Alison arrived at Grand Army Plaza to stand by Marc’s side as he announced his bid for mayor. His team had picked a Brooklyn location, as opposed to one in Manhattan, so as to paint Marc as an ordinary man of the people rather than a highbrow attorney who had enjoyed a privileged childhood. Alison was well aware that she and Zachary were an integral part of his new image.
Press, news cameras, faces she recognized from court, and bigwigs of the Democratic Party were all in attendance. It was invigorating for sure, but mostly she wanted to find a quiet corner where she could feed Zachary. She weaved her way through the dense crowd armed with “SUGARMAN IS THE MAN” signs and found her predesignated spot. Once there, a young woman, whose name tag read “Abby Holtz,” approached.
“I’m your handler,” Abby announced.
“Do you know how to handle a baby?” Alison joked.
“I’m afraid not,” Abby replied, looking as if Alison had asked her to charm a snake.
Abby led her behind the podium to a curtained-off area. Marc was there and introduced her to his campaign manager and a few others whose names went in one ear and out the other. She had a very small window between Zach’s next bottle and standing by Marc’s side for the announcement with a quiet baby who was through spitting up. One of those guys, whose name escaped her, came along while she fed Zach.
“We would rather you not take any questions afterward, as you haven’t been thoroughly prepped. Is that OK?”
“That sounds perfect, thanks.”
It was a relief. She was becoming increasingly unsure about how to honestly answer questions about the future of their relationship. With each moment she spent with Marc, her original concept of them being engaged to be engaged felt further and further from the truth. The nameless guy continued explaining the logistics.
“The lieutenant governor will do a brief intro for Marc and then call him up. You will stand to his right with the baby. His campaign manager and some members of his team, plus a few celebrities, will stand with you as well.”
Alison scanned the small group behind the curtain: an interesting mix including the district attorney, the lieutenant governor, a point guard for the New York Knicks, and a famous Broadway diva. The nameless guy went on. “At the end of his speech, when he actually announces his candidacy and the crowd cheers, he will reach for your hand. Together you will lift your clasped hands in the air to signify Marc’s status as a family man. No words will be necessary after that. A photo-op moment is all we need from you today.”
“Got it,” she agreed, while burping Zachary. He looked so cute in his fancy outfit. It was the first time he was wearing it—and the last, she figured from the way she was barely able to snap it closed. She took out her phone to take a picture of him, or more accurately, the tenth picture of him that day. She scrolled around on her phone afterward, checking her emails and deleting spam. She saw Jackie’s last email in her junk folder and opened it. It only said four words:
My aim is true.
If it were her heart he was aiming for, it worked—she actually felt it sink. She wasn’t sure if other people would connect the words to the lyrics from the Elvis Costello song that she shared a name with, but anyone with the name “Alison” certainly would. She sang the eerily accurate verse in her head:
I’m not going to get too sentimental like those other sticky valentines,
Cause I don’t know if you’ve been loving somebody.
I only know it isn’t mine.
Alison, I know this world is killing you.
Oh, Alison, my aim is true.
And somehow she believed him. She believed that he got caught up in something that went against his usual integrity—a single dad doing the best that he could in the face of such loss. She believed that his aim was true. She wasn’t running to give him another chance, but she understood that he was most likely one of the good guys. Marc came over to them and gently placed the back of his hand on Zach’s cheek. He smiled at Alison, said, “Thanks for bringing him,” and headed to his spot next to the stage to await his introduction. She knew, right then, that there was nothing of substance besides Zach between them. Suddenly the whole charade felt wrong.
The lieutenant governor approached the stage and quieted the crowd. He went into great detail about Marc’s education, Supreme Court clerkship, and trajectory at the US attorney’s office, with zero mention of his personal life. It was quite evident that it was up to her and Zach to complete that picture. He concluded with, “It is now more important than ever to have a solid citizen of our great city in Gracie Mansion—and who better than the man who has prosecuted more crime and corruption than any other prosecutor in our history? Ladies and gentlemen, I give you New York City’s next mayor, Marc Sugarman!”
The crowd began exuberantly shouting, “Sugarman, Sugarman,” with an unusually strong emphasis on the third syllable. His posse, Alison included, took their places around him. Marc waited a few moments to quiet the crowd as he stood, taking it all in from the podium. He certainly had the telegenic appeal of a charming politician. The crowd finally calmed at his request, and he flashed them his JFK smile.
“First of all, thank you. Thank you to the lieutenant governor for that wonderful introduction, and thank you all for being here today. Like millions of New Yorkers, my life is deeply intertwined with those around me in our beautiful melting pot of a city. I love this city deeply and have been honored to represent its eight-point-four million constituents as the US attorney for the Southern District of New York. But there is a great deal more to achieve beyond the parameters of that office.”
He went on to brilliantly explain his platform, touching on everything from the city’s failing infrastructure to education and prison reform to fair immigration laws. It was a very strong speech from a very strong candidate, and it left Alison thinking that the smart people of New York City would choose him, or not, regardless of her and Zach.
The crowd cheered as he wrapped it up. “I know what it is like to fight tooth and nail for justice for all New Yorkers. Everyone deserves a seat at the table and a fair portion of all that is served. I am Marc Sugarman, and I stand before you today to announce my candidacy for mayor of the great City of New York!”
The crowd went wild. Wild! Their candidate was young and handsome and experienced with ideas that people were longing to hear. He had dedicated his life thus far to public service, and it was quite evident, and truthful, that that was where his passions lay.
The moment came: Marc reached down to take Alison’s hand, and as he would later say, she balked. She took the same hand that was supposed to be grasped in his in unity and laid out an open palm in his direction. Her “Let’s hear it for this guy” movement signaled support, but clearly not unity. He shot her a look, more annoyed than hurt, and reached one fist in the air to signal strength. He knew better than to think it was a mistake. Alison Le didn’t make mistakes.
As Jackie boarded the 5:49 train and sat in his usual spot, he was quick to notice that something was up. Lee and Skip were glued to their phones, and both quickly shoved them away upon his arrival.
“What?” Jackie asked.
“Nothing,” Lee responded.
“That seems a little ridiculous, Lee,” Skip scoffed. “He’s gonna see it just like we did.”
Skip handed Jackie his phone. Jackie watched the press conference very carefully, his face dropping within seconds, clearly focusing on what they had seen: Alison Le by the candidate’s side, holding their baby. From the video it was quite clear that they were back together. Quite clear that Jackie had irrevocably blown it, and that she was not responding to him because she had moved forward—or in this case, backward. Skip and Lee flashed each other sad emoji faces until an odd smile sprang from Jackie’s down-turned lips. He watched the end of the clip again and smiled some more, before showing them what he perceived to be evidence in his favor.
“Look. Look right here.” He paused the video and held it up for them both to see. “See, he goes to reach for her hand, and she pulls it away.”
They look. They disagree.
“I’m not sure I see that, man. She’s standing right next to him, with their kid.”
“But if she loved him, she would have taken his hand. There is still hope!”
Lee had had enough. “How is there still hope? Have you heard back from her yet? At all?”
“No.”
Skip put his hand to his forehead in frustration. “Dude. She’s not into you. She thinks you’re a big fraud. And she’s a big fraud, too, because she’s with this mayor guy. Find another girl, an available one.”
Lee had known his friend long enough to see he wasn’t listening.
“OK, promise me you will run this whole thing by my very smart, very female wife at Thanksgiving tomorrow, and see what she has to say about it before doing anything else.”
“OK, fine. I can do that.”
Jackie took out his own phone, watched the video again. He smiled his smile of relief. Skip and Lee both shook their heads at what they deemed a lost cause and went back to wasting time on their own devices.