Always (10 page)

But I didn't. Instead I flung the baby's blanket in the backseat and sat myself in the front. I did not want this man who'd asked me to marry him and was told no more times than I care to remember to see Henry across the street. As we backed out of the restaurant, he put his hand on my knee. This was the same hand that minutes earlier had brought me comfort. Now all I could think of was the cold tile of Penny's bathroom and being raped. I knee-jerked it away and he looked at me with his eyebrows knitted. I really didn't care as I stared ahead, ready to drink one last eyeful of my first and only love.

“Oh, I know what you think,” he said as if he'd just uncovered the mystery of the Jade diamond. “You thinking I want som. Gul please. I gotta drive if you wanna get to Miami before dark.”

We pulled into traffic and Darius was scavenging through the bags with his free hand as if they were filled with a carcass and he was a hungry wolf. But I was so close to
him
, I could taste him on my lips. Our car passed mere feet in front of him, and my body screamed but my mouth did not know what to say. And then I watched him get smaller and smaller in my passenger-side mirror and I thought,
The hell with Darius
. I put the baby down, turned around with my knees on the seat, and looked out the back window at Henry Louis Davis the Second. Sarah started screaming bloody murder, but I couldn't hear her. He'd turned toward me and I could feel him say, “I still love you, Cheryl.” I could feel him say, “Baby, I understand and forgive you.” I just knew he said, “Cheryl, our love is truly for always.”

As he eventually disappeared, I laid my head on the back of the seat and matched Sarah tear for tear as Darius kept eating. I just knew he wanted to be with me, even now. I just knew I would never be loved, or be able to love, as much as I loved him, and I knew in my heart that what we shared was as good as it could ever be.

Like I said, Henry and I had something that went beyond the physical.

Washington, D.C.

November 7, 2000

NBS News Studio

11:00
P.M
. EST

“If you felt the earth move, America, it was not from a fault line in California, but from the State of Florida. This just in: Steiner roars back! This is Franklin Dunlop reporting from our NBS News studios in Washington, D.C., where it is eleven o'clock on the East Coast.

“As little as two months ago, Vice President Steiner was the butt of all of the jokes from Letterman to Leno to every hack comedian within the beltway. NBS News is now projecting Ronald Steiner the winner in two states in which he trailed badly as little as a week ago.

“Ronald Steiner will win in the state of Indiana and in the Show Me State of Missouri. He was helped tremendously by a recent endorsement from the six-term senator of that state, Sam Elkhart. Those two come as little surprise. But here is the real shocker: Ronald Steiner wins not only the Buckeye State of Ohio, but also the state of Florida.

“That's right, ladies and gentlemen, you have heard correctly. NBS is in a position to project that Vice President Ronald Steiner has stolen the home state from the onetime leader in the race, Senator Henry Louis Davis. As we reported earlier, after having had a double-digit lead in the state, Henry Davis pulled back on campaigning in Florida and went on an all-out blitzkrieg to do damage control all over the country after the debate. That, coupled with hurricanelike
rains, put the state into play. Our sources tell us that Steiner spent an additional million dollars in the more conservative northern portion of Florida last week, and coupled with the decent weather in that portion of the state, it has paid off.

“For more on this story we will go back to Judy Finestein in Chicago. Judy, are you there?”

“Yes, I am, Franklin, and please don't ask me a question, because I could never hear you. There is actually a live marching band in the background as we speak, playing ‘Tusk', by Fleetwood Mac. For the moment, the word here in Chicago is
exhilaration
. This place almost exploded when the results from Florida came in. As you said earlier, they expected to fare well in Indiana, Missouri, and Ohio, as well as in the New England states, which they have all but swept. But they thought they had two chances in Florida. Slim and none. And none was looking like the better of the two. They were wrong. They gambled on bombarding only one part of the state with what many considered to be negative Davis ads, thinking in a three-way race they could let the other two candidates fight over what was left. With a little help from Mother Nature tonight, the gamble has paid off in spades . . . I, I mean the gamble worked.

“The ew, candidate's running mate had just left the stage about five minutes before the results were announced, Franklin. When she did, there was not a dry eye in the building—much like the impassioned speech Jesse Jackson gave in eighty-four or the speech given by this vice president, recalling his brother who died the previous year from lung cancer, in ninety-six at the Republican convention. Most observers said, without question, her impromptu address was the best one of the campaign for her.

“I am standing here with longtime friend and adviser as well as Illinois state campaign chairman for the Steiner campaign, Peter Delahouse from Kankakee, Illinois. Peter, have you had an opportunity to speak to the vice president?”

“Yes, I have. He and his wife are upstairs watching the events unfold tonight, and they are very optimistic. It's been a long road here for both Ronald Steiner and Sydney Ackerman,
and tonight they are sitting back and enjoying the fruits of their labor.”

“That's great, Peter. Tonight, Franklin, the Grand Old Party is rocking. Lee Greenwood is about to take the stage, undoubtedly to sing ‘Proud to Be an American.' We are told that his appearance has nothing to do with a debate question posed to Senator Davis, but if you believe that, I have some swampland to talk to you about after the show tonight. They're telling me my time is up, so for now, this is Judy Finestein from the ballroom of the Four Seasons Hotel in Chicago, Illinois, sending it back to Franklin Dunlop in Washington.”

Fountainebleau Hotel

Presidential Suite

As soon as the numbers in Florida were announced, the phone in Henry's room started ringing. Since it was the hotel phone, he did not answer. Close friends and advisers knew to call him on one of two cellular phones or on the private line installed for this night, so as Franklin Dunlop and the other three anchormen reported on the upset, they had his undivided attention. Henry broke his gaze from the TV sets and looked over at the ringing phone and then unplugged the cord from the back of it.

Ringggggg
. . .

It was the private line. Looking at it on the end table, he quickly debated if he should answer it. What could anyone say now to help this situation? But he had promised his staff that he would be accessible. “Hello?”

“Hello, Senator,” he said with church-mouse timdity. “I was wondering if we could come up to chat about what's happening. You know, uh, people down here are starting to talk and what have you about—”

“Talk about what, Ed?”

“Well, sir, that you are sitting up there alone. I think it was leaked to the press that you and Mrs. Davis are not talking, and the rumor is growing that you might be headed
for a divorce. I know it's nonsense, sir, but I wanted to quell speculation before—”

“I'm sorry, Ed, you misunderstood my question,” Henry said, lowering the volume of the TV as well as slowing the pace of his voice. “When I asked you what you wanted to talk about, I was referring to why we should have a powwow at this time. We've spent the last two years talking about the election, the polls, and the other candidates. Hell, Ed, you and I have been talking about this for—what?—four or five years, nonstop, every day? So tonight, with all due respect, I just need to gather myself a little.”

“Yes, sir, I understand,” Ed replied despondently.

“No offense. I'm not throwing in the towel. We still have a lot of night ahead of us. I feel really good about California as well as Texas, so don't take this move as a defeatist one. I just need a little time to myself to regroup and be at my best. In the event we win this thing, it's gonna be a long night, and in the event we lose . . .” Henry closed his eyes again and said with a smile, “If we lose, Eddie, I don't want to look like a haggard sore loser. Okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fantastic. Listen, I saw you on CNN and you did a great job. What time is Herbert going to be on CBS?”

“C-SPAN, sir. Mr. Davis will be on MSNBC and within the hour, I was told.”

“Good. Well, if you need me, just—”

“Senator? May I ask you a question, sir?”

“Sure, go right ahead,” Henry replied as he put his feet on the couch and leaned back on the hind legs of the chair.

“Why did you decide to read . . .
Forever
last night?”

Laughing, Henry said, “Good night, Ed. I appreciate the call.” And then instead of hanging up on his concerned press secretary, he added, “Ed, the author sent me the book. It was really well written and I just happened to want to finish it last night. That's all, okay? Now, go put a spin on this thing so people out there don't get overly worried. Tell the press you just spoke to me and that we're excited about the key states I just mentioned as well as the returns in New York, the West, and Midwest.”

“Yes, sir, I'll, umm, I'll let them know.”

Hanging up the phone, Henry alternated his attention between the TVs, turning up the volume whenever they showed the electoral maps and turning it down whenever the talking heads would appear. There was a line down the middle and underneath it the words
Splitville
was inscribed. And then on NBC, a picture of Leslie and him together appeared on the screen.
Damn, that didn't take long
, he thought while turning up the volume.

“That's right,” the green-eyed reporter with a glint in her eye replied. “My reliable sources inside the campaign tell me that there's heavy friction between the two at this time. Friends who have known them for years attribute it to the tension of the race more so than the recent photos of Mrs. Davis thought to be floating around Washington. Others are concerned that if Senator Davis is elected, we may have our first presidential divorce. I have traveled with Leslie Davis and the thought here is—”

Henry turned down the volume as his brother's face appeared on one of the other TV screens.

“We are here with the older brother of presidential candidate Senator Henry Davis, Herbert Davis. Now, I must say, Herbert, you have been one of the most camera-shy campaign managers we've seen in recent years While the other campaign managers have visited all the major talk shows, you seem to outright avoid the spotlight. Why is that?”

As Herbert began to speak, Henry leaned forward on his elbows to hang on his every word. He noticed the other reporters start to swarm around as soon as the spotlight centered on Herbert, and Henry could tell his brother was uncomfortable being the focus of attention.
You'll do well, Herbert. You'll do just fine
.

“Well, Beth, I have stayed out of the limelight because I, or should I say we, have always wanted the attention to be focused on the problems of this country.” Looking into the camera, he said, “We feel this is a race that should have focused on the candidates' ideology and not the prospective parties' ideology. We did not get into this race for glory or for personal gain but to put this country back on its feet
fiscally, socially and morally for the twenty-first century and beyond.”

Henry leaned back, absorbing his campaign manager's words. Knowing Herbert did not enjoy being in the spotlight, Henry appreciated even more his speaking to the media, because he spoke not as a senior adviser but as a brother.

A newsman muscled past the female reporter and his elbow hit her in the mouth as he held his microphone stiffly in front of Herbert. “Duke Kilroy, AP! Tell me, Herbert, what is the status of the candidate's marriage? The word on the floor is that they are headed to divorce court after the election, win, lose, or draw, and that Mrs. Davis has had conversations with Marvin Mitchelson. Will you confirm or deny either of those stories?”

Herbert's appearance was unflappable, yet Henry knew he did not want to lie and didn't want to say the wrong thing either. Looking at the female reporter who had been pushed to the side, he asked with a smile, “Are you all right, madam?” After she nodded her head, he looked at the AP reporter and said, “Sir, that is a family issue.” And then Henry felt Herbert was looking at him as he said into the camera, “But I can assure you that there is absolutely no friction between my brother and his wife. None whatsoever. These insipid and cruel remarks being hurled by members of the vast right-wing media outlets are unfounded and, on a night such as this, both shameful and appalling. Henry and Les are upstairs now . . . together . . . and expecting wonderful things to happen this night.”

No words he could have said could hurt Henry as much as those. In the Davis/Gallagher headquarters, signs were posted everywhere: “DO IT ONCE YOU'LL DO IT AGAIN.” It was Marcus's haiku because Henry was fond of saying it in staff meetings, “If you compromise your integrity once, it's a slippery slope toward repeating it.” He had never known his brother to flat-out lie before. As a tear glistened in his eye, he knew that his ultimate goal had made his brother do something he as a politician had done more times than he wanted to count. His brother, just like
other Davis/Gallagher campaign officials, had compromised his integrity in pursuit of Henry's dream.

HENRY

Forever
is a novel that was sent to me a month or so ago by its author. Or at least by his literary agent, who was interested in eventually selling my memoirs. I had heard about it shortly after it was published because of the controversial content. The character's life in the book closely mirrored my own. He was from a deep southern state and was voted the most effective congressional representative three consecutive years. He even chaired the same committees I had in the senate. He was an African-American who would run for and eventually win the presidency. Now, this character, whose name was—get this—Donnell Roosevelt Jones, was a cardboard cutout of a president. In part it was degrading because of the way the author had developed the character's wife, Angie. She decided to redecorate the White House, and in the Purple—yes, I said Purple—Room she had one of those clocks shaped like a cat with the tail that wags and eyes that move back and forth. There was a bowl of dusty plastic fruit in their private residence and a little placard that said “May You Be Dead an Hour Before the Devil Knows You're Gone” over her desk. They even had one of those big stereos with a record player and eight-track in it that looks like a coffin in the Lincoln bedroom.

While the author touched on a few serious world problems that this character handled, the book, all in all, was not believable. The worse part of it was the ending. He was the president, and this scandal, not too dissimilar to my own, catches up to him. He tries to stay above the fray, but he has all these people who want him out of the White House. So he is watching his numbers fall, like I have, on the night of his reelection with his family, and suddenly he leaves them, walks onto the front lawn of the White House, and offs himself in the midst of reporters and staff. He says some corny line like, “You want my blood, now you have
it,” before he dies. The end. I thought it was such a cop-out to use guns and death to finish the novel, but to each his own. When I dug a little deeper, the story told me how some people with very good intentions can be changed in politics. We want the best and the brightest in office, and when they get there we look for the absolute worst in their character, which causes them in turn to self-destruct. Anyway, it sucked, but the author is a really nice kid. I hear they just paid him a million three for the movie rights.