Vienna Waltz

"Okay. I'll do better." I opened the door and almost ran to my car.

It took us a month of counseling before I moved back into the house and six months before we made love again. We were both incredibly nervous. We hadn't been intimate since we lost Jack and it felt like we were new to each other. I assumed he was taking care of his frustrations by hand and I was buying batteries by the box at Costco.

When we finally got back together, it was like a damn had burst. We made love on every horizontal surface in the house. We were both insatiable and went at it like animals. Three months later I told Kevin that I was pregnant again.

Samuel Descartes Cassone and Elizabeth Marie Cassone entered the world to find two devoted parents and three adoring grandparents.

We entered a new phase of our relationship. It was a deeper love and we realized how fragile everything was that we held dear. I was bringing in more business than most of the equity partners and I had enough pull to spend meaningful time with my family.

Our children were surrounded by our love and we never squandered any opportunities to let them know how much they meant to us. We started an early tradition of taking them to the cemetery every six months. We introduced them to Jack and told them about their brother.

I knew that Kevin's mother found it odd and maudlin, but to be honest, I didn't care what she thought. Jack was our child and always would be.

The twins were two when we began to grow concerned that Elizabeth was developing quicker than Sammy. After a full battery of tests, it was determined that he had 20% hearing in his left ear and was nearly completely deaf in his right. We cried and lamented the fates for two weeks and then pulled our heads out of our asses and got to work for our son.

Kevin learned the rudiments of sign language quickly and every night he would hold Elizabeth in his right arm and Sammy in his left. He'd gently hold Sammy's left ear against his chest so our son could feel the vibrations while Kevin sang to the children.

Night after night he would belt out Rascal Flatts' "My Wish" to our children.

My wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that you want it to, Your dreams stay big, your worries stay small, You never need to carry more than you can hold, And while you're out there getting where you're getting to, I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same things too, Yeah, this, is my wish.

He'd then sit them together on the couch, sit back on his haunches in front of them and sing the whole thing again, this time signing all the words. Kevin wasn't the greatest singer, but that was okay, he was the perfect dad.

By the time the kids were five, I was a full partner. When they were nine, I was approached to run to be a judge. I'd effectively be running unopposed and Dad's people would be backing me. It was a hard decision, but we had banked a lot of money, Kevin's family business was doing well, and we decided to go for it.

Sammy had a series of cochlear implants that had to be swapped out or adjusted as he grew. By the time he was approaching his teenage years, he only missed a few words if he was looking at the speaker. Elizabeth became his defender and they were one of those rare pairs of siblings who never had an extensive rivalry or experienced heated arguments.

I had been on the bench for five years, earning a law and order reputation, when Dad announced his retirement. Again, I was approached by a political machine. They wanted me to run to replace him. He was extremely popular and, by extension, so was I.

After talking to Dad, Kevin and the kids, we decided to go for it. The campaign trail was brutal and gave me a new respect for what Dad had gone through for all those years. I lost my voice twice after delivering the same speech multiple times a day. We missed the kids' soccer games and Kevin had to cancel some commitments he had with Habitat for Humanity.

He explained to me later how much they had never told me and how much I had never asked about. Sammy was teased relentlessly about me. I didn't even want to think of what teenage boys would be saying about each other's mothers.

Elizabeth had lots of girls that wanted to be her friend who didn't know who she was two months earlier. She had a difficult time figuring out who liked her for her and who wanted to be close to a Senator's daughter.

I won by a comfortable margin. Having to split my time between home and Washington broke my heart, but the kids and Kevin came up every Friday afternoon and stayed the weekend if I couldn't make it down.

It was crazy, hectic and time consuming, but I loved what I was doing. My thoughts and my efforts were helping to shape policy. I became obsessive and started cutting back on my sleep, often never leaving my office and sleeping on the couch.

Kevin spoke to me a few times about missing events for the kids and I hired someone specifically to help me manage my time. I got on Facetime and Skype and communication improved. Time grew scant as my first term was closing and I had to sacrifice some visits home.

I was on the phone with a colleague when I heard loud voices through the door.

"Sir! Mr. Cassone, she's on a very important call. You can't..."

The door flew open and Kevin strode into my private office.

His face was red. "Hang up the phone."

I spoke to the man I was conversing with. "Senator, can you hang on for one minute?"

Pressing mute, I turned back to Kevin. "What the hell are you doing? He's the senior member of the appropriations committee!"

Kevin was almost shouting. "Hang up the fucking phone!"

Frightened but growing angry, I unmuted the phone. "Senator, I'm so sorry, can I call you back in just a few minutes?"

After he congenially agreed, I hung up.

I called out to one of the interns. "Ally, can you close the door please?" Once it was closed, I continued. "Are you out of your mind? You can't just walk in here and demand that I hang up the phone. Do you know who I talk to on a daily basis?"

"No, I don't have a damned clue, but I do know who you don't talk to. We haven't seen you in two weeks and you haven't called me back since last week. Do you know how many messages I've left?"

"Okay, yes, I get it, Kevin. I haven't been on top of things lately, but get a grip, okay? I'm gearing up for a reelection run, we're trying to get my first bill passed and we have a president who thinks he can do whatever he wants by fiat."

"Are you out of your mind? Did you just tell me to get a grip? This isn't like our anniversary, which you forgot about by the way. You missed your son's SURGERY! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

My hand flew to my mouth. "No, no, that's next week. That's... that's not right. When..."

"It was last week, Missy. Thanks for taking my calls. I thought about calling your assistant, but I realized what I was contemplating. I was in a position where I had to call my wife's assistant to find out why she wasn't home for her son's surgery because she wasn't taking my fucking calls! The hell with that. Sammy's fine, by the way. Probably the last surgery until he's 21. Get your press agent in here. I'm sure she'll spin it into mother of the year for you."

His shoulders slumped and he looked defeated. Kevin's voice grew softer. "Pull your head out of your ass before it's too late, Missy. You're losing us."

He turned and walked out of the office.

My assistant called out. "Senator? Senator Geary is on line two."

I pushed back on the tears I could feel welling. "Get me a ticket on a flight home this afternoon. I don't care what it costs." I cleared my throat and picked up the phone. "Senator, I apologize. Where were we?"

Things got better for a while. I had to practically beg the kids' forgiveness and make tons of promises to Kevin. I carved out more time to be with my family, but something had been broken when I missed Sammy's surgery. It would take quite a while before it was fully repaired.

After the reelection, I became one of the Senate's talking heads. When my side of the aisle needed someone to talk about sophisticated legal issues, I was the go-to person. I was on CNN, Fox, and MSNBC at least once a week and had a number of op-eds in the Washington Post and the New York Times.

The kids were off to college and that freed up some of my time. I wrote a book on Hugo Black and his impact on the Supreme Court. It was very well received, and I became perceived as more of a legal wonk than a general talking head. The success had the publishers pushing for a second book and I was deep into research and outlining.

It was a chilly day in late October, and I had one appointment after the other. I hadn't had time to get lunch and I was eager to leave when my last meeting ended at six-fifteen. As the lobbyists walked out the door, Kevin walked in.

He had a sad smile on his face as he spoke. "Hello, Missy. I didn't want to do this in public or have someone else do it."

Kevin reached into a valise and handed me a manila envelope. "I love you, but this will be for the best. The kids are out of the house, and really? So are you. I'm not bitter or angry. We'll see each other a lot, certainly at all the kids' functions. Have your lawyer look it over and get back to me if there are any issues. I've tried to be as fair as possible."

I dropped the envelope like it was on fire. "What... Kevin, what... don't tell me this is for a divorce. I..."

"C'mon, Missy. We haven't really been married for years. It's time to move on. You have a great life here. I'll stay out of the press and we'll handle it quietly. We've been occasional, very occasional roommates and nothing more. We both need... something else. All my information is in the envelope. I'm selling the house and I'll get you my new address."

He started to walk out, stopped and turned to me. "You'll be fine, Missy. I hope you know how proud of you I've always been. Hitching my wagon to your star was the smartest thing I've ever done."

Kevin walked out the door and my life ended.

Two weeks later I stood on the wide steps in front of my hometown library. Microphones and a small podium were set up and media gathered in front of me.

"Hello everyone. Thanks for coming out." I looked over my shoulder at the library. "This is where everything started for me, so I thought that it would be fitting if this part of my life ended here as well. My mother used to bring me here as a child. I'd grab all sorts of books but always at least one book for children about famous politicians.

"You see, my dad was my hero. I wanted to be just like him. I'd read everything I could about Senators and their accomplishments. My husband and children don't know I'm doing this and honestly, I'd be too ashamed to want them here if they did know. I wish Daddy could be with me, though. He's not up to travelling these days, so I'll be driving over there later to talk with him.

"Watching him and reading about great men and women was how I learned how my life should be led. I failed him and I failed my other heroes. I lost sight of what's important. I won't be running for reelection. If you're watching this live, you're amongst the first to know. I haven't spoken to my party heads, my colleagues or even my staff about this.

"It was an honor to serve my friends and fellow Georgians. I need to step back and recommit myself to the people that I love and see if I can repair the rifts that I have torn. I'll serve out my current term. The people here put their trust in me to do so, and I'll live up to that, but then I'm done.

"I won't be taking any questions. Thank you."

Of course, they started shouting questions anyway.

I stayed with Daddy for a few days before trying to find Kevin. He agreed to put off the divorce for a while and adopt a 'wait and see' approach.

The final two years of my term were much different than the years before them. I was effectively abandoned by ambitious staff members and everyone who had thought I was a future political star. I understood. They had their own careers to look after.

Making more and more appearances on serious television, I grew to engage in meaningful debates instead of glib soundbites. Without lobbyists hounding me, I was able to spend more time at home as well as researching and writing. Endorsing my party's candidate for my seat, I made a few speeches here and there and quietly slipped from the spotlight.

I did everything I could to be the best wife humanly possible for Kevin. Writing and lecturing at the same university I had graduated from kept me in the game and I continued to appear on TV and online. Some former colleagues corresponded about thorny legal questions and I did my best to help out where I could.

My daily hunts started again. I'd call Kevin's office manager to find out where he was and bring him some fresh lemonade and a sandwich. Yes, chicken cutlets on a hero with American cheese, bacon and Russian dressing.

On the anniversary of my last day in office, he took me dancing. It was a short trip, we only had to step into the backyard. Kevin had replicated the lighting by the pool at Daddy's house and had dinner catered. We talked and laughed and danced.

How had I almost lost all of this? He was the love of my life and I was never happier than when I was in his arms, either dancing or in bed. We were like newlyweds again, but with maturity and a lifetime of love supporting and guiding us.

We both continued to work, but we were each other's priority.

My name became a weapon to pull out when needed for the types of talking heads that I used to be. "That's an interesting point, but according to Missy Pettigrew's latest book, you're completely wrong." was used once as a zinger and I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

I metaphorically shrugged my shoulders and kept writing and working.

Kevin and I attended a faculty party and some people filmed us dancing with their phones. Okay, to be honest, they filmed him, and I happened to be in his arms. The media grabbed it and spliced in some video of Kevin working at Habitat for Humanity homes.

Some grey had found its way into his hair, but it made him look distinguished. He was still lean, tall and strong and as handsome as ever.

The Dancing Carpenter was reborn to a much larger audience than my sorority sisters. An amateur dancing competition show invited him to be on their next season and he only agreed when they made a sizeable donation to Habitat for Humanity.

All the dancing and practicing had him losing weight. I nagged him, getting Kevin to eat more, but he was loving every minute of it. His mother was delighted and hosted a weekly viewing party at her dance school. I couldn't be more proud as I stood in the shadows and watched my husband receive the attention he deserved.

He was the crowd favorite by a huge margin, and he was never in danger of being voted off. During the filming of the eighth episode, he had to stop his dance, walk off stage and sit down. I pushed past the staff and made my way to him. Kevin was covered in sweat and was gasping.

Touching him, I could feel that he was clammy and burning up.

"Get a doctor! Call an ambulance."

"No." Gasp. "Just need..." Gasp. "...a minute."

Bullshit! "Get an ambulance. Now!"

The weight loss wasn't due to the dancing. It was cancer.

The disease spread virulently, and he never had a chance. We lost Kevin six weeks later. Once again, I buried myself in work to mask the pain of the death of someone I loved.

My children were there for me and within two years I was able to function socially. I made it to book launch parties and reemerged on TV and online. There were men that escorted me to events, often including my handsome son, but there were no more romances. Sammy or a colleague would lend me their elbow and conversation and we would sit together, enjoy an event that I was obligated to attend, and our evening would end upon arriving at my home.

Something had broken in my relationship with Sammy when I missed his surgery and it had never completely healed. Decades later, I was still chasing absolution. I was close to both my children, but there was a deeper emotional bond between Elizabeth and myself than there was between Sammy and me. Was it due to us being women and having those commonalities? I didn't know but I kept hoping that time and love would fix what hubris and the illusion of power had broken.

I was again popular on the public square and was thought of as a scholar and no longer a politician. Resuming writing op-eds, appearing on TV and serving as a consultant for three think-tanks, I kept busy.

Maybe it was a remnant of my guilt over what I had done to our marriage, but Kevin was the great love of my life and I was content with celibacy and my memories. Friends and even my daughter tried to set me up with eligible bachelors, but I gently and deftly declined their efforts.

Dad had passed, Kevin had passed, and his father had passed. His mom, Sammy and Elizabeth, their children and I were all shocked when I was approached by people who said they represented the President and needed my permission to look into my background. It was the sort of request that you acquiesced to.

Within sixteen months I was the newest jurist on the Supreme Court of the United States. If you are on the Supreme Court, you are often thought of in terms of an adjective. It was easy and lazy, but it worked for the media. For a while, I was the Neophyte. There was the Pragmatist, the Liberal, the Conservative, the Frail of Health and so on. After I was on the bench for a few years, I became known as the Thinker.

I enjoyed the fact that I frustrated the pundits. They always harbored doubts about how I would vote. Party lines meant nothing to me, and I surprised the media about twenty-five percent of the time.

If anyone actually tried looking beyond the trite, they would realize that I would be more aptly described in general as the Grandmother. My grandkids were everything to me and I spoiled them rotten. I'm sure that Little League games and PTA bake sales were disrupted slightly by the not-so-old lady and her security team cheering on her grandchildren or dropping off hundreds of cookies.

Once a month I'd have a pack of children at my house, although I'm sure that they would have preferred being elsewhere with their friends. It was always in the afternoon and I would teach them the rudiments of dance. They were as patient as children could be, as they knew that every afternoon ended with presents. I wasn't above buying diligence and renting affection.

Kevin's mother would sit in the corner and tap out beats with her cane for the children to follow. She always had a supply of French confections and spoiled her great-grandchildren rotten.

Lunch on those days was always the same, fresh lemonade and heroes with fried chicken cutlets, bacon, American cheese, and Russian dressing. If their parents objected, they kept it to themselves. My mother-in-law would look on disdainfully and mumble about proper boulangeries. When the children were done eating, she would lower herself to having one of the heroes while telling stories about Kevin's childhood.

Month after month and year after year I kept Kevin's cell phone active. I would call when I was maudlin, on his birthday and on our anniversary, but mostly I'd call when I needed to hear his voice. I left messages telling him about our grandchildren, his mother or the narrow but deep division between Sammy and me. Sometimes it was cathartic, other times it was soul-wrenching. No matter how painful it was at times to hear his voice, I couldn't stop myself from calling again and again.