If I didn't have a week or two of work in the bathroom, I had to put my energy into Midge's room instead. There was nothing else for me to do. It was the bathroom or the only other room I'd avoided. I didn't make the rules.
"All right. I guess I'm ripping out some tile," I said to the empty space.
Before I could lift my trusty crowbar to the mint chip, my phone vibrated across the floor, a number I didn't recognize flashing on the screen.
I knew better than to answer calls from unknown numbers but— "Hello?"
"Hey! Is this Jasper-Anne Cleary?"
Immediately, I went on high alert. I should not have answered. It was a bad idea to take calls from anyone. I didn't need to fumble my way through a "no comment" with another reporter.
"Yes," I said, though it came out like a question.
"Okay, great, cool. This is Dino Thatcher-Wheelwright with the NCVC."
He paused and I had to believe that pause was meant for me to respond with something like "Oh, the NCVC, of course, how's Marsha doing these days? She still with you guys or what?" but I had no idea. It could be the North Carolina Veterans' Coalition or the Nevada Commission on Visitor Commerce or—
"Northern California Voters Count," he said, chuckling just enough to forgive me for not knowing. "I bet you see your share of acronyms, huh?"
"Show me someone in this business who hasn't." My words sounded rusty, like I hadn't spoken out loud in days.
"The reason for my call, Jasper-Anne"—I didn't invite him to call me Jasper because I needed to know what he wanted before I could do anything else—"is we're hoping you want to come on out to California and help us get a few new members of Congress elected."
"I want—what? What did you say?"
"I hear ya, this is a big change of pace. NorCal is a totally different world, and that's just in regard to the rest of California, never mind the East Coast politics game."
I found myself saying, "Mmhmm."
"And we know you're a big-time player in that game while we're small potatoes but we also know you've had your fill of business as usual in Washington."
Again— "Mmhmm."
"I'll be straight with you," he continued. "We don't have the humanpower to get it done by ourselves. We're damn good at turning out voters and we've had some early success fielding a bench of candidates to run in state and local races, but we don't have the smarts to get them elected. That's where you come in."
By now, I was in the mint green tub, my knees to my chest and my head on the wall and my hand cramping because my grip on the phone could be categorized as one of those crazy adrenaline feats of strength. "Mmhmm."
"The team is pumped about getting to know you. We would love it if we could get a day or two with you, on site, to see if this is the path you want to tumble down next."
It took me a moment to realize it was my turn to speak. "On site," I repeated. "You're looking for me to visit you in California?"
"I know it's short notice but we could fly you out tomorrow. If you can't swing that, we can make it work later in the week."
"Tomorrow." My entire conversational strategy centered around repeating him—and it seemed to be working.
"Yeah, obviously it's suuuuuuper short notice but we figured you didn't have too much going on right now."
That hurt. A little. Just enough to get me out of this echo stupor. "Dino, I appreciate the call. Great to hear about what you're doing and I'm all for initiatives like this one. Before I can commit to flying to California, I need to engage in some due diligence and see if my schedule has any flexibility."
"Got it, got it. Here's what I can do for you. I'll shoot you some of our documents and a snapshot of the team's availability this week and early next. If you feel like our paths might align, I'll have our ops manager reach out to coordinate the travel arrangements. We're running a lean show here so I can't promise anything like you're used to but—"
I snorted. "Don't worry about that part, Dino. Every campaign operates on a shoestring. Even the ones that look like they have it made."
"It's those insider secrets we need," he said with a laugh. "That and enough dirty tricks to send a few incumbents packing."
There were too many emotions exploding inside me to properly process Dino's parting remarks. There was some denial in there, to be sure, but I let excitement and relief and pride—I was back!—crowd out the unsavory bits.
I was out of the bathtub and sprinting across the backyard in an instant, the raw November wind cutting through my clothes in a too-late reminder I'd left Midge's house without my coat. But it didn't matter. I was nearly home and I'd warm up while I looked into the NCVC, the organization that wanted me to transform Northern California's political scene.
It sounded simple enough but that region was a mosaic of people and competing interests, and it was nothing like Southern California. The opportunity to get in there and make something happen was immense. And it would be all mine.
When I reached my laptop on the kitchen table, my hands were shaking so hard from the rush of it all, I couldn't type. I just sat there, my entire body caught in an endless shiver, and let the tears fill my eyes.
I'd kept going. I'd put my head down and let it all blow over. Just like always, I'd survived. I'd made it through. I'd survived.
26
Linden
I returned home to find Jasper crying in the kitchen. Elbows on the closed lid of her laptop, head in her hands, hiccup-gasp crying.
Seeing as this wasn't the first time I'd come upon Jasper crying, I could've learned something from the past rather than repeating those mistakes. Instead, I dropped a wooden crate of assorted cranberry products gifted to me from a client on the countertop and asked, "What happened?"
Jasper started, of course, popping out of her seat and flattening a hand to her chest. She blotted her cheeks on her sleeve and sucked in a steadying breath. "You scared the hell out of me. What are you slamming and yelling for?"
"I came home and you're sitting here crying, Peach. I don't like seeing that. Who did this to you? If it's that ex of yours bothering you again, he can direct his inquiries to me. I'll handle Preston from this point forward, okay?"
She tore a wad of paper towel from the roll. "It's not Preston but your vehemence is extra special today."
I set my hands on her waist and waited as she thoroughly blew her nose. "Should I keep guessing?"
Leaning back against the cabinets, she said, "I got a job offer."
"You—what? When?"
She waved with the balled-up paper towels. "This afternoon. I got a call from a candidate farm and—"
"In English, Jasper. English."
Again with the paper towel, she said, "An organization that prioritizes races and develops a roster of candidates to take out incumbents or go after historically uncontested or uncompetitive seats. They raise money to grow candidates."