VOLUME | ONC 2023

14. Quotidian Dreams

Roosevelt...

I was convinced.

The woman was teasing me now, gliding across the floor like a damn nymph.

I would've given her more flack had she not been the picture of pure joy. I wouldn't steal this moment away from her, namely because it meant I could observe her engulfed by sheer exhilaration.

She could take as much time as she wanted, looking like that.

That dress. The way the material fanned across her glistening brown shoulders, her clavicle and elfin décolletage on display. How the gown cascaded from that subtly audacious split at her thigh when she walked. It was almost too tantalizing for the formalities of a Capitol Hill celebration, but I was a biased man.

She embraced an elderly Black minister I recognized from his position on the floor during the political trouncing.

A clap on my shoulder had broken the trance. Senator Mike Mansfield looked at me like a coach on the sidelines of a football field, "You ought to be very proud of yourself, Marshall. None of this would be possible without the efforts of you and Ev's team. You have a very bright future ahead of you. Keep it up."

I was beaming, "Thank you, sir. It's an honor and a privilege to serve, and I look forward to continued progress."

The Majority Leader from Montana stuck his hand out, and I grasped it. The shake felt like a promise of more to come.

I didn't consider it lucky that one of Senator Dirksen's legal aides had been my roommate at Harvard. He'd told me they needed extra eyes to review the House bill, especially after Dirksen's hospitalization. The man had taken a dog-eared copy of the damn document while doctors addressed his bleeding ulcer.

On cue, the relentless senator himself cropped up. Dirksen's gaze was penetrating, "I'm proud of you, son. Real proud."

The man with the tortoise-shell glasses and untamed curly hair smiled at me. The dark circles beneath his eyes had lightened since I had seen him last. The fatigue that had plagued him like a ghost did nothing to dim the appreciative gleam in his gaze.

My cheeks would surely ache tonight.

"Thank you, Senator. I'm honored that you'd trust me."

Dirksen leaned in, lowering his voice, "And you tell Miss Smith that she's a real asset to the team."

My eyebrows shot up. I hadn't known that the senator had ascertained the scope of Lizzie's contributions to the research.

I nodded, exchanging a knowing glance with the man before the senatorial pair departed.

From across the room, I watched President Johnson chuckle at something Senator Humphrey was saying. I itched to approach the man nestled in the middle of his congressional entourage but mentally scoffed; the rigor of getting to him only to exchange meaningless pleasantries.

The whole venture wouldn't be worth the time away from Lizzie. I scanned the room searching for the woman who had my heart in a vice grip.

Lizzie was nowhere to be found.

I strode out of the ballroom with a singular focus. A smattering of well-dressed Statesmen and their plus-ones adorned the hotel's lobby.

"Sir, can I fetch you a car?" A uniformed concierge approached me with a polite smile.

Like a parched cowboy in Tombstone, I thirsted to get to that room. I was hungry to be alone with her.

The Willard was only a few blocks away.