Heat

“Wait…what?”

“It seems he has pictures of you and Martin during your vacation and sound bites from one of your fellow students, a Mr. Benjamin Salsmar, who was with you this last week, indicating that the two of you are very serious, and that our families are quite close.”

Benjamin Salsmar. Benjamin. Ben. Ben the bottom-feeding rapist, cuss monster!

UGH!

“Ugh.” I shook my head as my face fell into my hands. “That’s why Ben was still there this morning…what an asshole.”

I heard my mother clear her throat. I hadn’t thought before I spoke; I was pretty sure this was the first time she’d ever heard me cuss. To her credit, she made no comment about it, even though she’d told me when I was younger that curse words weren’t adult language and had been mischaracterized as such.

She’d once explained that curse words were used by the idiots, and unimaginative members of our society, individuals who never learned actual adult language—i.e. multisyllabic descriptive words—and flung curses around during childish temper tantrums.

Nevertheless, Ben was an asshole.

But aside from Ben’s assholery, what he’d said—what he’d told the Washington Post—was fifty-one percent true. Martin and I were in a relationship. I was not ashamed of it or of him, but I was now beginning to see that our relationship might cause some professional problems for my mother.

After several seconds she asked softly, “What is going on with you and Martin Sandeke?”

I gathered a calming breath and straightened, letting my hands drop from my face. I met her eyes and told her the truth. “Martin and I are dating.”

“I see…” Her thoughtful expression didn’t change except that her eyes narrowed just slightly. After a short pause she asked, “How long has this been going on?”

“About a week.”

“Oh. Then it’s not serious.”

“No. It is serious.”

“After a week?”

“Yes,” I responded firmly.

She inspected me for a long moment, her gaze searching and tinged with slight confusion, but then she conceded with a nod. “Okay. If you say it’s serious, then it’s serious.”

I stared at her. She stared at me. I waited for her to say something, to give me the right answer.

When she didn’t, I blurted, “Mom, I can’t just walk away from Martin. I think I’m…I mean, I’ve fallen in love with him. We’re in love with each other. I love him.”

My mother’s face softened at this news, but her eyes held pity and worry. “Oh, Kaitlyn.” She placed her hand on my shoulder and squeezed, her gaze moving over my face. “Honey, from what I know about Martin Sandeke, he’s not the kind of boy who is going to be gentle with your heart or appears to do anything without an ulterior motive. As such, I find this news worrisome.”

I tried to give her my best responsible young adult face. “Yes. I can guess what you’ve discovered about him. But I’ve spent a week with him—with just him for the most part—and he is not who he appears to be. He is…he is amazing and so kind.”

“He’s kind?” Her tone held a note of disbelief.

“He’s kind with me.”

“But not with everyone.” This wasn’t a question. It was a statement of fact.

“No, not with everyone. But if you knew—”

“And you’ve fallen in love with a person who doesn’t feel it’s necessary to be kind to anyone else but you?”

I pressed my lips together and swallowed. She didn’t sound judgmental or even upset. She sounded curious. It was always this way with my mother. Her curiosity was why she won every argument, and why people always listened to her and took her advice.

She was exceedingly reasonable. She was never malicious or pushy, never condescending or irritated. She was only curious. She’d poke holes in terrible proposals and theories with her curious questions until it was clear to everyone that the proposal or theory was garbage. But she’d never, ever come out and say it.

I’d learned that the best defense against curiosity is honesty.

“Yes. I’m in love with a person who doesn’t feel like it’s necessary to be kind to anyone else but me.”

“I see.” She nodded thoughtfully, her eyes narrowing as she examined me. I could see her brain working, considering all the data, working through the scenarios.

I prepared myself for a detailed curious onslaught. Instead, she surprised me.

“Kaitlyn, I trust you. You know what’s at stake.” Her tone was firm, almost hard. “I’ve explained the situation and you are exceedingly bright. You understand the ramifications of staying in a relationship with Martin—and not only to my career and me, which is really the secondary issue here. The primary issue is what this does to the American public. You understand that Martin’s father is using this relationship to expel me from the chair position of the Commerce, Science, and Transportation committee. He will succeed because he is right.”

“But…but how is he right? How can he do that?”

“He is right because I will have an intrinsic bias if my daughter is in a serious relationship with this country’s largest telecom provider’s Chairman of the Board and CEO’s son. That is a fact. I will resign before I am forced out, because perception of bias is just as damaging as actual bias. Mr. Sandeke has been positioning Senator Neimann to take my position for the last two years, both with the Vice President and the President pro tempore of the senate. He is the handpicked replacement and he will kill or bury the affordable telecom act—you know this is how Washington works—and those Americans in rural areas will continue to be unable to access affordable high speed services, thereby placing them at a prolonged disadvantage over those living in urban city centers.”

I blinked at her, at all her facts, and ground my teeth. “So I can break up with Martin until the bill passes or stay with him and ruin the lives of millions of people?”

Her expression turned sad. She took a deep breath like she wanted to say something but hesitated, thought better of it.

“What? What do you want to say? Just say it.”

She sighed. Again! And her next words surprised me because they sounded shockingly maternal. “You know I trust your judgment, Kaitlyn. But…I’m worried about you. I wonder, have you considered the possibility that perhaps Martin’s feelings for you are not what they seem?”

I stiffened, leaned slightly away from her. “What is that supposed to mean?”

She pursed her lips, and her eyes darted to the door then back to mine. “Martin’s father is a very intelligent man, and he’s equally calculating. He has acuity for industrial strategy like I’ve never seen. As well, he’s known to use those closest to him as part of his strategy. Seven years ago his wife—yes, his current wife—was at the center of a sex tape scandal with Senator Peterson from Wisconsin. You likely don’t remember because you were only twelve or thirteen.”

She paused and I noted she looked extremely uncomfortable. She took a deep breath, and her eyes searched mine. “Senator Peterson was the chair of the Commerce, Science, and Transportation committee at the time, the position I hold now. This bill that Martin’s father has been fighting so hard to bury is a reimagining of Senator Peterson’s bill from seven years ago, before an ethics panel removed Peterson from the position during the investigation.”

I frowned at this news and the obvious conclusion I was supposed to make. “That’s not what’s going on here. Martin isn’t dating me because his father told him to.”

“Are you sure?” she pressed. “Because I’ve been under constant scrutiny from the ethics board since I took this chair position. Your father and I have been audited three times by the IRS. Denver Sandeke and his lobbyists have been relentless. The last time I saw him he actually suggested we open negotiations for affordable service. I was stunned and I took that as a victory—because he’s never given an inch before last month. I assumed it was because he’s been unable to discredit me…but now I’m wondering if this trip you’ve just taken with Martin was part of his plan.”

I stared at my mother, my stomach made queasy and sick by her suggestion. “You think it’s so impossible Martin would just be interested in me for me?”

Her eyes widened, then her entire stance changed. She looked horrified. My mother grabbed my shoulders and turned me so we were facing each other directly. “God, Kaitlyn…no. No. Absolutely not. You are a treasure, and I’m not saying this just because I’m your mother and I’m proud of you. I’m saying this because it is the truth. It is very likely that these two issues—Martin’s feelings for you and his father’s manipulations—have nothing to do with each other. But I needed to ask the question. Based on historical data, how Mr. Sandeke has conducted himself in the past, the question had to be asked. You understand that, right?”

I nodded, believing her, but saying nothing.

She sighed again and I could feel her frustration with the situation. Actually, she looked frazzled. I’d never seen her so discomposed and my stomach soured further because I was the cause of her worry. I felt like a disappointment.