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- 08/28/2022
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Everhope - Summer of '22 Book II - 3. Departure [Epilogue]
CJ shaved and wore a suit; Owen remained scruffy and dressed in jeans and a blazer. The Nature Conservancy had a more relaxed attire policy than the State Department. “Red, take a picture?” CJ handed their housemate his phone while adjusting Liebe in his arms.
“The three of you look like the ultimate millennial gay family. Are you gonna post it? If not, I’m sending it to Cristina. She’d like it.” Cristina Pereira was Brad’s girlfriend who lived in New York City.
“Yeah, I will. Might as well mark my departure from State and whatever it’ll be for Ozzie at the Conservancy.”
Both had appointments at their employers on Monday morning, and Liebe would go with Owen. His coworkers clamored to see her after their return. “Let’s go, Oz. I need to catch the next train if I’m gonna make it in time for my appointment at nine.”
Liebe was cheerful while walking to the Eastern Market Metro station. CJ had bribed her with breakfast tacos, and she agreed to wear the same dress she wore to the White House. Considering her predilection for shorts and t-shirts, they wanted to get as much wear out of the outfit she would soon outgrow.
When the Silver Line train stopped at the Foggy Bottom-GWU station, CJ kissed his husband and daughter—they planned on having lunch together—and headed to the exit. The station, located next to George Washington University Hospital, was a six-minute walk from School Without Walls High School. Since it was on his way, CJ detoured via G Street to walk past his old school.
Walls occupied two adjacent structures within the urban campus of George Washington University. One was the old, brick-clad Ulysses S. Grant School, and the other one a modern facility constructed at the same time the Grant building was gutted and renovated. The glass façade of the addition sat a few feet back from the original edifice and had a low, short wall in front with the school name on it. Around this sign, students congregated before and after classes and during lunch breaks.
At the moment, it was empty, and CJ assumed the school was between sessions. Brad had spoken at graduation while they were in Key West, and CJ had called the principal already. A family friend, she extracted a promise to visit her soon and speak to the students in the fall.
Another six minutes walking, including a right turn on 21st Street, found him at the United States Department of State. His appointment was with Victoria McCallister. CJ had no idea who she was—her title was Acting Assistant Deputy Undersecretary for something or other—and he did not bother looking her up; as far as he was concerned, the meeting was his exit interview.
“Are you certain you want to make your resignation official as of today? You have ten days remaining on your paid leave.” McCallister looked like the ultimate drone, a vital cog in the machinery of international diplomacy, but a tiny one.
It was the kind of position CJ could look forward to if he remained with State as part of the civil service. He and Owen had agreed he might seek a political appointment in a couple of years instead.
“I am.” CJ grinned. “I already resigned once, and you people ignored me. I’m making sure it sticks this time.”
She chuckled. “Considering the circumstances and who you were talking to, we think Ambassador Cox made the right decision disregarding it and asking us to grant you leave.” Early in their meeting, McCallister had noted the substandard evaluation submitted by his nemesis at the embassy in Mexico City, Stephen Northman.
She also mentioned Northman was being transferred to Angola, and CJ knew he would have to call his friend Simmone to get details. Simmone Newman had been a coworker at the embassy, and her daughter had babysat Liebe.
As the conclusion of the meeting neared, CJ reached into his bag and withdrew a clear envelope with three diplomatic passports. Victoria raised a hand and shook her head. “At the request of the White House, you get to keep those for a while. Something about you and your husband being part of a presidential delegation this fall.”
The couple had agreed the first one done would pick a spot for lunch and text the other one. CJ chose to return home, change, and grab Wingnut. La Famosa, the Puerto Rican restaurant at Navy Yard, had an outdoor patio where pups were allowed.
CJ raised his bottle in Owen’s direction. “A toast. To my departure from State and yours from the Conservancy.” His husband had called a ride service and met him at the restaurant. Liebe immediately hugged Wingnut. Having ordered food, they waited for it to arrive.
Owen grinned after sipping his beer. “You know? Most people wouldn’t celebrate being unemployed.”
“We’re not most people, Oz.”
“Yeah, well, anyway, I’m not leaving the Nature Conservancy. We’re reimagining my position.”
“Tell me about it.” The server’s arrival delayed a reply. CJ had ordered the Ensalada Tamarindo. Tamarind-glazed shrimp on a bed of mixed greens tossed in a tamarind vinaigrette with tropical salsa and crispy onions. Owen went for the Dorado. A fried mahi-mahi sandwich with sweet pepper aioli and spicy vinegar slaw on a brioche bun. For Liebe, they ordered a chicken empanada.
“Although I’m no longer an employee, I’ll keep working with them as an independent contractor. I’ll consult on whatever projects tickle my fancy. They’ll pay me the same hourly rate I’d make as an employee, but without benefits. I have to pay for health insurance and whatever else.”
“That ain’t a problem, Oz. I won’t have benefits either, but since we own part of the dads’ company, we can get it through them.”
“Yeah, I thought of that, so I wasn’t too worried. I already agreed to be part of something, and you get to travel with me for it.”
“Yeah? When and where?”
“The end of August.” Owen paused and grinned again. “Wanna go spend a few days in Cuba? Their government invited the Conservancy to discuss establishing operations on the island.”
Although offered as an appetizer, they ordered Bolitas de Queso for dessert. The fried cheese balls served with guava sauce proved popular with Liebe; she ate most of them.
Late the following morning, CJ, Owen, Liebe, and Wingnut headed to Lincoln Park. Not even three houses down the street, CJ ripped off his t-shirt and stuck it in the back of his shorts. “Less than a year away from Washington, and I forgot about the summer heat and humidity.”
“Yeah… The elevation made a big difference.” While the District of Columbia was carved out of wetlands slightly above sea level, Mexico City’s altitude soared over a mile.
“Something else to get reaccustomed to.” As soon as they reached the park, Liebe slipped her fathers’ grip and ran ahead, kicking up a dust cloud on the dirt path. Wingnut chased after her until he ran out of leash. “Liebe! Slow down. Wait for Wingnut.” The girl stopped, turned, and dropped to her knees; the dog walked into her spread arms.
His hand free, CJ reached for Owen’s. “She’s coping well. How about you, Oz?” The question was the same he had repeatedly asked in different ways.
“Stop worrying, okay? She has Wingnut to help, and I have you and Liebe. Knowing the three of us are together and well makes the rest irrelevant.”
The park’s east end housed a children’s playground popular with neighborhood families; kids ran around with parents keeping an eye on them. CJ and Owen sat on a bench to watch their daughter. A couple of adventurous tykes approached her, asking permission to pet her dog. Owen stood and joined them when one of the parents looked concerned.
“He’s friendly,” he said while smiling. “Your boy may get licked, but Wingnut doesn’t bite.” The woman nodded and returned the smile.
Owen reclaimed his spot on the bench and stretched his legs in front. “We’re gonna have to reacquaint ourselves with the neighbors. We’ll run into the same people if we bring her here regularly.”
“I’m looking forward to that. Even though our lives aren’t gonna slow down, I want us to enjoy the house and the hood as much as possible. It’ll be fun showing Liebe around now that she can appreciate monuments and shit a little better.”
“Sawyer!” CJ raised a hand when their friend stood in the concourse scanning the departure lounge. He and CJ had met on their first day at Georgetown University and been friends since.
“Hey, guys! It’s so good to see you alive and well. How’s Liebe?” Carson had taken the week off from work, spent a few days at his parents’ place in Delaware, and was on his way to Providence too. They were attending a classmate’s wedding.
CJ and Owen stood as Carson walked their way and the bro hugs included hearty back slaps. Owen tousled Carson’s brown curls. “Getting a little shaggy, mate. Good to see you too. We’re both fine, and Liebe’s doing great. We dropped her off at her grandparents' this morning.”
“Nice shirt, bud.” Carson poked CJ’s chest. “You owe me.”
“Screw you. I already sent you the money for it. But I guess I do owe you for your services.”
Over the past half a dozen years, professional sports teams had issued limited city-edition jerseys—a marketing decision to encourage fans to purchase new ones. Old Glory DC, their rugby team, had released a white top with pink cherry blossoms worn during home games in April.
In coordination with the Japanese Embassy—Japan gifted the original cherry trees to the city in 1912—they were auctioned with proceeds benefitting Asian Americans Advancing Justice. The non-profit organization’s mission was to ensure civil and human rights for Asian Americans and to build and promote a fair and equitable society for all.
Carson represented his friends at the auction under orders to be the high bidder for Stan South’s, a player they were friendly with. CJ had worn it over jeans under a pink blazer. “Ozzie wanted to wear it, but I won the coin flip.”
Owen flipping him off seemed appropriate. “He suggested I wear the Nationals shirt, but I’m not a baseball fan.” The Major League Baseball Washington Nationals and the National Basketball Association Washington Wizards had collaborated with Nike to create cherry blossom uniforms of their own. The Nationals had released theirs already, and the Wizards would do so in the fall.
“Thanks for the seat upgrade, guys. CJ, have you spoken to GU yet?” Carson was aware CJ was considering a return to school.
“Dude! Like, in what time? Hopefully, next week. Anyway, we upgraded you so the three of us could talk a little easier during the flight. We’ll fill you in on Mexico, tell you about visiting Biden, and about our short-term plans. And with Owen’s agreement, I’d like to discuss you managing my campaign when I run for president.”
Carson’s jaw dropped.
An hour and a half later, when they landed in Rhode Island, Carson still had questions. But he was on board.
The End
This is my last story for a while. Next month GA's Anniversary Anthology will post, and I think we need to concentrate on those tales. Catch you on the flip side.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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