A Sense of Wonder

Despite having been previously involved in two election cycles, Paulina felt unprepared to face her own Election Night. She had spent the last two elections running errands for her candidates and carrying messages between them and their staffers. There hadn’t been any down time for her. In fact, she’d been so busy that she never really had a chance to think about the results. All she had time for was taking care of the tasks at hand, but now that she was the candidate, there were others running around and making sure everything was taken care of. They were the ones tasked with ensuring everything ran smoothly and she was left to wait.

And she fucking hated that.

It wasn’t in her nature to just sit around while things played out. That was why college admissions had been such a hassle. She hated the fact that she had no control over the outcome, everything was left to others. That was why she lost ten pounds between the time she submitted her final application and the day the last response arrived. That was why she felt like fainting during her final examination at Oxford. Standing in front of those seven professors had been utter hell for her. She never understood why they didn’t have the student exit while they deliberated, that would’ve been the kinder option, but no, they had the student standing there while they discussed their future and as difficult as that had been to endure, it was nothing compared to Election Night.

Paulina attempted to find comfort in the company of her loved ones. Her immediate family members had gathered together in the penthouse suite of the hotel that her campaign was based out of, even Francis’ mother and brothers had flown out to offer their support, but their presence did nothing against the nerves. Her stomach was in knots, her chest felt tight, and even though the polls had yet to close, she kept glancing at the door, waiting for the moment Jeffrey would run in to announce whether or not she’d been elected.

Earlier that evening, she had decided against watching the election coverage. To do so would’ve been to subject herself to cruel torture, so she told Jeffrey to go down to the suites where her staffers were based out of and to inform her the moment that a winner was projected. It seemed like the only logical thing to do, and even though not watching the coverage felt strange, she knew she was better off.

Might not have felt like it, but she knew it was.

It made it easier to pretend everything was okay. Instead of discussing the campaign, she talked to her siblings about the kids and how work was going. She occupied her mind with their lives and although it didn’t make her feel any better, she at least outwardly appeared calm. It wasn’t until the clock struck eight that waiting truly became unbearable.

The polls were officially closed in California.

The votes were being counted.

The winner would be declared soon enough.

That was too much for Paulina. The nerves mixed with the pain from her injuries left her distressed, and so she did the only thing she could think of, she excused herself from everyone and retreated to the safety of her room. In there, she freely paced around and muttered softly to herself. She looked crazy. She knew she did, but she didn’t care. She had kept it together long enough. Now it was time to lose her shit a little. So she kept pacing about and muttering, and every so often she would stop to glance over at the door just in case Jeffrey ran inside, but ten minutes passed and there was no sign of him.

Desperate for a release, she grabbed one of her bags from the closet and pulled out a bottle. She hadn’t had a drink since the accident. The doctors strongly advised her against doing so. They said mixing alcohol and pain killers was dangerous, but she figured that since she had taken the last Tylenol at one o’clock, it was completely out of her system, and it wasn’t like she was going to take her Vicodin right away, it’d be at least four hours until she did that, so there was plenty of time for the alcohol to exit her bloodstream. It was with that thought that she poured herself a generous serving. She would have one glass, just enough to give her strength to get through the waiting, and then she would go back to the living room area.

And so she lifted the glass to her lips. She intended to drink it all in one gulp. She foolishly believed that if she drank it fast enough, it wouldn’t burn, that somehow the alcohol wouldn’t have time to lodge itself in the crevices of her torn cheek, but the moment she raised the glass to her lips, the moment the familiar smell struck her, she realized how much pain she would be inflicting upon herself. The tequila would burn like hell. She’d be reduced to nothing more than a blubbering mess and she couldn’t afford that, not on Election Night. That was why instead of drinking the tequila, she set it down on the nearby desk and took a seat.

How long she sat there, she couldn’t say. She was far too caught up in her thoughts. What would she do if she lost the election? Would she ask Warren for work? Would she take up Allred’s offer? Or would she try to work for the Department of Justice or perhaps a nonprofit? And what would happen if she won? Where would she live? She couldn’t possibly go back to the cramp studio apartment in DC. That wasn’t the sort of place where a Senator ought to live. And what about the bodyguards? Would she have to keep them or should she part ways with them once the election was over? And what would her first official piece of legislation be? Would it be something she wrote herself or perhaps a bill that was coauthored with another Senator?

All those thoughts suddenly came to her, they burdened her mind and she became so overwhelmed with the future that she burst into tears. She was lucky that the makeup artist had wiped off her face before dinner. He told her that he wanted to allow her skin to breathe for a few hours before he applied her evening makeup, and to be honest, he had a feeling she would cry when she heard the results. Not that she thought about makeup at that moment, she just cried and cried, she cried until she was all cried out. It was strange how good she felt after her crying fit. She felt ready to take on whatever came her way.

As such, she cleaned herself up and after helping herself to a bottled juice that Jeffrey had stashed in the mini-fridge, she exited the room.

No one commented on her absence or her appearance. The Kennedys understood how rough Election Nights were. They had seen Ted punch a hole in the wall and they had seen him down several whiskeys, so they knew now to comment, they knew that she needed space, and that more than anything, she needed to feel supported. As for the Balcázars, they knew Paulina well enough to know she wouldn’t want to make a thing out of it.

“No word yet?” she asked as she retook her seat beside Francis.

“Nothing yet,” replied Francis as he took her right hand in his. He watched in silence as she smiled nervously, and knowing what she needed to hear, he said, “Won’t be long now.”

And it wasn’t.

Fifty-seven minutes after the polls officially closed in California, a red faced Jeffrey burst into the penthouse suite. There were tears in his eyes. He couldn’t help but cry a little when he saw the news. After all, it wasn’t only her future on the line – it was his. Whatever happened to her, for better or for worse, would directly impact the opportunities available to him. That was why he shed a few tears when he saw the news. In his heart he’d known all along that that’d be the outcome, but to see it on screen, to hear the projection made – it was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. All his hard work and dedication had been leading up to that moment, and once he processed what had happened, he ran up the seven flights of stairs to the penthouse suite, because according to him, he couldn’t stand around and wait for the elevator.

And when Jeffrey ran into the suite, he didn’t stop to acknowledge the bodyguards like he normally did, he didn’t smile at the kids who were busy doing crafts on the dining table, he went straight to her, and with a massive smile on his face, said the words that she had dreamt of hearing ever since she was five years old.

“Madam Senator . . .”

It didn’t click right away.

As unbelievable as that was, it just didn’t click for her. She barely had enough time to process the fact that he’d entered the suite, she hadn’t even fucking stood up, and yet there he was – right in front of her, saying something that she didn’t entirely understand.

Why was everyone smiling?

Why were her parents crying?

Why was Francis looking at her like that?

What the fuck was going on?

Knowing that she occasionally had trouble processing good news, Jeffrey once more said, “Madam Senator.”

That time it clicked.

That time her eyes went wide and her jaw dropped, and she was left looking exactly like Ben Wyatt did when Leslie Knope got him an Iron Throne replica for their anniversary. She was so in shock that she kept looking from side to side, looking for confirmation that this wasn’t some alcohol induced dream, that she wasn’t nineteen years old and stoned out of her mind at Stanford or drunk off her ass with Alfie at Oxford or tripping out with Francis in Harvard that one time that he got shrooms and told her it would be the greatest experience of her life. She was so in shock that she honestly couldn’t believe that it wasn’t a dream. There was no way in hell that she could have just been elected to the United States Senate. It had to be a dream – it had to! But there were all those smiling faces, there were her brothers with tears in their eyes, there were her parents full on crying, there was Mary and the boys looking proud of her, and there was Francis, staring at her as though she were the most remarkable human being to have ever walked the earth.

It was him who grounded her. He was the one that truly made it click and drove the news home. He was the one that made her feel it wasn’t a dream, and despite the pain in her back, she shot straight up and launched herself at him. He expected her to go for a hug, that was the vibe he got, so he opened his arms to embrace her, but then she reached up and took his face in her hands and planted the fieriest kiss they’d ever shared. It blew their Super Bowl makeout session out of the water, which was crazy because there was no tongue involved, but the amount of love and gratitude and appreciation that went into it made the kiss more intimate than any they had ever had.

And when they pulled away, they were both smiling like idiots.

“I’m a fucking Senator!” were her first words as the newly elected United States Senator from California. “Can you believe that? I’m a fucking Senator!”

She couldn’t help but laugh a little after she said that. It was too surreal not to. Being a Senator was her life’s greatest ambition. She had spent the last twenty-five years of her life in active pursuit of office, and now . . . now there she stood, a Senator.

Caught up in her joy, she took Jeffrey into a huge hug. It wasn’t the first time she did it, but this time there was a little more emotion behind it. He had just given her the greatest news that she’d ever heard in her entire life, and she was determined to show him the gratitude he deserved.

When she finished with Jeffrey, she turned to her parents – to those wonderful people who made her believe that her dreams were valid. When people told her that she was dreaming too big and that she ought to be realistic about things, they had been there to tell her to ignore those voices. They told her that she was capable of doing whatever she wanted, and most importantly, they made her feel as though nothing was impossible for her. It was that unending support and infinite love that made her dare to follow her dreams, and now, after a hard fought election, they stood there smiling proudly at her.

“Lo hicimos (we did it),” she whispered, her voice breaking as she approached them. “Somos un Senador (we're a Senator).”

And she wasn’t just saying that to make them feel good. She said it because her accomplishments were theirs. Ever since she was little, her parents told her that they saw the world through her eyes, that they learned what she learned, that they took immeasurable pride in her accomplishments, and in that moment, she wanted to make sure they felt her gratitude, because without their sacrifices, she wouldn’t have been in the position she was in.

She was there, because two twenty-something years old had risked everything in order to better their family. She was there, because her father had worked three jobs in order to save enough money to bring her mother and brother into the country. She was there, because her mother had had the fortitude to cross the border with an infant secured to her chest.

They had provided her with a solid foundation from which to branch off from. They had fought to secure their children a fair shot at the American dream, and for that, Paulina would forever be in their debt. That was why when she saw their faces, she burst into tears. She’d thought she was all cried out after her moment in the room, but apparently she had enough left in her to cry while her parents held her.

Her father tried to say something, he felt it was his duty, but his emotions had overwhelmed him to such a degree that all he could do was smile while tears streamed down his face. And that was okay with her. She didn’t need words. His embrace said everything, as did her mothers. It conveyed their pride, their relief, their excitement for the future, but most importantly, it conveyed their love. It told her that no matter what the future held, she would always have them to rely on.

Her siblings were infinitely more composed than their parents. There tears in their eyes, because it was a fucking monumental moment in the Balcázar family. Their little sister had just been elected to the United States Senate. The little girl that used to hold mock hearings in the backyard was now going to be an influential part of real ones and they were damn proud of her.

“Fucking chunky butt,” said Luis in disbelief. “Your ass is a Senator.”

“She’s now Madam Chunky Butt.” Rafael stated.

“You gotta respect the title, Luisito.” Adrian chimed in. “We don’t want Madam Chunky Butt sending the government after us.”

Her brothers’ spouses were warm in their congratulations and although Paulina’s assortment of nieces and nephews didn’t exactly understand what was going on, they were nonetheless excited because everyone else was excited and because there was going to be a big party that they were going to stay up past their bedtime for.

As for the Kennedys, Mary congratulated Paulina on behalf of herself and Ted. She touched the right side of Paulina’s face and smiled tenderly as she said, “He would’ve been so proud of you.”

“Ma’am –”

“He knew you were special,” she went on. “The first time he met you, he called and told me all about this American girl in London that went toe to toe with the Secretary of State. He had so much planned for you. But you know what? You’ve surpassed his wildest expectations. He told me that with proper guidance, you’d be in the Senate by forty. And yet here you are, a Senator at thirty.” She lowered her hand and took possession of Paulina’s uninjured one. “He’s celebrating up there with Bobby and John. I know it.”

The boys weren’t as emotive as their mother, but still, she felt the sincerity in their congratulations and when the initial celebration was over, Paulina realized that she didn’t know how much she’d won by.

“It was 56.5% when they called it.” Jeffrey informed her. “And that was with 72% of the precincts reporting.”

At that, Paulina burst into full on laughter. Only a week earlier she had been up by six points, and now, she was at 56.5%, which meant that if Henderson had been able to hold onto all the other votes, he had 43.5%. So she was up by thirteen points. In the span of a week she had doubled the gap and she couldn’t fucking believe it.

Needing visual confirmation of the lead, she grabbed the remote off the coffee table and tuned the television to the local news station. She thought they’d be covering the Presidential Election, that she’d have to wait a few minutes before they turned over to hers, but no, there on the screen was her smiling face and along the bottom, were the numbers that declared that she was actually up fourteen. Some of the third party candidates had managed to take away a percent from Henderson.

“Francisco!” she cried out gleefully. “I’m winning by fourteen!”

“Well that’s a relief.” He grinned. “If it’d been less, I wouldn’t have been able to be seen with you in Washington.”

“And I wouldn’t have blamed you,” she said as she retook her seat on the couch. “Do you mind if I put it on Telemundo? I want to hear what they have to say.”

“Go ahead, dear.” Mary told her. “Your parents deserve to hear this in their native tongue.”

Paulina quickly switched over to channel 52. She had a feeling the Spanish language media would make a bigger deal out of her election, especially since they had entertainment hosts mixed in with the serious news journalist – and sure enough, it did. Her election was all they talked about. They didn’t even touch on the presidential race. They just had the results running along the bottom of the screen in a banner. What they focused on was the fact that Paulina Balcázar was the first ever Hispanic United States Senator from the state of California, as well as the first female Hispanic United States Senator in the history of the entire country.

Those facts had been known to Paulina all along. She’d known from the start that if she was elected, she would go down in history, and she viewed that in terms of what it meant to herself and her family, but now that those strangers were going on about how she was a source of pride for the community, she understood that her election wasn’t just a victory for her loved ones, it was one for the entire community. She was opening doors for the next generation.

“You’re the first.” Luis whispered in disbelief. “I always assumed there’d been others.”

“There’s plenty in the State Senate, but there’s never been one in Washington – not from here, at least.” Paulina turned to him. “Which doesn’t make any sense, this is California. You’d think there would’ve been at least one, but no . . . a Balcázar is the first.” She glanced over at her parents and then back to her brothers. “We’ve made history.”