The Threat

“I talked to some people I know.” He laughed. “I do have friends. They’re not exactly De Bari fans either, but they’re not part of this. They say the smartest thing for me would be to get as far away as I can.”

“I think they might be right. At least for now.” She touched his sleeve.

“That’s what I figured too.”

“And how about us, Dan?” She took his hand, but didn’t meet his eyes. “Okay, it’s time for me to say it. When you needed help, I was ready to point it out. But I wasn’t exactly there for you when it got rough, was I?”

“You tried. I wasn’t a very good listener, though.”

She nodded soberly. “Okay. We were both assholes.”

“Well, that’s what we still are. In a lot of people’s books.”

“Something in common?”

“I guess.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m still not happy you could think that about De Bari and me. But I’m sorry I didn’t see what was happening either, and try to help.” She bit her lip; he saw this wasn’t easy for her, either. “Uh — shall we try it again?”

He didn’t have to think about that. “I’d like to,” he told her. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Then let’s do it.”

“I always loved you. And I still do.”

“I love you too,” she said. She coughed, and rubbed her eyes, and he saw she was weeping. He’d never seen her cry before. It didn’t seem like her. “I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. And I’ll try not to be such a fucking asshole this time. We’re both tough to live with, I guess. And we’re both so fucking busy. So maybe we deserve each other. Oh — damn it — I’m crying. God, I hate that,” she said furiously, looking around as if afraid someone would take a picture.

“It’s not a problem,” he told her. “I feel that way myself sometimes. Maybe you should just let go more often.”

“Just let go, huh?”

“Not in meetings, though.”

“No, not in meetings,” she said. “Not in this town, anyway.”

He tilted her face up and wiped the corners of her eyes gently with his thumbs. She closed them and took a shuddering breath, and laid her face against his shoulder.

Holding her, pressing her against him with his still painfully skinned palms, he looked past her, down on the alabaster city.

He thought of what Washington, and America, had been when he was young, and of how much had changed. From protest to conformity. From openness to secrecy. From confidence to carefully inculcated fear.

Sometimes he thought the dream of democracy might be ending. As it had for Rome long before. Bringing a new imperial age. Dictatorship. Slavery. And unending war.

If the choice was empire, then the threat was clear. The threat would be America herself — her power, her violence, her blind, crusading arrogance.

But he couldn’t allow himself to believe that. Not yet.

A crippling fear lurked deep in his country. It always had. But then, so did courage.

And so far, courage had always won.