“Might as well, right? Since those two couldn’t handle it.”
The bar was at the front of the restaurant, and except for one very large man at the other end, we were the only ones there. Jimmy motioned to the bartender and ordered another whiskey, and I got a vodka soda. His arm brushed up against mine and the feeling of skin on skin gave me goose bumps. “Cold?” he asked, looking down, and I nodded and finally pulled on the sweater that I’d gotten from the room.
When the bartender brought us our drinks, Jimmy and I clinked them together, out of habit, obviously, since there was nothing about our night worth celebrating. I drank my vodka quickly, wanting something to make me feel less awful. Jimmy watched as I finished it, laughed, and then said approvingly, “Nice,” as he raised his hand to the bartender to bring me another one.
“You know,” he said, once I had my new drink. “Your husband thinks he’s smarter than me.” He was staring at the bar, and for a second I thought he was embarrassed, but then he looked up and I saw that he was angry—angry in a way I’d never seen him before—and it was disorienting. Even when he and Matt were fighting, he could crack a joke a minute later, lighten things up. It always seemed like nothing bothered him for too long. Now his eyes looked dark.
“He doesn’t think that,” I said, knowing that I didn’t sound convincing. “He just gets like that sometimes, you know that. He’s a know-it-all. He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.”
“The reason it pisses me off so much,” Jimmy continued as if I hadn’t spoken, “is because it’s true. He is smarter than me. I mean, he went to Harvard, after all.” Jimmy made his voice high and snotty sounding when he said “Harvard,” then loudly crunched an ice cube between his teeth. “And he knows he’s smarter, and he knows that I know it, too.
“He thinks it should be reversed, that I should be the one working for his campaign, that I don’t deserve to run for office. Of course, he probably wouldn’t hire me anyway.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t think that,” I said.
“Of course he does, Beth. Of course he does.”
“Is Ash okay?” I asked. “She seemed so angry.”
“She’s fine. We had a fight earlier and she’s still mad. She just needs to calm the fuck down.”
“What was the fight about?”
Jimmy sighed. “She told me that the campaign was interfering with her career. Her career. Like selling that shit jewelry is going to get her somewhere.”
“She’s been really successful,” I said, trying to be diplomatic, and Jimmy snorted.
“Whatever,” he said, dismissing the idea that Ash deserved any credit.
“Also, I’m sure she’s just tired.” I felt a compulsive need to defend Ash. “The campaign’s been hard on her.”
“You know what?” Jimmy said. “I don’t really care if it’s been hard on her. It’s my name on the ballot. I’m the one that’s going to lose—not Matt, not Ash. Me. That’s all people are going to remember. My name and how I failed.”
“I don’t think anyone thinks about it like that,” I said, putting my hand on his forearm. “I promise.”
We were quiet for a minute, and Jimmy raised his hand to order more drinks. I felt the vodka hit me then, my stomach full of liquid, my head fuzzy, and I wondered if the bartender would refuse to serve us, if we’d end this night by getting cut off at the Applebee’s bar, which would be a new low. But he brought fresh drinks right over to us, and I noticed that the fat man at the end of the bar had his eyes closed like he was taking a nap, so maybe Jimmy and I weren’t the drunkest customers of the night.
“Matt’s been a real dick lately, hasn’t he?” Jimmy said, turning to me. “I think that might be partly my fault. It’s probably sucked for you.”
“It’s not your fault,” I said. “It’s just how he’s acting.” Jimmy didn’t respond, and then I said, “It’s like he doesn’t even really like me anymore. And he wants to have a baby, apparently.” I was bumbling, but I regretted the words as soon as they were out of my mouth, feeling like I’d betrayed Matt somehow.
Jimmy just nodded, but didn’t look surprised, and I wondered if he and Matt had ever discussed this. “And you don’t?” he asked, his tone neutral.
“No, I do,” I said. “I’ve always wanted to. It’s just now doesn’t seem like the right time, you know? How can we have a baby if he doesn’t even want to talk to me? It’s like borrowing trouble or whatever.” I could hear how drunk I sounded.
“Yeah, I get that,” Jimmy said. “And I mean, you should be sure, because it’s hard. It changes things.”