Regrets Only

by Sally Quinn

  “Now do me a favor, will you, and give me a fill on Chessy,” he said, changing the subject. “You probably think I’m a real bastard, don’t you?”

  “No, of course I don’t.”

  “Well, Chessy sure thinks I’m the world’s greatest louse.” And Des proceeded to describe to her the reasons he had left his wife.

  There was something about her that made men want to tell her things. She did not discourage this. She was fascinated with the way men’s minds worked. They were so different. She loved to listen to men talk about their feelings because Rosey never did. And because she had never really lived with any man but Rosey, he was the only example of male behavior that she had observed close up. She often felt very lonely. Des intrigued her. She was drawn to him. There was something challenging. She had thought she would never attract a man like Desmond Shaw; a man like that would never be interested in someone like her, a wife. Yet he obviously was in some way. Maybe he was just playing up to her because of who she was, but she didn’t think so. She had stayed friends with Chessy because she wanted to know more about him.

  “Chess and I hadn’t been in business for years,” he was saying. “We never should have gotten married in the first place.”

  “Why did you?”

  “Oh, Jesus, we were both so young. I was knocked off my feet by her. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life. I was an Irish Catholic kid from the South Side. She took my breath away. She had class, and she liked me. My roommate from B.C. fixed me up with her. He was a dumb rich boy who couldn’t get into Harvard. But he was Catholic, so they took him at B.C. He spent most of his weekends—and nights, for that matter—driving around Radcliffe and Wellesley and taking out rich girls. Then one weekend he invited me down to New York to his place for the weekend. He took me to my first coming-out party. Chessy was the debutante, ebony hair and pale skin and white satin. She was some kind of goddess.”

  Sadie felt jealous.

  “She paid attention to me, and all the guys in their patent leather shoes with bows and their mid-Atlantic accents were jealous. ‘Who’s the Mick?’ they kept asking Charles, but I didn’t give a damn. Chessy had singled me out and they couldn’t stand it. I was twenty-one years old and in love. The fact that she wanted to marry me was a miracle. I still don’t understand it. We fought from the moment we said our vows. Her parents were outraged. My parents weren’t delighted either.

  “We settled in Boston to be away from her parents. I got a job as a reporter on The Gazette, where my old man was a printer. I had worked there as a delivery boy and a copy boy. It was a washout. Chess had money, so we could afford an apartment in Back Bay. I was not accepted by her fancy friends. I was not even allowed in the Somerset Club or the Myopia Club or any other club.”

  “What made you stay together?”

  “Sex.”

  The conversation was making her nervous. She changed the subject.

  “Do you have brothers and sisters?”

  “One’s a priest and the other’s a nun.”

  “Your family was religious?”

  “No more, no less than other Irish Catholic families in Boston. Which means yes.”

  “Now it’s beginning to make sense to me why the divorce is not so easy for you.”

  “Well, I’m glad somebody understands. Allison thinks I should have been divorced yesterday. This is a hell of a thing for me. It’s the most difficult thing I’ve ever done in my life. And I’m not religious. I haven’t been to confession since I was twenty-one.”

  “Why did you stop?”

  “I went to confession. I told the priest I’d slept with a virgin. He chewed me out and I lost my temper. I told him, ‘You’re here to forgive sins, not to lecture.’ He told me I was impertinent. I said, ‘Hey, Padre, go fuck yourself!’ and I walked out.”

  Sadie was visibly shocked. “Did you feel guilty? I mean aren’t you supposed to feel guilty for something like that?”

  “I never went back. I’d flunked redemption. Yet I don’t feel less Catholic. That’s what Sonny doesn’t understand.”

  So, all was not perfect in paradise. She had envied Allison. She stared at him for a moment. He was looking down, taking a bit of food. He seemed vulnerable, and she felt like touching him.

  “Jesus,” he said. “I’ve done nothing but talk about myself. Sonny would say I am the typical Washington dinner-party bore. And I want to know about you. How you keep yourself interested in being the Vice President’s wife. What are you doing for yourself? I can’t believe your historic preservation projects or even Planned Parenthood keep you all that stimulated.”

  “I have a secret project.”

  “Aha. I knew I wasn’t just guessing.”

  He was pleased. He looked gorgeous when he laughed.

  “You’re blushing,” he said. “I like that about you. It’s an attractive trait. One of your many, I might add…. What’s the project?”

  “I can trust you not to tell?” She almost added: “Allison.”

  “You can.”

  “I write.”

  “You what?”

  “I write.”

  “What do you mean? I mean, what do you write?”

  “I write short stories. I’ve been doing it for years. I used to write for the Smith College literary magazine. You probably know that I went to work for The Gotham after college. I was a researcher, but I wrote for Around the Town once in a while, and I wrote stories but I never submitted any. I was there two years when I married and moved to Richmond and had two children and I didn’t do much for a while. But ever since Rosey’s been in politics I’ve been writing things. Usually I tear them up. I’m working on one now that I sort of like. I got the idea because of a friend of mine in Savannah… I suppose it sounds silly to you. You’re a professional and all your friends are.… They’re probably hopeless—the stories; I’ve never shown them to anyone.”

  “Would you let me see them?”

  “I shouldn’t even have told you I wrote anything.”

  “Look, I think it’s terrific. Why don’t you let me have a look? I’m an editor. I could help you. Wouldn’t you like to have something published?”

  “I couldn’t do that. It would embarrass Rosey.”

  “Under a nom de plume.”

  “I never thought of that.”

  “Then it’s solved. So when do I see this chef d’oeuvre?”

  “Look, you’re already making fun of me.”

  “I swear I’m not.”

  “Let me look at it first. I’m not sure… But I must admit I’ve been longing for somebody to see what I’m doing. If it’s hopeless I’d like to know. Then I won’t waste my time anymore. I’m a little too old to be writing short stories to hide away in a drawer. We all did that in college with our poetry. If I’m not any good at all, I want to scrap it and go on to something else.”

  “Do you have something else in mind?”

  She blushed again.

  “Forgive me,” said the voice on Sadie’s right. “Forgive me, my dear lady, but I’m afraid that the table is being turned by our hostess.”

  Heinrich was leaning toward Sadie with a smile.

  “Howard, I apologize.”

  She could tell that Howard knew she was one down. He would pay attention to those things. Nobody wanted to be one down in Washington.

  “Howard, old man, Mrs. Grey deserves better,” Des was saying, “but protocol demands that I hand her over.” And he put his hand on Sadie’s arm lightly as he turned away from her. It made her catch her breath.

  “I hope I will be able to captivate you half as much as that pirate Shaw,” Howard was saying. “You better watch out for him. He has a way with the ladies.”

  She decided not to show her annoyance. She glanced across the table—she had forgotten to keep an eye on Allison and Rosey—and caught Allison watching her in return. For a moment they gazed at each other; then Allison turned to Rosey. It was Sadie’s turn to be uneasy.

&nb
sp; * * *

  “I saw Bud Corwin working you over,” Allison said to Rosey. She had hardly been able to concentrate on her conversation with Worth Elgin the first half of dinner. Sadie and Des had seemed enraptured until the table had turned. Des had never even greeted the woman on his other side. And he had done almost all of the talking, looking solemn. If he was talking about her, she would not forgive him.

  The only way she could recoup now was to get Rosey’s full attention. She was pleased to see Sadie’s glance as she turned toward Rosey. She decided Rosey was pretty attractive. She found herself drawn to him.

  Rosey had a certain military bearing about him. He had been in the Marines. He respected authority. He relished his own position and sought more responsibility. She could easily see him as a successful President. He was a leader of men in a different way than Des was. Men followed Rosey automatically. They wanted him to tell them what to do. Des was a man other men envied. They imitated Des. They wanted to be like him.

  With Des, she always had the sense “You’re on your own, kid.” He gave them rope, and if they hanged themselves, well, so be it. Des was nobody’s keeper. He didn’t want other people hanging over him. He was independent, his own man. He had zero respect for authority. And he had no desire to tell anybody else what to do.

  In fact, he spent more of his time as Bureau Chief writing and doing the column on the White House and letting his deputy handle the day-to-day duties.

  Rosey was more of a father figure. There was something about him that made one feel secure. She knew what appealed to the voters about him. He seemed to have things quietly in control. He was not a grandstander or a hotdogger. He just had a reserve that gave the impression that he was in command. He didn’t have quite the same charm that Des had, but he had something else. Allison could see where he might be sexy. He was good-looking enough, but he wasn’t enough of a bastard to be really sexy. She wondered what it would be like to go to bed with him, and she decided that it would probably be a pretty dry screw. Des was the best lay she had ever had in her life. Rosey was definitely a missionary-position man. On the other hand, there was a certain challenge there. She was sure she could turn him on, and the possibility intrigued her.

  And like all men, he was not impervious to a compliment.

  She had found that out in their first interview. She had said she admired his speeches and the rest of the interview had been a piece of cake. Allison didn’t like to do that. It made her feel a bit of a whore. But it worked.

  She had seen Rosey stiffen when she made the crack about Bud Corwin. She knew he didn’t know quite what to expect. And he seemed to be on his guard this evening. Had Sadie warned him against her?

  “How do you mean?” he asked her.

  “Oh, you know,” she said with a challenging smile.

  “Allison, surely you don’t want to put me in an uncomfortable spot,” he said, returning her smile.

  “I wouldn’t think of it. It’s just that the Senator never fails to amaze me.”

  “Are you trying to get me to say something negative about the Majority Leader?”

  “Why are you so suspicious tonight, Mr. Vice President?” she asked.

  He seemed at a loss for words—an unusual reaction for a politician. Allison was sure Sadie had said something to him.

  “If I didn’t know better, I would say somebody warned you off of me.”

  Again he was on his guard. He certainly wasn’t going to tell her the truth.

  “Well, Allison, you know you have a certain reputation.”

  “Unlike Shaw?”

  “Shaw has a reputation for being tough, but it’s not the same thing.”

  “Why isn’t it the same?”

  “People are scared of you.”

  “And not of Des?”

  “Well, no, they’re not.”

  “They respect him but they’re not afraid of him?”

  “Yes.”

  “And they’re afraid of me but they don’t respect me?”

  “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

  “But that’s what you meant to say?”

  “No, but—well, you print different kinds of things.”

  “Untrue things?”

  “No, but things that are on the edge, personal things—you get people to say things…. I mean, nobody knows what you’re going to print, so they don’t feel as comfortable around you.”

  “So what kind of a journalist do you think that makes me?”

  “Certainly a very good one.…” He hesitated.

  She saw that he was struggling, and it amused her. “What you are trying to say is that it’s different for men and women. It’s not just your perception. It’s true. There is a kind of Good Ol’ Boy school of journalism and politics. Des understands it. It’s a pact, an unspoken agreement. We’re all in this together. The problem for women journalists in this town is that we don’t get to hang around bars or go out drinking with our sources without having everybody question our reputation.” She had his attention now. “The men in Washington belong to a club, no women allowed. So I don’t have to abide by the rules of the club. Frankly, I think that makes me and my female colleagues better, more independent journalists.”

  She paused for a moment, then laughed. “I usually get paid a lot of money for that speech,” she said. “And you’re getting it for free.”

  “To what do I owe the honor, ma’am?”

  “Just buttering up a source.”

  “Well, you’re a damn sight more honest than most of the men I’ve dealt with. It’s just that I’m an old male chauvinist pig and I don’t know the new rules. I have to keep being reminded. Thank you for that.” He grinned. “It’s true what you say about the club. It’s something I’ve honestly never thought much about. But it’s not only men who don’t trust women journalists. Why…”

  He stopped and looked almost stricken for a moment. He had almost told her he had been warned by his wife. Allison knew it, and she waited to see how he would get out of it.

  “Uh, earlier today some people were talking about you and teasing me about watching out,” he said. “I said I wasn’t afraid and they said if that was true, then I was the only man in town who wasn’t. I’d take it as a compliment.”

  “It sounds like one coming from you.”

  “You’ve interviewed me enough times. I’m not unaware of your devastating technique. But you’ve always been fair and honest with me, and I appreciate that.”

  “You’ve always been fair and honest with me. That’s why. May I say something, Mr. Vice President?”

  “Rosey, please.”

  “William or Bill in public, Rosey in private—right?”

  “Yes. My campaign manager told me a long time ago I could never get elected with a name like Rosey. But I’ve never really felt comfortable with William, though most people here call me that. Except the ones I’m closer to.”

  “Well, then, I’m flattered.”

  “It’s the least I can do after insulting you.”

  He looked her directly in the eye and she could see he was being playful. He was intrigued. That was clear. Yet what amazed her was that she found herself attracted to him, and it made her blush. He pretended not to notice.

  “As I was saying,” she said finally, clearing her throat.

  “Yes?”

  “You must understand that you could trust me under any circumstances because of my relationship with the President.”

  “You mean because he’s your godfather?”

  “Of course. Because of that I can’t very well write ugly things about him. It’s the worst conflict I’ve ever encountered in my career.”

  “So how does that affect my relationship with you?”

  “Because you are the Vice President and you are also a trusted confidant of the President. It would put a terrible strain on my relationship with my godfather. Secondly, I think you can help me.” She couldn’t help smiling at his surprise.

  “I’m serious. I’m
worried about Uncle Roger. I know something about him that you may not know. And certainly the rest of the country doesn’t know. He has a heart condition.”

  Rosey looked genuinely shocked.

  “He had a small stroke about ten years ago. God knows how he managed to keep it out of the press. It was just before my father died, and he swore my father to secrecy. Now you can see the problem. But it’s something I simply cannot reveal.”

  Rosey was almost grim.

  “Why are you telling me?”

  “It’s hardly the place or time, is it? I apologize. He needs somebody to watch out for him.”

  “What can I do?”

  “I’m sure you have noticed that Roger Kimball’s worst failing is that he is overly trusting of people. He doesn’t have a cynical bone in his body. He has managed to surround himself with some real fools. They are leaking to the press, fighting with each other, and making him and his Administration look ridiculous. These people are going to eat him alive unless somebody does something. Some of them have to be got rid of.”

  Rosey was staring at Allison. She had said she was going to be honest, but this was something he had never seen before.

  “I see you’re surprised at what I am saying.”

  “Stunned is more the word,” he said.

  “What surprises you—my candor?”

  “That too, but your accuracy in sizing up the situation.”

  “The only way the President will ever really know what is going on and how bad it is is by reading it in the paper.”

  “And that’s where I come in,” he said.

  “This nonsense is taking a heavy toll on him,” she said. “I’m afraid the stress of all of this could cause him to have another stroke.”

  “My God, I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you’ll help me.”

  Rosey just looked solemn.

  “Look,” she said finally. “It’s not all that bad. I’m only saying that he has to be careful, and those jerks around him aren’t helping any. I’m speaking now as someone who loves this man.”

  When he didn’t respond, she turned teasing.