A throat being cleared catches my attention. I look up and over Aaron’s head into the kitchen where Alex is sitting on his bar stool, drilling holes into Cal. The furious expression on his handsome features is startling. I study the furrow of his eyebrows, the intense stare of his eyes, and the clenching of his jaw until it hits me why he looks so livid.
Me.
He’s mad at the way Cal and Aaron dismissed and mocked me. The realization soothes my hurt feelings slightly. His support for me might be silent, but it does more for my self-esteem than any man in my life ever has.
“Elizabeth,” I hear Aaron say, bringing my attention back to him. “If you want to work with kids, then we can put you in with the Boys and Girls Club. Everyone can get behind a cause that gets kids off the streets and into after school activities.”
And it’s final. I’ll be working with the Boys and Girls Club and that’s that. Without waiting for my response Aaron and Cal go on to discuss the tempo of events and the types of speaking arrangements he’ll be attending. I sit mindlessly and barely listen. I’m not expected to do more than smile, clap, and wave at these functions anyway.
Before, this didn’t bother me much. It’s not like I enjoyed not being acknowledged during important decisions, but it’s something that I’ve always been able to accept and lock away in a part of my brain that knows this is necessary. But something has changed inside of me that makes me want to be heard. I want to share my ideas, my thoughts, and my dreams without the fear of being laughed at or ignored. What’s happened to me?
Alex Matthews.
He’s what’s happened to me. He’s given me a taste of what it’s like to be viewed as a person and not an object. He’s slowly opened up this spot in my brain that I have shut down for years. The place that tells me the way Cal treats me is not okay. That maybe the benefits aren’t worth losing my identity over.
The only thing that pulls me out of my thoughts are the men standing and shaking hands signaling that the meeting is over and Aaron is leaving. I say my good-byes and act like the gracious wife I’m expected to be, following behind them toward the front door. On my way out of the living room, I avoid eye contact with Alex. Before I can make it past him, a gentle touch lands on my arm, stopping me. Reluctantly, I look up to find a set of hardened eyes firmly locked onto my face. As I’m staring into his blue orbs, I hear Cal in the foyer say, “Do you think you can put me down to be an astronaut? You know, since I took a class in astronomy.” By the way Alex’s jaw is ticking, I can assume he heard Cal’s little dig at me. The chuckling that meets our ears does little to cool the fire in his eyes. My gaze travels to the floor as I try to step out of his grasp. I don’t want him to see the shame I’m feeling right now. What kind of woman lets her husband degrade her like that in front of people? When I pull my arm, his grip on me tightens, holding me in place. His finger goes to my chin and lifts up so that I’m forced to look at him again.
“Don’t ever let that asshole make you feel like you’re less than him. Do you understand?” he asks quietly so that only I can hear him. Even though he’s not shouting, I can still feel the threatening edge to his words.
“I’m fine, Alex, it was just a joke.” My lips lift in the corners, trying to ease his obvious concern. His eyes narrow as he searches my face. For what, I don’t know, but when I pull my arm from his hand this time, he lets go. Walking away at a brisk pace, I make my retreat. It’s getting harder and harder to pretend with him. I see the inquisitive looks he gives me, like he’s trying to sort me out. I fear he’ll be able to see how miserable I really am, and if he questions me about it, I’m terrified I won’t be able to lie.
TRUE TO AARON’S word, our lives did get a lot more hectic. This week we spent most of our time traveling throughout Virginia. It’s one of those states that’s hard to predict each election and could go to either party. That’s why they call it a battleground or swing state. Since this is the state Cal represents, the focus will be on the other battleground areas, but we’re beginning here to get the tour off to a good start.
Nothing eventful has happened. Cal speaks to various crowds. I stand off to the side or behind him, and I smile, clap, and wave. Just like I was briefed to do. The part that I hate the most is having Alex here with us. I don’t hate having him around, I hate him watching the way I am with Cal especially after how he treated me a week ago in front of Aaron. Disappointment exudes from him whenever I play up the doting wife role. Or maybe it’s disgust. Hell, I’m disgusted with myself at this point. We’re traveling on this huge tour bus, and Alex is with us every step of the way. It’s unnerving having him watch our interactions. I feel like I’m under a microscope where he’s judging me, and it’s messing with my head. I need to be one-hundred-percent in this to be convincing to Cal and the public, and second-guessing myself because I’m worried what Alex thinks of me is going to cause a detrimental slip up.
Aside from the constant paranoia of being watched, I also hate that the easy companionship between us is gone. It’s as if I’ve lost my only real friend. The one person that I don’t have to be “on” for is missing from my life, creating this empty spot that I didn’t even know existed until he appeared. Alex is unusually quiet around Cal and hardly talks to me. Of course, I make no effort to initiate conversation either since that would surely raise questions from my husband. He views Alex as “the help,” and Fitzgeralds do not interact socially with the help.
Since we took off in this monstrosity, I’ve been glued to Cal’s hip, but today I have an obligation to complete on my own. I’m going to be visiting one of the Boys and Girls Clubs in Richmond. It’s more of a photo op than anything, a chance for the people to see me interacting with kids and every day citizens. I won’t be doing anything important or helping improve the lives of these kids. I’m just supposed to pretend I’m helping them with things, smile for the cameras, and be on my way. Cal has an interview that conflicts with this meeting, but I suspect that was done on purpose.
When the building comes into view, I see a group of kids all waiting for our arrival. As soon as they see the bus, their little faces light up, eyes going wide with wonderment and mouths hanging open. Their bodies bounce up and down with excitement. Even with my somber mood for being Cal’s puppet once again, seeing the happiness radiating off of them brings a smile to my face. Their joy is contagious.
“Look how wound up they are,” I say to Alex while I continue to look out the window. “They probably don’t care about me, they’re just excited to see the bus,” I joke, even though it’s probably the truth. I’m sure Cal will have a fit when he finds out, but I need to make sure the kids get a tour of the bus before I leave.
Alex laughs quietly beside me. “You’re probably right about that. But don’t let it hurt your feelings.” Suddenly, I feel his breath hit my ear. “I think you’re way cooler than this shitty bus.” When I look over at him, he’s already pulled away. He winks before walking to the front of the bus to help escort me off. After days of no real interaction, having him that close sends butterflies racing to my stomach. I didn’t realize how much I had missed that feeling. My brain is telling me to get up and off the bus, but my legs just won’t work. And it’s all Alex’s damn fault.
Stupid wink.
“You coming, sweetheart? You got a lot of excited kids waiting.” He flashes his sexy smirk, and if I wasn’t melting on the spot before, I definitely am now. While my hormones begin to fire on all cylinders, the inner tension I had been feeling for days starts to dissipate. There’s just something about him that brings about a calmness within me. Smiling warmly at Alex, I stand and make my way toward him where he’s standing by the door. “Let’s go make some kids happy, shall we?” He opens the door and we’re greeted by an enormous amount of clapping, cheering, and screaming.