The Hopefuls(77)

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One morning, we drove four hours to Arlington, Texas, to visit a woman named Angela Kinsey, who’d just been diagnosed with cancer, most likely the result of exposure to the chemicals from the nearby drilling. Angela arranged for a few other women from the neighborhood to join her, so they could share their experiences with Jimmy, tell him about all the health problems they were facing.

We dropped Ash and Viv off at the hotel—it didn’t seem right to bring a healthy, squealing sixteen-month-old along while these women talked about the nosebleeds and headaches that their own children were having—and I went along, supposedly to get pictures, but I knew as soon as we stepped into the house that I wouldn’t even bother taking my phone out. (How crass would it be to snap a photo of Angela crying as she told Jimmy she didn’t know who would care for her children while she started chemo? I didn’t care if Katie got mad at me. Some things weren’t meant to be photographed.)

The house was small and dark, even though it was sunny outside. For a brief moment, the darkness was a relief from the heat, but then almost immediately, the air began to feel stuffy. There was an overpowering mothball smell inside and I figured I’d get used to it, but it seemed to get stronger the longer we were there.

Angela took us into the living room, where a few women were already sitting on a flimsy-looking floral couch. Jimmy sat at one end and I found a seat on a rocking chair in the corner, while Matt sat on an orange recliner.

By this point, Jimmy’s spiel was so polished—he was fluid when he spoke, sure of his words. He was great in front of crowds, could get up in front of fifty people and capture their attention. “These failed policies are hurting us,” he’d say. “I want to be an advocate for all Texans, an advocate for you. We’ve had enough with the insiders, who are only concerned with protecting the oil and gas industries. You deserve someone to protect you. They accuse me of being an outsider, and you know what I say to that?” Here Jimmy would smile and pause and wait for a couple of laughs. “I say, You’re right! I say, Being an outsider is what makes me so qualified for this job. I’m not in bed with oil and gas—I’m just a Texan interested in looking out for other Texans.”

But where Jimmy was his best was in small, unscripted moments. No other time on the campaign showed this more than the afternoon we spent at Angela Kinsey’s house. It was amazing to watch him there, looking like he belonged among all of these women. He sat on that floral couch in that mothball house and talked to them like it was something he did every day. His body was relaxed as he accepted tea from Angela. He didn’t shift as the couch sagged underneath him. I wondered if these women knew that Jimmy had grown up in a mansion, that he’d gone to boarding school, that his whole life was unrecognizable compared to theirs. Maybe they did know and it didn’t matter. Maybe all they cared about was that he was there now.

He sat forward as one of Angela’s neighbors told him about her son’s asthma. “You must feel like you’re living in a nightmare,” he said to her. “You don’t deserve this, none of you do. These health problems aren’t a coincidence and everyone knows it. We need to do something—and I really do believe that something can be done. People might be turning a blind eye to you, pretending that this isn’t happening, that you don’t exist, because it’s easier for them. But this is happening. I’m here and I’m a witness to it. I want to be the one to help you, to make sure you’re heard.”

Jimmy’s voice was soft as he spoke. There was nothing forced about his response to them. And even though his words could have come off as dramatic, they didn’t. He sounded empathetic and determined, and each woman nodded at him whenever he said something.

I didn’t doubt that Jimmy was just as invested in this issue as Matt was—you couldn’t sit in these homes and listen to people describe the different ways they were being poisoned and not care about it.

Matt was the one who’d found Angela Kinsey and arranged the meeting with her, and he’d spent the car ride there talking about the safety measures that should’ve been taken to protect the neighborhood. But once we got into the house, you would’ve never guessed how much Matt wanted to be an advocate for these people. He looked awkward as he held a cup of coffee on the orange chair. He wasn’t the one running for office, sure, and you could say that he was trying to stay out of the way and let Jimmy shine. Maybe that was part of it. But every once in a while, Matt chimed in, and the women would listen politely, but you could almost see their eyes glaze over, just waiting for Jimmy to start talking again.

—

Winning the primary had given Jimmy more confidence—not that he’d really been lacking it before. But you could see now that he had a little more swagger as he walked into a room, a little more pride in his voice as he introduced himself as the Democratic nominee.

There was a fair amount of media attention on Jimmy, mostly because everyone was paying extra attention to all the Democrats running in Texas that year, hoping that an organization called Battleground Texas really could turn Texas blue. And while Jimmy’s race wasn’t nearly as high profile as some of the others and he wasn’t as well known, journalists liked the fact that he’d worked for Obama and was young and handsome. He made for a good story.

Houston Style Magazine did the biggest profile of him, complete with a spread of pictures showing him speaking to a group of farmers, shaking a supporter’s hand, and also at home in the backyard, throwing a laughing Viv up in the air with Ash smiling beside him.