Tales of the District

On Pennsylvania Avenue all traffic was stopped for blocks as a presidential motorcade passed. Sirens screeched as a dozen police motorcycles and cars led a line of several large black cars with tinted windshields away from the White House.

Dan looked at his watch and cursed the traffic.

“On days like this I fantasize about living in a cabin on a lake in some remote place, like Maine.”

“You’d last about five minutes,” Rita Jane said. “You’d be bored out of your mind without the gossip and intrigue of Washington.”

Although sitting in a traffic jam was not exactly fun, at least she was out of the hospital, where she had spent most of her time since Claudia was admitted. She took Dan’s advice and closed her eyes. She felt lighter than she had in a long time. For months she had been comparing herself with Claudia, wishing she were the pregnant one. Each time Claudia vomited or complained about being exhausted, Rita Jane imagined that her body would have tolerated pregnancy better. Now the jealousy was gone, replaced with real concern for Claudia and the baby.

The cab dropped them at the Independence Avenue entrance at 9:55 and they pushed their way to the head of the security line and sprinted to the Judiciary Committee hearing room just as Weymouth was beginning his opening remarks.

Weymouth called Dan to the witness table and began asking him about the FBI visits. Rita Jane knew that Claudia had already been asked about them and wondered why the Chairman was asking them again. He then asked Dan where he worked and he asked him to describe OutReach.

As soon as Weymouth finished questioning Dan, Congressman Blake, who looked like a cross between Smoky the Bear and Humpty Dumpty said, “Excuse me, Mr. Chairman, I’d like to ask this witness a few questions with your permission.”

Rita Jane racked her memory for where she had heard of Blake and remembered that OutReach had quoted him as saying that the answer to the problem of homosexuality was for gay people to accept Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior.

Blake looked disdainfully at Dan who attempted a look of nonchalance, but Rita Jane knew he was nervous. “Mr. Canavan. I understand from your testimony that you are a ho-mo-sex-ual?” He said it slowly, articulating each syllable.

Dan hesitated. “Yes, that is correct.”

“Yet isn’t it true that you had a sexual relationship with Claudia Connors?”

The room stirred and Rita Jane said a quick prayer for Dan to keep his cool. “It wasn’t exactly a relationship,” Dan said, sounding ridiculous, even to himself.

“Oh really,” Blake said dramatically. “What would you call it?”

“We’re friends,” Dan said simply.

“But you had sex with her,” Blake persisted.

“One time,” Dan answered.

“I see,” Blake said.

“If it’s only one time, it doesn’t count?” A burst of laughter escaped from the audience. Weymouth pounded the desk with his gavel.

“I don’t see the point of this line of questioning,” Weymouth interrupted. “Please stick to relevant questions.”

“This is relevant, Mr. Chairman,” Blake said. “This man is trying to give this committee the impression that the FBI was unfairly harassing him, when in fact the agents were well within their rights to search his house.”

“I allowed that question,” Weymouth said, “But I hardly think whether Mr. Canavan has one-night stands is relevant to our inquiry.”

“It goes to the question of his char-ac-ter,” Blake said. “What kind of man impregnates his friend and then leaves her to have the child on her own?”

Weymouth said, “Out of order. The last remark will be stricken from the record.” He turned the full force of his wrath on Blake. “You may ask questions but you may not engage in character assassination. Do you understand?”

“I’ll rephrase it,” Blake said smugly. “Isn’t it true that you impregnated Claudia Connors and deserted her, forcing her to raise the child on her own?”

Rita Jane was so furious she wanted to stand up and scream that Claudia hadn’t even wanted to have the baby, that it was Dan who had been willing to raise it. Dan cleared his throat and took a deep breath.

“It is not true. I have not abandoned Claudia Connors. We are not married, but I will support her and the child.”

“Is this your idea of family values, Mr. Canavan?”

There was so much commotion in the room, few heard his answer. Rita Jane had wanted to run up to the desk and hug Dan, and then go punch Blake in the nose. She was grateful when Weymouth announced a two-hour recess for lunch.

They went to Tortilla Coast, the Mexican restaurant behind the Rayburn Building that was always swimming with staffers and lobbyists. Rita Jane, who never drank at lunch, ordered a large Margarita. Dan sipped iced tea and picked at his food, too upset to eat anything. Rita Jane ate the entire basket of tortilla chips, alternating the sweet taste of the drink with the salty taste of the chips.

“At least the worst is over,” Dan said. “The worst has come out.”

“It was so hard to sit there and be quiet. I wanted to stand up and yell at Blake that you hadn’t abandoned your baby, you had saved it.”

“I don’t think that would have helped matters,” Dan said. But then he smiled. “It would have made a good headline, though. ‘Gay Catholic man saves his unborn child from abortion by a pregnant lesbian terrorist’.”

They burst into hysterical laughter — the kind that made your stomach hurt — drawing attention from the other patrons. Before they left, Rita Jane had managed to get Dan to eat half of a black bean burrito, convincing him that he needed to keep up his strength.

They walked back to the Rayburn Building together. As they arrived at D Street, Rita Jane heard someone call Dan’s name. She assumed it was a reporter.

“I’m going inside to get a seat,” Rita Jane said leaving Dan. “Good luck.”

Rita Jane walked past the attractive man and smiled at him, but he didn’t notice her. She hadn’t gone 10 feet before she heard the shot. She turned to see Dan on the ground, blood pouring from his head.