The original plan was to stay another night in DC and fly back to New York in the morning, but the moment we left the Capitol Building, Josephine demanded to be taken home. She didn't look well, so I suggested she eat something at the hotel while we gathered our belongings and I arranged transportation. When I told her the flights were full, and we'd have to hire a car, she was unfazed.
I want to leave.
Those were the last words she spoke. She's seated beside me in the town car now, thumbing through Instagram. Based on the glazed quality to her eyes, I'd say she's not actually seeing the media.
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A notification slides down from the top of her screen. She hesitates, reading the text from her father. It's quickly followed by another from her mom. There are a lot of emojis, both upset and congratulatory. I assume they're angry that Josephine's proposal was denied, but proud she had the guts to stand for what she believes in—to articulate herself in front of a hundred federal officials.
It's not the rejection of her bill that has upset Josephine. She was fine immediately after the hearing. Her demeanor changed when we met with Senator Wolfe. Her poker face was extraordinary, but I could smell the revulsion beneath her skin. I could see the hatred swirling in her irises. When he touched her arm, my first instinct was to break his. My instincts have been wrong before, but I still trust them. Better to be safe than sorry.
There's history between Josephine and Albert Wolfe, and I don't think it's political.
Josephine clicks the side of her phone, blackening the screen. We're northeast of Annapolis, but we still have four hours of travel ahead of us. I clear my throat, keeping an eye trained on the interstate.
"How do you know the Pennsylvanian Senator?" I ask.
"His daughter is the same age as me and Arabella," Josephine answers, as if she expected the question. "We went to school together. Wolfe was the Mayor of Philadelphia back then, but his family lived in New Hope."
True, true, true, true.
"Were you friends with his daughter?"
She stares out her window, the sunset reflecting in her eyes. "Arabella was."
True.
"They aren't friends anymore?"
"People fall in and out of relationships all the time," Josephine explains, turning her attention to me. I study the fine muscles in her face, searching for where she's hidden the mistruth. "One day, Arabella lost touch with Pippa. It was a natural separation. They were interested in different things."
That was an outright lie.
By the way Josephine is looking at me, she knows I'm aware of her falsehood. She continues to stare, her expression forlorn. Without using words, she's asking me not to pry. I nod once, returning my gaze to my own window. A black sedan passes our vehicle, going at least ten miles above the speed limit. It's not odd to break the law on this stretch of the interstate. State Troopers focus their efforts closer to city hotspots. We're nearly to the Chesapeake Bay. It'd be hazardous to make someone pull over on the bridge.
