“They’re on in ten!” Spencer announced from the kitchen.
Charlie got out of bed and put on a T-shirt that had been lying on the floor. “We should get downstairs if we’re going to catch my brother on GMA.”
Chelsea blinked from under the covers. She wasn’t even awake yet.
“You coming?”
“You can go ahead without me.”
“What?”
“Charlie, I think I should leave today.” Chelsea had been practicing the statement over and over in her head since she made the decision the night before.
“You’re serious?”
“I am. This has been good—the being with you part. And I’m glad I came. But Charlie, this adventure may have run its course.”
“You mean us?”
“No, not exactly. I mean, this adventure in premature cohabitation. Siblings and parents and everything. It’s a lot. And I’m so grateful that you took me with you, but I think it’s time for me to go now.”
Chelsea didn’t have much of a plan, but she had something. Her parents had agreed to buy her a plane ticket back to England, where she could sleep on her aunt’s couch for a while, until she found a job and saved enough for her own place. It wasn’t an ideal scenario, but it was preferable to the Brights in the Berkshires.
Charlie looked stricken, panicked. Chelsea was almost touched by it, but she knew him well enough to know that his panic was as much about his fear of being alone as his affection for her. Still, she didn’t want to hurt him. This decision wasn’t about getting away from Charlie. It was about getting away from this place, his people. She needed to start putting her life in order.
What Chelsea really didn’t want to do was talk about it right then. She didn’t want this to turn into something decisive like a fight or a breakup. She just wanted to not be here anymore. And she wanted Charlie to understand that it didn’t have to mean anything beyond its face value. She had been here too long and she couldn’t stay another day. That’s all it meant.
“You can’t go.” He shook his head. “No one goes. We agreed to three weeks with my family. That’s the plan.”
“But so much has happened here, Charlie. Your nephews were involved in a terrorist incident. They’re on national TV today! Don’t you think the agreement is kind of void at this point? Isn’t your summer vacation already screwed up? Let’s just adapt.”
“No, I disagree. I think you should stay. I would like you to stay.”
Chelsea didn’t know how to disagree with his disagreement. The more she thought about it, the more the absurdity of his argument came into focus for her. Why were any of them still there? Why were JJ and Mary-Beth planning on bringing the boys back up to Massachusetts after all they’d been through? Why was Philip still allowing himself to be taunted by his siblings about his future plans? Chelsea suspected that it had something to do with Patty and John Senior, their quiet control, which served as an invisible force field around the compound, keeping everyone inside.
“It’s starting!” Spencer yelled from downstairs.
Charlie opened the bedroom door. “Let’s talk about this later.”
“Fine.” But Chelsea was even surer now that staying was a dumb idea. She had an exit plan, and she knew she should use it.
“C’mon.”
They went downstairs and joined the rest of the family on the couches. The smiling faces of John Senior, Patty, Mary-Beth, JJ and the boys appeared on the large screen.
Farah was in the corner recording Brights as they watched Brights. She gave Chelsea a little wave.
I could just leave now, Chelsea thought.
But she didn’t. And she suspected that she wouldn’t. Because there was just so much going on with these people, she felt illogically invested in the outcome of whatever the hell this was. And what was waiting for her on the other side of this? A couch at her ailing aunt’s house? Weeks or months of staring into the abyss of unemployment? Maybe this was better than that. Maybe it wasn’t. She didn’t leave.
George Stephanopoulos smiled at them from the screen. He was perched on a stool beside the six Brights, who’d been arranged in a cluster on the tiered production stage.
“We’re here with former senator John Bright, his wife, Patty, their son JJ and his wife, Mary-Beth, and their sons, Cameron and Lucas. Thank you all for joining us.”
The Brights smiled and thanked George like he was an old friend, and maybe he was.
“Cameron and Lucas—you narrowly escaped a devastating terrorist attack in Madrid earlier this week, along with the rest of your soccer team. We’ll talk to a few of your teammates tomorrow, but today, I’d like to hear directly from you guys about what it was like to be caught up in this event. Lucas, can you tell us what you saw?”
Lucas nodded and gulped. He was dressed in a stark blue shirt and had brushed his dark wavy hair back from his eyes. Despite his size, Chelsea thought he looked about ten years old.
“Well, ah, we didn’t really know that anything was happening until our plane took off. We had just left the ground, I think, and then there was this explosion from the airport. We couldn’t see it, but the plane kind of vibrated, and then everyone started freaking out.”
George shook his head. “Terrifying. Cameron, tell us what happened next.”
Cam looked to his brother at his side. “After that, we just had a pretty panicked ride to the Barcelona airport. It was short, which is good, I guess. But none of us knew what was going on. The pilot said there had been an explosion and then a few people cried. One guy on our team threw up. When we landed, all these cops were there, and they took us to the US consulate and explained what had happened.”
“Were you scared?”
Both boys nodded and Cam spoke. “Yes. But, um, we should also say that all of the Catalan authorities were very nice to us and made us feel safe. We’d like to thank them for taking great care of our team.” He looked up at his father, and it was clear that he’d been instructed to say that part.
George shifted his attention to JJ and Mary-Beth. “You must be proud of these young men and how they’ve represented the US in a moment of crisis?”
Mary-Beth smiled shyly.
JJ elaborated on just how proud he was, and how brave the boys had been. He restated some of the messages from their press release and his gratitude to the troops who’d escorted the team home.
Chelsea looked back and forth, from the screen to the people sitting there with her on the couch, watching it all like there was nothing remarkable about having half your family in the living room and the other half in George Stephanopoulos’s fake TV living room. She was keenly aware of Farah’s camera lens, which made a faint buzzing sound as it zoomed in and out from their faces as they watched.
Charlie put a hand on Chelsea’s thigh and squeezed.
“Senator Bright,” George said more seriously, “I’d like to turn to you now and discuss the broader political implications of this tragedy. EU officials haven’t confirmed which extremist group is responsible for this attack, but experts are speculating that it was ISIS related. You’ve alluded to the possibility that your grandsons were specifically targeted by these terrorists. Why do you believe this to be true?”
John nodded. “George, I can’t say for sure that they were targeted, and I don’t want to get out ahead of our security agencies on the matter. But what I do know is that, in my long career in the United States House, Senate, and Massachusetts state government, I’ve championed issues that are central to the values we stand for in America—the very same values that religious extremists in the Middle East oppose. I’m talking about freedom of expression and freedom of religion.”
“Well, let’s talk about that, Senator. You’ve been a longstanding advocate for Israel in your time in office. And now your grandsons attend a Catholic school in the suburbs of Washington, DC. How has faith played a role for your family during this crisis?”
Cameron and Lucas fidgeted.
Mary-Beth looked at her hands clasped in her lap.
And John Bright forged ahead. “George, we found great solace in our faith in the time that the boys were away from us, for sure. Prayer and contemplation got us all through, as well as an abiding faith in the values of the United States of America. I’m fiercely protective of those values at moments like this—when the US and the Western world are under assault.”
George smirked. “Senator, you sound like a man running for office. Are you sure this retirement is for good?”
John laughed a big, happy laugh and put an arm around Patty. “That was the plan, George, but who knows. I don’t have any announcements to make today.”
Patty looked at her husband, and Mary-Beth looked at hers.
George raised his eyebrows and looked directly at the camera. “Well, there you have it, Senator Bright is not denying the possibility of another run for office! You never know when we’re going to break news here on GMA.” He turned back to the Brights. “I’d like to thank you all for being here and sharing your experience. Lucas and Cameron, best of luck to you and the whole Footy Fifteen. We’ll be back after the break.”
Ian turned the TV off.
Spencer leaned back into the couch. “Well, fuck.”
Farah’s lens zoomed in and out.
“Are you surprised that he wants to run again?” Charlie said. “I’m not.”
Ian stood up. “Me, either. I need some coffee.”
“You surprised, Phil?”
Philip shrugged and frowned. “I guess not. It’s what he does. Though I think it would be a good idea for him to figure out what else he does.”
“He didn’t actually say he was running for anything,” Chelsea volunteered.
Spencer, Charlie and Philip rolled their eyes, and Chelsea understood that it was too late for all that. Apparently, something was already underway. What a strange language these people spoke. Announcing you’re running for office by announcing you’re not running, or not not running.
“Who else wants coffee?” Ian said from the kitchen, and the Bright men all got up.
Only Chelsea was left in the living room, with Farah watching her from behind the camera.
Farah pressed a button, and the recording light went dark. She looked out at Chelsea. “So are you gonna leave?” she said quietly.
“I don’t know.”
“I hope you don’t. I’ll be here all alone if you do.”
Chelsea smiled. “I probably won’t. I don’t have much to go to at the moment. I should leave.”
“Yeah, I get it.”
Chelsea rubbed her temples. She’d had too much to drink the night before. “So this is a new twist in your movie, huh? Another campaign, maybe.”
“Could be.” Farah looked worn-out, too.
The idea of following this family around all day seemed so tiring to Chelsea. Then again, at least Farah was getting paid to do it.
Charlie popped his head in. “Canoe regatta starts in twenty minutes. Grab your suit, Chelsea.”
Chelsea nodded in assent. She’d probably put her bathing suit on and follow the guys out to the water. She’d probably pop a Tylenol and chug a seltzer, and spend the rest of the day with this hangover and an acute awareness of her own weakness. She didn’t know why she was there, but she couldn’t think of anywhere else to be.