CHAPTER ELEVEN - VANESSA
“Daddy, I'm just stopping by for a second. I needed to pick up a file from your office before the meeting with – ”
I walked into his office and there, on his desk was a young Asian woman bent over and bare assed. My father was standing behind her, pants around his ankles. When he turned and looked at me, his face turned bright red and his eyes grew so wide, I feared they'd pop out of his skull.
I dropped my phone and it clattered to the floor as I fumbled with it in my hurry to close the door behind me. I turned and practically ran down the hallway, my stomach churning and the taste of vomit in my throat after seeing what I'd just witnessed. My father, a man who stood firmly for family values and railed against anybody and everybody for a lack of them, was banging his mistress. In his office. On his desk.
I heard the office door behind me open and close, and my father's voice called out to me.
“Vanessa, wait, it's not what you think. ”
Holding my hands up, I turned to him and said, “Oh, it's not? Because geeze, dad, it sure looked like you were banging someone who is clearly not your wife on your desk.”
“Okay, maybe it is what you think,” he said, scratching his face. His pants were still mostly unzipped, his tighty whiteys poking out of the zipper. I was absolutely disgusted, and would need some eye bleach to get that image out of my head. But more than that, I felt betrayed. For so long, I'd thought my father had a strict moral compass. He spoke so fiercely and passionately about values and the importance of loyalty and fidelity.
And to find out it was all a lie? It felt like I'd been punched in the gut.
“I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you,” I seethed. “You, of all people. After all the shit you've given Carter about his supposed immorality over the years – ”
“That's different,” my dad countered. “I mean, I'm discrete with my flings and don't shove them in everybody's face at least.”
“Oh, right. Just because you're discrete means it doesn't count, right?” I hissed. “At least Carter is honest about who he is. Does Andrea know about this?”
“No, she doesn't,” my dad said, sounding defeated. “And please don't tell her. It would kill her, Vanessa.”
“Yeah, well maybe you should have thought about that before you started fucking some tramp in your family's home,” I said. “And you want to know the worst part of this whole shitstorm, Dad? It's that I actually believed in you. I honestly thought you were the real deal when it came to practicing what you preach.”
I turned to leave before my dad could see me crying. I had a meeting with Dylan about my Congressional campaign ,something that before I'd walked in on him banging his mistress, I couldn't wait to announce to my father. But now, seeing what a hypocrite he was, I couldn't even bare to look at him, much less share my good news.
I stormed out of the mansion just as Andrea came home from doing some shopping. She looked at me with a concerned expression on her face.
“Are you okay, dear? Is it Carter again?” she asked. “What has he done now?”
“It's not Carter,” I said, wiping my eyes. “Believe it or not, your son is actually trying to get his shit together. He's taken a lot of positive steps, Andrea. You should be proud of him.”
Andrea looked pleased to hear that. Carter had gone to rehab – his own choice – and I couldn't have been prouder of him. I felt sorry for Andrea. But also felt torn between telling her the truth or letting my father get away with his lies. She was, after all, like a mother to me. She'd always been kind.
But I didn't have to say a word because my father's mistress came prancing out of his office, almost running toward the front door, barely even dressed, with my father behind her. His pants were still undone, and when he saw Andrea, his eyes grew large, his expression tinged with panic.
He tried the infamous line again, “It's not what it looks like,” but Andrea wasn't stupid.
At times, I thought maybe they were married on paper only, that there was no love between them, but the look on her face told me I was wrong. I walked away, leaving my father to clean up his own mess. I could hear them fighting as I walked to my car, and in the back of my mind I thought – she's going to go to the press. His career was over.
All this time, I was focused on anything but myself. I didn't allow myself to live my life the way I wanted because of him. Out of fear about the impact my decisions would have on him and his career. I didn't want to make him look bad. But he'd just done a damn fine job of that on his own.
Even though I was mad, I found myself laughing to myself as I drove away.
I was free. I was finally free to be me.
ooo000ooo
I stared at the headline, but couldn't bring myself to read the article. My father lost the election. Not only did he lose his chance at the Senate – and a future presidential run – but he no longer held his Congressional seat either.
No, he hadn't lost because of the affairs; that was just the tip of the iceberg. Once Andrea went to the press after learning he'd been cheating on her, it wasn't long before my dad's mistress, Kelly, had been paid for plenty of interviews as well.
And it turned out that while she was currently eighteen years old, apparently their relationship started well before she was legal. After that, even more women came out of the woodwork. Some of them were probably fakes, but some had compelling stories that made me believe what they said to be true.
My dad was in a world of hurt, and he deserved everything that had happened to him.
“It's a shame,” Dylan said as he handed me a cup of coffee. We were waiting at a nearby coffee shop for Carter to be released from rehab. “I really believed in him too.”
“A lot of people did,” I said, closing up the newspaper and putting it back on the table. “Do you think this will hurt my chances?”
“Not if I have my way it won't. The sins of the father shall not hurt the daughter,” he said. “Because you've been your father's biggest critic, I actually think this could work in your favor. You've been doing more interviews, speaking about how even you were fooled by the lies. I think you'll be just fine. The people feel for you, Vanessa, they don't hate you.”
“It's impossible to hate her,” a voice piped up from behind me. I smiled before I even had a chance to turn around and see his face. “She's fucking amazing.”
“Carter,” I said, standing up to hug him. “Watch your mouth.”
He kissed me, and I didn't even flinch. Yes, we were in public and some tabloids were talking about our relationship. But with Dylan's guidance and coaching, we answered those questions up front and honestly. Dylan had really helped us and put us at ease about being together.
And let's face it, our romance paled in comparison to my dad's ridiculous sexcapades. Ours was a boring non-story by comparison and the media chose to focus on him instead.
“How was it?” I asked, noting his shorter, cleaner haircut.
“It's rehab, what do you expect?” he said. “I'm not going to be fixed overnight, obviously.”
“No one ever is,” I said.
Even though his past drug abuse could cause health problems in the future, one of my many stances was on more supportive care for addicts and alcoholics. It was something I could now speak about based on my own personal experience, a message that resonated with a lot of people.
“I'm proud of you, Carter.” I said. “I really am.”
“We both are,” Dylan added. “You went through a rough patch there and you've come out the other side. Congratulations.”
We sat down at the table, hand-in-hand.
“Enough about me,” Carter said. “I want to hear all about you. I saw you announce your intent to run. It was a damn good speech.”
“Yes, yes it was,” Dylan said. “Vanessa is the future of this country, Carter. And if you love her, you need to stay clean and stay out of trouble. Think you can do that?”
“I think I can handle that,” he said, kissing my hand.
For the first time, after so many excuses and promises, I knew he meant it. It might not always be easy and our life might not be perfect, but at least we were honest with each other, and we were together.
And at the end of the day – win or lose – that was all that mattered to me.