Page 88 of The Politician

With his heart in his throat, it was hard to speak, but he had to know. “What’s wrong? Is he sick?”

“No, Mr. Bloom, his health is fine. His heart, on the other hand, it’s not well. He’s going to make an announcement tomorrow morning and I want to make sure you hear it.”

“Why me, Mars?”

“Because he loves you, Eli. He has never stopped. He’ll need you after this, though I don’t expect you to rush to his side. I realize how long it’s been, and you have likely carved out a new life for yourself.”

“Mars…I can’t. I…I still have feelings for him, sure, but it’s been over for a long time. I can’t get hurt again, not like that.”

“Promise me you’ll watch his news conference, Eli. Please?”

“Of course, I will.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

The called ended and Eli stared at his phone, feeling his whole body shaking. Rhianna came in from work right then, her purse thrown on the couch next to him. “God, this was a long day.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you could say that.”

After actually looking at him, she asked, “What’s wrong?”

She sat between her purse and Eli, taking his hand softly, waiting for him to say something, but he had no more words.

Of all the words he’d admired, of all the flowing thoughts of the masters, he suddenly hated them all. Words meant hurt and hiding words, like gay, didn’t fix anything. “Uh, I’m not sure.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Rhianna could be nosy, but it wasn’t malicious. She liked to take care of them, like they were a houseful of her sons or something.

The words. Words. All of them, tangled up like limbs in an orgy. He couldn’t pick where one might start the telling from another.

“Okay, you’re scaring me.”

“Don’t mean to.”

“Eli, what happened?”

He swallowed, then thought maybe he found a few words. “Mars called me. Lee’s butler.”

“What for?”

“He wants me to watch Lee’s news conference tomorrow.”

“Oh! Well, that’s…weird. I mean, why? Doesn’t he realize that will be hard for you?”

“Sure. I guess.”

Sandy came bopping through the living room, humming along with whatever song he had on his earbuds. “Sandy,” Rhianna yelled.

He stopped and took out one of the buds. “What?”

“You need to help me here with our boy.”

“Our boy. I like that. Does that mean we’re pretend married and can pretend have a honeymoon?”

“Keep it in your pants, Sandy.”

Sandy sat on the arm of the couch, and with both watching him, he felt so self-conscious that he really couldn’t speak.