Bipartisanship and Romance

I decided that I wouldn't do anything with the Grast information. Mike exploded at me. He claimed that we had every right to punch him back. I told him that it wasn't the campaign I wanted to run. We were going to win our race the right way and not jump into the muck. He eventually came around, although I could tell it still wasn't his favorite thing.

With SB-12 dead, I came back to Washington as a hero. Speaker Gower told me to get back in front of the cameras. I spent most of my time talking about the importance of the middle class and the protections that unions gave to our economy. Back home, Steve Schadt was learning that he wasn't Arnold Play. He attempted several cruel jokes that fell pretty flat. Late one night, after one of Schadt's comments, there was a knock on my office door.

I was working on some labor legislation and absently called out, "Come in!" Maddie walked into my office. For a second, I stopped breathing.

"Hi," she said shyly. "Do you mind if I come in?"

"Hi. Hi, yes, please, um, come sit," I said, pointing to one of the chairs in front of my desk. It took everything I had not to hurdle the desk and wrap my arms around her. "Ccan I get you something?"

"No, I just wanted to talk for a little bit. I know you're busy. Everyone here is. It's good to see you," Maddie said quietly.

"It's good to see you. I mean in person. I have seen you on TV some," I said, sounding like a creeper. "I mean on CSPAN and the news, you know. I mean. You know what, I'm going to shut up for a minute." She laughed. It felt good to make her laugh.

"I know I've seen you too. How are you? I saw that Play and Schadt were coming after you pretty hard a few weeks ago," she said, looking concerned.

"Yeah, it got so bad I shouted at someone on my staff that I was going to show Arnold Play my dick." Maddie burst out laughing.

"I'm glad they talked you out of that!" she said through laughs. "Although you would have put Play's scrawny dick to shame, I'm sure."

"That's what I said," I chimed in, joining in the laugh. It felt so good. When she got a hold of herself, she went on.

"Look, you can bring me up and go after Schadt. You don't have to take his crap," she said.

"Maddie, I just can't. After how awful that was. After how you got exposed and exploited. I'm not making this a news story again if I can help it," I shrugged. She stared at me for a moment, and I saw her eyes get wet.

"You are so amazing. I'm so sorry I got you into this. You are way too nice for this place," she said.

"Hey, you didn't get me into anything. I came here to do a job. I haven't finished doing it, but I am going to do it my way," I replied. She laughed a little and looked down at her hands.

"I miss talking to you. I miss you a lot. I don't want you to think that I don't. But, I just, with this stupid scandal and Play and," she sighed. "I can't let you give this up for me."

"I miss you so much it sometimes hurts," I said. "Maybe, maybe now we can at least talk from time to time?"

"That would be nice," she said. She stood up. "It's late, and I am heading down to South Carolina tomorrow, so I should go. It was nice to talk to you, Ted." She walked to the door. I jumped up and opened it for her.

"Goodnight Maddie, it was great to see you." I made sure not to cry until she left.

The coming weeks were busy. Eddie, Raj, and I got a spot on most of the cable news shows. The three amigos' routine was catching on. If Arnold Play was going to lump us together, bring it on was our message. This drew even more ire from Play and his team. His idiot son went on a Twitter rant, announcing that Raj needed to return to his home country. Raj took great pleasure in pointing out that his hometown was Ypsilanti. Play's oldest child, Tiffany Play, tried to pretend that her brother meant something other than the racist implication that Raj wasn't an American. Her father shot that plan dead not five hours later at a rally in North Carolina where he had the crowd chanting, "SEND HIM BACK!"

With our increased public presence came the inevitable downside, increased threats. All of our offices received a flood of all manner of hate, even some death threats. The FBI took a look at some of them. Then, in mid-September, the Capital emptied again as the House and Senate members up for reelection went home for debate season.

Back in the home office, Vanessa was running practice sessions late into the night. She was focused on how Schadt would attack me about Maddie, and I needed a response.

"She's right," Mike said through the speakerphone. "Schadt needs to hit a homerun. You have to be ready for it when it comes, and not talking about it isn't going to cut it." Vanessa was nodding her head in agreement.

"Damn it, guys, enough!" I barked. "The answer is the same. What happened was borderline illegal spying on us." Vanessa told Mike she would call him back.

"You ok?" she asked when it was just us. She reached out and took my hand. Her brown skin was standing out against my own.

"I'm fine. I mean, I'm ok. I miss Maddie so much," I sighed. "I am going to do this the right way. I didn't do anything wrong. Neither of us did."

"No one. Hey, look at me. No one thinks you did something wrong," Vanessa said, staring me straight in the eyes. "But, you don't get to make the rules. There is a way to play this where you are right still. Denying it as an issue, is not it? You can put Steve Schadt to bed. Mike is fighting you because he fucking loves you. Jane knows that SB-12 is dead and is still working her dick off to get you reelected. We are all here for you. Please, just give us a chance to help you."

"One practice round where we work on Maddie answers. That's it," I said sternly.

"That's all it will take," she said with a smile.

Three days later, on a Thursday night, Steve Schadt and I held what was supposed to be the first three debates. Two local news teams had teamed up to present the event. We were at a small theatre in downtown Cincinnati. Schadt's team had demanded extra space to prep. I let him have it. I didn't need the bigger dressing room. The two anchors introduced us. It looked like Steve Schadt had War and Peace with him under his arm. It was a binder that had to have two hundred pages. The debate was only an hour. Again, the two anchors introduced us. I won the coin toss and chose to give the second opening and closing statements. Schadt started.

"Fellow Ohioans, I am so honored to be back here tonight. These two years have felt like a lifetime. That is especially true after watching Mr. Bates, and his socialist colleagues try and take over our great nation." At this point, I tuned him out. The socialism excuse was one I had prepared my ass off. I knew that from there, he would turn to immigration. He would be desperate not to talk about SB-12 or healthcare, which would be my attack point. Then my ears picked up his closing line. "We cannot have another term of Congressman Casanova spending all his time with Congresswoman Feel Good!" There were some laughs and lite applause.

I had never understood what people meant when they said they saw red before their eyes when they were mad. Maybe I had never been that angry before, but this time I saw red. A switch got flipped. I decided then and there to destroy Steve Schadt. When one of the moderators pointed to me, I attacked.

"Steve Schadt just made the stupidest decision of his career. He attacked one of the smartest, hardest working women in Congress. She might not be one that I agree with every day, but no one, especially not Steve Schadt, can attack her personally. Maddison Crawford earned an honors scholarship to the University of South Carolina. She held a campus job, leading her sorority in volunteer hours and graduating with full honors. Maddison then accepted a full ride to the University of Virginia School of Law, graduating with honors. After that, she went on to one of the most prestigious law firms in Charleston, where, after Hurricane Derek, she led the firm's crisis response team and became the associate head of corporate giving. For the past four years, she has been a dedicated public servant and, though I don't always agree with her politics, she is a hero of bipartisan cooperation in Congress.

So Steve, if you want to have a debate about issues. You will have it with me. I will proudly put my history of expanding healthcare and defending middle-class union workers up against your twenty-four years of do-nothing politics. But more importantly, if you want to have a character debate, you will have it with me, Mr. Schadt. You will have it with me. Because Maddison Crawford is way, WAY, out of your league." The audience erupted.

Schadt looked flustered. One of the moderators noted that his name was invoked, and therefore he had a right to respond. Schadt flipped through his massive binder. As he was doing so, he dropped a paper that fluttered over to me. I picked it up and looked at it. My blood went cold. It was the blurred picture of Maddie doing her pose the night of the photographs. For a moment, I was back in her room laughing at her, wondering how I could be so lucky to have been in her life.

"Hey that, that is one of my documents!" Schadt called out. I turned it toward the audience.

"I cannot disagree more, Mr. Schadt. At best, it belongs to me. Actually, it belongs in a garbage can. Fellow Ohioans, this is all Steve Schadt has to offer tonight. Pictures of an intimate moment between two people so in love and so happy that it never crossed their mind that someone was trying to destroy them." I turned to Schadt. "Do you want this back?" He stopped protesting and put his hand down. There were boos from the audience.

The rest of the night was a blood bath. Schadt tried to claim that he liked both public unions and SB-12. I hit him with that mercilessly. He also claimed to support preexisting conditions. The moderator jumped in before I could.

"Mr. Schadt, you have come out against CARES1, the bill that supports that. So how can you claim that you also support efforts to protect preexisting conditions?"

"Look. You are asking the wrong question. The question is, is this the role of the federal government?" Schadt said, looking pleased.

The moderated jumped in, "Mr. Schadt, no one except for the federal government is trying to do anything about preexisting conditions." Schadt deflated. I jumped in.

"The only thing that Mr. Schadt seems to dislike about the bill is that my name is on it as a sponsor." More applause.

The evening ended with Schadt trying to pin me on socialism. He had planned the night to be about sex, and when I took it away from him, he was an empty shell. I reminded myself to apologize to Mike and Vanessa, and Maddie. They all had been right. Finally, one of the moderators announced it was my turn for a closing argument.

"I have loved being the representative for Southwestern Ohio. I never imagined that I would do something as amazing or as important as being your Congressman. To talk to people that now have healthcare. The families that aren't wondering how to pay for the subsequent cancer treatment or diabetes. It is so overwhelming. My mom was a teacher right here in town. She was also proud to be a union member. I went to school safe, knowing that my mom could help me because of the fantastic protections that her union got her.

That being said, I have one regret. It is about a relationship. No, I don't regret the one between myself and Maddison Crawford. I loved her then. I love her now. I will never be sorry about my love for her. I am sorry about my relationship with you. I am blessed with some of the most intelligent voters in the country--hard-working men and women who trusted me with the greatest job I have ever had. I am sorry that I didn't trust you with the truth about my personal life from when I started my relationship. I am sorry that I didn't trust you to separate my personal life from my public one. I make this promise to you tonight. If you reelect me, I will continue to work to make all of our lives better. And I promise to be honest with you. To trust you in the way you trusted me. Thank you." The theatre exploded. People stood and cheered. I looked in the front row, and my mom was crying. I teared up a little. I turned to walk over and shake Steve Schadt's hand. He was gone.

Schadt was so upset that he bolted off the stage and threw his binder into the chest of his campaign manager. Unfortunately for him, he hadn't removed his mic. He shoved his finger into another campaign staffer's chest and screamed, "IT'S FUCKING EMBARRASSING! I MEAN, HOW THE FUCK." Someone on his staff noticed the hot mic and ripped it off his chest, causing a massive screaming sound in the theatre. The TV crew cut it. I turned and looked off stage. Vanessa was jumping up and down, pumping her fists in the air

Vanessa checked that my mic was off and then threw herself into my arms, screaming, "I knew it! You did it! You did it! You nailed that son of a bitch!"

"Thanks," I said, putting her down. "I owe you and Mike a beer for being wrong. I'm sorry."

"He's on the phone," she said, handing me a cell.

"WOOOOOOOO!" Mike screamed so loudly that I had to hold the phone away from my ear. "Got that prick. I can't believe he brought pictures to the fucking debate. What was he expecting to show and tell? He couldn't have thought that you were going to deny that anything had happened? Anyway, we have statements getting prepped now."

"I want them all positive. You stay on message. I was glad to talk to my constituents about the real solutions for improving their lives. Or some variation on that," I said.

"Throw in something about how 'we are sorry that Steve Schadt didn't take the same opportunity or something," Vanessa called over my shoulder into the phone. I gave her a look that said I didn't like it.

Mike, sensing my mood through the phone, said, "She right. That's as negative as we go, though. He passed on an opportunity to talk about the issues." I relented. Vanessa and I went back to the office. When we got there, it was chaos.

Three college volunteers were hurriedly moving from call to call. Janelle McCord, who Vanessa had brought in to manage the office, was dashing between two phones. Then, finally, Janelle ran over to us.

"This is crazy. People are calling and praising us and thanking us for focusing on the issues. We must have made $50,000 in the last hour in small donations. We get tens and twenties, rarely anything higher. We could bring in ten more volunteers and still have a wait time," she said, panting. Vanessa and I quickly got on the phones to help.

My cell was going crazy. Eddie sent me ten fire emojis. He was running unopposed and saw the whole thing live on YouTube. Raj's debate was that night also. He watched the highlights on the news after he was done. He left me a voicemail about how he needed to smoke after watching the fucking I gave Schadt. Jane Saltz sent a text saying that I had a future in Brooklyn politics by being a gangster.

I had an email from Speaker Gower congratulating me on doing so well but asking me not to slack off now. She also asked if I would meet with Vote Blue. With the amount of money I was raising, I could help other members in tight races. My first campaign ran on cold pizza and sweat. It never occurred to me that I would be running a flush campaign. A sweet older African-American woman kept me on the phone for twenty minutes, talking about how I had brought chivalry back to politics. She informed me that she hadn't donated to a campaign since Bobby Kennedy and gave me ten dollars. I thanked her profusely.

By 10:30 that night, things finally started to calm down. We had raised almost $400,000. The college kids looked shell-shocked, so I ordered them some pizzas and gave them a pep talk. Vanessa was on the phone with Mike whenever she got a chance. They were already gaming out ad buys. The local paper called and announced that they would be endorsing me. I thanked them and promised not to let them down. At 11:30, I sent everyone home and collapsed into my office chair. I noticed the tiny screen on the old cell phone that the stranger had sent me was blinking.

S: You continue to prove that you are a good man. Steve Schadt continues to do the opposite. I will help. You will know it when you see it.

T: Who are you? Why are you helping me?

S: Like I said. You are a good man. I don't like it when good men take the fall for playing fair. What you did was hard and took courage. Get some sleep. You had a big day.

A thunderstorm started as I was driving back to my apartment. When I got to the parking lot, I just stood in the rain for a moment. Then, I felt some weight lifted off my shoulders. Although the one person in the world I wished was there still wasn't. I was so tired. I wasn't sure I could sleep. So I sat in my wet clothes on the couch for a while and listened to the rain. Then my doorbell buzzed.

I didn't move at first. It was late, and I assumed that someone was hitting buttons. When it happened three more times, I got up and went over to the intercom and asked who it was. No answer, just three more buzzes. A colossal flash followed by a bang of thunder shook the apartment. Whoever this asshole was, they were getting soaked. Not wanting just to buzz them in, I walked downstairs and looked out the glass door. The asshole getting soaked was Maddie. She looked like a drowned rat. I ran to the door and pulled her inside.

"Jesus, what the hell are you doing here? You're soaked!" I cried. I pulled her up the stairs before she had a chance to answer. Then, there was another bang of thunder that seemed to be right on top of the roof.

"Sorry," she said, trying to wipe the dripping hair and water out of her face. "I know it's late. I just." I shoved her through the door to my apartment and ran to the bathroom, and brought out towels. I handed her one and wrapped the other towel around her shoulders. She sat down at my kitchen table.

"Do you need something? Water? What are you doing here?" I was speaking too fast. I needed to take a minute and breath.

"Can I have something stronger?" she asked with a bit of a smile and a shiver. I went to my liquor cabinet, pulled out a bottle of Appleton rum I had bought after St. Thomas, and poured two glasses. She cupped it in her hands and drank.

"I'm sorry it is late. I was finishing up some work for my debate on Saturday, and Daddy called. He said I need to watch you. I only saw the end. Then I watched some highlights online. I called daddy back, and he said the plane was ready. I just needed to see you. I'm sorry it's so late," she finished shyly.

"Oh my God, you aren't upset, are you? When the picture landed at my feet, I was so upset. I shouldn't have shown it to the audience. I'm so, so sorry, Maddie," I said.

"No. I wanted to see you because you are amazing and it was so perfect. I needed to see your face and beg you to forgive me. I should never have ended it. You were right. We could have fought. It was just so scared that someone would keep doing it to us, and then you would quit for me. But you were right, and I'm so sorry," she was crying as she finished.

The blood was pounding in my ears just from seeing her, so, of course, I said something stupid like, "What are you saying, Maddie?"

"I'm saying that I love you, you idiot. I'm saying that I should never have let you go and that I'm so sorry. I don't want to spend one more minute missing you, and I hope that you'll forgive me even though you don't have any reason to after I broke your heart. Please, Ted, I'm so sorry!" She leaned forward and kissed me. I didn't hesitate for a moment and wrapped my arms around her. Our wet clothes clung to each other. I felt Maddie shivering.