Compromising Positions

by Mary Whitney

  After our long walk, I kicked back on the sofa, finishing my daily memorization of The Wall Street Journal as I watched the Blackhawks game, while simultaneously keeping an eye on a couple of basketball scores. As ten o’clock approached, I went to my study for one last scan of email and the news. I hated being caught flat-footed in the morning. Throughout that night, though, there was a nagging question in the back of my mind.

  Just who is she?

  So, just as I was about to close my laptop for the night, I pulled up her congressional website. There was Jessie wearing a different pair of funky eyewear, with her hair once again twisted up. In two clicks, I was on her “about” page and reading her biography:

  For more than twelve years, Jessica Clark has dedicated her life to working on behalf of the people of southern Arizona. On January 4, 2011, she was sworn in as a member of the United States House of Representatives. Congresswoman Clark represents Arizona’s 2nd Congressional District, which encompasses parts of Tucson, the glorious red rock Arizona desert, and down to the border with Mexico. Before Joining the U.S. Congress, she was first a Representative and later a Senator in the Arizona Legislature. She started her political career as Mayor of Sierra Vista. The Congresswoman was born in Sierra Vista in 1975, the daughter of an army captain and an elementary school teacher. She graduated Summa Cum Laude from the University of Arizona with a double major in Economics and Education. She is a member of Phi Beta Kappa and a Rhodes Scholar. Her Master’s degree in Economics is from Oxford University.

  Upon returning to Arizona, the Congresswoman taught junior high school at the Navajo Tribal School and became active in education reform.

  The paragraph continued, but I’d read enough to need another image of her besides the woman with the glasses at the reception. On a whim, I typed in “Jessie Clark” and searched for other photos. There were hundreds. The first few showed her at campaign events and photos from the previous elected offices she’d held. She looked just as proper as she did when I met her at the reception. There were a few of her with her father and mother; he looked stern and no-nonsense in his military uniform while her mother was really pretty for a woman her age.

  The next photo caused me to lean close to the screen to make sure I was seeing it correctly. There was Jessie Clark without glasses and with her hair shining and long, resting on her shoulders. Surrounded by a dozen Navajo children, she looked like a beloved teacher. Her arms were wrapped around two of the kids, and she beamed with pride at the camera. I leaned back again in my seat, studying the photo. She’s so pretty… very pretty, and she looks sweet with those kids.

  I thought of her chief-of staff for a moment. She was beautiful, but cold—just like my soon to be ex-wife. I had zero interest in someone like that. Jessie though… a woman like her is tempting.

  The image made me scour the internet for more photos. Though the majority of pictures were of her in some official capacity, it wasn’t difficult to find shots of her out of “uniform.” She looked like a different person when she was relaxed. I stumbled upon a whole cache of photos on one of her former student’s Facebook page from a kayaking trip she’d taken with a group of Navajo kids the year before. I loved to kayak, and my heart skipped a little as I realized we had something in common.

  In every photo, she wore a modest, black Speedo one-piece bathing suit. The swimsuit wasn’t revealing at all, but it showed enough of her body, which was pretty hot. I especially enjoyed the blowup of her talking to a group of kids because it gave me an accurate view of her behind. She’s got a nice little butt on her. I wonder if she has a boyfriend.

  Happy with my search results, I closed out of the window at once and went back to reading her biography.

  Representative Clark is a person respected by her colleagues for her tenacity and hard work on many important issues. She has a steadfast commitment to improve the quality of education for our children, protect Social Security and Medicare, fight for Native American rights, safeguard our natural heritage, and provide for economic development in rural communities. Having grown up in a military family, she believes in providing the necessary resources, equipment, and compensation for our troops. She is a passionate champion of a woman’s right to choose and a staunch defender against attacks on women’s health and a woman’s right to privacy.

  The Congresswoman is proud to call Tucson home.

  Leaning back in my chair, I stared at the screen. I could have guessed her positions on most issues, and I should have expected her to be pro-choice. It was her zealous explanation of her position on abortion that made me uneasy. I’d long ago separated my personal and political opinions on the issue. The issue was too important to my devout Catholic family and the Republican Party for me to let my personal thoughts get in the way. Frankly, I just didn’t care that much.

  A futile hope crossed my mind that maybe Jessie did the same. Without hesitating, I typed, “Jessica Clark abortion,” in Google. Thousands of hits came up with a variety of quotes from her on the subject:

  “Abortion should be safe, legal, and rare.”

  “Seventy-seven percent of anti-choice leaders are men. 100% of them will never be pregnant.”

  “I’m a strong supporter of Planned Parenthood and the access they provide tens of millions of women to health care and family planning.”

  “Being pro-choice is not being pro-abortion. Being pro-choice is trusting the individual to make the right decision for herself and her family and not entrusting that decision to anyone wearing the authority of government in any regard.”

  With the last quote, there was a photo of Jessie at what looked to be a pro-choice rally. She stood smiling and holding a sign that said, “Keep abortion safe and legal.” Next to her was another woman holding a sign with the words, “Abortion on demand and without apology.”

  I winced at the photo, running my hand through my hair in despair. My mom would kill me if I went out with her.

  Then I scowled at myself. What are you thinking? You want to go out with her? You’re worried about your mother? What about your divorce for Christ’s sake? What about your seat?

  I glanced at the photo one more time before closing my laptop and pushing it away from me on the desk. She may be interesting. She may be a good person. She may be beautiful. But she’s not right for you. At. All.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Jessie

  That same evening, Trish and I walked back in the freezing cold to the house we shared in Eastern Market. When we’d moved to D.C., Trish and Larry bought a row house with a large basement apartment. They lived upstairs, and I lived in the apartment, though I had the run of the house if I liked. It was the perfect living arrangement for me. I was never lonely for friends, but had all the privacy I wanted.

  Larry was outside shoveling snow as we walked up. Trish grinned at her husband. “Did you just shovel the entire block?”

  “I sure did.” He was quick to grab her into an embrace and kissed her. “Also cleared folks’ steps. It’s a great workout.”

  Poking his abs of steel, she said, “Well, we can’t have you going soft in the off-season.”

  “Honey, when am I ever soft around you?” he asked, in a whisper.

  “Can’t you two wait until you’re inside?” I said, rolling my eyes.

  He leaned over and pecked me on the cheek. “No problem. How was your day, Congresswoman?”

  “Long. Really long.”

  “Come on,” said Trish. “You have to tell him the story about how those two asshole Republicans thought you were a waitress at the reception.”

  “They did not!” said Larry, his jaw dropping.

  “Oh yes, they did.” I laughed and shook my head. “They weren’t assholes, though.”

  “After they apologized,” Trish said derisively. “Which they only did because that’s the kind of story that could end up in the press and bite them in the ass.”

  “You will not say anything about it. They would know I blabbed, and I want to make friends r
ight now, not piss people off.”

  “I know. I know. We don’t want to position ourselves as too partisan from the beginning, but this is so good. The male Republicans assume the female Democrat at a reception is part of the wait staff.” She sighed regretfully. “Don’t worry though. I won’t blab.”

  “Good.” I thought back to the reception and then said offhandedly, “Besides, I liked those guys.”

  “But, they’re Republicans.” She waved her hand as if she were tossing them aside. “The old guy seemed harmless, but you just liked Grath because he’s kind of hot.”

  “Whatever,” I said with a shrug. “He was actually kind of interesting.”

  Sometimes having your best friend as your chief of staff was a pain in the ass. I tried to lie, but she caught me. Who wouldn’t be attracted to Mr. Blue Eyes? She snorted at me. “Interesting?”

  “Hey,” said Larry, clutching Trish. “Half my teammates are Republicans, and you like them.”

  “They say that, but they’re just Republicans because they became rich and hate taxes,” said Trish. “They don’t actually buy into the rest of the crap.”

  “Guys, I’m freezing,” I said. I was tired, but I was still bouncing up and down to stay warm. “I need to go inside and take a hot bath.”

  “I can cook you something. I’ll throw an extra steak on the grill,” said Larry.

  “Nah. I ate some at the reception. Thanks though.” I gave them a wink. “You two enjoy yourselves. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  As soon as I got inside, I immediately bumped up the heat. D.C. was cold compared to Tucson, and I was having a hard time adjusting. As I fiddled with the thermostat, a loud “meow” greeted me from below.

  “Hey Buddy. How are you?” I kneeled down and scratched the rough mane of my big bruiser of a Maine Coon, Severus.

  He gave me another demanding meow.

  “You wanna go outside and be predator kitty?”

  He confirmed it with more meowing, so I led him to the back door for his nightly jaunt in the yard. He slept indoors all day, but at night he enjoyed an hour prowling the neighborhood hunting gifts of birds and mice for me and looking for fights with other cats, which he was sure to win. Eventually, he’d end up at the back door again, maybe with a small animal in his mouth but never a hair out of place. Thankfully, some other animal would take care of the carcass in the middle of the night.

  After letting him out, I made a cup of tea and curled up on my sofa… first with a stack of briefing memos and then a book. My rule in the evening had always been that if I finished my homework, I got to read a novel. When I finally made my way through the papers, Severus whined at the back, and I let him in so he could go back to his main pastime of sleep.

  When I returned to my pastime of a romance novel, I couldn’t concentrate on the love story in my hands. Michael Grath kept creeping into my thoughts. He was a hottie, and the Teach for America thing had thrown me for a loop. Impulsively, I found my laptop and sat back down on the sofa. As it booted up, I drank my now cold tea and spoke aloud to my empty living room, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

  Despite my self-flagellation, I was on Michael’s official House site within moments. There was his handsome face smiling at me. I sighed. He’s so hot. I went directly to his biography.

  Michael Francis Lancaster Grath is the eldest child of former Illinois Governor Gerald Grath and Evelyn Lancaster Grath. For generations, the Grath family has gone to Springfield and Washington, D.C. in service to the people of Illinois, always acting as a moderating voice in the divisive world of politics. Congressman Grath graduated from St. Ignatius College Prep and attended Harvard College, where he earned a degree in music.

  I cocked my head, looking at the screen. I liked classical music. I wondered what instrument he played, but I continued reading.

  After spending a year with Teach for America, teaching at Malcolm X High School in Chicago, he then graduated Order of the Coif from the University of Chicago Law School. After law school, he practiced corporate law at Chatham and MacQueen and soon became politically active in the Illinois Republican Party. He sat on the board of Chicago Catholic Charities for many years.

  In 2002, he ran for the Illinois State House and was elected at the age of 27, becoming the youngest Grath family member to ever win office. As a state legislator, he advocated for good government initiatives, the rights of crime victims, and environmental protection. Michael has never voted for a tax increase. He is a free-market advocate who believes that our strength as a nation comes from the ingenuity and hard work of its people. He believes in a culture of family, patriotism, and freedom. He is a strong supporter of our troops, the right to bear arms, and has a perfect voting record from the National Pro Life Committee. Congressman Grath has always fought for lower taxes, less government spending, and pro-growth policies that will put people back to work.

  The Congressman is an outdoor enthusiast and lover of all music. He resides in Highland Park.

  I was crushed looking at the screen. His biography contained the traditional Republican issues, but there was so much to him that sounded interesting. Yet I couldn’t get over that one statement about a perfect pro-life voting record.

  A memory I hated to remember floated back to me. There I was in high school again, opening my locker only to find that heartbreaking note with fifty dollars and one word—“Sorry.”

  Abortion politics were an intellectual exercise for some and a fun political football for others. For me, it was personal, though I’d never disclosed publicly why that was.

  I stared at his photo, trying to figure him out. Does he really think that way about women? What would he think of me?

  I ended up reading his biography one more time, and I noticed it said nothing about his personal life. Thinking back to my conversation with him, I shook my head. He’s not gay. No way. He laid on the charm with Trish just like every guy. I wonder who he’s dating.

  I felt incredibly foolish, but I couldn’t control my curiosity. I Googled “Michael Grath dating.” The first hit to come back was a gossip article dated only one month before. I practically jumped in surprise at the title.

  MICHAEL GRATH SPLITS FROM WIFE. IS HE NOW CHICAGO’S MOST ELIGIBLE BACHELOR?

  The office of Congressman-Elect Michael Grath announced his separation and pending divorce from wife, Stacy Kaninski Grath, after only four years of marriage. The official statement asked for privacy for the couple as they work through this trying period in their lives. The announcement concluded with a declaration that the Congressman would be devoting all of his energies to his new position representing Illinois’s Tenth Congressional District.

  No one can ignore the timing of the announcement so soon after his election. Sources close to the couple say that his political life strained their marriage. Given the Congressman’s notorious bachelor ways prior to his marriage, no doubt, he’ll shortly be back to being the most desirable man in Chicago.

  There was a slideshow of photos from their marriage, and I pounced on it at once. The first photo raised my eyebrows. It was of Michael and Stacy at the opening gala for the Chicago Symphony. Stacy looked gorgeous, with her strawberry blonde hair, flashy smile, and boobs galore oozing out of a sleek gown. Michael was dashing in a tux, but with a grim expression.

  Next, I found a picture from what looked to be a big wedding. I decided that despite her white gown, Stacy was way too pretty to be a virgin. Like a drug addict, knowing something is bad for you, but doing it anyway, I dug through more photos of them. There weren’t many where he was smiling. I wondered why that was.

  The thought of him being depressed only encouraged my cyber-stalking. I searched for his name along with the word “climbing” and discovered his friends–probably from college–had posted many pictures of him, smiling and shirtless out in the wilderness. I straightened in my seat. Damn… He’s fine.

  I also discovered a long interview in the Harvard alumni magazine that went in depth about hi
s interest in jazz and classical piano. I envisioned this dreamy, smart man playing Chopin. So much of him appeared to be everything most of my old boyfriends weren’t–brilliant, cultured, and passionate.

  Somehow common sense finally jolted me out of my dumb fantasy. What are you doing? Get a grip. You have nothing in common with him. He has values that go against everything you believe in. If Trish saw me right now…

  As I clicked out of my browser, I saw one last handsome photo of him in a tux which felt like a signal from the universe.

  Besides… you’re not even in his league.

  ~~~

  Of course, I literally had to bump into him a few days later. After a vote on the floor, I was speeding through the tunnels between the House office buildings. I was already late for a meeting and walked as fast as I could to get to my office. Passing through a sea of men in suits, I ignored them all and successfully maneuvered around them until I grazed the shoulder of one.

  “Pardon me,” I said, looking up to see whom I’d offended. At first I just saw the sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. Damn. It was Michael.

  My chronological age was in my thirties, but my hormones were stuck in my teenage years when it came to men. This was one of the reasons why I avoided them, or they seemed to avoid me. Seeing him fluttered a butterfly in my stomach, causing me to give him a furtive smile which I then fully regretted. What if he thinks I’m flirting?

  “Well, hello, Jessie.” He grinned.

  “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to.” Was I apologizing too much?

  “Don’t worry about it. How are you doing?”

  “Well, you know. Busy. Crazy. Bumping into people. Perpetually late for meetings and I hate being late for anything.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean.” He nodded ahead. “Is your office in Cannon?”

  “It is. And yours?” All I saw was that his tie perfectly matched the blue of his eyes, I had an internal cringe. Please say “no” Mr. Blue Eyes.

  “It is. What floor are you on?”

  “The fifth. The outer circle of hell.” At least, I wouldn’t see him often. The fifth floor of the Cannon office building was notorious for being the worst set of offices in the entire Congress. Only two hidden elevators went to that floor, and it was primarily used as a storage area. Offices were assigned by lottery, so there wasn’t anything to be done to change your location.