by Penny Reid
No one said anything for a full minute. Actually, no one said anything verbally for a full minute. Instead they stared at each other and a form of silent communication passed between them. My heart thumped uncomfortably as I struggled to find words to make everything better, explain that Martin was a good guy, that he wasn’t his father.
But just as I opened my mouth to voice this as fact, Martin bent, gave me a soft kiss on my cheek, and whispered in my ear, “I’ll see you tonight.”
He gave me a tight, apologetic smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He turned away. He left.
I stared after him, blinking at the door, wondering how everything could have gone horribly wrong in one and a half minutes when absolutely nothing had been said.
My mother’s soft sigh pulled my attention back to her and I struggled to speak. Finally I blurted, “He’s wonderful. He’s really wonderful. He hates his father, and you’re going to love him. He has ideas about satellites and he invented lazy fishing poles…and I don’t understand what just happened.”
She gave me a sad smile—hers didn’t reach her eyes either—as she crossed the three steps to the door and shut it; she turned back to me and folded her hands.
“Kaitlyn, Martin Sandeke is why I am here, one day early, and without your father.”
I frowned at her, searching her face for a clue but found only patient concern; at a loss, I vocalized my confusion. “I don’t understand.”
She sighed again. She hardly ever sighed. I felt a nagging sense of disquiet.
My mom placed a hand on my shoulder and guided us both to the bed until we were sitting, facing each other; then she said in her normal, businesslike tone, “My office received a call from a reporter at the Washington Post yesterday asking me to comment on my conflict of interest regarding the affordable telecom bill. He questioned my ethics if I remained in the chair position on the Commerce, Science, and Transportation committee because my daughter is in a serious relationship with the son of this country’s largest telecom provider’s CEO.”
“Wait…what?”
“It seems he has pictures of you and Martin during your vacation and sound bites from one of your fellow students, a Mr. Benjamin Salsmar, who was with you this last week, indicating that the two of you are very serious, and that our families are quite close.”
Benjamin Salsmar. Benjamin. Ben. Ben the bottom-feeding rapist, cuss monster!
UGH!
“Ugh.” I shook my head as my face fell into my hands. “That’s why Ben was still there this morning…what an asshole.”
I heard my mother clear her throat. I hadn’t thought before I spoke; I was pretty sure this was the first time she’d ever heard me cuss. To her credit, she made no comment about it, even though she’d told me when I was younger that curse words weren’t adult language and had been mischaracterized as such.
She’d once explained that curse words were used by the idiots, and unimaginative members of our society, individuals who never learned actual adult language—i.e. multisyllabic descriptive words—and flung curses around during childish temper tantrums.
Nevertheless, Ben was an asshole.
But aside from Ben’s assholery, what he’d said—what he’d told the Washington Post—was fifty-one percent true. Martin and I were in a relationship. I was not ashamed of it or of him, but I was now beginning to see that our relationship might cause some professional problems for my mother.
After several seconds she asked softly, “What is going on with you and Martin Sandeke?”
I gathered a calming breath and straightened, letting my hands drop from my face. I met her eyes and told her the truth. “Martin and I are dating.”
“I see…” Her thoughtful expression didn’t change except that her eyes narrowed just slightly. After a short pause she asked, “How long has this been going on?”
“About a week.”
“Oh. Then it’s not serious.”
“No. It is serious.”
“After a week?”
“Yes,” I responded firmly.
She inspected me for a long moment, her gaze searching and tinged with slight confusion, but then she conceded with a nod. “Okay. If you say it’s serious, then it’s serious.”
I stared at her. She stared at me. I waited for her to say something, to give me the right answer.
When she didn’t, I blurted, “Mom, I can’t just walk away from Martin. I think I’m…I mean, I’ve fallen in love with him. We’re in love with each other. I love him.”
My mother’s face softened at this news, but her eyes held pity and worry. “Oh, Kaitlyn.” She placed her hand on my shoulder and squeezed, her gaze moving over my face. “Honey, from what I know about Martin Sandeke, he’s not the kind of boy who is going to be gentle with your heart or appears to do anything without an ulterior motive. As such, I find this news worrisome.”
I tried to give her my best responsible young adult face. “Yes. I can guess what you’ve discovered about him. But I’ve spent a week with him—with just him for the most part—and he is not who he appears to be. He is…he is amazing and so kind.”
“He’s kind?” Her tone held a note of disbelief.
“He’s kind with me.”
“But not with everyone.” This wasn’t a question. It was a statement of fact.
“No, not with everyone. But if you knew—”
“And you’ve fallen in love with a person who doesn’t feel it’s necessary to be kind to anyone else but you?”
I pressed my lips together and swallowed. She didn’t sound judgmental or even upset. She sounded curious. It was always this way with my mother. Her curiosity was why she won every argument, and why people always listened to her and took her advice.
She was exceedingly reasonable. She was never malicious or pushy, never condescending or irritated. She was only curious. She’d poke holes in terrible proposals and theories with her curious questions until it was clear to everyone that the proposal or theory was garbage. But she’d never, ever come out and say it.
I’d learned that the best defense against curiosity is honesty.
“Yes. I’m in love with a person who doesn’t feel like it’s necessary to be kind to anyone else but me.”
“I see.” She nodded thoughtfully, her eyes narrowing as she examined me. I could see her brain working, considering all the data, working through the scenarios.
I prepared myself for a detailed curious onslaught. Instead, she surprised me.
“Kaitlyn, I trust you. You know what’s at stake.” Her tone was firm, almost hard. “I’ve explained the situation and you are exceedingly bright. You understand the ramifications of staying in a relationship with Martin—and not only to my career and me, which is really the secondary issue here. The primary issue is what this does to the American public. You understand that Martin’s father is using this relationship to expel me from the chair position of the Commerce, Science, and Transportation committee. He will succeed because he is right.”
“But…but how is he right? How can he do that?”
“He is right because I will have an intrinsic bias if my daughter is in a serious relationship with this country’s largest telecom provider’s Chairman of the Board and CEO’s son. That is a fact. I will resign before I am forced out, because perception of bias is just as damaging as actual bias. Mr. Sandeke has been positioning Senator Neimann to take my position for the last two years, both with the Vice President and the President pro tempore of the senate. He is the handpicked replacement and he will kill or bury the affordable telecom act—you know this is how Washington works—and those Americans in rural areas will continue to be unable to access affordable high speed services, thereby placing them at a prolonged disadvantage over those living in urban city centers.”
I blinked at her, at all her facts, and ground my teeth. “So I can break up with Martin until the bill passes or stay with him and ruin the lives of millions of people?”
Her expression turned sad. S
he took a deep breath like she wanted to say something but hesitated, thought better of it.
“What? What do you want to say? Just say it.”
She sighed. Again! And her next words surprised me because they sounded shockingly maternal. “You know I trust your judgment, Kaitlyn. But…I’m worried about you. I wonder, have you considered the possibility that perhaps Martin’s feelings for you are not what they seem?”
I stiffened, leaned slightly away from her. “What is that supposed to mean?”
She pursed her lips, and her eyes darted to the door then back to mine. “Martin’s father is a very intelligent man, and he’s equally calculating. He has acuity for industrial strategy like I’ve never seen. As well, he’s known to use those closest to him as part of his strategy. Seven years ago his wife—yes, his current wife—was at the center of a sex tape scandal with Senator Peterson from Wisconsin. You likely don’t remember because you were only twelve or thirteen.”
She paused and I noted she looked extremely uncomfortable. She took a deep breath, and her eyes searched mine. “Senator Peterson was the chair of the Commerce, Science, and Transportation committee at the time, the position I hold now. This bill that Martin’s father has been fighting so hard to bury is a reimagining of Senator Peterson’s bill from seven years ago, before an ethics panel removed Peterson from the position during the investigation.”
I frowned at this news and the obvious conclusion I was supposed to make. “That’s not what’s going on here. Martin isn’t dating me because his father told him to.”
“Are you sure?” she pressed. “Because I’ve been under constant scrutiny from the ethics board since I took this chair position. Your father and I have been audited three times by the IRS. Denver Sandeke and his lobbyists have been relentless. The last time I saw him he actually suggested we open negotiations for affordable service. I was stunned and I took that as a victory—because he’s never given an inch before last month. I assumed it was because he’s been unable to discredit me…but now I’m wondering if this trip you’ve just taken with Martin was part of his plan.”
I stared at my mother, my stomach made queasy and sick by her suggestion. “You think it’s so impossible Martin would just be interested in me for me?”
Her eyes widened, then her entire stance changed. She looked horrified. My mother grabbed my shoulders and turned me so we were facing each other directly. “God, Kaitlyn…no. No. Absolutely not. You are a treasure, and I’m not saying this just because I’m your mother and I’m proud of you. I’m saying this because it is the truth. It is very likely that these two issues—Martin’s feelings for you and his father’s manipulations—have nothing to do with each other. But I needed to ask the question. Based on historical data, how Mr. Sandeke has conducted himself in the past, the question had to be asked. You understand that, right?”
I nodded, believing her, but saying nothing.
She sighed again and I could feel her frustration with the situation. Actually, she looked frazzled. I’d never seen her so discomposed and my stomach soured further because I was the cause of her worry. I felt like a disappointment.
“Kaitlyn, we can only try to do our best. I am trying to do my best here. The situation is impossible for me to solve, and that’s why I’m leaving it in your hands. You have all the facts. There will be hundreds of bills, and there is always good work that needs to be done. If I resign from the committee and this bill fails, then I will refocus my energy on something else. But,” she paused to make sure I was looking at her as she finished, “I have only one daughter.”
I pressed my lips together, feeling miserable and conflicted.
My mother must’ve seen my struggle because she lifted her hand and cupped my cheek in an uncharacteristic display of affection. Her eyes were reassuring, yet resigned. “I’m not going to insist on making this decision for you. You have to decide what’s wrong and what’s right for yourself.”
CHAPTER 13
Vapor Pressure and Boiling Point
After my mother left, leaving the crushing weight of this decision in my hands, I spent the next hour fretting and chasing circular logic in my head. I had no right answer, but I recognized I had two options.
I could hide in the closet and wait for everything to resolve itself.
Or I could talk to Martin, lay it all out there, and insist we work together to solve this conundrum.
In the end, I realized I couldn’t go back to being the closet girl. Over the past week something within me had fundamentally shifted. I would never be content as a closet-dweller again. I was out of the closet…in a manner of speaking.
So, really, I had one option.
Once I decided Martin and I would work through this together, I absolutely could not wait to discuss the matter with him. Therefore I grabbed my jacket, ran down the three flights of dorm stairs, and jogged to Martin’s fraternity house.
I was still very much in my own head when I spotted Griffin on the front porch, carrying a ladder to where three other guys waited with nails and a sign. Paying the other three no notice, I jogged straight to Griffin.
“Hey, Griffin.”
“Kaitlyn, hey. Are you here to see Martin?” He handed the ladder off to one of the three and gave me a warm smile.
“Yes. That’s why I’m here. Can you take me to him?”
“Yeah, yeah. Sure.” He didn’t hesitate. He turned for the door to the house and assumed I’d follow. I did.
We climbed two sets of stairs and navigated through a tangle of hallways, all with dark wood floors and beige paint. No art donned the walls; I tried to make a mental topographic map just in case I arrived to visit Martin in the future but encountered no friendly tour guide.
At last Griffin stopped at one of the doors—much like any of the others—and knocked three times.
“Hey, it’s Griffin—”
“Go away.”
“—and I’ve got Kaitlyn with me.”
Griffin gave me a small grin and a quick wink when the last part of his announcement was met with silence followed by approaching footsteps.
The door swung open, revealing a shirtless, sweaty Martin Sandeke. He was dressed only in shorts, socks, and shoes, and he’d obviously just returned from a run. Martin’s eyes landed on mine immediately and he appeared very pleased to see me. I was very happy to see him, sweat and all.
Actually, his chest was so perfect it glistened.
I had a boyfriend that glistened, and not in a weird shimmering kind of way. In a manly, super sexy, flawless kind of way.
Oh…sigh.
I smiled at him, because that’s what one does when faced with a glistening, shirtless Martin. You just do it. It’s a law of nature, like gravity or eating cookies when they’re hot out of the oven. No. Choice.
I was about to say hi, but he cut me off by reaching forward, grabbing my hand, pulling me into his room, and shutting the door.
I was about to say hi again, but I was cut off by the sound of Griffin’s muffled voice from the hallway. “Okay then, you’re welcome. I guess I’ll just get back to what I was doing.”
“You do that,” Martin responded absentmindedly, his gaze moving over my face like he hadn’t seen me in days instead of hours.
Finally, hearing Griffin’s retreating steps, I laughed lightly and was just about to say hi again, when Martin kissed me. He braced his hands on the door at my back and devoured my mouth. I lifted on my tiptoes and tilted my chin to provide better access, but when I reached for his body he pulled away.
“Don’t.” He stopped the progress of my hands by holding them between us. “I need a shower. I just got back from a run.”
“I don’t care.” I shrugged, knowing my traveling stare was somewhat hazy and a lot greedy as I scanned his torso; and then, because I finally could, I said, “By the way, hi.”
At my good-natured greeting, I saw his shoulders visibly relax and he returned my smile. “Hi.”
“It’s good to see you.” I
exhaled, feeling better about…everything now we were face to face. My back was to the door and he was standing in front of me, holding my hands in both of his.
“It’s good to see you, too.” His tone was relieved, sincere; but I noted he appeared to be somewhat cagey, bracing. “How was the visit with your mother?”
I closed my eyes briefly and shook my head, opening them again before responding. “It was…troubling.”
He released my hands and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t think she likes me.”
“When she gets to know you, she will like you.”
Martin’s smile was crooked and my allusion to the future seemed to comfort him. He nodded, like he believed me. “Yeah, eventually she’ll come around.”
“Yes. Eventually. I’ll just have to bring you home with me over summer vacation. You and my dad can talk nerd stuff.”
“You talk nerd stuff, too.” Martin turned and crossed to his dresser.
“Well, then all three of us will talk nerd stuff at the same time. It’ll be a nerdy conversation trifecta.” I took three steps into his room and surveyed the space. It reminded me a lot of the room back at the island where he slept: small, cluttered with personal things, small twin bed, comfy comforter and pillows. I liked the absence of sterile and fancy appurtenances.
He was rummaging through his drawers, obviously looking for something in particular, when he called over his shoulder, “So, you said her visit was troubling? What happened?”
“Oh, ugh!” I rolled my eyes, remembering the purpose of my visit was unfortunately not to ogle Martin’s glistening chest of perfection. Flopping on his bed I didn’t try to disguise my aggravation with the subject. “That’s actually why I’m here now instead of waiting for you tonight. I need your help.”
He stopped his search and turned toward me, his forehead marred with obvious concern. “What can I do?”
“Well, it’s…the whole thing is completely bizarre. But I think we can figure this out together.”
“Parker, what’s going on?”
