The meeting had been tense. Manfredi had come from a position as a senator’s press secretary and appeared to have no clue what Julie’s office actually did; he just wanted it to look prettier for the cameras. Julie knew from research—online creeping, really—that he was at least ten years younger than her, even though his hairline made him look ten years older. Yes, they were supposed to work together, but his every “we” and “our” came across as an attack on how she ran things. His predecessor had understood that it was okay if her district services and his DC concerns didn’t always align.
She’d worked for Representative Griffith for twenty-one years now, almost the entire time he’d been in Congress. Every time he hired a new chief of staff she wondered why it wasn’t her, his longtime district office director. Then she remembered it was because she had a family who didn’t want to relocate to Washington or to lose her for seasons at a time. Leroy Griffith had always supported her and championed her; she was the one who held herself back, not the rep, and not the new guy, even if she didn’t think much of the latter.
She was so busy hating Manfredi, she didn’t clock to the blue light on Griffith’s head until he was packing his briefcase to leave. The second she saw it, she knew it was the implant Val had been talking about.
“That’s one of those Pilots, right? ‘Step into the light?’” If she got out ahead of it, maybe she’d get points for being observant.
He did sound impressed. “It is! Have you been thinking of getting one?”
“Yeah,” she lied, though it hadn’t crossed her mind until that moment. It had been a kid thing, something for Val’s students. What did adults gain from it? She’d have to look. She didn’t know the right question to ask. “What’s it like?”
He smiled. “So far, so good! It’s got my brain racing, but I think I’ll find a balance soon. If it’s as handy as I think it’ll be, I’m going to look into grants to give them to all the staffers who want one.”
“Are there grants like that?”
“I wouldn’t hold my breath, but you never know. Maybe it’ll wind up covered by our insurance. It would benefit everyone in the end. And they’re in district, you know, so their success means jobs, jobs, jobs for us.”
She gave up feigning knowledge. “In district? Ours?”
“Yeah—the manufacturer is a company called Balkenhol Neural Labs. Pharmaceuticals and devices. They built their headquarters inside our northern border.”
“I guess you don’t get out there much,” said Manfredi, intruding on the conversation.
His dig wasn’t fair. Either she hadn’t driven past or she hadn’t noticed, but that didn’t mean she didn’t get out there to town hall meetings and the like.
“People first, then businesses,” Representative Griffith said. “Right, Jules?”
“Right.” She could have hugged him for his support. “Or at least, not until businesses start talking about moving their jobs elsewhere, in which case I start hearing from people.”
“So in other words, we’ll all work on keeping this lovely new company in our backyard.” He walked out whistling, Manfredi trailing in his wake.
Not long after, the twentysomethings in the office had started getting Pilots. Both summer interns, too, and the campaign volunteers. It figured that after the Pilot spread among rich teenagers whose parents wanted to give them a leg up, offices like Julie’s would be the next demographic. Twentysomethings in high-pressure, detail-oriented jobs. Twentysomethings making too little for any hope of living without roommates, but too much not to be tempted by exciting new things. Sure, she had a house, but their clothes were nicer than hers, and they bought their lunches every day while she boxed and bagged leftovers from whatever dinner Val had made the night before.
In truth, Julie had been just like her younger colleagues what seemed like a minute ago. There had never been a point in her adult life when she hadn’t wanted the latest everything. The newest phone, reader, tablet. If it was a choice between clothes or restaurants or vacations or a new gadget, she picked the gadget every time. These kids didn’t know that about her; they probably assumed she was just another middle-aged mom. Which she was, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have her own wants and desires. She tried not to feel left behind, but when David had asked tonight, she had to admit she knew how he felt.
CHAPTER FOUR
VAL
Val tried to sort it out for herself with a run the morning after David finally asked what she’d been waiting for him to ask. Running had always helped her think; her legs and her mind felt intimately connected. The rhythm of footfalls, the rise of the road. On the days she needed clarity she left her music behind and ran alone with her own thoughts.
She’d marked all the family milestones, good and bad, with actual miles. The decision to have children, Julie’s terrifyingly difficult pregnancy, Sophie’s adoption, Sophie’s first seizure, the endless treatment discussions. Most of those were things she and Julie went through together, and still there were conversations Val had alone with herself on the road; conversations regarding which concerns to share aloud and which to swallow. She was sure Julie did the same, though she couldn’t say when or where or how.
That was why she’d encouraged David to run, though he had never taken her up on it. Despite her lack of biological contribution, he was built like her, tall and lanky. Moreover, he thought like her, or so it seemed. He got concerned and retreated into his head and holed up there, unable to see his way
