Page 59 of Fundamentals of Being a Good Girl
We approach the white building, which is labeled with a wooden sign that readsORIGINAL TERRELL TOWNSHIP ONE-ROOM SCHOOLHOUSE IN USE FROM 1869–1963.
“Are you teaching me another lesson?” I ask as Bram opens the door for me.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Because I don’t know if I have an answer.” The door swings shut behind us. It’s cold inside, but we’re protected from the wind at least. There are about fifteen desks lined up in front of a teacher’s desk with an old dusty chalkboard lining the far wall.
Bram weaves in and out of the rows, patiently silent because he knows that I’ll talk. Eventually.
“I’ve been in survival mode for the last few months,” I tell him. “I think I could love teaching one day. There are aspects I love about it now. But—”
“It’s not enough.”
“I don’t know.” There’s a hint of frustration in my voice now. “I went from being Gentry’s soon-to-be-wife with a whole future planned out for us to trying to figure out where to sleep at night. I’d been with Gentry through every major decision-making moment of my life recently. The last year of undergrad. The end of law school. All of those moments when I would have decided what comes next were navigated with him in mind. Sometimes I wonder if I even know myself well enough to know what I want.”
He leans against the desk, his legs spread out, and shakes his head with a grin.
“What?”
“Just the thought of you not knowing yourself... it’s hard to imagine, is all. I’ve never met someone who seems so... so fully formed.”
I’m drawn to him. Something magnetic in my veins pulls me to him and soon I’m standing between those tree trunk thighs. “I wish I could see myself how you see me.”
He smooths my wind-tousled hair behind my ears and the way he looks down at me is so open and tender that I nearly backpedal away from him. “I do too, baby.”
“I’m thinking about running for office. Um, there are a few different positions coming up for election,” I say. It’s the first time I’ve admitted it out loud. But besides being Bram’s good girl, it’s the only thing I can think about. Now that I’ve imagined it, my brain can’t unknow the possibility. And maybe things are different in the Midwest than they are in California. Maybe people won’t be so concerned about the fact that I have heavy hips and round cheeks.
“Good,” Bram says, his hands resting on my waist. “You would be so well suited to that, Madelyn. You’re fierce, engaging, and incisively intelligent—plus your poker face is the best I’ve ever seen. But Veronica Balentine isn’t how you get there.”
“How do you—”
“Sloane mentioned that she thought you might have spoken to her.” One hand comes up to cup my cheek. “Do you know how hard it’s been to stay away from you for the last few days?”
“Yes, in fact, I do. But don’t distract me. Not yet. What do you think you know about Veronica Balentine?”
“I don’tthinkI know anything. I do know that whatever she’s promising you is not worth the price of admission.”
“Oh, so you think that I can’t handle myself around someone like Veronica? I’ve been playing chess with people worse than her for the last three years, Bram. At least Veronica is honest about what she is.”
“And what’s that?”
I can’t help but bristle, especially because I admire Veronica in a way. And maybe I even recognize parts of myself in her—parts that haven’t had much screen time but are there all the same. “Someone who’s willing to get their hands dirty so other people can keep their hands clean. People like me. Besides, her only job is to get me into office. It would be up to me to stay there.”
“I’ve been around long enough to know that everyone who works with Veronica thinks that the end justifies the means, but if you win with her, you will never stop owing her and the people who hired her. You don’t want that.”
“Funny how you think I’m so sure of myself but can’t trust me to know what I want.”
For a brief second, he appears wounded, but then his brow flattens into... not quite serenity, but something just as level.
“This isn’t about me not trusting you, Madelyn. This is about me not trusting Veronica Balentine and the very deep pockets she works for.”
I feel defensive and prickly, but also, this is the first time in three years that someone has thought of me first. Not the platform or the party or the constituents or the polls, but me.
And yet, I want this. I want to see where things could go with Veronica, because for so long I thought my best shot at navigating change was to be the smiling, charitable woman on Gentry’s arm. There could have been power in that, yes, but being the actual candidate and not just the spouse could someday put me at the table where real decisions are made. And why shouldn’t the chubby girl from a run-down neighborhood who had to navigate Medicaid on her mom’s behalf get a crack at real power?
I’ve learned some things about Bram in the last few weeks. I’ve learned that he grew up without his parents, but that his grandparents took him in right away. That they owned a successful chain of plant nurseries, and the bills were always paid and there was always plenty left over. The first time he knew struggle was when he and Sara got pregnant, and even then, they could have had a safety net if theyreallyneeded it. A safety net I never felt like I had.
For as kind and fair that I know Bram to be, I also know that he hasn’t had to confront the possibility of doing questionable things on the way to doing good things.
