“Can you see him?” Embeth asked.
“No,” Ruby said. “But I can feel him. What color are his feathers?”
“He has a red head, and a green body and wings, and there are blue tips at the end of his wings. He has green eyes and a pinkish beak. He’s very handsome and a little bit vain.”
El Meté nuzzled into Ruby’s breast.
“I wish I could see him,” Ruby said.
“I wish I couldn’t,” Embeth said.
“What do you think he means?”
“I try not to think about what he means. I guess he means I’m crazy or lonely or both.”
The police officer came into the office. “Your grandmother’s outside.”
Ruby wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “You know her,” she said to Embeth. “Will you introduce us?”
“We’re not exactly great friends,” Embeth said.
In the waiting area, the former Rachel Grossman stood with her friend, Roz Horowitz. Rachel Grossman, who was tough as they came, had tears in her eyes. Those women had never liked me, Embeth thought. But maybe this idea that people didn’t like her was as much of a delusion as El Meté? Embeth put on her brightest politician’s wife smile. “Roz! Rachel! How wonderful to see you both. This is my friend, Miss Ruby Young.”
Ruby stepped forward—her chin stuck out, her shoulders back. “Hello,” she said. She squeezed Embeth’s hand and whispered, “Fugli forever.”
EMBETH TOOK AN Uber to the hotel where the party was being held. She would get her car from the movie theater parking lot in the morning. The driver eyed her in his rearview mirror.
“You look familiar,” the driver said.
“I get that a lot,” Embeth said. “I have one of those faces.”
The driver nodded. “Yeah, but you’re someone, aren’t you?”
“Not really,” Embeth said. She checked her phone. A text from Jorge said, Don’t worry. I’m on my way and I’ve got everything. See you at the hotel. The text warmed her enough to try to make conversation with the driver. She had recently read that the drivers rated the passengers, too, which seemed ridiculous to her. Embeth always tried to be polite to waiters and drivers and the like, but she wasn’t always in the mood to put on a show. Did everything and everyone and every act require a review? “I’m not someone,” she said, “but I’m married to someone.”
“Yeah?” he said. “Don’t leave me in suspense.”
“My husband is Congressman Levin,” Embeth said. “From the Twenty-Sixth Congressional District of Florida.”
“I don’t follow politics. He been in Congress long?” the driver asked.
“Ten terms,” Embeth said. “He’s up for reelection this year, and I know my husband’s very concerned about making sure that Uber pays employment taxes for all of its drivers.”
“Not registered to vote. Don’t care who gets elected.” The driver checked her out in the mirror. “That’s not why I know you. You look just like my ex-wife’s sister. Such a bitch, but what a great lay.”
Embeth didn’t know what to say. Did he expect her to thank him? She considered lecturing the man about what was appropriate language and narrative for a customer and a woman he didn’t even know. Embeth had no feelings, but she didn’t like the thought of someone like Ruby being exposed to such casual misogyny. But in the end, it had been a long day, and it was easier to stare at her phone for the next twelve minutes than confront a driver, IRL. When she reached her destination, she rated him one star.
JORGE WAITED FOR her in the parking loop in front of the hotel. She could see him, standing beneath a palm tree, conspicuously not sweating in his tuxedo, carrying a garment bag.
“No one’s here yet,” he said. “You’ve still got plenty of time to change.”
“Is Aaron on his way?”
“His flight was delayed. He should be here by nine thirty.”
“An hour and a half late? Not bad,” said Embeth. “How do you never sweat?” she asked.
“Um . . . I do sweat,” he said. “Inside, I’m filled with toxins and rage.”
They went up to her hotel room, and Embeth went into the bathroom, where she threw on some makeup, taking special pains with her eyebrows. She called out to Jorge, “Did you pack Spanx?”
“You don’t need them. Just put on the pantyhose,” Jorge said.
“Foundation garments are everything, Jorge,” Embeth said.
Embeth hiked up the pantyhose, which were not as good as Spanx but would have to do.
She donned her wig as if it were a hat. Then she put on a cold-shouldered black jersey gown.
“I’ve had this dress forever,” she called.
“It’s back in style,” Jorge said. He always knew such things. “Everything old becomes new again.”
She put on a white-gold necklace that Aaron had bought her for some occasion or other and a pair of shoes that had a two-inch heel, which was all she could manage these days. She looked at herself in the mirror.
Despite the fact that he had omitted essential foundation garments, Jorge had done a fine job picking out this ensemble. He could be counted on to do anything.
When she left the bathroom, she found him asleep and snoring on the bed. She felt sentimental looking at Jorge’s restful face. He reminded her of Aaron, only he was better than Aaron. He was better than Aaron because he had never let her down. How she would miss Jorge!
Embeth nudged him awake. “I’m ready.”
“Apologies!” Jorge said. “I dozed off.”
“You wanted to talk?” Embeth said. “It seems we still have a few minutes.”
“Yes,” he said. “I’m still half asleep. One second.” Jorge sat up. The sleep made him seem younger and almost bashful. “This is hard to say . . . ,” he said.
“Let me help you,” Embeth said. “After the election, you want to leave Aaron and me. It’s time, Jorge. It’s time for you to run for your first office. It’s time for you to make a killing in the private sector, if that’s what you want to do. It’s time for you to have something of your own. We’ll miss you, but we’ll support you all the way. We’ll help you raise money if you run. We’ll stump for you. We’ll help you find staff. You’re like a son to us. You must know that.”
“Em, that is very kind, but that’s not—”
“It is necessary,” said Embeth. “No one has been more loyal to Aaron than you.”
Embeth was an awkward hugger, but she pulled the still boyish man close to her. “Was there anything else?”
“How did it go with the little girl? What’s her name? Ruby?”
“Oh, fine. I don’t think Aaron’s the father. Ruby—that’s her name—wanted him to be, but Grossman said it was a one-night stand. Nothing to worry about after all.”