—
As the four of us sat and had dinner at Applebee’s, something surprising happened—we were pleasant to each other, almost kind. “Do you believe this is our last trip?” Matt asked, and Jimmy clapped him on the back. “It’s been a good ride,” he said. We must have all been feeling nostalgic (and had just enough to drink) because we started talking about the funniest moments from the campaign. Ash talked about the trip when Viv got the stomach flu, threw up on her so many times that she was forced to stop at Target to buy new clothes.
“It wasn’t that bad,” Jimmy said, laughing. “I mean, you got new clothes out of it, right?”
“Yes,” she said. “All from Target. I also got a sweatshirt at Ross.” And this sent us into another fit of laughter, the idea of Ash in a discount clothing store too funny to even imagine.
I could see then how we’d remember the campaign in years to come, how we’d airbrush out all the shitty parts, the nasty things we said to each other, the rifts that were formed. You can imagine anything to be fun in retrospect—look at all those people who long for high school.
When the waitress came to take our plates away, Jimmy suggested we go sit at the bar for one more drink, and we agreed. Ash and I ran up to our rooms to get sweaters, because we were chilled from the air-conditioning blasting in the restaurant. We couldn’t have been gone more than five minutes—Matt and Jimmy hadn’t even left our table yet to go to the bar—but I knew as soon as we walked back in that things had turned.
Matt’s back was rigid and his hands were in fists on the table. He and Jimmy weren’t yelling—they weren’t even talking—but it was clear that something had pissed him off. I knew Ash noticed the same thing, because both of us walked slowly to the table, knowing the fun was gone from the night. We should’ve left then, just turned and walked right back out of the restaurant. But instead we both sat down, glanced at each other, and waited.
For as long as we’d known him, Jimmy had always called women (even strangers) by generic nicknames—honey, sweetheart, babe, kiddo. When he first decided to run, Matt suggested that he stop this, told him it could come off sleazy to call a supporter darling. But Jimmy refused. “I’m from Texas,” he said. “That’s how we talk.” It was just one of the many things they’d disagreed about. That night, as I sat down, I saw something flash in Jimmy’s eyes, and he greeted me by saying, “Hey babe.” I knew immediately that he was only doing it to piss off Matt, that it was his own little way of saying, “Fuck off.”
Matt looked down at his drink and closed his eyes, like he was too mad to even look at anyone. “Can I ask you something?” he finally said to Jimmy. “Why do you bother hiring people to give you advice if you’re just going to ignore it?”
“I don’t ignore it all the time,” Jimmy said. He leaned back and tipped his glass up, let the ice fall in his mouth, took his time crunching it between his back teeth. “I only ignore it when it’s shit advice.”
“Fuck you,” Matt said. He stood up, pushing his chair back, making it screech along the floor. There were only a few other people in the Applebee’s, but they were all staring at us. Matt considered saying something more and then changed his mind and walked out, not looking back at me once. If he had, if he’d even glanced at me, I would’ve scrambled after him, talked to him about what a jackass Jimmy was being. But this was one more way he was going to ignore me, one more time he’d shut me out, and as I watched him walk away, I felt my chest burn with anger.
Jimmy turned to look at me and Ash then, shrugged his shoulders as if to say, What can you do? Ash pushed her chair back the same way Matt had just done and stood up and leaned close to Jimmy. “When are you going to realize you’re acting like a world class a-hole?”
“An a-hole?” Jimmy smirked at her. “Watch your language! Someone here might hear you.”
And then Ash turned and walked out of the restaurant, leaving me and Jimmy alone at the table. What were the people around us thinking? We were at an Applebee’s in Texas that I’d (God willing) never go to again, and still I was humiliated at the scene we’d caused.
“What the fuck was that?” Jimmy asked, laughing loudly, and it was only then that I noticed how drunk he was. He’d been drinking faster than the rest of us at dinner, ordering whiskey on the rocks, but until that moment I hadn’t really noticed. His movements were slow and his voice was thick and he didn’t seem particularly upset about getting yelled at by Matt and Ash. He turned to me, calmly. “So, should we go to the bar?”
“Sure,” I said. I wasn’t in any hurry to get back to Matt, and it wasn’t like he was going to notice or care.