Once again, I kept silent about it and didn’t bother protesting my innocence. It wouldn’t have done any good and would have pissed off my parents even more.
Because ofcoursethey were going to believe Stella and her best friend, the daughter of the wealthy banker who held the mortgage on their farm, over their own son.
That’s okay. I held that betrayal—along with countless others—in reserve, stuffed deep into the secret well I specially dug to house all my resentment, anger, and other residual emotions left over from our childhood.
I think my sister was happier than I was when I decided to go into politics. It wasn’t easy to keep her and her friends at arm’s length while I served in the Nebraska Unicameral.
When I was elected to my first term in the US House, Stella was going to fly with me to Washington to watch my swearing in. She’d already talked it up to my parents about how excited she was to be going with me, and how proud she was of me.
Keep in mind, this wasbeforeI’d even officially extended her an invitation for the trip.
It was also far more care and concern than she showed me after I nearly died on the other side of the world. Although I learned from others she didn’t hesitate to cry about my injuries in front of people when she thought it’d earn her sympathy.
So to cut Stella out of the arrangements at that point would have upset my parents and created a rift I didn’t want to prematurely impose on my relationship with them. Unfortunately, my parents claimed they couldn’t take the time away from their farm but I arranged for them to watch the ceremony via the Internet.
That meant after the travel plans were finalized I told my chronically late younger sister that the charter flight my staff and I were taking left two hours later than it actually did.
Might have told Stella to meet me at the wrong airport, too.
Frankly, I hadn’t smiled so hard inyearsas I did when we landed in DC and I turned on my phone to find a flurry of first puzzled and then angry texts from my sister.
OfcourseI didn’t put it in writing when I told her the time and place to catch the charter. Are you nuts?
But for literally the first time in my life I was able to turn something around on my sister and my parents tookmyside. I mean, obviously,whywould I deliberately give Stella the wrong information about something so important? It’s not my fault she was more interested in talking about the outfit she planned to wear than listening to me relay vital details.
Yes, that would totally be Stella and my parents knew it, too. All of Stella’s life she’s gotten things wrong, including dates and times, due to her self-absorption and inattention to details.
Plus I made sure to mention it more than once to my parents how happy I was Stella would be in attendance.
Hey, gaslighting can flow both ways.
If nothing else my sister was a valuable teacher in demonstrating how I didn’t want to conduct myself while in office. Both her and her bestie, Grace Martin, who eventually ended up running for and winning my old US House seat after I became VP. Grace proved even more cut-throat and cunning than my little sister and I often wonder which of them was the more negative influence on the other.
This dysfunctional sibling dynamic we shared also meant I knew there was no way in hell I could ever let Stella—much less Grace—know my secret before I was ready to come out to my parents. She would have wielded it against me like a bloody cudgel.
I suspect Stella and Grace started planning how to use me to their advantage from the moment I filed to run for the House seat. Mostly because neither of them gave a single shit, flying or otherwise, about my life until that moment. They were also eager to leverage their relationship with me without actually doing any, you know, meaningfulworkto help my campaign.
Stella is, if nothing else, extremely resourceful when it comes to doing as little as possible and yet getting highly paid for it and claiming all the credit for herself. I think that’s why she gravitated toward working in public relations and lobbying. Politics is a natural fit for someone like her, who wants to glom onto the coattails of other people doing, you know,actualwork.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my little sister. But I stopped chasing her affection back when we were kids. I think I came to terms with our relationship long before I ever started coming to terms with the fact that I will likely never achieve the level of acceptance and respect and admiration I’m looking for from my father.
No, I don’t know why I can’t yet make peace with that.
Part of it might be because while I’ve seen my father express admiration and respect for others on occasion, I’ve yet to see my sister express a true emotion that didn’t first center on her. Maybe, deep down, part of me still hopes for a miracle with Dad while I know there is no possibility of one with my sister.
* * *
Joining ShaeLynn Samuels’presidential ticket and running as her VP means my life forever changes and jams me under an unpleasant microscope of public scrutiny that’s impossible to escape.
It also means Stella and Grace are more determined than ever to cozy up to me when it suits their purposes. I dodge my sister’s calls and texts several times a week.
At first I manage to conceal the worst of this from Leo, because I know damned well if he takes a stance against Stella to ruin her so she’ll quit bothering me she would stand zero chance against him. Neither would Grace. I don’t necessarily want Stella crushed, because that would hurt Mom and Dad. I just want her—and Grace—to leave me the hell alone and not drag me into their unethical and likely illegal activities.
Only when it becomes apparent that Stella has a more nefarious agenda do I finally limit her in-person access to me. The deciding factor is an impromptu private meeting one bitterly cold November afternoon not long after ShaeLynn’s first presidential election. I’m at my DC House office, where I’m wrapping up a few last details before my term as a US House rep officially ends. This is also well before Grace Martin runs for and is elected to what is about to become my old seat.
Somehow, Stella manages to sweet-talk her way into my office building via her friendship with another congressman’s staffer. Since I stupidly haven’t left orders restricting her access at that point my Secret Service detail admits her.
My gut tightens when Stella appears in the doorway of my inner office.
