Page 317 of Incisive

I spend every day on the road making appearances for Ciro, fitting in two or three campaign stops every day during the last two weeks of the campaign as October bleeds heavily into November. Several ranking US House reps from both parties who are expected to win re-election are already promising to drag Richmond in front of committees for investigations into his behavior.

Oh, not because he had consensual sex with other men. No, not at all.

Now it looks like at least three “guests” at that overseas sex party might not have been of legal age. There’s also a police investigation underway overseas.

Richmond defiantly remains in the race despite calls for him to drop out, his VP candidate resigns and denounces him, and all of his campaign events are cancelled.

While the GOP lamentations are lovely music to Dem ears, plenty of us warn people in our party not to get too cocky because that could one day be us.

Talk grows about supporting more Independent, Libertarian, and other third-party candidates in subsequent years. Whatever. I’m fine with that. My loyalty isn’t to my party—it’s to my country and its people. To the Constitution. Being a Democrat is what allowed me to achieve the most good during this particular political epoch, but the label isn’t what matters.

What matters is what you accomplish for our nation’s citizens. Being able to recite the Constitution by heart means nothing if you don’tliveby it, uphold both it and our nation’s laws.

If it was a fellow Democrat caught up in this scandal I’d be the first one loudly demanding they step down.

Still, when I think about Jordan and how we’re so close to getting away with our own indiscretion… It might be superstitious, yes, but as the story gains traction I worry if I join in too eagerly to roast Richmond it could smack me in the face, karmic retribution. So I hold my tongue about the scandal and refuse to comment on it, much less publicly cackle with glee, because it would make me a first-class hypocrite.

Until it’s revealed there might be minors involved.

Thatis a hard and fast line that should never be crossed.

Ever.

And that’s when I break my silence and jump into the fray and make a couple of comments.

Which prompted David Ignacio—a former politician, failed presidential candidate, and the first FNB anchor who tried to claim I was being a hypocrite after my years of secretly dating Leo—personally got read forward and backward by Casey-Marie on live Sunday morning TV as she reminded the anchor that my husband and I were both consenting adults for the entirety of our relationship.

Then she smiled THE smile, the one that terrifies me every time she uses it, even if not on me. “Oh, isn’t that a bit hypocritical of you, David, to bring that up considering your wife left you and claimed you were having secret affairs with men?”

Jordan, Leo, and I were watching in the residence. All three of us screamed in shocked joy when Casey-Marie lobbed that surprise grenade over Ignacio’s rampart.

I’ve never seen a man look so green and so white at the same time.

FNB immediately cut to a commercial break and when they returned, the interview had ended early without a mention of why. David Ignacio didn’t return for the rest of the show, either.

He resigned from FNB a week later citing personal reasons.

While I can’t be certain, I have a feeling Casey-Marie’s ruthless approach plays a large part in how, from that point on, mainstream conservative news pundits across the board focusing only on roasting their candidate and not trying to draw parallels to my relationship with Leo.

Thank god they don’t know about Jordan. That genuinely terrifies me but we’re so close to the finish line I have to believe we’ll make it even as I struggle not to needlessly worry about jinxing whatever comes next in my life. Because my term in office officially ends at noon on January 20th no matter what else happens.

Before long, Election Day arrives without any calamities stealing the headlines. Leo, Jordan, and I voted by mail, so that’s one less task for today. Because we now have an address of our own, even if our home isn’t completed yet, we vote in our new precinct.

I won’t deny a little thrill filled me when I stared at my new voter ID card. I’m a first-time homeowner. Finally.

Well, property owner. Soon-to-be homeowner.

After I wrap up my final campaign appearance of the day and return to DC I wearily retreat to the sanctuary of the residence. Jordan and Leo are preparing a celebratory dinner of homemade wings and potato skins to eat in front of the TV while we watch election returns. Ciro invited us to join him at the DC hotel where they’re holding his watch party but I politely declined.

I’d rather sit this one out. Anyway, today belongs to him, not me. Ciro doesn’t need me there in person to hold his hand. I want people focused on his victory. Once the major networks officially declare the race in his favor and I call Ciro to congratulate him, Angie will release my pre-taped video statement over social media.

All I want to do is make it until January so I can leave here and collapse in my men’s arms for a few weeks before the next stage of my career begins. I don’t even know what Jordan and Leo have planned for us immediately following Inauguration Day. I don’tneedto know because I trust them.

There’s a melancholy feel inside the residence, though. Jordan and Leo have started the packing process even as preparations are made to decorate for Christmas. Our personal belongings are steadily replaced by items that are the property of the US government. Like our books on the shelves in the living room are swapped out for antique volumes of various American authors and poets. Personal pictures on the walls are replaced by artwork on loan from the vast museum collection at my disposal. Personal knickknacks are replaced by interesting items from other museums and collections.

Still, Jordan puts up our personal Christmas tree with our ornaments in the living room, and nothing in the bedroom gets touched yet. He’s waiting until two days before Inauguration Day to start that process. The movers will handle the bulk of the move while we’re at the inauguration ceremonies. Jordan also doesn’t want to pack up the kitchen yet because, duh, we’re still using it, and he’s cooking both Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners for our family.

Most of these details I learn from osmosis, or overhearing them being discussed, because I don’t have the brain cells to devote to them as I work through the transition. In the wake of Stella’s death my only goal after I leave office is to spend time with my men, my parents, and Leo’s family. I want to show them how much I love and appreciate them. All of them.