The Hopefuls(85)

—

Jimmy’s speech was (by all accounts) great. He was completely natural and engaging, timed all of his jokes just right, and didn’t rush through any of it. There was no sign that he was uncomfortable with the teleprompter. It was as though he’d done this a million times before. As Jimmy finished up, I heard Matt let out a long breath that he may have been holding the whole time. “That was good,” he said to me, sounding relieved. “Really good, right?”

Everyone congratulated Jimmy that night, compliments coming from all around. I heard one man say to him, “You’re going places, kid,” like he was an old-timey politician. On the car ride home, Jimmy repeated all the things people had said to him, even though we’d already heard most of them. He was driving, staring at the road as he talked about all the amazing praise he’d gotten. “Someone said it reminded them of Obama’s red state, blue state speech,” he said. “Do you believe that?” He laughed like it was a crazy thing to say, but you could tell that he was thrilled by it, that part of him thought it was true.

—

Just a few days after the convention, we all headed to Luling, Texas, to attend the Watermelon Thump—a festival dedicated to all things watermelon. Anytime this event was mentioned, I couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous it sounded. I was strangely excited for it, because when else would we ever go to such a thing?

Matt was in a horrible mood after the convention and showed no signs that he’d snap out of it anytime soon. As we packed for Luling, I said in a voice of forced cheer, “Come on, don’t tell me you’re not excited for the Thump?” I could hear how fake I sounded, like I was talking to a grumpy child. Matt just grunted in response, not looking up from folding his clothes. He couldn’t even pretend to smile, and I had a horrible thought—if he wasn’t even a little amused by the idea of the Thump, then things were even worse than I’d realized.

—

The quality of our hotel rooms varied, but they were never what you’d consider nice. The most we could hope for was that they were clean. But the hotel in Luling was by far the worst one we’d stayed in. It was dark and creepy, and there was a musty smell in the room. Everything seemed damp—the sheets, the rug, the towels—and I found myself not wanting to touch anything.

We’d left Sugar Land superearly in the morning and driven right to the Thump, had spent the day doing watermelon-related activities—melon judging, melon eating, and seed spitting contests. We’d been on our feet for hours, standing in the sun, and I’d been looking forward to a long shower. But as soon as I saw the bathroom, I didn’t even want to take my shoes off. I washed up at the sink as much as I could, using a washcloth to wipe under my armpits and all around, thinking that this was a low point. As dirty as I felt, I couldn’t bring myself to get in the tub.

I met Ash in the hallway before we headed to dinner, and she muttered to me, “We’re going to end up with bedbugs.”

“Don’t even think it,” I said. She was holding Viv on her hip, a diaper bag over her shoulder. “Here, let me take the bag.”

“Thanks,” she said, wiggling her arm to let it loose. “Jimmy jumped right in the shower, didn’t even offer to let me get in there first. Not that I wanted to step foot in there.”

“I felt the same way,” I told her. “Matt’s in there now. How can they not be bothered by this?”

“I honestly don’t know. I just wiped down the baby with wipes, which she didn’t appreciate, and then used them on myself. I feel downright disgusting.”

“I know,” I said. “Come on, let’s wait for them outside. It has to be cleaner than in here.”

We walked down the stairs and out front where there was a bench in the shade for us to sit on. The highway was just past a sidewalk and another grassy patch. “At least we have a lovely view,” I said, but Ash didn’t smile, just set Viv down and handed her a pink car from the diaper bag. Viv smiled and said, “Mama, car!” in a happy voice and then threw the pink, plastic car so that it landed on the dirty grass behind us. Ash and I just sat there and looked at it, neither of us making a move to retrieve it.

—

We drove to a nearby pizzeria for dinner, some place that Matt had found. None of us really cared where we ate, as long as we didn’t have to wait to be seated. We were led to a table that hadn’t been wiped down, but the hostess just dropped our menus in front of us and walked away. I tried to get someone’s attention, but everyone kept walking by like they didn’t see us. Viv was refusing to sit in the high chair, saying, “No!” over and over again, and then screaming so loudly, I was sure she was going to pop a blood vessel. Ash finally wrangled her in there, and Viv arched her back and howled, making it as hard as possible for Ash to buckle her in. When she realized she couldn’t get out, she slapped her hand out and hit Ash in the face, then continued to wail, her face now purple.

“Thanks for the help,” Ash said to Jimmy, who was studying the menu. Ash never said things like this, but Jimmy didn’t seem bothered.

“Should we take her outside?” he asked, by which he meant that Ash should take her outside.

“You mean, so we can fight her back into the high chair again in ten minutes?” Ash said. “No, but thank you for the offer.” Jimmy rolled his eyes and went back to the menu.