The Hopefuls(49)

When Matt told Babs the news, I could hear her scream through the phone. It’s possible she was even more excited than he was. Probably, she was just thrilled there was a chance Matt would be living even closer to her than he was now. The two of them talked on the phone for over an hour that night. I could only imagine how many more times we’d have to listen to the story of Matt dressing up as Ronald Reagan over the next year, and my heart broke a little in advance for Patrick.

I asked Matt if he was going to tell Jimmy and he told me he already had—which meant he’d called Jimmy from the car, which bothered me although I pretended it didn’t so it wouldn’t ruin Matt’s excitement. It meant that instead of calling me right after his meeting, he’d chosen Jimmy. And I knew that Jimmy understood more of this stuff, that the two of them talked about it all the time, but still. I was the one he was married to.

Each time Matt discussed the possibility of running, he made sure to say in a serious voice that it was still too early to get really excited, but you could tell he was just saying it as a formality; a superstition so he wouldn’t jinx himself.

—

Matt started sending me links to houses in Maryland, sometimes over ten a day, and I’d click through them and try to picture living there, examining hardwood floors and remodeled kitchens. None of the places were that far from where we were currently living; distance-wise, they were all less than ten miles away. But it felt like so much more, like it was a whole other world.

One Saturday we went to an open house. “Just to get a feel for it,” Matt said. “Just to see what the market’s like.”

I felt like a fraud taking one of the flyers and walking through the house—surely they’d notice that we weren’t really looking, that we couldn’t possibly be moving to Maryland. But Matt chatted with the agent, shaking her hand on the way out, telling her we’d be in touch. It was a charming brick house on a hilly street with a little cobblestone path that led from the front door down to the sidewalk.

“What’d you think?” Matt asked as we got in the car.

“It was nice,” I said. “Expensive.”

He looked over at me. “It doesn’t sound like you liked it.”

“It’s not that,” I said. “It’s just overwhelming. This is all happening so fast.”

“I know,” Matt said, grinning at me. For a second, I thought he was ignoring the fact that I sounded unhappy about the whole thing, but I think he was actually too excited to notice.

“It’s hard to wrap my head around it,” I continued. “The whole thing still doesn’t seem real.”

Matt drove to the end of the block and braked at the stop sign, waited an extra beat to look around at the neighborhood before continuing on. He sounded cheerful, but also a little firm as he said, “But it is, Beth. It is real. This is happening.”

—

And then just a few weeks later, it was over. Matt came home from work looking miserable and told me that Dan Cullen had decided to run again. “He said he felt like he still had more to give,” Matt said.

“Matt, that sucks,” I said. “He called you himself?”

Matt shook his head. “The director called me. He told me not to get frustrated, that there would be other opportunities.”

“Well, that’s good,” I said.

“It’s not good. It’s bullshit. He told me there would most likely be a seat opening up in the same area in the House of Delegates.”

“And you’re not interested?”

“No,” Matt said. His words were clipped. “Last election, a twenty-three-year-old kid got an open seat. I don’t want to waste my time with that.”

“Matt, I’m sorry. I know how much you wanted this. But just think how fast this all happened. You’ll get another chance to run if you want to.”

“It’s not that easy,” Matt said. He went upstairs to change out of his suit, but didn’t come back down like he usually did. Finally, I went to look for him, found him sitting on the bed on top of the covers, slumped and looking at his BlackBerry.

“Hey,” I said. “Do you want to order dinner?”

He shrugged. “I’m not really hungry.”

“Okay,” I said. “Maybe I’ll order some sushi. I’ll get some extra for you to eat later?”

“Whatever.”

I walked over to Matt and kissed the side of his head, then walked downstairs without saying anything else. I was afraid if I stayed in the room too long, if I tried to comfort him any more that he’d figure me out, if he hadn’t already. Because when he’d told me the news, my heart broke for him—but right before that, for a split second, I have to admit that I felt relieved.

—

Vivienne Rose Dillon was born on February 14, a couple of weeks early, but healthy. Ash posted pictures of the baby just hours after she was born, with lipsticked kisses all over her head and face. The caption read: “Our little Valentine is here!”

“Look at this,” I said to Matt, holding it up for him.

“Huh,” he said, and then turned back to the TV.

“It’s probably not superhealthy to put lipstick on a baby that’s like two hours old, right?”

Matt shrugged. We’d been doing this for a few days, since he found out about the senate seat—I tried to bait him into conversation and he replied with as few words as possible. It would take time, I figured, for him to shake this off. And in the meantime, I’d just be cheerful and supportive.