The Belle and the Beard by Kate Canterbary (good book club books .txt) 📕

"No worries. My brother knows all these IRS forms and UCOA classifications, and it still baffles me how he can come up with that shit like it's nothing." I grazed my hand across her shoulders because I couldn't be here with her and stay fully apart. "I'm sure there's something you know from your work that baffles other people."

"There're a few." She barked out a laugh. "I can name every congressional district in every state. Where it is, what it's known for, who has been elected to the seat. Governors and senators too. All the counties in every swing state and their voter registration deadlines. Every secretary of state and when they're up for reelection."

"I take it you work in elections, then."

"Mmhmm. Something like that."

I gestured toward the woods. "I have the trees. You have that metric fuckton of information. Everyone has their thing, their bag of tricks."

"Why are you being so agreeable?" she said suddenly. "Why aren't you screaming at me about using appliances or nearly setting the whole house on fire? Why aren't you freaking out on me right now?"

I lifted my shoulders, let them drop. "Because I really need you to explain to me why your husband left you for a job overseas, and yelling about the old, wonky wiring in that house—which is not stable enough to run an oven and a night-light at the same time—isn't going to get me that information. And I gotta tell you, Jasper, I can't think about the fire for more than a second without also thinking about forbidding you from staying there alone ever again. Since I doubt you want to revisit that discussion, I'm letting you tell me about the random shit you know."

Jasper stayed silent as we traveled deeper into the woodland. I didn't mind. I didn't interpret lulls in conversation as awkward, and since I spent much of my days alone, I didn't find the quiet bothersome. Even if Jasper was stewing over my comments.

Then, "I told you. His boss was appointed Special Envoy to Northern Ireland last year."

"Yeah, you said that. You also said your work can't pick up and move there. Why did he leave if he knew you couldn't follow?"

Jasper stopped walking, scanned the stand of trees around us, and settled her hands on her hips. "Haven't you ever married your best work friend because you hooked up one time after moving out of your ex-girlfriend's apartment? And that one time seemed like something you'd want to do on a permanent basis? And haven't you ever realized your best work friend is the last person you should've married because living together and sharing household chores is not nearly as entertaining as texting each other at midnight to complain about congressional aides? And haven't you ever stayed in something too long because ending it would be irrevocable, even if it was inevitable?"

"I haven't," I said slowly. "But I have ended a relationship with a woman and promptly moved onto one with a man, so I get that piece."

She laughed a bit, saying, "I like people. The anatomy comes second."

"Same." I shoved my hands in my pockets. It was difficult to stand here like this, holding myself separate and distant while Jasper unpacked her baggage. This wasn't the time to reach for her, even to offer comfort. She had to empty this particular bag before I could offer anything. "And now he's engaged."

Her rueful smile pinged my chest. "Sure is. We didn't even make it two years." She dragged the toe of her running shoe over a rock. "He asked for a divorce last month. Sent the papers last week. Right before you came over and hollered about my box-hauling technique." She laughed at that. "I knew it was coming but I wasn't prepared for it then. Not on top of everything else."

I fisted my hands. I couldn't touch her the way I wanted to while she traced the perimeters of her marriage. "On top of what else?"

"Well, I came here because I got fired. That's another one of my current problems."

I blinked. "And the other problems?"

She kept her gaze trained on the forest floor. "I was terminated in an inglorious manner so the majority of my issues revolve around that."

It was the wrong reaction but I laughed out loud. "What does that mean?"

"I was fired on television."

"What do you mean? Like, a reality show?"

She pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes. "Some people like to treat American politics like it's reality TV but no, that's not what happened. I was on a cable news program to discuss voter suppression efforts across the South. I didn't get to touch on any of that because, before the segment was due to start, my mic was broadcasting on-air and I didn't know it." She dropped her hands and started walking, saying, "They caught me talking to a staffer at the day's campaign stop. I was complaining to her because my boss gorged on ice cream during a photo op."

I caught up to her with two strides. "Ice cream?"

"He's lactose intolerant and yet he can't be a responsible human being and simply take one or two licks from the obligatory cone and smile for the cameras. He has to eat the whole damn thing and then guzzle a milkshake too, and later board the tour bus and digest all that dairy while the rest of us try not to asphyxiate."

I stopped, a laugh spinning through me, and leaned against a tree for support as I doubled over. I could barely catch my breath as I howled. "You—you said that. On television."

"Mmhmm. Yes. Then I switched gears and told her how my boss likes to get his daily briefings in his briefs while chain-smoking and gulping black coffee."

"Oh, shit." I clutched my sides. It was too much.

She hummed in agreement. "And when she asked whether she