A Special Place for Women, Laura Hankin [brene brown rising strong .txt] 📗

the wear—rumpled, no makeup, gray strands in her shoulder-length black hair—looking up at me as if I’d dreamed her into being. As if I’d summoned her. Which, back in the woods for Samhain, I had.

She waited for me to say something, bracing herself for my disappointment—disappointment with her for failing, maybe, or disappointment with the system that chewed her up and spit her out, but it would be disappointment of some kind, because that was what she got from the world now.

But instead, what came out of my mouth was, “What are you doing here?”

That caught her off guard. “In New York City? Technically I live here.”

“Right, sorry, I just mean—I thought you were off the grid somewhere, walking in the woods.”

“Ah,” she said, sliding a politician’s veneer over herself, standing up a little straighter to give me a canned answer. “Yes, I was taking some time to reflect and consider how I could be of service in the future. But recently, I felt it was time to come back.”

“This is so fucking weird,” I said, dazed. “The timing. The coincidence.”

She furrowed her brow, trying to keep up her polite political smile, but one of her feet lifted slightly as if poised for flight, in case I turned out to be an unstable stalker, someone who’d spent all my money on votive candles of her face. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“No, I’m . . . My name is Jillian. I know Caroline Thompson and that whole group.”

At the mention of Caroline’s name, her jaw tightened, and she clicked her tongue. “Huh. Well, it was nice to meet you, Jillian. Keep fighting the good fight. Now, I should—” She began to turn away.

“I’m going to get justice for you,” I said in a low voice, and she turned back.

“Justice?” There were hardly any people around at this late, cold hour, and those who did pass by were paying us no mind. “I’m not sure what you mean by that.”

“I’m a journalist, and I’ve been looking into things.”

At the word “journalist,” she stepped back. “Oh. No. No thank you. I’m sorry, I’ve already talked to a lot of journalists. I’ve been followed and hounded even when I asked for privacy, and I would rather not—”

“But I know you weren’t threatening him,” I said. “I know that other people were involved, that bad crowd, and you didn’t deserve . . .” She blinked a few times and swallowed, so I continued. “Maybe we could go somewhere and talk, just for a little while.”

“I don’t think so. I’m trying to move on, and I don’t have any interest in relitigating or reliving it all.”

“But I’m angry!” I said. It just burst out and then, embarrassingly, tears began to well in my eyes. I remembered my mother telling me that when Nicole was sworn in as president, she would be happy, wherever she was. “They played God with you, and they ruined you, and I’m so angry about it all.”

She considered the pathetic spectacle of me for a moment, then walked up very close so that we were side by side at the railing, the water lapping before us. She put a hand on my arm. “Jillian, yes?” I nodded. “I’m going to say what I need to say now and then we’re going to be done with it, and this is all off the record, okay?”

“Sure,” I said, and wiped my eyes.

She let out a heavy, exhausted sigh. “I was getting good work done in that office, and I’m angry that it got cut short too. I’m heartbroken. But I also . . . Well, you know. I made a huge error in judgment. I’ve been trying to figure out why I did what I did, because I always thought I was pretty good at knowing what was right.”

“I know why,” I said. “You had all these outside influences pushing you—”

She gave a dry laugh. “Well, so what? So I was weak enough to change who I was entirely based on some outside influence?” She shook her head. “No. Pardon my French, but that’s bullshit. I made my own decisions.”

“But—”

She raised an eyebrow and said drily, “Do you want to know the grand result of my self-examination or not?”

I laughed, just a little bit, then sniffled. “I do, yes.”

“All right, then. I think . . . I think my foundation for running in the first place was shaky. A whole big house was built on top of it so quickly, but I hadn’t made sure that its base was secure. And because everything came so easily all of a sudden, I began to believe that I deserved it. I began to think that I was special.”

“You were—”

“Not just special. Better. That what I thought and wanted mattered more than anything else. Of course a handsome young man would fall for me. Our love was exceptional, so I was allowed to enjoy it, even though if someone else did it, I would think it was wrong. That’s what power will do to you, if you’re not watching out for it. I didn’t want to let go of a single thing that I had. I was ruining myself. So maybe it’s good that I have to start over. Because if I ever step back into the public eye, if I ever ask people to consider me in that way again, it’s going to have to be not for the glory or the flattery, but for something deeper.” She stared into my eyes, her voice growing fuller and more certain. “Sometimes, to make something strong, we have to tear out the rot in the foundation and start again.”

As she continued speaking, I felt the full force of her charisma. This woman truly could have been our president someday. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe she still could be. “It’s fine that you’re angry, Jillian. I’m angry too. But we have to use that anger to rebuild.”

Then she shook her head again, and the flame that had been roaring within her sputtered out, and she was just an ordinary woman