I glanced at Ben again, wondering how far I should take it. Should I be honest, or say something I thought would appeal to Ely, who’d lived for the sixty-five years of his life in this small, conservative ranching district—and who, by all evidence, largely eschewed the company of people in favor of cows?
But Ben’s eyes had a faraway look in them, like he was imagining his own future, so I couldn’t read his reaction.
Left to my own devices, I took a deep breath and decided to go with my instincts. “Well, Ely, I want a future where we reverse the damage corporations have done to the earth, and everyone takes responsibility for caring for our planet, like you do here on your ranch. Where no people have to migrate because of water or resource shortages, and no animals go extinct or lose their homes. I want humans to begoodfor this planet.”
“What else?” Ely asked. He wasn’t looking at me.
“What do you mean?”
“Besides the environment. Anything else you care about?”
Yes, actually. There was a lot. But it wasn’t good comms to go off message. And I would probably be a terrible political strategist if I showed more of my cards. I glanced at Ben—but he was still dreamy, still no help.
I considered the impression I’d gotten of Ely today: independent and hardworking, sure, with that tried-and-true Texas cowboy streak, but also kind at his core, a kind man, willing to go out of his way to help others. And lonely. I thought back to his comment that Senator Wayne didn’t visit as much as he wished, and decided to go out on a limb.
“I want a future where everyone has the right to love whomever they want,” I said carefully, watching his face, though it stayed unreadable. “Be whoever they are in their hearts, and feel safe and secure with the food and housing and education they need to thrive.” Just like that, I fell into the familiar rhythm of the words I’d written in college, back when I used to imagine myself as a candidate in need of a platform—before Andy Elliot took the president slot, publicly humiliated me, and I stopped running for things. “I want a future where we’ve dismantled systemic sexism and racism and every other bias that keeps cis straight white men in charge of society and everyone else under their heels. I want innovation and competitionandstrong safety nets. I want to celebrate autonomyandrecognize the fact that we’re all hopelessly bound together, whether we like it or not.”
I paused. There was plenty more, but I tried to read the proverbial room. In my experience, telling older white men you wanted to level out their power didn’t often go over well. Neither did using the wordcis.
Across the fire, Ben’s eyes were shining. The sight stiffened my spine. I looked at Ely. He upended his cup and set it on the grass next to his chair, casting his eyes up to the stars. “That’s an awful lot of political ambition for an electric vehicle employee.”
“I guess—”
“But,” he interrupted softly, “it sounds pretty nice to me.”
When my eyes could barely stay open anymore, Ely poured water on the fire and we watched the wood-scented smoke curl skyward. Sleepily, we gathered our things and made our way back to his house. We stopped in the living room.
“I apologize, but I only have the one guest bedroom.” Ely’s mustache twitched as he stifled a yawn. “I do have this couch, though. Fairly comfortable.” He looked between me and Ben. “I don’t want to presume whether you’re together. I could take a guess, of course, by your chilly demeanor and all those sidelong looks, like a couple after a fight, but—”
“The couch’ll be fine,” Ben said hurriedly.
“Just warning you, it gets cold out here. You’ll want blankets.” Ely headed for his bedroom.
“Ely?” I called.
He turned.
“I don’t want to be presumptuous, because you’ve done more than enough for us. But is there any chance you’d consider talking to Senator Wayne about our bill?”
Ely gave me a weary smile. “I think it’s time we let some young people with better ideas and possibly better hearts take their shot. I’m tired of letting the old ways dictate my life. Doing what other people tell me, just because someone made up the rules a long time ago. It’s time to shake things up.”
Again, I got the feeling Ely was talking about something bigger than electric cars and climate change.
“So I’ll do you one better,” he continued. “I’ll talk to John and I’ll write a piece for theStatesman. I’ve only done it a few times over the years, and it always gets his attention.” He smiled ruefully. “I think it’s about that time again.”
My heart glowed, and I couldn’t help it—I reached for Ely, pausing only to make sure it was okay.
“Bring it in,” he said, lifting his arms.
I wrapped him in a hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
13
A Curious Case of Insomnia
I tossed, and I turned; I pulled the blankets over my head so all I could see was cottony darkness. I counted to one hundred, counted sheep, hummed the only four bars I could ever remember to “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”
Andstill. My eyes were drawn to the bedroom wall—on the other side of which Ben Laderman was stretched out on Ely’s couch, sleeping. There was only a thin layer of drywall and plaster separating his body from my body.
