The Hopefuls(48)

Matt continued talking like he hadn’t heard me. “The executive director of the Maryland Democratic Party was there, and he told Billy he wanted to talk to me.”

“Why?” I asked, my curiosity overriding my anger for a moment. “Do you know him?”

“I’ve met him once before.”

“So, why did he want to see you?”

“I’m not really sure, but we talked for a long time. He asked about my job and my time on the campaign and then about running for office.”

“How did he know about that?”

“I don’t exactly keep it a secret,” Matt said. “Anyway, he asked a ton of questions and then asked if he could take me for a drink next week. Said he had something he wanted to talk to me about.”

“Really? What do you think it is?”

“I don’t know,” he said. He was so excited and fidgety that he was almost bouncing. “But I think it’s something good.”

—

When I got up the next morning, everything hurt—my feet, my hair, my head. I was still cranky about the night before. Matt and I had bickered on the way home, and I mentioned it again as soon as we woke up. I kept insisting that he should’ve told me he was leaving or at least answered my text. “What did you want me to do?” he asked. “Interrupt the guy and say, ‘Sorry, let me just text my wife’?”

“Yes,” I said, and he laughed. He was still giddy, so much so that he wasn’t bothered at all by my anger. We were working from home that day, which meant that I stayed in bed until noon and wrote a shitty first-person account of attending the ball. We both had bags under our eyes, but Matt didn’t seem tired at all. He whistled as he checked his e-mail.

When he said we should be ready to leave by 7:00, I sighed and said, “I’m so sick of going to balls.” Matt just stared at me, and I said crossly, “I know that sounded ridiculous.”

The Staff Ball was also at the Convention Center, so we took a cab there again. It was just like the night before, except my feet were more swollen. Ash texted me right after we arrived to let me know that they were standing in the coat-check line. This ball was much smaller, contained in one room, but it was still crowded, and maybe I was imagining it, but everyone seemed just as cranky as I was; we all looked a little rumpled, a little warmed over.

When Jimmy realized it wasn’t open bar, he said, “Are you f*cking kidding? We didn’t have to pay for drinks in ’09.”

Ash rolled her eyes behind him and then whispered to me, “I woke up at three a.m. to find him eating a jumbo slice in bed, so I don’t think he needs unlimited whiskey tonight.”

Benji had four friends from college staying with him, sleeping on his couch and floor. They’d all come in from out of town for the inauguration and he’d gotten them tickets to all the events. But when we saw him that night, he was alone. “Are your friends here?” I asked him, and he shrugged.

“They’re around here somewhere,” he said, like he didn’t care at all. “Those f*ckers were up all night drinking. I didn’t sleep.”

Lady Gaga’s performance cheered everyone up a little bit, but we all left right after Obama spoke. I was so happy as I crawled into bed that night. I felt like I could sleep for a year.

“We survived,” Matt said. His voice was hoarse. “What did you think? Was it everything you imagined?”

“It was great,” I said, my eyes already closed. “And I’m so glad it’s over.”

—

The next week, Matt went to go meet the executive director at a bar in Annapolis. “Call me as soon as you’re done,” I said. “Before you even start the car.” I waited with my phone next to me all night, and finally got a text that said, Heading home now. All good news! But I’ll tell you in person. Love you!

I was tempted to call him right back, but I was the one always telling him not to be on his phone while he drove, so I didn’t. It felt like forever before I heard his key turn in the lock, and I ran down to meet him at the door, which made him laugh.

“Finally!” I said. “I’ve been dying here. What happened?”

He kissed me hello and then I followed him up the stairs, waiting right behind him as he took off his jacket and hung it on the banister. He was smiling, looking like he had a good secret and was enjoying making me wait to hear it.

“So you know Dan Cullen? He’s the state senator for District Sixteen?” I nodded even though I didn’t really know who he was, but the name sounded vaguely familiar and I wanted Matt to keep talking. “Well, it turns out he’s thinking of retiring, which means his seat would be open in 2014.”

“And?”

“And they wanted to know if I’d consider running for it.” Matt looked puffed up at this point—his chest and cheeks big, like he was actually going to burst.

“I can’t believe it,” I said.

“I know,” Matt said. “I mean, it’s still over a year away, and nothing’s definite. He just wanted to float the idea, to see if I’d be interested. That’s all.”

But I could see he was already picturing it—the house in Maryland, the campaign, his dream becoming a reality. In his mind, it was a done deal.

—

District 16 covered the area where Matt’s brothers lived, not too far from where he grew up. It contained parts of Bethesda and Silver Spring, which were a couple of the towns that he always suggested would be nice for us to live in one day. We’d been up there a bunch, of course, to spend time with his family, and it was nice and suburban and still pretty close to DC, which Matt always used as a selling point.