Charles Sheehan-Miles

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Republic: Chapter Two (1)

Republic

Charles Sheehan-Miles

Chapter Two

Copyright © 2007 Charles Sheehan-Miles This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Non Commercial-No Derivatives 2.5 License. You may copy or distribute the electronic version of this book freely, in unaltered form. You may not create derivative works or use this work for any commercial purpose without the permission of the author. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is unintentional, with the exception of certain named historical characters. Printed in the United States of America

 

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Chapter Two
May 26

Valerie Murphy hung up the phone and finished typing her notes. Another call from Highview. This was the fifth one this morning, plus the long talk with her father last night. Folks back home were starting to panic. A tall, well-dressed woman with a sharp mind, she knew that other staffers in the office—some of whom she’d been promoted over—privately called her a bitch, or worse. She didn’t care. Her job was to take care of the Congressman, and that meant keeping the office running efficiently.

She pulled the file together, printed her notes from the latest call, and dialed Al Clark.

“You ready, Boss?”

“Come on in. Bring Ambrose.”

Two minutes later she and Ambrose Hall, the Congressman’s legal counsel, sat across from Clark in his spacious office. Clark briefly switched on his campaign smile; then switched it off, moved to a stuffed leather chair, and put his feet on the coffee table. He wore what could easily be called the Washington uniform: dark suit, solid blue shirt and tie. He didn’t often pay attention to his appearance, and had been wearing the same ratty shoes he’d worn when he’d first been elected. One of these days she was going to make them disappear.

Ambrose sat next to her, carefully adjusting his well-tailored suit. Ambrose was a thin, well-dressed African American man who sported a rather unusual handlebar mustache. He was also gay—an open secret no one cared about on the Hill, but one that wouldn’t go over that well back home.

“So what’s the story?” Clark asked, struggling out of his coat. The office was oppressively hot: like much of everything else, funds for maintaining the aging House office buildings had been cut. Valerie’s only concession to the heat was a lighter suit.

“We’re short on details,” she said. “Yesterday morning, Saturn Microsystems announced it was closing all three of its US-based plants—Highview, West Virginia; Roswell, Georgia and Phoenix, Arizona. They’re moving their entire operation offshore to Indonesia. All told, about three thousand people were laid off, including nearly a thousand in the district.”

Clark frowned. “Sons of bitches. Saturn was bought out by Nelson Barclay recently, wasn’t it?”

“That’s right. The company is profitable, but margins have been falling lately. It was the last chip manufacturer in the United States.”

“Jesus Christ,” Clark said.

Ambrose creased his eyebrows with a falsely stern look, then launched into his standard lecture. “Boss, you’re not supposed to say that. Your constituents will take a dim view.”

Clark laughed. “If there’s ever a time to swear, it’s now. I’d think we’d be able to get the folks on national security interested. Aside from the unemployment issue, it’s for damn sure a weakness for our country to lose its only ability to make high-tech gear. Are they at least giving a decent severance to the employees who were let go?”

Valerie shook her head. “Six weeks, plus extra for seniority. My understanding is that final checks were delivered express mail to folks this morning. We’ve had a lot of calls—this was the biggest employer in the district. What happens to those folks?”

Ambrose, the attorney, said, “Most of them will be eligible for unemployment, but we’ve got another worry. The Skaggs bill, if it passes, will eliminate most federal benefits. There won’t be much for those people to fall back on.”

“Same story all over the country,” Clark replied. “I can’t figure out why the goddamn bill is so popular.”

“Boss…” Valerie said.   

“Right, I guess Congressmen aren’t supposed to say goddamn, either.”

“It’s true, sir,” Hall said. “It’s bad enough you have a gay black man working for you.”

“Right,” Clark said, shaking his head. “Get me some options, folks. I don’t know how much we can do, but we can’t let this one slide.”

Valerie and Ambrose nodded, and then stood. As she walked toward the door, Clark said, “Valerie, doesn’t your father work for Saturn?”

Valerie looked back. “He did until yesterday, sir.”

Clark met her eyes and nodded. “Find me some options, please. Let’s see what we can do to help those folks out.”

Back at her desk in the largest cube in the back of the office, Valerie lost herself in her work. A series of calls to the much reduced labor department produced no result but frustration. On top of that, a series of visitors were coming this afternoon. Representatives of the United Mine Workers and lobbyists for several different trade associations would keep her occupied most of the remainder of the day.

The phone rang, and she picked it up and answered, “Valerie Murphy,” without taking her eyes off the report she was reading.

“Hi, it’s David! Can I persuade you to drop everything and come up to New York this weekend?”

David. A year, even six months before, her heart would have jumped at the invitation. Now it seemed more like an invasion.

“I don’t know, David. I may have to work through the weekend. We’re pretty busy right now.”

“I’ve got something that will change your mind,” he said, his voice teasing. “Tickets to Jumping Through Fire.”

She smiled. Jumping Through Fire was the new stage play by Steve Chapman, one of her favorite playwrights. And David hated going to the theater.

“David, that’s sweet… I just don’t know if I can get away.”

A sigh on the line told her he was defeated. “When you start turning down plays, I start thinking you’re having doubts about us.”

Valerie bit her lip. He was right. She had doubts, plenty of them. On the other hand, she’d be a royal bitch to turn him down. It had been nearly two months since she’d been to New York. He must have spent a fortune on those tickets—the show had been sold out six months in advance.

“All right. I’ll come up on the train Saturday morning.”

“Great. Call me on the way, I’ll meet you at Penn Station. You know I love you.”

“I know,” she said.

A loud crash outside rattled the windows. She looked up up in annoyance, then back at the desk.

“David, let’s talk this weekend. You know me too well. I am having doubts.”

There was a sharp inhalation at the other end of the line. “I know. It’s been pretty clear for a while.”

“It’s not you,” she said. “I just don’t know if I’m ready to settle into something permanent right now.”

Several of the interns were crowded at the window nearest her, strangely hushed. A faint line appeared over Valerie’s forehead. Why weren’t they working?

“If it’s not me, what is it?”

Another loud thump rattled the windows, and one of the interns squealed. Valerie frowned.

“David, I don’t know if this is the right time to have this discussion. Let’s talk in person this weekend.”

“Well Christ, Valerie, if this isn’t the time to talk about it, why did you bring it up?”

“I don’t know. You’re right.”

Ambrose appeared at the door of the office and waved at her urgently.

“David, I’ve got to go. Something’s happening.”

“What?”

“I have to go right now. I’ll see you Saturday.”

“I love you,” he said.

She hung up the phone without replying. A dozen steps took her to Ambrose. “What is it?”

He pointed at the television playing in the reception area. The words at the bottom of the screen told her all she needed to know: “Explosions at the Pentagon.”

 

 

 

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