Stevie McCord tipped toed inside the house, hoping against hope, that no one would still be up. It was 2 a.m. and in a perfect world her parents would have been asleep for hours. But she did not live in a perfect world. The very fact that she was tiptoeing into her parent's house proved it. Next week she would turn twenty-one and she was living with her parents, and constantly dodging press. Life was a million miles from perfect.
She should have just waited to come home in the morning. At this point what difference did it make? At least she could get some sleep before facing her parents. She was sick of being judged and evaluated. She suffered enough from the endless press. She didn't want to get the same looks from her parents. All in the Family? The cover of People magazine read. She'd seen it in the store the other day. A picture of the two of them standing together and laughing. Harrison Dalton's new love knows all about a life in politics.
All she wanted was to be left alone. She wanted to live her life and make her own choices without a panel discussing it. She didn't need her mother's staff discussing how it would look if she dropped her French literature class or what to do if a picture surfaced of her kissing the president's son.
It wasn't that she loved Harrison, or maybe she did - she couldn't seem to untangle all her feelings. She only knew that he understood. He had grown up with whispered conversations and secrets. He too had "aunts" and "uncles" who appeared and disappeared. It wasn't necessary to explain to him why she left school or was sick to death of reporters and questions. It was easy with him, and lately nothing had been easy.
She slid her shoes off as soon as she moved inside the entryway. Glancing around, it appeared that all the lights were off. Sighing with relief, she moved quietly toward the stairs. It was as she stepped onto the first step that a light clicked on, and she turned to see her parents sitting on the couch, waiting.
"Sorry, did I interrupt something?" She teased, hoping that she could distract them.
"Tragically, no." Her father said. "Come sit down."
"It's really late and I've got classes tomorrow . . ."
"So do I." His voice was sharp.
"Dad, can't we talk about this tomorrow? I'm sorry I was late, okay? I'll call next time."
"You are nearly twenty-one years old, Stevie. You aren't a child." Her mother said, finally speaking. "This isn't about breaking curfew or sneaking out."
She hesitated. It was so easy to get sucked into her mother's reasoning. Her mother's reasoning, like her fashion sense, was nearly always perfect. Of course she was an excellent choice for Secretary of State! Stevie could testify first hand to her mother's insanely effective debate skills.
"So, what's it about then?"
"Come. Sit. Down." The anger in her father's voice surprised her. But then again, his fuse had been shorter lately; since Iran.
She folded herself into a chair across from them, avoiding eye contact. It was hard for her to look her mother in the eye and remain unmoved. There was a level of sadness hidden behind the bright smiles.
"We need to talk about you and Harrison." She couldn't help but look up at her mother.
"It's nothing. We are just friends." She said shaking her head.
"It's two thirty in the morning. You were wearing a dress when you left." Her mother pointed to her clothes: jeans and a t-shirt.
"Jesus! Mom! Could you not be a spy for ten minutes of my life?"
"If you were trying to hide something, you need to work a lot harder at it. It doesn't take any espionage skills to recognize what's going on." Her father said. "And don't use that tone with your mother."
She exhaled slowly, trying to fight an overwhelming tide of fury. "Fine." She snapped angrily. "Tell me what you want to say."
"Honey, we are just concerned. You know Harrison isn't stable. He's been sober, what? Maybe thirty days?" Her father continued evenly.
"Thirty-six." She responded bitterly. "We are just friends."
"Does Harrison know that? When we were at that dinner the other night, I saw how he looked at you. Are you sure he understands?" Her mother asked.
"What?" Stevie shrugged her shoulders. "Of course he does."
"Because you talked about it?" Her mother pressed, but Stevie refused to respond. "Honey, you have to be careful. He isn't like you. He is fragile. You need to make sure things are clear. Have you even thought about how he feels?"
"What do you want me to do?" Stevie kept her voice flat. She did not want to get in an argument. She let a loud sigh. "Just tell me what I have to do."
"Hey!" Her father stood. "You are acting like we put ridiculous demands on you."
She glared up at him, responding without words.
"When I was your age I was . . ."
"A Marine." She finished for him. "Doing everything you could to get a good education. And she," She nodded at her mother, "was in Kenya digging wells before going to France to study with some of the richest brats on earth." She rose. "I know the stories."
"You are in a position of great privilege, Stevie. We let you take time off from school, we supported you. We are paying for your education. But you have to take some responsibility for your life! You can't keep drifting along, making decisions just to prove you aren't your mother! You are too old for this senseless rebellion!" His voice rose in anger.
"Henry," Her mother said gently. "Take it easy. Sit down."
He sat back down, looking up at Stevie as he did. "I'm sorry." He explained. "I just get frustrated. You are so bright and so amazingly talented. It hurts me to see you drift."
"I had a plan." Her voice was soft at first, but grew louder and angrier. "I went to school! I did everything right! I'm not the one who changed everything! I'm not the one who made it impossible! Everything got screwed up! It is impossible for me to do the things I want, okay? I am doing the best I can under the circumstances! I'm sorry my life's plan isn't perfect enough for you! I'm trying to make a life for myself, and I don't need you attacking me at two in the morning!"
"Plan?" Her mother asked. "Your plan is to hang out with a maybe-recovering heroin addict in secret? This is what you want?"
"Jesus! Mom! Why don't you just read me a headline! I don't need you telling me what I can read in line at the grocery store okay? You don't even understand! You, of all people, should know it's a lot more complicated than that!"
"You aren't fifteen and putting on black lipstick to prove you aren't me, Stephanie. You are a grown woman!"
"No. One thing is clear, I am most definitely not you! I'm not going to be valedictorian this time around! I'm not the wunderkid any more, okay! That's over! I'm not gonna win a Pulitzer Prize before I'm thirty, and I'm not going to broker world peace."
"Because that's what we've expected of you?" Her mother responded evenly.
"God! Listen, how about this? Lets save time and cut to the chase. You make a list of who I can date and where I can go. No, better yet, have your staff do it."
She hadn't realized she was shouting until she heard Ali's voice behind her.
"What's going on?" She asked, but no one responded. Jason stood just behind her, looking frightened and she felt a wave of guilt wash over her.
Her father rose, his face white with anger. "Listen," His voice was sharp and controlled. "I get that things have been hard for you, and I am sorry that you feel mistreated, but you are not going to talk to your mother like that. That isn't how we function. We don't do that. She doesn't . . ."
"Sure!" Her rage grew, all thoughts of her younger siblings swept aside in frustration. "We all know exactly where you stand, Dad. Mom, above all else! She wants to uproot all of us and drag us into the glare of the press, then you'll be there packing our bags! Anything for her!"
"Enough!"
"No!" She recognized she was shouting now, acting like a deranged twelve year old. "I'm sick of it! You didn't want to leave UVA! And why? For this? Alison never eats - she's so stressed all the time, Jason's been expelled! I can't take two steps without some asshole reporter following me and Mom's walking around in designer gowns pretending everything is just perfect while you wait in the wings with her bottle of Xanax!"
"I've never once taken one pill!" Her mother said her face tense with fear, anger and stress.
"No! God forbid you should do something for yourself! It's the goddamn job above all else; above even you! Pretend to sleep at night, have your clothes altered to fit as you shrink and shrink, and put a pretty smile on your face - Team McCord is 100% awesome!" She didn't hold back now, fueled by frustration, anger and a little too much wine.
"Hey," Her father moved toward her, a hand outstretched. "Everything is okay. Everything is going to be okay."
"No, it isn't." Jason's bitter voice surprised all of them.
"Jason," Her mother rose, going to him. "Go back to bed. This is between Stevie, your father and me." She kissed his forehead. "It's okay. I am okay!" She reached out squeezing Alison's arm. "Stevie is just upset. I am fine. Go on, now, both of you, go to bed. We are just working some things out."
"Right." Jason said, stepping back from her. "You are great and everything is fine."
"The McCord Family Lie: We are just great, thanks!" Stevie said bitterly.
"Stop being such a jerk!" Alison said. "You aren't helping!"
"God forbid, anyone should tell the truth!" Stevie continued angrily.
"That's enough!" Her father shouted.
"Right." Stevie said glancing around her family. "It is enough. I've had enough!" She reached out grabbing a nearby empty glass that was sitting on the coffee table. "And everything is just great. She left us and walked into a middle of coup and you let her do it! Four agents got killed including her body man! But everything is just great. A little PTSD is no big deal! She's great!"
She glared at them for a long second and then lifting high the glass, threw it down violently. It smashed into pieces, shattering loudly as it did. Her mother immediately covered her ears crouching low, her face white.
The room remained frozen for a long, slow, silent moment. The only sound; only movement came from her mother who still cowered, her shallow panicked breathing and soft whimpers punctuating the silence. Her father leapt into action then, rushing to her side. "Elizabeth!" His voice rose in pitch. "It's okay." He knelt beside her, an arm wrapped around her.
Stevie's eyes grew wide with shock and she stared down at her own hand in disbelief. She couldn't believe it; couldn't believe she'd been so cruel. She looked up glancing around. Jason's head was down as he cried and glaring at her, Alison put her arm around their baby brother, staring at her with open hatred. Her eyes landed on her parents, her mother pale, trembling and fighting to regain control, her father close beside her, whispering encouragement. He looked up at her and she actually took a step back in fear.
"Get out!"
She found herself stumbling, as she staggered back and away. The words themselves were delivered quietly; like a hiss. Grabbing her bag she stumbled out into the dark night sobbing and alone.