A flurry of red hearts lights up the corner of the screen. “I’ve completely fallen in love here.” My heart skips a little. I meant the place, but in saying the words aloud I realize that’s not really what I meant. “I know, I know. You’re probably sick of hearing aboutmy love life, or lack thereof, but it’s true. I’ve fallen in love with an. . . amazing person.” Me two months ago would be mortified to know I’m saying this all publicly, and that I am willingly allowing my personal life to be part of the cultural conversation again, but fuck it. I love Benito. I am in love with Benito.
“After. . . everything that happened with my leaked texts, with the scandal that came from it, I felt so embarrassed to be in love, especially with someone who clearly didn’t love me back. I thought the exposure of those texts made me look weak. That they made me look like a kid with a crush, like I didn’t care about my work as much as I cared about getting a text back from the boy I liked. But that’s bullshit.”
The wind whips my hair into my face, and I brush it back behind my ears. “Someone really wise recently said to me ‘It’s brave to love someone when you don’t know if they love you back.’” I smile at the memory. Benito and his bright eyes. “Love makes me strong. Loving someone when I don’t know if they love me back requires strength; it requires resilience. I know that because that’s how I feel about all of you.
“I fought for my constituents, for Los Angeles, for California, for the world, because I love it. Even when I didn’t know if you all loved me back, I still fought for you because I love you. I love my city, I love my community, I love my fellow people, and that didn’t go away just because the world decided not to love me anymore.”
I stand up a little straighter. “And that’s why I’m coming back. I’m not done yet. You have not heard thelast from Izzy Rhodes. I don’t know what’s next for me, but I know I want to continue to work for the people and the place that I love so much. Because that’s what you do when you love someone. You fight for them.”
This entire video will definitely be headline news by the time the morning shows air, but good. It should. Let them know that I’m back and this time, I’m not going anywhere.
“Izzy!” I hear a commotion from the other side of the platform, followed by heavy steps running toward me. I turn to see a man in a blue button-down, linen pants, and a sleepy grin now a few feet away from me on the platform.
Benito.
His presence catches me off guard. I thought we left things on a perfect albeit bittersweet note. I rest my phone on top of my suitcase, failing to turn the video off, and watch as he jogs to close the distance between us. “What are you doing here?” I ask.
He’s out of breath but wide-eyed, a look of determination on his face. “You said I deserve a chance to figure out where my heart truly lies.” I nod. He runs his hand through his hair, which makes my heart twist. “What if it’s right here?”
“In La Musa?” I ask. Benito spending the rest of his life here—I can picture it. Turning old and gray amidst the unchanging view. I feel a strong pulse of longing that I won’t be here with him to witness it.
“No.” He shakes his head. He takes a step closer to me, winding his hands into my hair and pressing his forehead to mine. “Right here.”
It feels good, too good to be near him again. My body already aches knowing it won’t last. “I can’t stay here,” I say, my heart tearing apart. If he begged me to stay, I’d be tempted, but I can’t. I know I can’t.
“I know,” he says. “But I can go anywhere. I want to be wherever you are, because I love you, Izzy.” I try to feel the earth under my feet, digging my thumbnail into my finger to make sure I’m not dreaming. He sweeps my hair out of my face. “I am so in love with you. And I can’t even begin to think of coming up with my own dreams without being there to bear witness to yours.” Not bothering to wait for my response, he closes the last gasps of air between us, pressing his lips to mine. His kiss is soft and light and I’m only moderately aware that I’m still broadcasting all of this live.
I pull away, but only enough to whisper back, “I love you too.”
He grins. “I need time to sort out the mess with my family, to figure out a job, how to move to be with you, how to—”
“Build a life in Los Angeles with me?” I ask.
There are logistics, there will be a media storm to contend with once I get home, but whatever. Benito loves me, and he wants to be part of my dream. If people want to judge me for that, then so be it.
His grin widens. “Maybe I’ll work at a flower shop or something.”
Epilogue
SIX MONTHS LATER
I bite my nails, tearing off a big chunk of what has already basically been chewed down to the stubs. It’s a much smaller gathering than a year ago, but the wine is flowing and I’ve already had to refill the charcuterie board twice. Marisol is here, talking my father’s ear off about solar panels and lightly scolding him for not installing them on the roof of the house sooner. I’ve been consulting on her campaign for the past few months and will likely take on an even bigger role in the new year. Kate is her campaign manager and also currently dipping a carrot into hummus—while my campaign was a much lower-key affair this time around, she lent me her expertise when she had the chance.
I moved out of my parents’ house and into my own apartment off Melrose Place. It has arched doorways, ancient appliances, the original carpets, and tons of charm. I start my day with coffee on my balcony that looks out to the Hollywood hills. I miss La Musa every day. I miss Benito every day, but he’ll be here as soon as his visa is sorted out, and I’ve never been so happy to be home.
My newly re-energized Instagram following can’t wait either—ever since I unintentionally broadcasted Benito’s love confession to the entire world, every post is full ofWe need #Benizzy! We demand more #Benizzycomments.
I refresh the browser on my laptop and squeal. Kate motions for the party to quiet down. I hold my breath as the results load.
Mid-City West Neighborhood Council Election Results
Council Board Members: Lucas Leung [Incumbent], Surabhi Veenapani [Incumbent], Julian Cabrera, Emily Smith, and Izzy Rhodes.
The room erupts into cheers and applause. Marisol hugs me and my mom kisses my head. It’s not Congress or the Senate, but I’m back in public office. After this I could run for City Council, State Assembly, Senate, governor, eventually president. The future is wide open. Maybe I’ll crash and burn in pursuit of my dream again, maybe I’ll never get past this step, but I have to keep going, I have to keep trying. Maybe the dream isn’t the destination, it’s the journey—or whatever the wooden sign my mom bought at HomeGoods said.
The buzzer in my apartment rings and interrupts the celebration. It’s a late straggler to the party, but the booze is free-flowing, so the more the merrier. “Come on up!” I say in the intercom and buzz them in, opening the door to greet whoever is headed up the exterior stairs.
My breath catches in my lungs when I see thefamiliar gait, the tousled hair, and the shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbows. I quickly shut the door behind me, quieting the party inside.
