“But Summer it's not even your money” I said in a call from the dealership.
“I worked damn hard to get where I am today Gerald. Don't try to diminish the success I've achieved.”
I'm incredulous. “But Summer you stole that money from your altruistic self from the other multi-verse. And that was after you violated National Security and Clearance laws by seducing that pimple faced physics prodigy in Palmdale.”
Now, as I enter the State of Virginia, we are having the same discussion again. Summer is not deterred. “Don't be silly Gerald, I exercised initiative. I did something with my life. Unlike you, I took responsibility for my life in this universe. And do you have any idea just how insane you sound right now? Oh, by the way, if you tell anyone about that creepy altruistic version of me, I'll see you spend years locked up drooling in some sadistic psyche ward where the aides are all Satanic Wiccan witches and bull dykes.
“C'mon Summer, you know I would never rat on you...haven't I always been cool? Besides, who would believe me?”
There is a pause and I almost conclude she's hung up but then I hear her yelling at a barista that her espresso is too hot, to do it over, and that he shouldn't expect a tip. I know that pause; she is straightening the small tight barrettes in her hair which is tightly bunned. She shoots the barista a look that kills. Outwardly he's alive, but on the inside he lies dying and bleeding out on the counter. He is numb and no one will save him. He is Snowden in Catch 22 and he almost whimpers. I know. I've been there.
Now is a good time to break the scene and I interrupt: “So, Summer you aren't going to have me running your laundry and shit all over town like you did in Park City, are you? I almost had a heart attack”
Summer just finished reading Atlas Shrugged and is in no mood for my whining or any sign of weakness from me for that matter. She is not moved. “You need the exercise Gerald. Having you pick up my laundry, clean and run my errands and do my shopping has done you a world of good. Your conditioning has improved considerably and you know what I think of obesity. But, not to worry, after my donation to 'The Congresswoman' I managed to get Chris Wallace on loan from Fox News.”
Chris Wallace is not all Summer managed to wheedle out of her substantial donation to 'The Congresswoman'.
That is also how she got into Quantico. But that's another story, for another day, having to do with two tragic deaths from what was ruled to be an accidental electrical fire that started in the Medical Records room of a local hospital. The two dead employees were a psyche aide and a Nurse Practitioner that worked in the hospital's Psyche Unit and it was said that their loss was mourned by all. Some suspicion arose when the computer networks of the hospital and two small but accredited universities in the area were compromised. Police were unable to trace what they described as “an elite gang of highly skilled hackers who completely covered their tracks.” The police have no idea what information was altered, downloaded or uploaded and their top notch forensic computer experts were said to be completely baffled by the electronic break-ins.
I'm offended by Summer's mis-characterization of my weight and girth but I'm also concerned, “Wow, how's he doing anyway, Chis Wallace, I mean? Bachmann was pretty hard on him over that whole “flake” fiasco you know.”
“Oh she put him in his place all right, and now he knows how to behave in front of a lady. I made him give me a pedicure and paint my toes last night.” I can hear her snickering wickedly through the phone, and a cold shiver runs down my spine. And yet at the same moment I feel elation and intense relief. I'm just a Greyhound and 2000 miles away from home.
To be honest, I have no idea how Summer managed to barge her way into 'the Congresswoman's' office some six months ago, apart from what Summer told me. Summer says they spent most of the meeting speaking in tongues but that it was like she was psychically linked to the Congresswoman and could read her thoughts. It was during this meeting of the minds that Summer told "the Congresswoman' about the Wiccan in her neighbordhood, about her heavy accent and about how the witch had originally immigrated to Utah from Georgia. Summer went on to explain that foreigners don't fit in well with Utah's cultural values. Then, according to Summer, she and the Congresswoman spent the next two hours praying for the soul of the woman to burn in hell in order to cleanse her of her vile sin.. Much to Summer's delight the Congresswoman then made a few well placed calls and had the witch deported. Summer also says there might have been a snake hissing and rattling under the Congresswoman's desk but she can't be sure. After awhile though it became apparent there was some unfinished business. There was, after all, the matter of a large campaign donation. The two women got down to work. More calls were made, there was a lot of wheeling and dealing and more than a few threats.
By the end of the negotiations, Summer was dizzy and disoriented. The incredible display of backstabbing, lying, blackmailing-the double and triple and even quadruple talk and the obligatory patriotic banter had taken it's toll on Summer and the room began to spin. She felt queasy and light headed. At some point during their meeting Summer remembers musing out loud “isn't it interesting how the French have no word for “intelligence?” and the Congresswoman counterering “And why is America the only country that could build something like the Statue of Liberty?” In that moment a special bond formed between the two women. The Congresswoman awed and overwhelmed Summer, and in that poignant moment of bonding a star was born. Summer knew now that she had to emulate this Congresswoman, and more...she had to surpass her skill and achievement. The FBI would be the perfect platform from which to launch her political career. Summer knew she was destined to rub shoulders with the most powerful figures on the American political landscape and wondered what deodorant she would use and if it would stain the cute little black dress she imagined herself wearing to big, awesome invitation only galas. She tingled with anticipation. Not since she was 17 and won a local beauty pageant hands down, had she felt so infused, so magical. The Lord had blessed her, that much was certain.
Summer's destiny lay before her and nothing would stop her now. She was like Joan of Arc striding forward on a powerful steed. Sitting there in a plush chair across from the Congresswoman, Summer could almost feel the horse between her legs, and a long period of self imposed abstention caused her to almost suffer a fatal embarrassment in front of the Congresswoman. Luckily at that precise moment Summer was thinking about the poor Congresswoman's not infrequent migraines and Summer discovered that she too, at that moment, had a blistering headache. She remembers thinking “Wow! Could I just have gotten a contact headache from the Congresswoman?” This thought lifted her spirits and the headache that had saved her from certain embarrassment quickly went away.
I'm in downtown D.C. near the Mall and a small but determined group of protesters demonstrates nearby. I'm looking for a small Irish Pub near K Street but I'm not having any luck finding it. The D.C. streets are a Masonic maze and as I wander aimlessly through a sea of 19th century neoclassical architecture, I think back to when I left Salt Lake City and I told Summer that I planned to spend my time in D.C. at the National Mall. Summer's voice oozed with condescension and concern as she replied “Oh no Gerald you don't want to spend your time in Washington window shopping inside a stuffy old mall Get out and see the Capital and the Smithsonian.” My eyes tear up as I remember this touching encounter over the phone. To understand the kindness of the woman, you have to know her the way I do.
Summer, generous as ever, sprung for another night in a sleazy dirt bag motel before my bus ride home in the morning. Just thinking of the motel makes my arms itch and I notice several tiny red bites on the inside of both arms.
I think cynically about how lucky Chris Wallace is to have met a woman like Summer DiVino. Long slender legs, soft brunette locks, the body of a runway model and the face of a hyperactive Fraggle add to Summer's stunning allure. No doubt Wallace was transfixed from the moment he saw her. I only hope, for Chris's sake that he doesn't ask Summer if she's a flake.