The years that followed their wedding, however, would become my greatest shame. I saw the signs. They lined up one by one like the guns of a firing squad. Each time, I thought to throw myself in front of her, take the bullet meant for Patsy into my own chest and let it drown the life out of me. Instead, I remained in the shadows, watching as my humanity peeled away one layer at a time.
Drew grabbing her by the wrist as she tried to leave a restaurant. Him whispering into her ear. Each word darkening her soul, though she’d never be able to explain why.
His half smile as he stood with his lacrosse buddies telling an intimate story starring her and painted in the words of a teenage athlete.
I felt her pain. In a way, I lived it over and over again. But I did nothing. Not until, of all things, my brother received his first polling response after he announced his candidacy for governor.
“Not good,” he said, taking the paper from Bob’s hand.
I always marveled at how my brother spoke to Bob. It reminded me of how my father spoke to our neighbors.
“It’s not really a surprise,” Bob said. “Johnson is sitting in the seat. Incumbents don’t lose too often in this state. When I looked at the polls, I thought it was a good start. Not bad at all, actually.”
“I’d like to win this election, Bob.”
“We all want that,” Bob said.
The people working on the campaign talked to me, especially when Drew and Bob weren’t around. All of them saw the campaign for what it was, a test of one of the party’s young upstarts against an opponent who had about a zero percent chance of losing.
“So, what are we going to do about this?” Drew asked, rubbing at his eyes for effect.
I looked around the room. Along with the three of us, about half a dozen staffers stood and sat around Bob’s living room. It had become the de facto headquarters. I remember thinking that Bob liked the company.
“We’re going to raise money,” Bob said. “Statewide elections are different. It’s not as much about pounding the pavement and shaking hands. Whoever spends the most, wins the most. I’ve got coffees scheduled at three of our big donors next month. It’ll be a good start—”
“Bob, excuse me,” someone interrupted. I turned and noticed Lauren Branch for the first time. For months, I took her for an intern. There was something about her tone that night, her familiarity, that immediately put me on edge.
“I respect what you’re saying and all, but Drew and I were speaking earlier. No offense, but that adage of yours is a little old-school. Raising money is great, but this election isn’t going to be decided by who spends the most money.”
To his credit, Bob smiled without being dismissive. “Okay.”
“It’s about who spends the money wisest. My friend is majoring in big data at the university. He’s—”
“Big data?” Bob asked.
“Data mining . . . algorithms.” She shook her head, clearly frustrated by his question. “It’s a way to target our coms. We get the right story to the right people and we’ll take this campaign viral. I’ve already got Drew up-to-date with his social media accounts. He’s reaching thousands of people through Facebook. And Twitter is growing. Put it all together, and it’s going to be huge.”
“But it’s going to take something bigger,” Drew said. “Something the voters can’t ignore.”
Lauren walked around the couch Bob and I sat on, moving next to Drew. I swear that she almost reached out and touched him before she started to speak again.
“What I’m about to say has to stay in this room. One of my closest friends works for a PR firm in the city. They’ve cultivated a nice stable of trolls. We’re going to start a smear campaign on Johnson, using social media. From what I understand, his campaign just isn’t ready for something like that. They won’t even know what’s going on until it’s too late.”
“A smear campaign, huh?” Bob asked. “And what are you planning on smearing him with?”
Lauren laughed. “We’ll make something up.”
AFTER THE MEETING ended, we all moved over to O’Friel’s. Bob and I walked in together with the rest of the group a dozen paces ahead.
“What’s a troll anyway?” Bob asked.
I shook my head and pointed at Lauren’s back.
“It’s not going to work,” Bob said. “You can’t just tell lies about someone. People won’t believe it.”
“You’re probably right,” I said.
But I watched my brother open the door for Lauren. I saw the arrogance in every movement he made. And I wondered.
We settled in and ordered our second round before Patsy showed up. She stepped into the bar, so tall and light. Everyone at the table turned to look at her; everyone but Lauren. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her move her chair a few inches away from Drew.
“Hey, sweetheart,” my brother said loudly. He rose from his chair and met his wife with a grand hug. “I’ll get you a martini.”
Drew had advised her to switch drinks when the campaign started. He felt Guinness was a little rough for a candidate’s wife.
“Club soda,” Patsy said.
What?
I felt off-balance as she went around the table saying hello. She hugged Bob. She hugged me, too. I know I blushed. I could feel the heat on my face. And Drew watched me, that smile on his face the entire time.
Before Patsy’s drink reached the table, Lauren excused herself. All of the other young staffers joined her. I could tell they were heading somewhere else for the rest of the night, one of the trendier bars down by the river. But I wasn’t upset about that. Seeing Patsy watch Lauren out of the corner of her eye made me unbelievably uncomfortable.
Bob stayed with us for about half an hour. I remember thinking how much fun it was, how it almost felt like the four of us were a family. Like Bob was the father I could have had if the universe had dealt me a better hand. Like Patsy was the spirit of my mother, untainted by her disease. Even Drew seemed to lighten up. He laughed and the other half of his mouth rose in a true smile.
“Hey, Patsy,” Bob said. “So . . . is Lauren working for you now?”
Up until a few days before, Patsy had been Drew’s campaign manager. Bob was the only one at the table who didn’t know that change had happened. To her credit, Patsy looked to Drew, her chin up and her eyes sharp. As she spoke, her voice seemed confident yet filled with an indescribable class.
“I’m taking some time to focus on being the candidate’s wife.”
Bob, on the other hand, remained the clown. He snorted.
“Are you serious?” he asked.
Then he looked at Drew. Saw that half smile. And had to turn away.
“Whoops,” he muttered. “Sorry, boss.”
Patsy saved Bob with grace. “Someone has to keep him in line.”
Drew reached out and put a hand gently on her shoulder. He smiled at us all, dripping with schoolboy charm. Bob pretended to wipe sweat from his brow. And, in true fashion, spoke up again.
“What does your father think about all this talk of social media?”
She laughed. “He calls it an oxymoron.”
“I knew I liked him,” Bob said.
Drew leaned forward, his eyes almost predatory. “Dad’s going to keep the old schoolers happy for me, right?”
Patsy frowned, just slightly. I had noticed that reaction whenever Drew mentioned her father.
“For his favorite son-in-law,” she said with what looked so much like a genuine smile. “Of course he will.”
Drew blinked. “Hey, I’m his only son-in-law.”
We all laughed. I sat there, amazed at how Patsy could bring things around. Her presence saved the night, for a time. But then Bob left. As he walked out the door, a silence fell over our shadowed corner of the bar, like a ghost from the past slipped into the room, possessing our moods. Patsy, too, seemed affected. Even before my brother opened his mouth.
“Did you see her slip away like some kind of criminal?” he said, breaking the silence.
The change in my brother’s tone seemed to dip my spine in icy water. I knew it immediately, the smooth lack of intonation, the veiled danger, like some odorless, colorless poison. And my first urge was to run. To get the hell out of there. But then I saw Patsy. I saw her stiffen, and I just couldn’t move.
Patsy didn’t respond. That simple fact told me that she knew, too. That she’d been there before. Like I had. My hands shook under the table.
“She sure is strutting around. Acting like she beat you out of a job.” He shook his head. “Aggressive . . . Do you think she’s pretty?”
And I realized that I was no longer at the table. Not only had my brother pulled some invisible curtain around him and Patsy. But my mind had slipped me back to a time I had buried long before. Drew’s words seemed to change as they left his mouth, like I heard one thing and Patsy another.
“I don’t see it,” Drew said. But I heard, It’s not right.
While Drew spoke to Patsy in real time, I heard his words coming back from the past. Coming back to haunt me.
“But people compare you two all the time,” he said. You shouldn’t be treated like that.
“Can you believe that?” You shouldn’t just take it.
“I tell them that they’re crazy.” I have your back, bro.
My head spun. My vision lost focus. I felt like I was going to get sick. Drew kept speaking, kept talking about Lauren and how she hated Patsy. That she said awful things. That she had no respect for his wife. The words just kept coming and coming. Patsy and I just sat there like levies, his venom storming against our silence, threatening to wash the entire world away. As I vibrated, Patsy’s hand slipped over her stomach protectively.
I stared at that simple gesture. I saw her club soda. And my entire body turned cold so suddenly that I quivered. The shaking spread from my hands up my arms and into my chest. It was like that night again, when I saw her through the kitchen window. When I realized that I had failed her so deeply. That I could have warned her so many times. And she would have listened. In fact, I think she had been waiting for it. But I had been too afraid. Too weak to even run away.
I knew I couldn’t take it any longer. I knew that if I stayed there, I would snap. Maybe I would take my brother by the throat. Choke the life out of him. Drool would fall from my maddened mouth as I watched his eyes bulge, his tongue swell. I would laugh as I killed him.
I stood up so fast that my chair tumbled back, striking the wall before clattering to the floor. My vision cleared so suddenly that I startled. And I saw his face so clearly. That smile. Those flat, piercing eyes. But worse, I saw her. I saw the pain on Patsy’s face. But also the anger. And it looked so utterly foreign there, like the world had turned red with fire. And my heart finally split into pieces.
I didn’t speak. I didn’t reach out to her, try to save her. Instead, I ran.