followed him into the bedroom while I tried to pry Collin’s hands off an ashtray.  “I saw you on C-SPAN yesterday,” she said, the thin wall barely muffling her voice.    
    “What did you think?  Too strident?  Those guys had to be called out.  I’m sorry, but they did.”
    “And John Stewart showed a clip of you last night.”
    “Yeah, I know.  I’m official now.”
    “You’re getting better, but I think you could be punching the jobs angle harder.  I made some notes on the briefs you left at the house.”
    “Honey, I have advisers covering that sort for thing for me now,” he said wearily.  “Can we just relax and have a nice night?  Do the ‘feedback’ thing later.  I just missed you so fucking much.”  I could hear them kiss and looked around for a stereo.
    But he came out only a few seconds later wrapped in a towel and went catty-corner into the bathroom with a disarmingly embarrassed wave to me.  I know perhaps I should have been feeling awkward for being there, but growing up in a trailer, then babysitting in others, I was used to being present for things maybe I shouldn’t have been because there wasn’t really anywhere else for them to be happening. 
    Instead I was soaking up every second of their interaction because it felt like I was being privy to the blue print for everything I wanted to have one day—right down to a deep attraction undiminished by miscommunication.  Discovering that they sometimes annoyed each other and had still been together for over twenty years just made me love them more.
    “Hello, Rhonda,” I heard Lindsay on her phone as soon as the shower turned on.  “Fine, thank you.  I just wanted to see why none of the things for the twins that I emailed you ended up in the apartment. . .  No, I appreciate that Tom had instructions, but if those instructions conflict with my instructions in future I’d appreciate you notifying me so we can all be the on the same page.  I do not like surprises.”  She took a staggered breath as she listened.  “Look, let’s just be frank.  I know you think I’m the stupid wife who can think about nothing more important than where her children sleep, but until I got pregnant his schedule was planned around mine .  I edited every speech, set the campaign’s agenda and sat in on every hiring interview—including yours so I’d appreciate a modicum of respect.  Terrific.  Bitch.”  I assume Rhonda had already hung up. 
     
    They came home late and tipsy.  I kept my eyes closed, a reflex from growing up sleeping five feet from the front door.  “They love you, Tom.  It’s that simple.  They love you.  You’re the future of the party—you heard him—the future of the party.”
                  “I’ll be the hangover after the party if we don’t get some sleep.”
                  “You sure you’re tired?” she asked flirtatiously.
                  “Yes, honey, I’m sorry, but I am dead on my feet.”  He kissed her.  “Rain check?”   
                  “You know where to find me.”
     
    In the morning, using my socks and lip-gloss to make puppets, I tried to keep the kids quiet, but it was like throwing my body on a mine.  “What time did you order the plane for?” Tom asked as he made coffee and Collin somehow spilled the beans all over the floor. 
                  “You know, honey,” Lindsay answered, scrambling with me to sweep them up before any found their way