Young Jane Young(66)

“Aviva,” the congressman says. “I’d like you to come into the office today.”

Usually, the supervisor calls with the schedules for the week.





56


Part of you wonders if the congressman is going to fire you, and part of you wonders if the congressman is going to kiss you again.

You don’t take a shower. You slept in track pants and a T-shirt and you don’t bother changing. You don’t want to look special. You don’t want to look like you care.

You drive to the office, and your hands are freezing, which is what happens when you are nervous.

You take the elevator up, and when you arrive, Aaron Levin calls you into his office. “Leave the door open,” he says.

He says, “I want you to find out everything you can about the government’s involvement in the redigging of the Kissimmee River.”

“Yes, sir,” you say.

The Internet search takes twenty minutes. The Kissimmee is the longest river in Florida, and like any river, the Kissimmee started its career as a series of irregular, undulating curves. In the middle of the twentieth century, a time of optimism and foolhardiness, the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers decided that the Kissimmee could help with flood control and be a useful navigational tool for planes if it were straight. Win-win! They dug out the sides of the river, killing innumerable species of flora and fauna and damaging the river practically beyond repair. From an environmental standpoint, the Kissimmee River is a disaster.

You go into the congressman’s office and you describe this for him and you add some facts about what the continued costs of restoration will be.

“Tragic,” he says.





57


“Tragic,” you agree.

“Close the door,” he says.

You close the door. “I can’t stop thinking about you, but I’m married and I have children and I’m an elected government official, and so this cannot be,” he says.

“I understand,” you say.

“But I’d still like us to be friends,” he says.

“Yes,” you say, though you don’t have any friends his age, except for your mom.

He offers you his hand to shake.

If you shake his hand and then you try kissing him again, turn to page 60.

If you shake his hand and then leave the office, turn to page 94.

If you don’t shake his hand and offer your resignation, turn to page 95.





60


You shake his hand.

You shake it, and you don’t let go. You pull him toward you, and then you kiss him again.



If you think you’re having fun, turn to page 62.



If you think you’re in love, turn to page 65.





65


You have never been in love before and so you don’t know for certain if you are.

He is not like anyone you’ve ever known.

He’s not like the boys your age, like Charlie Greene.

He’s smart and he’s powerful and he’s sexy as fuck.

It’s easy for you to find reasons to stay late.

No, you’re remembering that wrong.

It’s easy for him to find reasons to have you stay late. “I need Aviva,” he’ll say. “Put Aviva on it.”

Sometimes, that means he wants actual work from you. Sometimes, that means he wants you.

You never know what he’ll want until he says, “Close the door.” There’s an excitement to this arrangement. It’s like you’re a contestant on a game show. What can possibly be behind door number one?

You wonder if anyone suspects.

You progress to saying, “I love you.”

And he says, “I love you, too.”

No, you’re remembering that wrong. He never says those words. He says, “Me, too.”

You say, “I love you.”

He says, “Me, too.”

But maybe he isn’t demonstrative.

You look for evidence of love.

Exhibit 1: If he didn’t love you, why would he be spending all this time with you? Why would he be risking so many things – his marriage, his family, his work? You conclude that he must love you.





66


Exhibit 2: Once, without any prompting from you, he says, “As soon as I’m reelected, I’m going to leave Embeth. We haven’t been happy for some time.”

Upon further consideration, maybe that isn’t actual evidence. All he said was he was unhappy with his wife. Maybe that has nothing to do with you? How can you know if you caused the unhappiness or if you are a symptom of it?

You can’t even come up with a decent third piece of evidence. The first time he saw you without a bra, he said you had “the sexiest tits [he’d] ever seen.” You’re not so dumb that you think evidence of lust is the same as evidence of love. Still, the lust is intoxicating and appreciated. You have always felt lumbering, misshapen, and bulky. He looks at you like you’re butter and he’s a hot knife.

You decide it doesn’t matter if he loves you. You love him. You know what you feel.

You know what you feel, but there are still a few things that bother you.

He doesn’t want to have vaginal intercourse with you. You have every other kind of sex that a man and a woman can have, but not that kind. You want to have it with the congressman, but you don’t press him. You are still a virgin, in a way, and you’re slightly scared of what will happen. It hurt so much when you did it with that boy who didn’t ask permission. You haven’t done it since.