Naptown 21 - Summer Internship - 10. Paging Trevor Austin - Trevor

Summer Internship

A Naptown Tales Novel by Altimexis & David of Hope

Paging Trevor Austin - Trevor
by Altimexis

Things were a lot more orderly getting ready for work on Tuesday morning. For one thing, we decided to stagger our wake-up times, so rather than all our cell phones going off at once, they went off sequentially at five-minute intervals - first mine, then Kurt’s, then David’s and finally Jeremy’s - so we weren’t tripping over each other quite so much in the bathroom. Keeping my shower down to five minutes was a major challenge, though, particular when Kurt entered the bathroom with his morning wood leading the way. I was so in need of relieving myself after that, but there just wasn’t time. ‘Maybe it would be better for David or Jeremy to shower in-between the two of us,’ I thought to myself. I would definitely have to bring this idea up for tomorrow morning.

Breakfast was a much better affair than yesterday’s as well. We were served a choice of Greek or Western omelets, which pretty much satisfied everyone’s tastes, except for a few kids who were allergic to eggs and were able to get oatmeal instead. Being the real carnivores Kurt and I are, we had the Western omelets, which were delicious. David and Jeremy of course had the Greek omelets, which they said were excellent, too. It’s so funny, the way Jeremy’s become a real vegetarian. He used to be a meat eater, just like Kurt and me, but I guess David’s influence has rubbed off on him after two years.

I love those guys, though. They’re really my best friends now. Ever since we spent so much time together over Spring Break, we’ve become closer than ever. I can’t imagine not being together with David and Jeremy. I hate to think about going away to college next year and leaving them behind. I know they’re both seriously thinking about Harvard for pre-Law and I really hope they get in there. It would be sooo cool if they got into Harvard pre-Law and Law, and I got into Computer Science at MIT, and if Kurt got into BU for Sociology and then one of the member schools of the Boston Theological Institute for his graduate training. Maybe we could all share an apartment together in Cambridge. Life couldn’t get any better than that.

“Paging Trevor Austin. Come in Mr. Austin,” Kurt said with his cute little laugh. He looked so adorable.

“What?” I asked with a tilt of my head.

“It’s just that you looked like you were a million miles away,” he replied.

“Yeah, I was,” I agreed. “I was thinking about how cool it would be if the four of us all went to school in Boston . . . if David and Jeremy went to Harvard, if you went to BU for your BA in Sociology, and then onto the Boston Theological Institute, and of course if I went to MIT. We could all share an apartment in Cambridge . . . nothing fancy . . . just a two bedroom place is about all we could afford in Boston, but we’d have a lot more freedom than we might in married student housing, and I think we all get along great.”

“That’s actually an excellent idea, Trev,” Jeremy chimed in. “Assuming David and I can get into Harvard.”

“You guys’ll get into Harvard,” Kurt said with a wave of his hand. “Of that, I have no doubt.”

“Seriously, though,” David continued the conversation, “Boston’s an expensive place to live, so sharing an apartment could make it much more affordable for all of us, and we already know we need to live in a state that permits gay marriage. For now that means Massachusetts, Connecticut, Vermont, New Hampshire, Maine or Iowa, and soon probably New York or the District of Columbia . . . or possibly California if they get their priorities straight. I don’t think I need to tell you that you guys are my closest friends in the world.”

“That’s exactly how I feel, Dave,” I agreed. “That’s what got me thinking about this in the first place.

“Remember the first time we met?” I asked.

“It was at that party at Gary Phillip’s place, just before Homecoming,” David asserted.

“Actually, that was the second time,” I corrected him. “The first time was in the lunchroom at school. I was sitting with my best friend, Ryan, who unfortunately has since moved away. Ryan’s brother was in your class, and he sat down with us, and before long, we were joined by a whole ‘gaggle’ of other freshmen. Then this cute boy with wavy brown hair came up to our table and introduced himself to say he was running for Freshman Student Council, and another boy with long golden hair was with him who introduced himself as his boyfriend, just like that.”

“We were very upfront about our relationship, from the moment we started high school,” Jeremy noted.

“And that gave me hope,” I said. “It showed me that being gay wasn’t something to be ashamed of. You guys showed me courage.

“Then when I met you at Gary’s party in advance of the Homecoming dance, I felt comfortable enough around you to come out to you. I told you about my plight at home with Evangelist parents, and you had the idea of my hosting a party at my house . . . a party to which you were invited . . . a party at which I could see how my parents would react to an openly gay teenage couple.”

“The idea worked pretty well,” David pointed out.

“It would have worked better had I not been seen dancing with you at homecoming,” I lamented.

“Well, you did push the timetable up a bit by doing that,” David agreed, “but things worked out in the end. Your parents may be religious, but they’re accepting, and they love Kurt and treat him as their son-in-law. You couldn’t ask for more than that.”

Pulling Kurt into a half-hug, and incurring a number of stares from around the room in the process, I said, “Yeah, you’re right. I’m really lucky that way. A little over a year from now, we’ll be married . . . legally, and beginning a lifetime together. I couldn’t be happier.”

“Nor could I, sweetheart,” Kurt added. “If it hadn’t been for your meeting David and Jeremy and your coming out publicly, my Dad might not have tried to make an example of you to the whole congregation. Had it not been for my own contact with David and Jeremy, he might not have found out about my being gay and tried to punish them by getting the school GSA disbanded. And it was thanks to you, Trevor, and your computer skills, that we discovered the link and what my dad was really up to. It was thanks to all of you that I came up with the courage to come out, and in a big way.

“Look at all the interconnections. Trevor, when I first met you, you were so painfully shy. Now look at you. You’re the freakin’ president of the GSA! You’ve built one kick-ass website, but more than that, you’ve done some amazing things to help dozens of kids at school. You’re one of the most outgoing guys I know, and it would have never happened had it not been for what my Dad did to you. In spite of that, however, you still seem to love me.”

“Are you kidding?” Trevor asked. “Honey, you’re not your father. You’re one of the most selfless guys I know.” Starting to tear up, he continued, “The way you put your life on the line at camp last summer . . . you’re one in a million, Kurt. There’s a reason you’re getting that Congressional Gold Medal this Sunday.”

“Anyway,” Kurt continued, “David and Jeremy, you guys mean the world to Trevor and me. We prolly wouldn’t be a couple if it hadn’t been for you, but it’s more than that. You guys are our best friends. I think you’ll always be our best friends. I love you guys as much as I love my own brothers . . . maybe even more so.”

“Wow,” Jeremy said, “All those lonely days and lonely nights living by myself in that mansion my parents built in Lake Shores. You probably can’t imagine what it’s like to grow up surrounded with so much wealth and yet to be bankrupt when it comes to friendship.

“When I found David, it was the most incredible thing. Suddenly I had someone who understood me . . . not just because I’m gay, but he truly wanted to know me as a friend. I fell in love with him because he wanted to get to know me as a friend first . . . the sex came later . . . and I admired that about him. The money and the toys I had meant nothing to him, and they still don’t. David and I were meant to be together from the moment we laid eyes on each other.

“With you guys, Trevor and Kurt, I’ve learned the true meaning of friendship . . . not the friendship one has with a lover, but the friendship one has with good buddies. I’ve heard the expression, ‘he would give you the shirt off his back,’ before, but with you guys, I know you really would. Day or night, if I needed you, you’d drop whatever you’re doing and would be there for me, or for David. I really, really love you guys.

“My older brother and sister were already away at college by the time I was eight, so I never knew what it was like to really love a brother as my peer before we took in Cliff and I really love you guys like I love my brother.”

“And I love you guys like I love my brother, too,” David added.

I think we were all a little teary-eyed after our little love-fest, sickening though it might have been to someone from outside our group, but time was wasting and we all needed to get to work! There would be time to work out the particulars later, but I think we were all agreed that we wanted to try to go to school together in the future if at all possible.

After finishing up our breakfast, we made doubly sure everything was secure in our room before we headed out. David and Jeremy called for a White House limo, and Kurt and I simply walked a couple of blocks to the Hart Senate Office Building, where our senators had their offices. Other mornings, we’d been told, we’d need to report elsewhere, but today we’d been told to report directly to our respective senators.

Going our separate ways, I entered the office for the senior senator from my home state. Inside, the receptionist - or was she a secretary? - we’d first met during our Spring Break, was already busily at work.

“Good morning, Trevor,” the light-skinned, African American woman said. “I hate to tell you this, but we start our day a lot earlier than the Congress at large, and if you eat your breakfast with the rest of the pages, you’re going to miss a lot of what goes on in this office. The Senator is a very early riser,” she added in hushed tones with emphasis.

“You might want to ask for a voucher and get your breakfast at Union Station, or if you prefer, you and your boyfriend are more than welcome to grab breakfast in the Congressional Dining Room. The Senator would be delighted to get you a dining pass. It’s one of the perks of seniority.”

“That might be nice,” I agreed, thinking how much I’d miss eating with David and Jeremy . . . and how much I’d miss my sleep!

“Let me see if the senator’s ready for you,” she said as she buzzed into his office.

“By all means, send that lazy teenager in here,” came the reply.

“You heard him,” she said as she motioned to the large doors behind her.

“Senator,” I said as I approached him with my right hand outstretched, “it’s a pleasure to see you again. I’d hoped that I would see you yesterday, but of course we were tied up all day with orientation, protocols and procedures.”

“As I knew you would be, but you should have checked with my office nonetheless to find out what time to start today. Just because Webster Hall doesn’t serve breakfast until seven doesn’t mean you don’t have to be here until 8:30. When Congress is in session, unless I have an early morning committee meeting or am out of town, I’m generally in my office every day by 7:00 AM at the latest. Sometimes, I’ll need you here even before that. If I have an early morning committee meeting, I may need you here by six. It’s the nature of the job.”

I cringed at the thought of getting up that early, but I just smiled and said, “Yes sir.”

Smiling, he said, “I know it’s not natural for a city boy to get up that early, but you might as well get used to it. We come from a farm state and nearly half our constituents are farmers.”

“Actually, according to the 2000 census, about two-thirds of the state’s population lives in truly urban and suburban areas,” I countered, “and that’ll probably only have increased by the time they collect the 2010 census next year. Although the amount of land dedicated to agriculture is still substantial, the percentage of the population involved in farming is quite small. Most people have gravitated to the cities and larger towns, where they work in light industry, although a lot of those ‘rust belt’ jobs have dried up of late.”

“Sounds like you were paying attention during your state history class,” the senator remarked. “In any case, a lot of our constituents are up at the crack of dawn and that’s when they like to call, and I like the office to be operational to take their calls. I’ve even been known to answer the phones myself. It’s also a great time of the day to get things done.

“Now one huge advantage you have is a short commute, and there’ll always be a pot of the best gourmet coffee waiting for you when you arrive, but if ever you get here and there isn’t one, feel free to put one on for us.

“I don’t know what Cindy may have told you about breakfast, but just like on the farm, you should get your morning chores out of the way, first. That’ll let your body wake up slowly and you’ll find you’re much more productive without all your blood being shunted to your stomach . . . and you won’t have to get up quite so early if you just have to do your bathroom chores and get dressed before coming over here. I’ll have a series of things for you to do for me, then you and Kurt can get breakfast over in the Congressional Dining Room . . . I’ll see to it that you both get passes for that . . . and after a proper breakfast . . . much nicer than the one they serve at Webster Hall, mind you, you’ll attend to your regular paging activities to which you’re assigned.

“Now for today, I have a special task in mind for you. This one’s kind of ‘off the record’. I need you to go over to the Library of Congress to look some stuff up for me. If anyone asks, you’re looking up some old legal documents for me that aren’t computerized. What you’ll really be doing is helping me to help some of our constituents with a rather thorny problem, and maybe helping us to get another Republican in the Senate in the process.

“As you may know, for a long time, Congress has paid subsidies to farmers to help provide them with a safety net. Without these subsidies, a lot of farmers would never be able to make a living. The subsidies also play an important role in helping to regulate the farming industry, keeping farmers from overplanting their fields. If every farmer planted every inch of their fields with crops, we could end up with an oversupply of food, driving prices down below what it actually costs to grow the crops. The farm subsidies help pay farmers to plant only as much of their fields as the industry can support, and no more. It keeps any one farmer from profiting at the expense of the others.

“While we all feel for the plight of the small ‘mom and pop’ farmer, most farms in America today are owned by large corporations, and they get these subsidies, too. When Obama campaigned, he pledged to end farm subsidies to corporations. Although Obama certainly means well, if corporate farms lose their subsidies, they will be forced to make up the difference the only way they can, by planting more crops. The result will be a rapid decline in food prices, which will be great for consumers, but it will almost certainly put family farms out of business altogether. Ending corporate farm subsidies will spell the end of the family farm, which is exactly the opposite of what Obama wants to do.

“Now the junior senator from our state is all in favor of the president’s plan. He’s supporting his party’s line. So what we’re going to do is give him just enough rope to hang himself. He’ll never see it coming, and no matter how the voting goes in the end, the farmers of our state will never forgive him for coming down on the side of a failed policy.”

Although I got what the senior senator was saying to me, I’d met the junior senator, whom Kurt was working for, and even though he was a Democrat, I really liked the man. He was honest and seemed to be very sincere about wanting to help his constituents. On top of that, although I was nominally a Republican, I was increasingly disappointed in the degree of conservatism to which the senior senator subscribed. Yes, he was honest, but his voting record was not one I would have been proud of. Kurt and I were both moderates more than we were Democrats or Republicans.

“So what I’d like you to do, Trevor, is to spend the day at the Library of Congress. Ostensibly, you’ll be tracking down some old legal documents for me that aren’t computerized, but what you’ll really be doing is looking up every farm bill you can find that was authored, co-authored or sponsored by the junior senator’s father during his eighteen years in the senate. It’s ironic, but his father was the senior senator when I was elected to the senate, and now I serve in the senate along with his son.”

“His father was a genuine hero,” I opined, “who survived a plane crash and ignored his own injuries to rescue a badly injured Senator Kennedy and his aide from the wreckage. He wrote two constitutional amendments and wrote the Equal Rights Amendment, which sadly never was ratified, or gay marriage unquestionably would be a reality today. It bothers me that he was unseated by such an idiot . . . an embarrassment to the Party.”

“Let’s not go there, Trevor . . . that idiot was the son of one of the most influential families in the state and, frankly, I was surprised he managed to pull it off. I was even more surprised when he became the vice-president. He sure gave the late night talk show hosts fodder for a long time,” the senator agreed. “In any case, I do need as much ammo as you can gather to use against the current junior senator.”

Sensing my unease, he continued, “Politics is a dirty business, Trevor. I know you respect the man, but he’s pursuing a wrong-headed policy, hatched by a well-intentioned, but ill-informed president. This is a real opportunity for us to flip a seat in the Senate from Democrat to Republican.”

“Sir,” I said, “I’m here to serve you and the taxpayers are paying me to serve their interests and I’ll do whatever you tell me to. I’ll go to the Library to Congress and gather the information you requested and if you wish, I’ll make copies of all the legislation and bring them back to you as soon as I figure out how. I’m just seventeen years old and I’m very naïve and I don’t have the vast experience in politics that you do.

“One thing I should probably remind you of before I start doing this is that my boyfriend, who is my fiancé, is working for the man you intend to smear. I know that you got Kurt his job, but you must realize that Kurt and I have no secrets from each other. We talk about everything. If I do this for you, I’m going to tell him about it. You honestly can’t expect me not to. To do so would be to expect me to choose between my loyalty to you and my loyalty to the man I will marry next year . . . the man I will spend the rest of my life with . . . the man I love more than life itself. If I tell Kurt, it will put him in the middle of an impossibly difficult situation. Therefore, you must realize that from now on, this is not a clandestine operation.

“Secondly, Mr. Senator, as someone who will be able to vote next year, my priorities at the ballot box will be focused on who can deliver what is important to my own interests, not on their party affiliation. Yes, I tend to lean Republican, but Kurt and I worked for the Obama campaign because we very strongly believed his policies on the war and the economy were the right ones. Yes, we’d rather see lower taxes and smaller government, but in this economy, that’s the least of our concerns.

“Given the choice between finding a compromise solution that avoids the farm disaster of which you speak, but leaves the junior senator in place, versus replacing the junior senator with a less senior senator in the minority Republican party . . . a senator who’ll bring our state far less clout, I’d far rather have the former. What’s more, if I ever found out that you were involved in dirty tricks to sully the good name of our junior senator or his father, I’d vote you out of office.”

With a grim look on his face, the senator said, “Well one things for certain, Trevor . . . You’re not your father. Your father would have taken on the assignment without hesitation. To him, loyalty always came first . . .”

“Don’t be so sure about that, Senator,” I countered. “I don’t know what he might have done when he was my age, but he recently fired an employee for taking an assignment to secretly photograph a couple of high school girls for their parents, to prove they were a lesbian couple. He gave the parents their money back, too, even though they already had the photographs. Sadly, the damage was already done and the couple is no longer together. One of the girls is even pregnant. The bottom line is that my father’s a man of principles and he’s not about to profit from a bunch of religious, homophobic zealots.

“Today if you asked my father to do something that was against his principles, I truly believe he would turn you down, even if it meant he’d pay a heavy price for it,” I concluded.

Sighing, the senator said, “When I was the young mayor of our city, I was commonly known as ‘Nixon’s favorite mayor’. It was a name I felt I deserved . . . a name I’d earned for my loyalty to the president. I would have done anything for the man and I mean anything.

“When the Watergate scandal broke, it nearly ended my political career. I tried to distance myself from the president. I even said words to the effect that he should fear for his soul, but those were just words. Truth was, I was more like Nixon than I’d cared to admit. I was willing to do just about anything to advance my own career, and although breaking into Democratic headquarters was a bit extreme, anything short of that, that wasn’t entirely illegal, wasn’t off the table as far as I was concerned.

“Watergate was a real eye-opener for me. There’s a reason I’m considered one of the most honest men in the Senate. If anything, I’ve overcompensated since then. Lobbyists know that I’m not for sale . . . but politics is still a dirty business, and sometimes we do need to get down in the trenches and dig a little. In spite of what our president says . . . and don’t get me wrong . . . I admire the man tremendously . . . partisan politics plays a very important role in Washington. Among our system of checks and balances, having an opposition is our most important check of all.”

Rubbing his hands together as he sat across from me, the senior senator said, “Here’s what we’ll do, Trevor. I understand that it would put you in an impossible situation to expect you to do this clandestinely. I couldn’t and shouldn’t have asked you to do it that way. I still want you to look up the relevant information and to make copies of the legislation in question and bring it back to me. Feel free to discuss it with Kurt and tell him he’s free to let the junior senator know what’s going on. At some point, I’ll go over my findings with the junior senator myself. With any luck, I’ll be able to pressure him into making a compromise. We’ll do it together, and I’ll only use the information to force him out of office as a last resort. Otherwise, we’ll keep everything completely above board.

“Does that meet with your approval, Trevor?” he asked.

“Completely, Senator,” I replied.

Spending my morning in the Library of Congress was a real trip. There are three separate buildings that comprise the Library, and finding my way around them was an education unto itself. I was surprised at how just anyone can access the Library, and how people from all over the country were there looking up all kinds of obscure information. The library houses records that date back, literally, to the beginning of the Congress. Every single bill . . . everything that has ever been entered into the Congressional Record . . . can be found there. Of course more recent records can be accessed by computer from anywhere in the world, and somewhat older records are on microfiche, but some things are only available in hardbound volumes. It was a real trip back in time.

The library is also a museum of sorts, with many different kinds of books, documents and artifacts. There are always tours going on, and there is a theater with multimedia presentations. I’d had no idea all this stuff was there.

There were several fellow pages at the Library, and many, many congressional staffers as well, not to mention, I later found out, some of the Supreme Court clerks. The Library of Congress houses the largest law library in the world; hence everyone tends to go there to look up important decisions and opinions to use as arguments in deciding a case. At one point I even spotted Justice Stephen Breyer himself. Whoa.

It took me some time to familiarize myself with the operations of the Library, but the librarians were more than helpful and I quickly learned how to look up and cross-reference all of the legislation in question, and then look it up in the voluminous tomes, deep in the stacks of the Library. Rather than making paper copies of everything, however, I had everything scanned and e-mailed back to the Senator, with a cc to myself, to be archived or printed as he saw fit. This was so much more practical than filling my backpack with tons of dead trees.

I nearly lost track of the time, but then my stomach was letting me know it was already afternoon when my cell phone went off. My face lit up when I saw the caller ID was from my honey.

“Hey babe,” I answered.

“You free for lunch?” Kurt asked.

“I could do lunch if you’re not too far away,” I answered. “Where are you?” I asked.

“I’ve spent the whole friggin’ morning at the Library of Congress,” he answered.

“You’re kidding me!” I practically shouted, but then quieted down. “That’s where I’ve been, but the place is huge. It’s no wonder we never ran into each other. Where exactly are you.”

When he told me, I turned around, walked about ten paces, turned left, walked another five paces and found him sitting hunched over at a carrel. We were that close all along.

I tapped him on the shoulder, he turned around and the biggest grin took over his face. The cell phones were quickly forgotten.

We ended up just going to one of the staff cafeterias at the Library, and spent the rest of the afternoon working together, even though it slowed us down a bit. It turned out that the junior senator was well aware of the issues the curtailment of corporate farm subsidies could cause, and was busily working on a compromise behind the scenes that would even the playing field without rewarding them with subsidies they didn’t need. As Kurt pointed out, with the drop in the price of oil over the winter, the price of fertilizers, pesticides and herbicides had dropped dramatically, whereas the price of food had actually risen, so corporate farmers were far from hurting. They didn’t need to make up for lost farm subsidies at the moment - they just needed strong incentives not to get greedy and plant more than their fair share of the land. And should costs rise as they invariably would, the senator had a plan to even the score for years to come.

Kurt related that the junior senator was aware that his senior colleague was up to something, but he was shocked to learn of the depths to which he was willing to stoop to protect corporate farm subsidies, even to the extent of using the junior senator’s father’s record to smear his good name. We both agreed that while I should continue with what I was doing, we weren’t gonna let that happen.

By the end of the day, we were positively beat. It was late and we were tired. When we got back to Webster Hall, we immediately knew that something was wrong when we got to our room, because the door was ajar. Kurt started to reach for the door knob, but I stopped him, knowing that someone could potentially still be inside, or that there might be a slight chance of there being fingerprints on the knob.

On the off chance that it was just that David and Jeremy inside, I called their names out, but there was no answer. I then knocked on the door, and still got no answer. I called David on his cell phone and found that both he and Jeremy were still at the White House and were just getting ready to call for a limo. I explained what was happening, and he said they’d be there right away.

While I waited by the door, Kurt went to get the Sergeant at Arms, who came immediately. The Sergeant gently pushed the door open, revealing that our room had basically been trashed. Our beds had been overturned, the mattresses thrown off the beds and onto the floor, the lamps thrown onto the floor and broken, and our clothes strewn about the room and left in rumpled heaps. It was a scene of total destruction . . . it made me want to cry.

Man, I couldn’t believe how our room had been trashed, but after the police came and investigated, and took our statements, there wasn’t anything else that could be done. Of course they didn’t actually find anything. Naturally, there were no fingerprints they could actually use or anything like that, and other than a couple of broken lamps, nothing was really damaged. It was all dismissed as being nothing more than harmless vandalism, but it sure didn’t feel harmless to us.

At least we got some action out of it - the lock on the door was changed the very next day, and there were no other incidents the rest of the week. Even the other pages seemed to leave us alone after that. I guess they realized that a line had been crossed, and they didn’t want to draw attention to themselves as possible suspects.

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