Epilogue
Park felt pretty sure his heart was about to beat right out of his chest.
He sat at the edge of a sofa in a crowded hotel room in Midtown, just upstairs from the ballroom where he’d have to give either a victory or a concession speech, probably within the hour, given that polls had just closed. Unless the election was close, which was definitely a possibility, the networkswould be able to make predictions relatively quickly.
Most of his campaign staff had gathered here, plus Jackson. Park, in fact, currently sat sandwiched between Martha and Jackson on the sofa. Sam was fielding phone calls, Dan and Ray were doing...something—their role in this tableau seemed to mostly involve pacing a lot—and most of the rest of the staff were running messages back and forthbetween this room and the ballroom downstairs.
The TV showed the local news. A reporter came on and the network’s election graphics flashed in the corner. Park reached for Jackson’s hand and was satisfied when Jackson’s fingers curled around his. He tried to take a deep breath. Failed and felt his panic escalate. Tried again.
“All we can report at this time is that the Senate electionis too close to call,” said the reporter. “With ten percent of precincts reporting, Livingston and Thompson are in a virtual dead heat.”
They flashed photos of both candidates on screen next to the number of votes they’d received so far and a percentage. Park and Thompson were both pulling about forty-five percent of the vote.
“I can’t even watch this.” Park pressed his face into Jackson’sshoulder.
“Give it a little bit of time,” Jackson said, moving his arm to put it around Park.
“I’m going to have a heart attack.”
On the screen, the reporter went on. “It’s been a pretty exciting election cycle, particularly if you’re Parker Livingston. The business mogul got caught up just a month ago in a homicide investigation in his residence, although police quickly absolved himof any wrongdoing in the case.”
“Quickly?” Park said.
“Hush,” said Jackson.
“After an altercation with the perpetrator of that crime,” the anchor continued, “Livingston gave a press conference in which he announced he’s gay.” The screen flipped to the clip of Park at his press conference explaining that having his life threatened had caused him to rethink his priorities. “Reports arethat Livingston and Thompson met a few days later and vowed to keep the campaign clean, limiting their talk to the issues. Both candidates have stuck to that for the most part. Thompson ran a series of ads calling for tighter regulations on Wall Street, and Livingston ran ads accusing Thompson of wanting to expand the government too much. So I believe what this election really came down to wasthe issues.”
The reporter turned to her coanchor, who said, “Or whether or not you believe Livingston was involved in that homicide.”
“Or whether voters think his homosexuality ought to be an issue,” the first anchor volleyed back.
Park groaned. “I’m going to get slaughtered.”
“Exit polls indicate it’s close.” Martha kept her tone light.
“Exit polls are always wrong,” saidSam.
Park wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and sat up again. He was reluctant to leave Jackson’s embrace, but he felt restless and itchy. He had a hard time sitting still when so much of his future hinged on the decision of a few million people. The worst part was that there was nothing more he could do to sway opinion; he couldn’t run more ads or give more speeches. Everyone had decided.It was over.
Now they just had to wait for the results.
“Whether or not I have a job after the new year is not the only thing at stake here,” Park told Martha. “Jackson promised to dance with me at the party downstairs if I win.”
“Only if he wins, though,” Jackson said.
Martha leaned back a little on the sofa. “Just think, Park. You could be about to be the second openly gay memberof the Senate. The two of you should create some kind of caucus.”
“If I get elected.” Park glanced back at Jackson, who had been trying to tell him for weeks that his election would be a major civil rights victory. Park wasn’t really comfortable being considered that sort of hero, especially not after the RNC started trying to hold him up as some kind of token, but he supposed he should beglad that this campaign had given him the opportunity to change his life. He was with Jackson now, and he didn’t have to hide it. Park’s father was unhappy about that, and had, in fact, told Park that he was throwing his life away on a whim, but Park had long since decided he was done letting his father meddle in his affairs.
The most amazing part was that once the campaign started rollingagain, Jackson had gotten caught up in it. He was fully on board with Park’s career, though they were still talking in the abstract about how to maintain a relationship with Park bouncing between Washington and New York. If that even became an issue.
After a commercial break, the newscasters came back on the TV. “Welcome back to our election coverage. We now have forty percent of precinctsreporting. The Senate race is officially still too close to call, but we’re showing Parker Livingston with a slight lead.”
Park stopped breathing. Jackson rubbed his back.
While watching the newscasters rotate through the other races, Park asked Jackson, “What will you do for me if I don’t win?”
Jackson considered. “Cake? Whisky? I don’t know. You’re not going to lose.”
