The Hopefuls(86)

I didn’t blame Ash for getting angry—to be honest, I had no idea how she was managing Viv at these campaign events without losing her mind. We were in the car for such long stretches of time and now that Viv was mobile, she was bored and fidgety when she was strapped in anywhere too long. I also didn’t blame Viv for the fit she was throwing now. In a way, I was almost jealous. It probably felt good to let it all out.

We ordered two pizzas and a round of beers as soon as the waitress came over, and Ash put some puffs on Viv’s tray, which she normally loved but this time she looked at them, slapped her hand down, and screamed, “Cookie!” while aiming her face up to the ceiling.

“Give her your phone,” Jimmy said to Ash. “Jesus, before we get kicked out.”

“We can’t do that every time she cries. It’s not good for her,” Ash said, but then she immediately dug into her bag and pulled out her phone. A few seconds later, Elmo was playing and Viv was quiet—or at least quieter. She was still crying, but it soon slowed to sniffling and finally stopped.

We ate the pizza quickly. It wasn’t very good, doughy and flavorless, but we each shoved a couple of slices in our mouths. We asked for the check when our food arrived, so we could get out of there as soon as we were done. Ash cut up a piece of pizza for Viv, who maybe ate one bite before pushing the rest off her tray and saying, “No!”

“Come on, baby girl, just try it,” Ash said. Viv kept saying, “No!” and finally Jimmy said, “Just leave her be.”

Ash glared at him and said, “So she can go to sleep and wake up in the middle of the night crying because she didn’t eat? And then I can get up with her and spend tomorrow exhausted?”

What disturbed me the most about what was happening between Ash and Jimmy was that they were acting like we weren’t even there. We’d spent enough time together as couples that we’d been witness to each other’s arguments. But this was different. It was like they didn’t even notice that anyone else was around, too far gone to remember that they weren’t alone.

Matt was pretty quiet during dinner, almost like he wasn’t aware of the fighting at the table. I made a halfhearted attempt to talk about the melon that had won the contest that day—it was so big it seemed almost pornographic—but no one joined in and we finished our meal in silence.

—

Back at the hotel, Matt sat on the bed and read e-mails on his phone. “Don’t you want to take the comforter off the bed first?” I asked, and he looked at me and shrugged, moving just slightly so I could pull it off and throw it on the floor. “Comforters are the dirtiest parts of hotels,” I said.

“Actually, I think it’s the remote controls,” he said without looking up.

I turned on the TV and watched for a few minutes, then finally looked over at Matt. “That was some dinner, huh?”

“Yeah,” Matt said, still not taking his eyes off his phone.

“Matt,” I said. He finally looked at me. “I hate when you ignore me.”

“I’m not ignoring you. I’m just—I’m busy. It’s all bad news we’re getting. It’s not looking good.”

“Okay,” I said. “I get that. But I also think you should at least talk to me for five minutes a day. It shouldn’t be so much to ask. You can’t just shut me out.”

“I know that,” he said. He sighed and looked at me, and I had this weird feeling that he was going to set a timer for five minutes so that he could go back to work after he suffered through a conversation with me. I felt irritation rise in my throat, and I should’ve just dropped it, should’ve gone to bed. We were both tired and annoyed—but we’d been tired and annoyed for months now. So instead I said, “I felt bad for Ash tonight. Jimmy just really doesn’t help much with Viv.”

“I think he’s doing the best he can.”

“Yeah, but I mean, it’s still impossible. She’s taking Viv to all these events for him.”

“She knew what it would be like,” Matt said.

“Did she?”

“Yeah, I think she did. Campaigns aren’t easy.”

“Well, that’s sort of an understatement. Look what it’s doing to them.” What I really meant was, Look what it’s doing to us.

“What do you want me to say?” Matt asked. “This is part of it—it’s exhausting for the family too.”

“I guess I didn’t realize just how exhausting it would be,” I said. We were getting snippier with each thing we said, and I knew we were teetering on a fight.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Matt asked.

“Just that this”—I moved my arms around, gesturing at our room—“is disgusting. And you’re in a bad mood most of the time.” I saw Matt glance down at his phone and I wanted to say something to get his attention, to make him look at me. “Sometimes I just wonder why we did this. Why anyone would want to do this.”

“It’s hard, Beth. But this experience hasn’t changed my mind. I still intend to run for office one day. I still want that.”

“What if I don’t want to do it anymore?” I asked. And right then a look passed over his face, and I felt it—that if it came down to it, if he had to choose between me and running for office, he wouldn’t choose me.