My brother stares down at his folded hands. Jenna’s mouth hangs open.
Mom tries to keep a strong front, but tears roll down her cheeks. Being a senator’s wife—working with Tennesseans and volunteering—has been her job for eighteen years.
Dad lost the election, and it is all my fault. I let out a sob.
Dad reaches a hand toward me, and I go sit with him on the couch. “It’s okay, Tee. It’s not the end of the world.”
“But it’s your job. I’m so sorry, Dad.”
“I know.” He wraps an arm around me and kisses my temple.
I wipe away the tear rolling down my cheek. “I love you.”
“Love you too.”
“Senator?” Randy says to Dad, still looking shell-shocked. “We need you to address the crowd.”
Dad gives me a small smile and pats my knee. “Time for me to get back to work.”
? ? ?
The morning after the election, Mom and Dad are up early to take Jenna to the airport so she doesn’t miss her afternoon classes. I go out to the front porch and wave as they are pulling out of the garage. My parents wave back, but my sister flips me off, then follows with a thumbs-up. I return the thumbs-up and roll my eyes.
Back inside, I climb the stairs to Oliver’s room. He’s heading for the airport later this afternoon, and I don’t want to miss him before I leave for school. I take a deep breath, then knock.
“Come in.”
I push open the door to find my brother lounging on his bed, reading a textbook.
“Hi,” I say.
He sits up to face me. “Hi.”
“What are you working on?”
“Studying for my classics test on Friday.”
“Are you ready for it?”
“Yeah.” He shuts the book but wedges his finger in it so he doesn’t lose his page. “Did you need something?”
“I’m leaving for school. I wanted to say bye.”
“I’ll be down in a few weeks for Thanksgiving.” Avoiding my eyes, Oliver shakes his textbook and proceeds to dismiss me. “I better get back to it. See you.”
I look around his room, at the old-school record albums framed on the wall. At his stereo system. Anywhere but at him. Things have never been awkward between me and my brother before. I don’t know how to handle it.
“Oll, I’m sorry I disappointed you. I screwed up. I didn’t mean to hurt you or for you to think I didn’t trust you with the truth. I love you.”
He nods. “I love you too. We’ll talk soon, okay?”
“Okay.”
He goes back to studying, and I shut the door with a click. I lean my head against the wall, clenching my eyes shut. Will things ever go back to normal?
Will people ever think of me the way they used to? Will I need to prove myself trustworthy again? Once they doubt, can that ever be repaired?
? ? ?
The rest of my week mostly sucks, given how much Dad’s campaign and my name are in the news, but I must say I feel better than before, when the lie was bottled up inside. It’s nice not having to always be on my toes for fear that my lie might come out. And I’m glad my parents know I was never into serious drugs.
When I get home from school on Friday, Dad is already there. It shocks me to find him sitting in the sunroom, reading a newspaper.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“I left the office early. I want to take you and your mom out for dinner. Unless you already have plans with Ezra.”
Wow, we haven’t gone to eat together in forever. “We were going to see a movie, but I’ll call him and cancel.”
“Invite him along. I’ll get a reservation for four.”
After I text Ezra, I shower and change into a sleek black dress for dinner, but when I get downstairs, I find Dad in a pair of jeans and Mom in a casual flowered skirt and pink blouse.
“Dad, I didn’t know you owned jeans.”
He cracks a smile. “Neither did I.”
“Tee, why don’t you go put on something more comfortable?” Mom suggests.
This is all so weird. First of all, my family rarely eats together. Second, did Mom just tell me it was okay to dress down? I change into leggings, a white blouse, and leather boots, then meet my parents in the front parlor.
Ezra is here, dressed to the nines in a black suit and shiny red tie.
“Why did no one tell me this wasn’t a formal dinner?” he grumbles.
Mom actually grins. “I’m sure you can find something to wear in Oliver’s closet.”
When we’re all finally dressed appropriately, Dad drives us to the Roadhouse.
“This is where we’re eating, Edward?” Mom asks, peering through the car window at the restaurant, which looks like a log cabin.
“I feel like a good steak and a baked potato.” At the look of horror on Mom’s face, Dad adds, “Don’t worry, dear. I checked. They have salads.”
Mom lets out a long breath of air.
“I didn’t know the Roadhouse took reservations,” I say.
“They don’t. I found that out this afternoon,” Dad admits, and Ezra and I laugh. “I learn something new every day,” Dad says.
We go inside the restaurant, where people are cracking open peanuts and throwing the shells on the floor. The hostess seats us at a little round table by a window. The centerpiece is a lantern, its wick flickering in the dark room. Before we can even get drinks, people start converging on our table to shake Dad’s hand. Everyone seems really sad about his loss, and some are pissed to have a Democrat in office. Dad is gracious and kind to everyone, even the nosy people who want to know what he plans to do next.
When everyone has gone back to their tables, the waitress takes our drink order. Mom seems a little horrified that they don’t serve wine, so she settles for iced tea.
“Make that four iced teas,” Dad says.
When the server is gone, Ezra clears his throat. “What are you going to do next, sir?”
Dad seems impressed Ezra has the balls to ask. “I have a lot of options, actually. I could teach or work at my father’s firm. I might take some time off to travel. I saw an ad for a Caribbean cruise that looks relaxing.” He glances over at Mom, whose eyes light up at that idea. “It’s hard to believe I won’t be in the Senate anymore… I’ll miss Washington. I’ll miss making a difference in people’s lives.” Dad’s voice is so sad, I’m afraid I might cry.
“You don’t need the title of senator to make a difference,” I say quietly.
Dad leans back in his chair, thoughtful. “Maybe I’ll consider the president’s offer for a position over at Treasury. One of his people called earlier.”
“But then you’ll never be home,” I say.
“You won’t be either,” he replies with a small smile. “It’s off to college with you. Your mom and I will be bored at home without you around.”
Since Dad was honest just now, I decide to do the same. “Mom, Dad, listen. I’ve decided I’m going to apply to some other schools…and not Yale.”