‘Point three,’ she says, in the hope that the words will find themselves on her tongue if she just keeps talking. ‘Point three,’ she says again a little more firmly. Fuck. She doesn’t have it. Come on. Cutting bureaucracy. Cutting unnecessary welfare payments. And. And. Fuck.
‘Fuck, Alan, I’ve lost point three.’
Alan stretches. Stands up and rolls his neck.
‘Alan. Tell me point three.’
‘If I tell you, you’ll just forget it again onstage.’
‘Fuck you, Alan.’
‘Yeah, you kiss your kids with that mouth?’
‘They can’t tell the fucking difference.’
‘Margot, do you want this?’
‘Do I want this? Would I be going through all of this prep if I didn’t want it?’
Alan sighs. ‘You know it, Margot. Somewhere in there, somewhere inside your head, you have point three of your budget deficit programme. Reach out for me, Margot. Find it.’
She stares at the ceiling. They’re in the dining room, with a podium mocked up next to the television set. Maddy’s little hand-print paintings are framed on the wall; Jocelyn’s already demanded hers be taken down.
‘It’ll be different when we’re actually live,’ she says. ‘I’ll have the adrenaline then. I’ll be more’ – she does jazz hands – ‘peppy.’
‘Yeah, you’ll be so peppy that when you can’t remember the third plank of your budget reform you’ll throw up live onstage. Pep. Super-pep. Puke.’
Bureaucracy. Welfare. And. Bureaucracy … welfare …
‘INFRASTRUCTURE INVESTMENT!’ she yells it out. ‘The current administration has refused to invest in our infrastructure. Our schools are crumbling, our roads are poorly maintained, and we need to spend money to make money. I’ve shown that I can manage large-scale projects; our NorthStar camps for girls have been replicated in twelve states now. They create jobs. They keep girls off the streets. And they’ve given us one of the lowest rates of street violence in the country. Infrastructure investment will make our people confident in a secure future ahead of them.’
That’s it. That was it. There.
‘And isn’t it true, Madam Mayor,’ says Alan, ‘that you have worrying ties with private military corporations?’
Margot smiles. ‘Only if public and private initiatives working hand in hand makes you worried, Kent. NorthStar Systems are one of the most well-respected companies in the world. They run private security for many Heads of State. And they’re an American business, just the kind of business we need to provide jobs for hardworking families. And tell me’ – her smile positively twinkles – ‘would I send my own daughter to a NorthStar day camp if I thought they were anything other than a force for good?’
There’s a slow round of applause in the room. Margot hadn’t even noticed that Jocelyn’s come in by the side door, that she’s been listening.
‘That was great, Mom. Really great.’
Margot laughs. ‘You should have seen me a few minutes ago. I couldn’t even remember the names of all the school districts in the state. I’ve known those off by heart for ten years.’
‘You just need to relax. Come and have a soda.’
Margot glances at Alan.
‘Yeah, yeah. Take ten minutes.’
Jocelyn smiles.
Jos is doing better now. Better than she was, anyway. Two years of NorthStar camp have helped; the girls there have taught her how to tone down the highs. It’s been months since she last blew up a lightbulb, and she’s using a computer again without fear of fritzing it. They haven’t helped her lows, though. There are still days – up to a week sometimes – when she has no power at all. They’ve tried linking it to what she eats, to her sleep, to her periods, to exercise, but they can’t find a pattern. Some days, some weeks, she’s got nothing. Quietly, Margot’s talking to a couple of health-insurance providers about funding some research. The state government would be very grateful for their assistance. Even more so if she becomes Governor.
Jos takes her hand as they walk through the den towards the kitchen. Squeezes it.
Jos says, ‘So, uh, Mom, this is Ryan.’
There’s a boy, standing awkwardly in the hall. Hands in his pockets. Pile of books on the side. His dirty-blond hair is falling into his eyes.
Huh. A boy. Well. OK. Parenting never stops bringing new challenges.
‘Hi, Ryan. Good to meet you.’ She extends a hand.
‘Nice to meet you, Mayor Cleary,’ he mumbles. At least he’s polite. Could be worse.
‘How old are you, Ryan?’
‘Nineteen.’
A year older than Jocelyn.
‘And how did you meet my daughter, Ryan?’
‘Mom!’
Ryan blushes. Actually blushes. She’d forgotten how young some nineteen-year-old boys are. Maddy’s fourteen years old and already practising military stances in the mud room and doing the moves she’s seen on TV or that Jos has taught her from the camp. Her power hasn’t even come in yet and she seems older than this kid standing in the hallway, staring at his shoes and blushing.
‘We met at the mall,’ says Jos. ‘We hung out, we drank sodas. We’re just going to do homework together.’ Her tone is pleading. ‘Ryan’s going to Georgetown in the fall. Pre-med.’
‘Everyone wants to date a doctor, huh?’ She smiles.
‘MOM!’
Margot pulls Jocelyn close to her, hand in the small of her back, kisses the top of her head and whispers very quietly in her ear, ‘I want your bedroom door open, OK?’
Jocelyn stiffens. ‘Just until we’ve had time to discuss it. Just today. OK?’
‘OK,’ whispers Jos.
‘I love you.’ Margot kisses her again.
Jos takes Ryan’s hand. ‘Love you, too, Mom.’
Ryan picks up his books awkwardly, with one hand. ‘Nice to meet you, Mrs Cleary,’ and then a look across his face like he knows he’s not supposed to call her Mrs, like he’s been schooled in it, ‘I mean, Mayor Cleary.’
‘Nice to meet you too, Ryan. Dinner’s at six thirty, OK?’
And they go upstairs. That was it. The start of the new generation.
Alan’s watching from the door to the den. ‘Young love?’
Margot shrugs. ‘Young something, anyway. Young hormones.’
‘Nice to know some things don’t change.’
Margot looks up through the stairwell to the upper floor. ‘What did you mean before, when you asked me if I wanted it?’
‘It’s just … aggression, Margot. You need to attack on those questions. You have to show you’re hungry for it, do you understand?’
‘I do want it.’
‘Why?’
Margot thinks of Jocelyn shaking when her power switches off, and how no one can tell them what’s wrong with it. She thinks of how much faster she’d be able to get things done as Governor, without Daniel standing in her way.
‘For my daughters,’ she says. ‘I want it to help Jos.’
Alan frowns. ‘OK, then,’ he says. ‘Back to work.’
Upstairs, Jos pulls the door closed, turns the handle so softly that even her mother couldn’t hear it. ‘She’ll be down there for hours,’ she says.
Ryan’s sitting on the bed. He circles her wrist with his thumb and forefinger. Tugs at her to sit next to him. ‘Hours?’ he says, and smiles.
Jos slants her shoulders one way, then the other. ‘She’s got all this stuff to memorize. And Maddy’s with Dad till the weekend.’ She puts her hand on his thigh. She makes slow circles with her thumb.
‘Do you mind?’ says Ryan. ‘That she’s busy with all this stuff, I mean.’