The Hopefuls(38)

When we were over at their house, Matt (a huge TV snob) would even watch The Voice or The Bachelorette. “As a joke,” he’d say. I thought maybe he was just doing it to be polite or to blend in (since Jimmy was an unapologetic fan of crappy TV), but once I saw Matt lean in close during a rose ceremony.

Matt relaxed around them in a way he couldn’t with any of the other people we’d met. I’d never thought of my husband as an anxious person, but DC had turned him into one. It was like he constantly monitored his behavior, making sure that he was acting appropriately. But around Jimmy, he wasn’t worried if he was drinking too much or being too loud (maybe because Jimmy was always drunker and louder) and he was able to actually just enjoy himself.

On the weekends when the Dillons were out of town or we couldn’t get together, we felt lost. Sometimes we went out anyway, just the two of us, but it was always a quiet dinner, like we didn’t know how to go on a date without Jimmy and Ash there, and sometimes we didn’t even bother going out, just put on sweatpants and ordered takeout. If I thought about it too much, the whole thing made me nervous, like maybe we needed the Dillons to be happy.

It was almost like the four of us were all dating each other, like we were one big couple. I tried to explain that to Colleen once and she wrinkled her nose. “How kinky,” she said.

“Gross,” I’d said. “Not like that. You’re such a perv.”

—

The Fourth of July was on a Sunday, which meant that we’d have that Monday off. We were all delighted with the idea of a three-day weekend, and we made plans way in advance—a BBQ at the Dillons’ on Friday, Saturday we’d be at Matt’s parents’ club—golfing in the morning, hanging out by the pool in the afternoon, and dinner in the dining room that evening—Sunday we’d watch fireworks on the South Lawn, and Monday, we’d recover.

We’d spent a lot of time at the Kellys’ club that summer, and while Matt and I were in the process of becoming members, we weren’t officially in, so we were charging everything to his parents’ account. Matt didn’t think twice about this, but it made me feel funny. Sometimes we’d see Babs and Charles in the dining room and they’d come over to say hi—Babs thought Jimmy was “a hoot”—and I always felt like we’d been caught stealing from them. Once, I asked Matt about paying his parents back for those dinners, but he just shook his head. “They love when we use the club,” he said, like we were doing them a favor.

That weekend, Matt had insisted on an 8:00 a.m. tee time, “to get the most from the day,” and we were outside the gate at Beekman Place to pick up the Dillons at 7:15, a little bleary with coffee cups in hand. When we saw them coming toward the car, I got out and climbed in the backseat.

“Beth, stay where you are,” Jimmy said, when he saw me. “I’m fine in the back.”

“I’m already here,” I said, shutting the door behind me.

We often rode like this, and it felt weirdly old-fashioned to have the men up front and the women in the back—something grandparents would do—but Jimmy was tall enough that I always felt bad making him squeeze in the back.

“Not necessary, but thank you, sweetheart,” he said as he got in.

Ash placed two large bags between us, one with clothes to change into for dinner and another with a bathing suit and magazines for the pool. “It is hotter than Hades out there,” she said, fanning herself. “I’m glad we decided to only play nine, because I’m already dying to get in the pool.”

In the front, Matt and Jimmy started immediately discussing the interview that Matt had had the week before for a position as the White House liaison for the Department of Education. When he’d first mentioned the interview to me, I’d told him it sounded great and then paused and said, “Although I have no idea what that means.”

He’d laughed, looking happier than I’d seen him in a while, and said, “I doubt anyone really does.”

The job would mean that he was the go-between for the DOE and the White House. It wasn’t a clear upward move—in fact, everyone that Matt talked to agreed that it was probably lateral. But he was excited at the idea of not being in the office all day, of going to meetings, being a part of different projects. “This could be my chance to get involved in policy,” he’d said, and I’d nodded but hadn’t asked him to elaborate. He was pretty sure he was going to be offered the job—Jimmy had asked a friend he had in the Personnel Office, who had insinuated that Matt was as good as hired.

I badly wanted Matt to find a job that he liked so that he would be happy and also so we could stop talking about it. His job search had dominated all of our conversations in the past few months, and it was exhausting. I felt a little ashamed as I settled into the backseat that day, because while I probably would’ve given Jimmy the front anyway, it was just an extra bonus that I didn’t have to be up there, listening as Matt listed the pros and cons of the liaison position for the hundredth time.

—

As we got ready to head out on the course, we noticed that they’d put our clubs on the carts so that my bag was with Jimmy’s and Ash’s was with Matt’s. If this had happened with Bruce and Colleen (or any other couple, really), there would’ve been an awkward moment where we tried to switch the bags without being rude. But that day, we all just jumped into our carts without thinking about it.