Page 68 of Pride and Protest
BROWN, BUT NOT TOO DARK
I’m back in the saddle, DC! Thank you all for checking me out on my live feed. I want to apologize for losing it a few days ago, but Philly was tougher than I thought. Let’s talk about the way we treat each other online. The messages I got and the pictures I received were just relentless.” She pressed the answer button.
“Can I offer you a word of advice, Liza B.?” an older voice asked.
“The whole country is giving me advice, so go ahead,” Liza said with a sigh.
“You’ll never find me defending the rich, but that boy, the one with you in the photos, doesn’t deserve all of that garbage people are spewing about him either. We don’t want to win that way. You two should work together! Yeah, and build something better for Merrytown! He’s actually the person with the resources to fix it.” The caller’s excitement was palpable. Working with Dorsey was impossible. Right? He simply wanted to take his profit and go. He didn’t want collaboration. Besides, the way herbody acted around him—all of that breathing and eye contact. She wouldn’t last an hour without passing out.
“The community can help itself too. We don’t have to wait for manna from heaven. There are a lot of good people behind the scenes who are working on this problem.”
“Take the hard way then,” the caller said. Liza laughed. It was the type of thing Chicho would say.
The phone lines buzzed, but Liza didn’t have the heart to take any more calls. Nearly everyone was gone from the adjoining booths. Most of the offices were stark-white boxes. Booth G was one of the last booths standing. Liza knew her high-profile sponsor and international artist showcases were keeping her solid for now. But one false move and Liza knew she was out of a job.
Liza woke up to the soothing sound of her granny’s steady rocking. She smiled and stretched herself out on her tummy. The carton of ice cream tipped over empty in her bed. Her eyes were puffy and gritty. She’d cried all night, and she wasn’t sure it was entirely because of the internet taunting. Dorsey wasn’t turning out to be the petty tyrant she needed him to be. He was no man of the people by any means. But he was soft and careful with her, and no matter how hard she tried to deny it, his cerebral attention, his intellectual earnestness—turned out it was her brand.
She wanted desperately to feel this way about WIC. But Dorsey charged through all her thoughts like a—well, like a bull. She remembered him fastidiously setting his napkin on his lap at the Hotel Washington bar and insisting it would save his clothes. He was a man not so in love with his own opinion. Hewould do the work and learn when he had a blind spot. That was worth its weight in gold.
Why couldn’t you just eat Granny’s oxtails? You had an in!Then maybe she could start to explain to her family what was happening inside her heart.
When her eyes popped open, she saw Colin cross-legged on her granny’s rocking chair at the foot of her bed. Liza had been dodging him for two days, feigning cramps and a migraine to stay in her room. When she saw him suddenly rising out of the chair, she let out a clipped scream.
“Holy!” she said.
Colin closed his eyes. “I didn’t mean to surprise you.”
“Yes, you did.”
“I just wanted to see you relaxed. You always have this mad scowl on your face. It is really remarkable to see you sleeping so peacefully.”
Liza tried to keep her face flat. “Colin, did you need something?”
He drew in a deep breath. “Liza, you are all I ever think about. You’re bold and funny and though your breasts are below average compared to your mother and sisters, all I need is a handful”—he held out his palms—“and you still excite me physically a great deal.”
Liza pulled the blanket over her head. What could she do to make him go away?
“I need a Michelle Obama–type counterpart. Down, but not too militant. Brown, but not too dark. You polled excellently in Senator De Berg’s focus group. And I want you to be my wife.” His words tumbled over one another. “I know what you’re thinking:How can a woman like me ever measure up to the pressures of political life?You’ll meet a lot of public officials.”
“Colin,” Liza said warningly.
“I know you’re excited, but let me finish. I even thought of a way you can use that degree in international studies. We pulled some strings and got you a position on the evangelical station, focusing on women’s issues all around the world. Your segment is calledThe Prayer Corner. It’s a six-figure job, but you have to be done with all of that LGBTQ stuff. Keep some of those crazy opinions to yourself.” He made a fussy face. “Senator De Berg has even added a podcasting booth in our town house. I mean, the man is beyond generous. One theme he’s interested in is women taking on all of this MeToo nonsense. He thinks Christian women should stand up to this.”
“Colin!”
“Wait, I just made a few notes.”
“I’m sorry, but—”
“Wait.”
“No.”
“Liza, be reasonable.”
Liza picked up her bell hooks reader and hurled it at him. Next came Zora Neale Hurston. It was the Nabokov that got him square between the eyes. Colin rushed out of the room, holding his head and his midsection. The thundering hooves of her entire family shook the hallway.
Bev rushed into the room not two minutes later. “Are you soft in the head or something?” she shrieked.
