Identical (39 page)

Does hate my life.

But this tiny sliver

is more afraid of what

life might become

than it is of pain,

ever-present now.

At least I recognize

the boundaries imposed

on me. I know how

far to push. I know

when to step back.

I know when to tuck

tail and run. I know

when not to twitch.

I love my mom, hate

when she disappears.

I love when she comes

home, hate when she

hides inside herself.

I hate my father, love

when he puts distance

between us. I hate

how he treats me.

Love when he makes

me feel loved.

At least for today. At least,

most of it. Mr. Lawler chooses

elections as the topic of the day.

Guess who’s front and center.

What can you tell us about your

mother’s political ambitions?

he asks, rather pointedly.
Has she

thought beyond this election?

Is he talking like Mom as president

or something? I shrug. “They’re

her ambitions. You should

probably ask her about them.”

He smiles.
Fair enough. So

what about you? How do you

feel about your mother running

for Congress? Are you proud of her?

I really wish he would quit

shining the spotlight on me.

How am I supposed to answer?

“How else would I feel, Mr. Lawler?”

My tone tells him to change

the subject, and he moves on

to infamous elections in the

distant and not-so-distant past.

About any election, including

the one going on right now.

All I can think about is seeing

Ian. We have drama today, so

we’ll get to rehearse together.

Not that I’ve had a lot of time

to practice lately. I’ll probably

blow every line. But at least

the romantic scenes should take

on an air of definite credibility.

I’m stuck in thoughts of dramatic

interpretation when the door opens.

It’s some office intern, with a hall pass.

For me.
Your mom’s here to pick you up.

Everyone stares as I gather my stuff.

Mr. Lawler waves me out the door

and resentment builds inside me.

I know I’m off to be presented

as familial bling, when all I want

is to be left way alone. With Ian.

That’s me. Photo this. Interview

that. And every damn word is a lie.

“Of course I’m very excited about

my mother’s prospects today….”

The whole thing fills me with dread.

“Oh yes, I think she deserves to win.

She’ll work for positive change….”

For the country, if not for me.

“Well, if she doesn’t win, she’ll try

again, I’m sure. This is her dream….”

Does she still dream? I’m not sure.

“The best part of the experience? I guess

seeing politics in action. I’ve learned a lot….”

There is no best part of this experience.

“The worst part? Having her away so

much, I suppose….”

The worst part? That she
so
wants to go.

By eight, when the polls close,

the house has filled with people,

good Republicans all. I swear,

I’m registering Dem. That will

make it just that much easier

to never vote for my parents.

Daddy is up for reelection in two

years, and he’s sure working

Mom’s crowd now. He’s not

about to play bling when there’s

so much Money floating around

the living room, drinking Dom

Pérignon and nibbling canapés.

Ranchers. Winemakers. Small

business owners. Developers.

All might one day call in favors

for the votes they no doubt cast

today. Then there are cops.

Prison guards. Other judges.

And, oh yes, there’s the mayor,

a stout, youngish conservative

who rubber-stamps growth—

like if he builds enough new

neighborhoods, he might actually

find a life partner in one of them.

Conspicuously absent is Hannah,

who helped pull this shindig

together. Guess my big mouth

made her fade into the background,

at least until Mom takes off again.

In hindsight, it was amazingly

stupid to delete her from this

complicated equation. Idiotic.

Oh. Wait. Here she comes.

Glass in hand, Daddy

glances at the new arrival.

His first reaction is to smile

widely. Then he notices Mom,

weaving through guests on the far

side of the room, and his smile

slips ever so slightly. Hannah waves,

and Daddy moves toward her.

Mom misses nothing, though she

doesn’t miss a beat of conversation.

But when Daddy reaches Hannah’s

side, takes her arm, Mom starts

in their direction. This evening

might get interesting after all.

The last catfight I witnessed

was my own, with Madison.

This one should prove more fun.

But, no, Mom remains the steadfast

politician. She extends a hand.

So lovely to see you again. Ray?

Please get Hannah something to drink.

Too subtly for the untrained eye

to notice, she extricates Hannah

from Daddy, who ambles toward

the bar like a half-trained puppy,

glancing back for trainer approval.

I move even closer, knowing

Mom is not about to leave

things up in the air. I am so right.

I hear you helped organize this

evening,
she says.
Thank you

so much
. Then, smile slipping not

one inch, she lowers her voice.

I also hear the two of you have

become rather close. I do hope

you understand the nature of

politics. Scandal will not

be tolerated. My people will

see to that. Perhaps a mutual

decision to move on with

your separate lives is wise.

Mom pauses, but Hannah gives no

immediate response. I wait for

a threat. Instead Mom offers a bribe.

I’ve told my personal assistant

to see what he can do about

your outstanding student loans.

Hannah remains quiet for several

seconds, as the weight of Mom’s

words sinks in. She glances over

at Daddy, who has found her

a glass of champagne. He smiles,

but she doesn’t dare smile back.

Before he can rejoin her, she

meets Mom’s steady gaze.

And all she says is,
I understand.

And she 100 percent knows it. Mom will kick her

figurative butt if she chooses to disregard the overt

warning. Instead, play it smart, come out way, way

ahead. Mom, of course, is truly the smart one.

Give Hannah a way out, but make it clear

she’d better latch onto it. Run with it. Run.

Funny, because, wrapped up in my

own little corner of the universe,

I always thought it was Daddy

who carried the power here.

Now I see how wrong

I was. Now I see why

he wields such a big

stick when Mom

isn’t around. It’s

the only way he

can feel like

even half a

man.

Offers her the glass of bubbly.

I keep my back half to them, at

a respectful distance, but close

enough to successfully eavesdrop.

Daddy doesn’t notice me

at all.
So what did she have

to say?
he asks.
I assume

she issued some sort of threat?

A glance over my shoulder

reveals Hannah, sipping Dom

and scanning the room.
She

said to take a hike. What else?

I see.
Daddy clears his throat.

And do you plan to take orders

from my wife? Depending on

what happens tonight, she’ll—

You said the magic word, Ray—

wife. I’ve always known this would

be a temporary fling. This is

probably a good time to end it.

She hands her glass to Daddy,

kisses him softly on the cheek,

starts out the door. He looks like

he’s going to follow her, but…

The volume on the television,

where regular programming

has been interrupted for an

election update. The polls

closed

hours ago and returns trickle

in. In the Twenty-fourth U.S. Congressional

District, Kay Gardella currently

leads with 52 percent of the vote.

That comes as little surprise

to me,

of course. A cheer goes up

in the room. Unless there’s

a major turnaround, Mom’s

got it in the bag. Looks very

much like we’ve lost her

for good.

I look at Daddy, who is torn

between running after Hannah

and strutting beside his wife,

the likely congresswoman.

Guess who wins out. Hannah’s

gone,

he’s still here, where the votes

are. I so despise politics. Pit

them against family. Pit them

against love. The Game conquers,

always.