WHAT ARE YOU SO WORRIED ABOUT?
Cady arrived early at Momofuku Milk Bar, located among a glittering enclave of posh stores downtown: Louis Vuitton, Hermes, Zadig & Voltaire. It was nearly April, but the air still held that deep chill of winter and a perpetual gray hung in the sky, threatening snow. She ordered a latte and found a seat in the front window, placing her two pink gift bags on the counter. Jackson had gotten home late the night before, without warning, only to inform her that he’d be working all weekend to catch up: Arizona, Utah, New York, Connecticut, she had lost track of where he’d been and where he’d be going next. To Cady all that just translated to another weekend on her own, so she had texted Reagan to take her up on her offer.
Nothing wrong with a day off, Cady told herself, not totally believing it. Like Jackson, she had been working every weekend too, covering events, restaurant openings, concerts, plays, boutique openings (like the one in Georgetown by the local designer who made Madison Goodfellow’s killer suit from Super Tuesday), the kinds of assignments newbie reporters might handle, but she had time on her hands and with Jackson away so much, she was glad to keep busy. Besides, she enjoyed getting to know the city this way. She pulled out her phone now and scrolled through the sea of rejection that was her email; she had been tasked with securing potential tablemates for the White House Correspondents’ Dinner to no avail.
“You’re aiming too high,” Jeff kept telling her. “We need to fill seats, just get somebody, anybody, who is famous enough that it won’t be embarrassing to us.”
Their parent company had bought a pair of tables and offered a few seats to the show, provided she and Jeff could come up with a name bold enough. Otherwise their bosses would just bring more advertisers. Cady had reached out to every presidential candidate and FLOTUS-hopeful, stars with upcoming movies, stars with DC-centric shows. She wanted to deliver on this. As she waited for Reagan, she brainstormed some more, checking out the supporting players from a few moderately popular basic cable shows. But she quickly lost interest and switched to The Queue, where she found Sky Vasquez’s story at the top: Haze had taken Idaho.
Farther down the rankings she found a story about restructuring within the Arnold campaign and skimmed for Reagan’s husband. A handful of staffers had been canned, and it seemed he was getting a promotion to fill the new void. Someone knocked on the window, and she looked up to find Reagan with her double stroller, the twins munching away on matching Baggies of Cheerios. “Hey, come on in!” Cady said through the glass, then glanced around realizing they needed a table with more space.
* * *
“You shouldn’t have—we should be buying stuffed animals for you,” Reagan joked, setting a Compost Cookie on each of the girls’ stroller trays as the twins bonked each other on the head with the matching plush puppies Cady had gifted them.
“No, I should’ve brought three! How are you feeling?” Cady asked.
“I’m fine, still puking but that’ll end soon.” She shrugged. “So, bon appetit.” She set down a cookie and a fresh latte before Cady. “These are to die for. This is the girls’ favorite place. Oh! Here, for Jackson.” She handed over a bag filled with treats.
“Wow! Thanks! Though I may eat these myself before he gets home.” Cady laughed, taking a bite.
“Is he still in Thompson’s house office or has he been officially swallowed up into the campaign yet?” Reagan asked as Natasha threw pieces of her cookie on the floor.
“Not swallowed up yet,” Cady said, a hint of trepidation. He was already working so much, if he officially joined the campaign she would surely never see him. She imagined he would be on the road all the time or might even be stationed full-time in an office in another state. But she was proud of him, so of course she wanted these things if he wanted them.
“Yet being the operative word, right?” Reagan laughed and Cady smiled the gritted teeth smile of Reagan’s favorite and most-used emoji. “What are you worried about? It’s all good! It’s going to be good for him.” Reagan picked up the piece of cookie from the floor and ate it. “Thompson’s totally racking up the delegates. He’s running a great race. Jackson is in the right place at the right time.”
“Yeah, it could definitely be worse.” Cady smiled again.
Daisy threw her cookie now and Reagan, chugging her coffee, caught it midair with one hand, nonchalant.
“I just didn’t realize we’d actually see less of each other when I moved here. I feel like I’m maybe not part of his world enough.”
“Well, you’re always welcome to come museum-hopping with us on weekends Jackson’s not around.” Reagan was afraid she was being too aggressive; she didn’t have many adults to hang out with. Most of her friends who were now moms were still working and seemed so much better at juggling everything that being around them made her feel inadequate, made her second-guess having left her job. And the other stay-at-home moms were all the make-your-own-organic-baby-food types that made her feel like she was sucking at mommying. Hence, no adult friends.
“That’s right, how was Air and Space?”
“Ugh, my exercise for the day,” Reagan said, cleaning up a sippy cup spill on Natasha’s tray with the sleeve of her dove gray sweater. “They love to run in opposite directions, and that museum is always a clusterfuck. But amazing too! Have you been?” Something banged against the window. The twins shrieked, and the women turned to find Jay outside, agitated, holding up a color printout of what appeared to be a New York Times story. “Oh! Jay’s having some kind of meltdown so I invited him too...” Reagan explained as Jay elbowed through the crowd that had amassed, holding the printouts up in the air.
“Ohmagod, have you seen this from tomorrow’s Times?” he launched in.
“Um, hi, greetings from the future?” Reagan waved her phone and pulled out the chair beside her, setting out a cookie and cup of tea. “Nope, haven’t seen it. You okay, there?”
“He sent it. Sky did. Front page. Styles section. Tomorrow. Gonna be.” He placed it in front of Reagan, not speaking in complete sentences.
“Ohhkay, Yoda, say hello to Cady,” she said, shaking her head and grabbing the printout.
“Hi!” Cady waved.
“Hi! Hey! Sorry! I’m all over the place today. But how fabulous was Rea’s story, right?”
“Number 2 on The Queue, we’re very honored,” Cady said.
“Jay, this is awesome!” Reagan said, shaking the paper. A photo of Sky graced the lead story: The New Campaign Trail.” He wore a vibrant paisley-patterned button-down, slim navy suit, turquoise tie, immaculate sneakers. Notebook and pen in hand, seated at a Haze press conference.
“He belongs to the world now,” Jay said, sighing.
“I’m emailing him right now.” Reagan began typing on her phone as Natasha contorted herself and arched her back, trying to escape the straps of her stroller. “And you know he’s only there because you pushed for him to get to go.” Daisy tugged at her straps and kicked her legs, whimpering.
“We would love to have him on the show next time he’s in town,” Cady said, reading along now.
“That Helena woman wanted to send her political people,” Reagan explained, cleaning up the table. “He must be so grateful. And if I know Sky, I bet he is.”
“Why are you always so good at this?” Jay said, taking out his phone. “Now I have to show you this.”
As he thumbed through his phone, Reagan stood, shimmying on her coat. “I think they want me to get back to chauffeuring them around.” She nodded to the girls. “Up for a walk?”
On their three-block walk to the Portrait Gallery (“I like it because the kids can run amok in the chic fountain in the indoor courtyard while I get the stink eye from snack bar patrons.”), Jay shared his note from Sky: All this is because of you. Wish we were reading this together tomorrow morning over omelettes at Busboys and Poets. Love you. XX #TeamSkay.
“Skay! Like, Sky and Jay?! I have hashtag envy,” Cady said as they found a table closest to the fountain, which trickled along the courtyard’s stone floor.
“Seriously, you two are so frigging cute,” Reagan said, unhooking the girls from their stroller seats. Her phone rattled in the cup holder, pinging a text. It was from Ted. “See, in contrast, these are the romantic texts I get.” She flashed her phone at Jay as Natasha and Daisy ran off, holding hands. The screen read: Wyoming caucus may go to Thompson, too early but still, looking bad... Followed by the red angry emoji. Another loss for Arnold, Ted might be coming home soon, after all.