Chapter Nine
After a half-hour taxi ride, I sat at Rachel’s kitchen table. She was across from me, looking a bit tired, if interested. She had poured us both a glass of wine, and I spun my glass round and round, trying to avoid the topic of why I was there.
“I like your place,” I finally sputtered, listening to the soft jazz in the background. The place was a good deal smaller than mine. She still lived alone. “You seeing anyone?” I asked her. This was what women were meant to ask other women. This was what I was sure.
She laughed—that familiar, tinkling laugh. “Actually, my boyfriend and I just broke up. About three weeks ago.”
I placed my hand over my heart then. “I’m so sorry.” It was truly strange that Rachel had even been seeing anyone. She’d been the one who’d stated that no one was meant to fall in love in our political business. “I thought you said no dating in politics?” I said then, taking a sip of my wine.
She shrugged her slim shoulders. I wondered if she was aging better than me. “You know, I did say that. And then I got the fuck out of politics.” She snapped her fingers, not in an unkind way. “I had to get out of there. It was toxic.”
I nodded, thinking about Jason. There was so much I could tell my friend, then. She could smell it on me.
“It’s been a long time,” Rachel finally said. “I haven’t seen you since—after the campaign? Is that right? Your career’s really taken off since then.” Her voice sounded impressed, but I didn’t know if it was a fake kind of impressed. I couldn’t tell if she hated my guts or felt jealous of my success.
“I guess it has. I’m with this new campaign. One of the leaders,” I stated, nodding.
“Well. You always had a thing for Xavier, right? So this must be nice for you.” Rachel smiled at me. Did she know?
I laughed, shaking my head. “That man is a trip. If he didn’t run the nation, I’d probably kill him.” I knew this wasn’t true; I knew that Xavier was an incredible man—a man I truly was falling in love with. But I had to put on a face for Rachel. Rachel laughed good-naturedly, but there was definitely something different about her—something resigned. We didn’t have the same relationship anymore.
Rachel set down her glass, and I heard it clink on the wood. “Amanda. Do you remember that I was really pretty good at reading people?” she asked me then.
I nodded, remembering it. I flashed a smile. “I remember you guessed the other candidate was lying. We wrote a speech about it. And he had been lying.”
Rachel nodded, nearly laughing. “I didn’t guess; I knew.”
“Anyway. Yes. You were good at reading people,” I stated, suddenly feeling uncertain but allowing her to continue.
She cleared her throat. “I can read you. I know that something’s wrong. I know you’re still in that poisonous environment. Are they eating you alive, like they do the other women? You have to tell me.” Rachel brought her hand over the table and draped it over my fingers, looking at me in the eyes. She pulsed with understanding. I felt like I could tell her anything, like the old times.
But then, I knew what she would say.
She would tell me that I should turn Jason in.
She would tell me that I should take the consequences to my career.
She would tell me that I should allow the photos to be viewed by millions and millions of people.
She would tell me that I deserved a better life and a better career.
But it wasn’t true. Not for me. I was doing exactly what I wanted to be doing. I couldn’t imagine myself doing anything else. I swallowed, trying to think of something to say. Rachel’s cat came sauntering into the room, meowing. Her eyes were yellow, glaring at me. Telling me to answer. Answer.
“Oh. Work is just so stressful,” I finally said, placing my head in my hand. “You were right to get out when you did. Although, of course, I’m addicted to it. I love it. I love the work. I love the pulse of it. The emotion of it. But sometimes, it’s nice to turn to someone and speak out your problems. You know?”
Rachel raised her left eyebrow toward me. I knew she didn’t trust me. She swallowed slowly and flung her shortened red hair across her shoulder in a way that made me understand that she expected more to be there when she made the move. More hair. More of herself. “You can still get out, you know,” she said, her eyes glowing.
“I know,” I murmured. I faked a yawn and stretched my hands into the air, feeling my spine pop inside me. “I think I need to hit the sack. Thanks for being my ears—and my home tonight, Rachel.”
Rachel still looked at me curiously. “Of course,” she whispered.
I stretched out on the couch, then, placing my wine glass on the coffee table. I aligned my feet with the edge of the couch, and I dug my head into the pillow. In a moment, all comprehension of the previous day fell away.
I finally found sleep.