Go Big, Go Home (#3 of probably 7?)
Title: Go Big, Go Home (#3 of probably 7?)
Rating: The series is R, this instalment is PG-13 at most (mild language).
Length: Almost 9000 words (this instalment)
Timeline/Spoilers: Takes off from somewhere between "Pawnee Rangers" and "Meet and Greet" - AU from there. Basically another way of thinking through the questions posed by Season 4.
Summary: Leslie and Ben both have some work to do after they break up. Hijinks ensue. If you can say that about responsible grownups like these two.
Part One.
Part Two.
Thanks to rikyl and stillscape for all the help and encouragement! saucydiva also provided some key advice on some specific things which was really useful in pointing me in a new direction. And thanks to the ficathon for all the prompts, some of are definitely going to be addressed in upcoming sections, I swear.
If you don’t comment, I shrivel up and blow away. For real. It’s a medical condition. You can look it up on Altavista.
****************************************
“Ben Wyatt!”
“Hey, Chris, do you have a few minutes?”
“Sure, buddy, my next meeting isn’t for fifteen minutes. What’s on your mind?” Chris leans on the edge of his desk as Ben sits one of the chairs, and shines his smile down.
There are a lot of conversations that Ben would rather have instead of this one, but he knows James was right. If he’s going to be job-hunting in Pawnee, Chris is going to find out about it sooner rather than later. He can expect that some people might even pick up the phone to call Chris the second Ben left their office, to find out what’s going on in the City Manager’s office - or, more specifically, what’s going wrong in the City Manager’s office, with Chris, or Ben, or both of them - that would explain why Ben is jumping ship after less than a year. Worse, they might call someone else instead. Ben knows that he himself would have a lot of questions about someone applying for a new job this soon into their current job in a new town.
So, if he’s going to be telling people he wants to leave his job at City Hall this soon, he’s going to need Chris’ support in backing up his story as to why that is.
So he has to find a way to tell Chris why that is.
Without really telling him why that is.
They’ve got a long history together. Logged a million miles on Indiana highways. And still, Ben isn’t quite sure how much he can count on Chris, what he can bank on here.
He might wind up needing a new job before the end of this conversation, it occurs to him, if he somehow were to blurt out the truth.
Well, Ben’s habit of getting directly to the point in meetings comes from years of dealing with the man sitting opposite him.
“Chris, I wanted to tell you that I’m about to start looking for a new job, outside City Hall. I wanted you to hear it from me first. And I’m hoping to get your support.”
As Ben expected, this comes as a bit of a shock. Chris’ whole face changes; he slaps his palm against his chest.
“Ben! I don’t understand. Why? Are you unhappy with something in your role? Is there something I can do? Whatever it is, we have to be able to fix it. Come on, let’s problem-solve.” Chris puts a hand on Ben’s shoulder.
Ben shakes his head. “Chris, I really appreciate that, but this is a decision that’s been made. That I’ve made.”
Chris leans back, exhales sharply. “Wow. I did not anticipate this.”
Thank goodness for that, maybe. “I realize it’s coming as a surprise to you.”
Chris looks troubled; he comes down to sit beside Ben, leans in and props his elbows on the arm of his chair, and says, “Ben, what’s going on? Is it something I did? Is my management style an issue? Can we change the design of the job? Really, I want to understand. We’ve only been in these roles less than a year. This is highly unusual. There must be a good reason.”
Ben pushes up the sleeves of his sweater, runs a hand through his hair.
“Listen, there are a couple of reasons I need to leave this job. There are good career reasons for me to look for something else, in the grand scheme of things. But really, the timing is because of a personal matter.”
Chris has trouble remembering that people have personal lives, Ben knows. In fact, Chris has trouble remembering people have lives at all, separate from his own life. But when Chris is reminded that he’s supposed to remember these things, he tends to latch on.
“Ben, you have a personal issue going on? What is it? I want you to feel you can come to me with anything that’s troubling you. You barely even take vacation - for you to want to change jobs, it must be something significant. Do you have to go back to Minnesota? Is it your parents?”
Damn. Chris isn’t going to let him gloss over this. He’ll do everything short of launching a full-scale commission to get to the bottom of this, and won’t be able to get past it to what Ben really needs him to do. So the only way out is through. Right through the sunniest auditor in the galaxy.
Ben takes a deep breath. He looks just over Chris’ shoulder, at the doorway to his office, where he kissed Leslie for the first time. Where he set himself on this path. He just hadn’t foreseen, at the time, that he’d be alone by now.
“No, I’m not leaving town. The issue is... it’s... you remember, just after I started the job, when I asked you about dating someone at City Hall?”
Chris nods, mystified.
Ben looks down, and clears his throat. This is the really tricky part. He’ll lie to Chris to protect Leslie if he absolutely has to, but he really doesn’t want to.
“Well, the feelings I had for that person haven’t gone away. I really don’t think it has had any kind of negative impact on city business, but I still have these feelings, and have for a long time now, and I can’t do anything about them. I can do my job, but it's clear to me that I can't... I can’t be happy if I keep working here.”
Ben stops. For now. Chris is processing, as he would say. “Does she... does she know you’re telling me this?”
Ben shakes his head emphatically, and looks hard at Chris. “No. Our relationship is strictly professional. My decision to leave, and to tell you this, has absolutely nothing to do with her.” In the present tense, it’s all true. Their relationship now is strictly professional, that’s a factual statement. If you are prepared to split a few hairs.
Chris gives a little Humph.
Ben takes a deep breath, and continues. “I am just asking for your help in getting into a more tenable situation, even if that’s just giving a reference if you’re asked. Because, if I’m job-searching out there in the community, I don’t want people to think it’s got anything to do with problems with you. I can figure out something to tell other people during my search, but I knew that the timing wouldn’t ever make any sense to you if I didn’t explain." Ben holds out his hands, open.
Ben looks down, and then fixates on the lamp on Chris’ credenza. Wonders when it was bought, how much it cost, it must be fully amortized by now, they must amortize table lamps over just a couple of years, where do they actually source table lamps from, he hasn’t ever been involved in decorating offices much, just pulling them apart and selling the furniture and using them for other purposes when people are laid off and the offices aren’t needed any more, there’s got to be a worldwide glut of office lamps in all these storage rooms in various office buildings and warehouses...
When will Chris say something else? Ben’s calm is starting to wear off.
He looks up at Chris, and sees him looking back with a genuine compassion, and... good lord, are his eyes filling up with tears? “Ben, what you must have been going through... why didn’t you come to me about this sooner? No, I understand, you couldn’t. I’m so sorry, my friend, that I couldn’t be there for you! What a burden for you not to be able to share with me! And Ben, this is so romantic!”
“Well, I don’t know if she has any feelings for me at this point, Chris, so don’t get your hopes up."
“Ben, it's true, I am very surprised to learn of this, but it’s just another example of your strong ethics and integrity that you are dealing with it in such a proactive manner.” Ben winces at little at this, but tries to hide it. “I can only say that you will have my full support in your endeavors. After all we’ve been through together, I owe you at least that much, and more. Please let me know if there is anyone in town you want me to introduce you to, or anything else I can do to help with your job search. Really. And I do hope you get the mystery woman in the end.”
Ben is surprised, and he’s not, at the same time. It’s always hard to tell with Chris, even after all these years; in some ways Chris is so predictable, and in other ways, he’s not at all.
Mostly, he’s relieved.
He stands up, reaches out a hand to Chris. “Thanks, really. It means a lot.”
Chris’ eyes are suspiciously wet again. Instead of a handshake, he wraps his arms around Ben in a hug. It actually does feel like the right thing to do, and Ben pats Chris’ shoulders less awkwardly than he’d have expected to.
They let go, and Ben shoves his hands in his pockets, looks at the floor. Chris puts his hands on his hips, arms akimbo, and twinkles at him, “It’s the end of an era!”
Ben looks up and half-smiles. “Yeah, I guess.” Wow. No more Chris. Ben wonders what it will be like to work with people who are not-Chris. And not-Leslie. And, for that matter, not-Ron.
“We’ve worked together for so long, Ben. What will I do without you?”
“Chris, I promise, I’ll leave everything in great shape, and document what I’m doing. And I’m not going for a while yet. It will take a while to make a move.”
“Oh, I know I can always count on you to be conscientious. But it’s going to be a real loss to the fine City of Pawnee, Ben.”
Ben looks up at Chris, and smiles. “Oh, you’ll do fine, I’m sure.”
Chris looks serious. “You’ll be missed, buddy.”
Ben is surprised how touched he is by this. It’s not the kind of thing he’s heard much in his career. “Thanks a lot, man.”
Chris smiles. “Really, you tell anybody you’re talking to that I’d be happy to provide you with a fantastic reference. You are literally wonderful.”
“That’s... that’s really great, Chris, thanks again.”
A moment later, as Ben’s leaving Chris’ office, he almost physically runs over Leslie, who seems to be approaching the door. She looks like she ran here; she’s flushed and flustered. She must be Chris’ next meeting.
Fantastic.
He hopes Chris focuses on the content of his meeting with Leslie, and doesn’t think about how Ben and Leslie’s working relationship has changed recently, how Ben works with Ron on Parks business now, how Leslie goes directly to Chris with new ideas rather than going through Ben... and, also, he hopes none of this occurs to Chris to wonder about at all, since Leslie's a petite blonde.
Of course, since they almost walk right into each other, it’s incredibly awkward. They both step in the same direction and do a little dance back and forth to sort out a way to just walk past each other. “Sorry.” “Sorry.” “After you.”
He steps aside to let her pass, and she mutters a “Thanks” as she walks into Chris’ office, pausing for a moment to stand up straight before she strides in. She doesn’t look him in the eye, not once.
She’s wearing a pink flowered blouse he distinctly remembers unbuttoning slowly, one particular night after a bottle of cheap red wine, a Republican debate on television ignored in the background.
Ben rubs his neck, and then turns and walks down the hall, one hand stuffed into his pocket and the other holding his padfolio. He gets all the way to the Sewage Department offices before he remembers his meeting is with Legal instead.
********************
Leslie barely makes it out of Chris’ office intact. She felt like she was going to split into pieces, trying to nod and smile and pay attention to what Chris was saying, something about changes to the system to make community center class registration easier so she has to talk to IT about it to create synergies, blah blah blah.
She’d been coming up to Chris’ office when she heard their voices through the door, which was halfway open. She wasn’t really eavesdropping, was she? She just made sure she didn’t click her shoes as she approached the door. Which she needed to go through anyhow. But she was early. It’s only courteous to let them finish their meeting, isn’t it? And not distract or startle them by making noise? Right, that’s it.
Chris sounded a bit worked up; Ben sounded quiet, but Leslie could hear the emotion in his voice as well. What on earth were they talking about?
“It’s the end of an era!”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“We’ve worked together for so long, Ben. What will I do without you?”
Without Ben? Why will Chris be without Ben? Where’s Chris going? Is Paul coming back?
“Chris, I promise, I’ll leave everything in great shape, and document what I’m doing. And I’m not going for a while yet.”
Wait, what? Ben’s going? Where the hell is he going?
“Oh, I know I can always count on you to be conscientious. But it’s going to be a real loss to the fine city of Pawnee, Ben.”
A loss to Pawnee? Ben’s leaving Pawnee?
“Oh, you’ll do fine, I’m sure.”
“You’ll be missed, buddy.”
Missed...
“Thanks a lot, man.”
“You tell anybody you’re talking to that I’d be happy to provide you with a fantastic reference. You are literally wonderful.”
Oh god, a reference. A job reference. He’s really leaving. This is really happening.
“That’s... that’s really great, Chris, thanks again.”
He sounds so relieved. Relieved to be leaving Pawnee. Oh, my god.
Leslie had only barely stepped back from the door when Ben stepped out. It had been weeks since she’d been that physically close to him; she could feel his warmth, hear him exhale quickly in surprise. It gave her a flash, a sensation from when he used to slide out of her bed, and she would roll into the space he’d just vacated, to feel his absence and breathe in his smell.
She could feel him watching her as she pulled herself together to go inside. If she’d looked back at him she would have lost it entirely, she’s sure of it. She might have thrown her padfolio at him, or smacked him, or thrown her arms around him. Or something. But she could not possibly have gone inside and met with Chris in the only-barely-professional manner in which she did. Even then it was a struggle.
She makes it back to her desk and sits there, pretending to stare at her computer screen.
Ben is leaving. Leaving Pawnee. (Leaving her, she barely whispers to herself, but that’s not fair, is it? They aren’t together any more.)
It shouldn’t be such a shock, really, though, should it?
How could Ben give up on Pawnee, though? She’d thought he’d really started to love the town. She thought it felt like home to him.
She knew he’d been back in Indianapolis, but he’d said that was personal. Although a job search is personal, isn’t it? And moving is definitely personal. Maybe he was apartment-hunting or something. She’d heard from Tom that he’d been working on his resume with Ben, but she’d thought that was kind of a joke, somehow. Just a way to hang out with Tom and help him out.
But apparently not.
He doesn’t really have ties to the community in Pawnee, not like she does. (Was she his tie to the community? She can’t think too much about that.) He doesn’t have the history here, and most of the people he knows are at City Hall. (And so is she. Does that matter to him any more?)
She was a bit surprised he could contemplate moving on to another job so soon, but she figures that his years as an auditor probably count for a lot in terms of experience, and he’s used to moving around. Maybe he misses that. He could probably land a great job. Somewhere else.
Suddenly, she feels angry.
So, Ben never really loved Pawnee after all, did he? He was just passing through all along? He didn’t mean to stay forever, nope, he was just going to get some experience inside city management and then move on to a bigger city, maybe, or a more senior job in a smaller city.
Maybe he never cared about Pawnee as much as she thought he had.
Maybe Pawnee wasn’t so special after all. Maybe he didn’t really love living here.
Screw him, then. If he is really leaving, well, then, she’ll just ignore him until he leaves, and then he can go off and have his brilliant career as City Manager of Eagleton or Noblesville or Muncie or wherever, and she’ll never have to see his terrible face again.
That’s a great plan. That’s what she’ll do. Fantastic. Settled. She’ll be in Pawnee, and he... won’t.
Why doesn’t that make her feel any better?
Leslie wipes her eyes, which are watering a bit, and grabs her padfolio for her next meeting. Which is with... oh, who cares. Oh crap, it’s a campaign meeting.
For once she really doesn’t want to talk about her campaign.
**************************
At the start of the meeting, Ann’s proud of her work as Leslie hands out colour-printed copies to her campaign advisors: Mr. Kernsten, William Barnes, and Elizabeth McArthur.
“This is really promising, Leslie,” Barnes begins as he leafs through it. Leslie smiles, although Ann does notice she seems a bit subdued. Maybe she’s intimidated by her campaign team? That doesn’t seem like Leslie, though.
“Thanks. And as we discussed, we started the category of ‘People met on campaign trail’ which I hope to add to.”
Elizabeth jumps in. Ann’s not sure if she likes her or not, yet. She seems nice enough, but she’s a bit... slick. A tiny bit too formal. Although she does seem to know whats she’s doing, Ann has to admit. “And with the schedule of personal appearances we’re setting up, you should have lots of opportunities to do that. Also after media coverage and debates, people come out of the woodwork to volunteer.”
“Great!” says Leslie. That sounded a bit forced to Ann, but nobody else seems to notice. Maybe she is intimidated.
Barnes says, “OK, it’s time to talk volunteer mobilization. I’ll work with you on the approaches to potential donors, along with Mr. Kernsten here.” Ann can see why Leslie would seem nervous at this one, and even Barnes notices this time. “Don’t worry, Leslie, we will work with you on the approach and really get you comfortable with it. People want to help. Some of them do that with their checkbooks rather than their time, and some do both. We don’t know who wants an opportunity to give, so we just have to ask them. Okay?”
Leslie looks a bit relieved at this. “Thanks, that sounds like a good plan.”
Barnes continues, “And separately from that, as we’ve discussed, Leslie, Elizabeth is going to coordinate the overall volunteer efforts, so you should set up some time with her one-on-one to brief her on the specifics of each volunteer list so she can start to get to know your supporters.”
Leslie nods, says, “Sure, we’ll set something up.” and makes a note in her to-do list in her padfolio.
Ann can’t believe what she’s seeing. “Um, Leslie?”
Leslie doesn’t look up from her writing. “Yeah?”
“Leslie?” Ann is hoping just a look from her will remind Leslie of their conversation, of her offering to manage the volunteers for Leslie’s campaign.
Finally Leslie looks up. “Yup, Ann, what is it?”
This is getting awkward. “Didn’t we talk about my role being... doing...” she nods her head sideways at Elizabeth. A couple of excruciating seconds pass, as everyone else stares at Ann, and Leslie stares down.
At last Leslie seems to get what Ann’s trying to say. “Oh, right, Ann, yeah, well, I talked it over with William and Elizabeth and we agreed that she would manage the volunteers. She’s got the experience, and she did offer...”
Ann can’t keep the irritation out of her voice. “So did I!”
Barnes’ tone is smooth. “Ann, your interest in the campaign is great, but we do find that experience really counts in things like this, to be really effective. What we would like to do is ask you to coordinate the get-out-the-vote volunteers on election day itself. Make sure rides to the polls are happening, phone calls, keep everyone fed and watered and keep the machinery running. It’s a very important job, and on that day Elizabeth will be needed to handle media and troubleshoot.”
He’s throwing her a bone, and she can see in his face the message Take it or leave it. Beside him, Elizabeth is studiously reviewing the spreadsheet that Ann spent so many hours typing up.
Ann can’t really get mad at them. They’re just doing their jobs. Leslie, on the other hand, is writing a note in her padfolio, but Ann can see that she’s really just writing the same reminder to set up a meeting with Elizabeth a second time. She doesn’t look up at Ann.
Alrighty then. If that’s how it’s going to be. Ann takes a deep breath. “Sure. Fine. I can do that.”
“OK, so, let’s move on to the next item on the agenda. Which is our media strategy.”
Barnes and Elizabeth look politely at Ann. She’s confused; what does she have to do with the media strategy?
Ah. That’s her cue to leave. So she’s going to be typing up a spreadsheet and then buying pizza for people on election day, is that it? And she’s going to be dismissed without a word?
She looks over at Leslie, who still won’t look at her, and thinks, No. This is not OK.
“Leslie, can I speak with you for a moment, please?”
Leslie looks at everyone else but her, and almost mutters, “Ann, I need to continue the meeting right now.”
The nurse voice comes out. “Leslie, I’d like to speak with you right now, please. Just for a moment. Then you can go back to your important meeting.”
Kernsten looks between the two of them and says, peaceably, “That’s OK, Leslie, I have a quick call to make, let’s take a 5 minute break and reconvene.” He pulls out his cellphone, which probably dates from the 1990s, judging by the size, and the antenna he has to pull out. Ann’s surprised it still even works.
Leslie follows Ann into the hallway, but that’s not going to be private enough for what she has to say. She grabs Leslie by the arm and pulls her into the stairwell nearby and shuts the door behind them. Leslie looks shocked. Good.
“What the hell was that?”
“What are you talking about, Ann?” Leslie has that look on her face, that look that says Don’t say it out loud and everything will be fine, let’s just rocket along and it’s all good, right? Right. Of course! Lalalala.
Well, not this time.
“I offered to coordinate your volunteers! I wanted to do it! Even though I knew it would be a ton of work and that you’d hardly notice it because you’re so busy lately! That’s fine if you didn’t want me to, it really is, but you didn’t even have the courtesy to tell me yourself! You just let them say it and you couldn’t even look at me! Leslie, what is wrong with you?”
Leslie gapes at her.
Ann feels like a volcano that’s finally exploded, raining down rocks and lava. “Leslie, you can’t just take people for granted and treat them like crap and assume they’ll be there to help you when you need them! That’s not fair! Even people who love you won’t stand for that!”
Leslie looks stricken. “Ann, that’s not what I’m doing! This is really complicated! There are just things going on that you don’t understand...”
Ann doesn’t have the patience right now to wait for her message to sink in. It’s not always her job to see Leslie through the whole cycle of realizing she’s wrong and trying to fix things.
Ann has a moment where she feels surprisingly calm despite her anger. “Leslie, everyone has their breaking point. Maybe I’ve reached mine. I love you, but I am not putting up with this.”
She turns and walks out, leaving Leslie behind her, wide-eyed and quiet.
**************************
It’s a good thing Mr. Kernsten is driving. Leslie has a folder of materials to review in front of her, but, honestly, she’s just ruffling through papers in order to avoid talking to him. He seems to be concentrating on the driving, anyhow. So she has a few moments to think.
Well, maybe thinking is not such a good thing right now. She has this appearance to do at the retirement home, and then Mr. Kernsten is taking her back to City Hall to get her car, and then she’ll get to go home, and... then what? More work?
It’s not like she has plans with anyone. Certainly not with a boyfriend. Not with a best friend, either. She could do more campaign work, but she isn’t really feeling so good about that right now, either.
No, ruffling through papers is a much better idea.
When they’re almost there, Mr. Kernsten breaks the silence that’s descended on the car. “So, we know that not everyone here will necessarily be in your target demographic, as they say, but it’s a great chance to practice your meet and greet skills, and you’d be surprised, a huge number of these folks vote. We’ll be giving some of them rides to the polls come election day. And they can be lots of fun to talk to. I come up here every couple of weeks.”
Leslie forces herself to put on a cheerful air. Mr. Kernsten has actually proven to be a really great addition to her team - he’s been around local politics since forever, and he often surprises her, like just now. “You do? Do you know people who live here?”
“Well, sure, I have former employees here, and people I’ve met over the years. But I just like to just come on up and keep people company, too. Some of them are lonely, and not everyone has a big family to come visit. So even if I don’t know people, sometimes I’ll play a game of backgammon or checkers and just chat, if that’s what they seem to be up for.”
She looks over at him. “That’s really nice of you.”
“Eh, I’m just putting something in the bank. At your age you don’t want to admit it, but most of us would be lucky to end up here - I mean, none of us wants to get old, but what’s the alternative?” He chuckles a bit, and Leslie smiles.
She can do this.
Inside, it’s a bright and humming space, with lots of activities going on - there’s a woman in a bright purple sweater playing the piano in the corner, and there are tables set up for cards, board games.
Leslie moves from group to group, introducing herself and talking with people - although she knows enough to avoid the bridge table, because that’s serious business. Plus she thinks there’s a retired librarian she remembers from her childhood at that table. She shudders a little.
She does play a few hands with the poker players, though, because they are playing for jelly beans, so she figures it’s mostly social, but she runs out of candies pretty quickly. Although, perhaps she underplays just a bit. She’s a politician now, so she can be a bit sneaky, if only about poker bets against potential voters. She eats some of her jelly beans, too; how can she resist?
A few photos get taken with some people that Mr. Kernsten knows, but it’s pretty low-key. People have things to say - even about municipal government, although some of their preoccupations are a bit out of date - it’s been a while since Pawnee had chicken coops in backyard.
Eventually she finds herself sitting with two women knitting on the couch, making blankets, which they explain they donate to the hospital. “Our kids have banned us from giving them any more.”
“How many did you have to give away when you moved in here, Louise?”
“Oh, gosh, a few dozen. Yes, that ban is maybe a good idea.”
They laugh.
“You’ve been friends a long time, I take it?”
“Oh yes, sweetie, what has it been, sixty-some-odd years now?”
“Something like that. Which means we met in preschool, right?”
They laugh again at this, and Leslie can’t help but laugh, too. It’s infectious. It’s easy to see them as the younger women they once were.
Dottie clarifies, “No, we met during the war, when my mom organized a scrap drive, and I wound up knocking on Louise’s door, and we talked her into helping us. Well, my mom did the persuading, mostly.”
“Oh, she was a pistol, your mom,” Louise adds. This makes them laugh some more.
“She was,” Dottie agrees. “Remember when she met your husband for the first time? Called him ‘sweetheart’ and told him he was handsome and made him so uncomfortable that he dropped the potatoes he was carrying to the table?” She’s giggling as she’s explaining this.
“Oh, lord, yes,” Louise replies, “He never really recovered from that with her. All those dinners and he still used to carry things so carefully to the table, that great big man, holding on so tightly to a little plate of meatloaf.” She’s giggling too.
“He was such a sweet man.”
Louise smiles warmly. “He was. Leslie, are you married?”
Leslie shakes her head. “Ah well. There’s still time. I loved being married. We were on the same team. Didn’t you feel that way, Dottie?”
“Yup. I know a lot of people didn’t, but we did. Not that we didn’t fight sometimes. That one time, we wallpapered the bathroom, I thought I was going to need a lawyer by the end of it - maybe a divorce lawyer, maybe a defense attorney!” This cracks them up, and Louise coughs enough she needs a sip of water. Dottie continues “But we got it done and made up and that was that. With the right man you can get through anything.”
Leslie swallows, and decides to ask her question. “So, what do you think is your secret to such a long friendship?”
They look at each other. Dottie is the more talkative of the two, but this time she looks at Louise, clearly waiting for her to go first. It occurs to Leslie that she’s genuinely curious to hear what her friend is going to say. This touches her more than anything, she realizes later, that ability to recognize that her friend could still interest her, could still surprise her, after all this time.
Louise begins, and looks back at Dottie, “Well, to be honest, we weren’t always the very best of friends. Things happened in our lives at different times. We sometimes had different problems. Dottie’s husband was pretty sick for a long time, and I was busier with my kids than she was. But I think we always could recognize that we were such good friends, and be patient with each other. And always tell each other the truth. But life is long. The good people are with you for the long haul.”
Dottie adds, “And I think you have to apologize when you know you’ve been wrong. Never take each other for granted. You have to take care of your friendships, just like you take care of your marriage.”
Louise says, “Remember that fight we had about those boys, before we were married? And how you brought me a chocolate cake to apologize? And I’d made you a pot pie to apologize, but it wasn’t out of the oven yet?”
Dottie laughs, “Yep. I still say that pot pie is better if you eat it after the cake rather than before.”
This cracks them all up.
Dottie muses, “I wonder who those boys were?”
Louise laughs again, “You married one of them, you silly woman. Are you forgetting?”
Dottie laughs back, “Right! I always forget that. He was so good-looking back then, wasn’t he?”
Louise says “Oh yes he was. And I was right to be pushing you to go out with him, wasn’t I?”
Dottie shoots her a look and says, “Yes, Louise, as I’ve admitted I don’t know how many times in the fifty years since then, yes, you were right.”
Mr. Kernsten catches Leslie’s eye and makes a subtle but unmistakable Time to get going signal. Leslie nods and then says, quickly, “Well, ladies, it’s been a real pleasure meeting you. Good luck with your blankets - I’m sure the hospital will be thrilled to have them.”
“Well, when you decide to have a baby, young lady, you just come on up and visit us and we’ll make you a blanket for the little one.” Louise has a twinkle in her eye as she says this.
Leslie opens her mouth, pauses, and then says, “You know what, that’s a lovely offer. If I ever do, I’ll definitely come and see you. But I think I’ll come back again before that anyhow.”
“You do that, sweetie, and good luck on the election. Marcia Langman was here a while back, and I didn’t like her. She’s got a stick up her rear end, as my granddaughter would say! You’ll do fine. People will like you.”
On the car ride back, Mr. Kernsten looks over at her when they’re stopped at a red light, and says “You seem like you're in better spirits now.”
She smiles back at him and says “Yes, that was actually a lot of fun.”
“That’s a good sign. In my experience, the finest politicians are the ones who actually enjoy spending time with people.”
“Thanks for that. Really.” Leslie smiles over at him, and then turns and looks out the window at her town, going past her in a dim blur.
**************************
The text from Leslie was simple and direct, although there was part of it she didn’t entirely understand.
Please come over. I hope we can talk. Making chicken pot pie. And chocolate cake. You can eat them in whatever order you like.
So Ann doesn’t quite know what to expect. But she’s driving to Leslie’s house anyhow.
She’s not sure how she feels about having blown up like that at Leslie. It was all true, but it was way harsh. Sometimes she feels like she’s got to learn how to stand up for herself without losing her cool and getting so exasperated. And today she was kind of awful.
So she feels like she owes Leslie an apology. But she also feels like Leslie owes her one too.
But does she get to go first? She’d kind of rather go first, to get out all the thoughts she’s got inside, to get it over with. But maybe if she goes first she won’t ever get an apology from Leslie. Maybe she should let Leslie go first. Is that too passive?
She hopes she hasn’t hurt Leslie’s feelings too badly.
She also hopes Leslie understands why she got so mad. She isn’t sure she wants to try to explain it again.
As it turns out, Leslie pretty much takes the decision out of her hands about whether to apologize first.
When Ann knocks on the door Leslie opens it, looking unnaturally timid, and ushers her in. Ann doesn’t even have a chance to take off her coat before Leslie begins, speaking calmly but quickly, like she wants to make sure she gets it all exactly right as she’d rehearsed it.
“Ann, I’m so sorry. You were totally right. I’ve been taking you for granted. I’ve been... I’ve been taking a lot of people for granted, I think. I’ve been so wrapped up in my life and my campaign that I forgot to make sure that you knew how much you mean to me and I didn’t treat you with enough respect. And I’m really, really sorry about that. It’s going to be different from now on. You can coordinate my campaign volunteers if you want. If you still want to. Or I would totally understand if you don’t want to any more. But I want us to be OK. That’s so incredibly important to me. You’re so important to me. Can we be OK?”
She looks at Ann, waiting for her to answer.
Ann breaks into a smile. “Leslie, of course we can be OK! I was mad, but I understand, you have a lot going on. I’m sorry I yelled so much at you. That was kind of uncool.”
Leslie pulls back one corner of her mouth ruefully, “No, I kind of deserved it. It was actually kind of awesome, Ann. You were so righteous.”
Ann pulls Leslie in for a hug. “Aw, thanks.” She pulls back, grabs Leslie’s shoulders, and looks at her mock-sternly, saying, “But don’t mess with me, OK?”
“No, ma’am,” Leslie is laughing and then gets serious again. “Really, Ann, I’m so sorry.”
“Really, we’re good.” Ann smiles at her, and then looks over Leslie’s shoulder, and stops still.
“Leslie...”
“What?”
“Are you... what are... are you moving or something?”
Leslie looks puzzled. “No, why?”
“Well, your house looks like someone from HGTV’s been here. What’s been going on?”
“Oh. That. Um, I’ve been doing a bit of a project.”
Leslie’s house had, as far as Ann knew, never quite gotten back to the point it had been before they cleaned it up for her dinner party, but still, it had been pretty cluttered, to the point where Ann had considered an intervention once or twice, but then Leslie had gotten it just enough under control to the point where Ann hadn’t wanted to push it. And Ann hadn’t been over lately, not since the summer.
And now it looked... fantastic. Clean, uncluttered, except for a stack of binders on the coffee table, but Ann figured that was just Leslie’s nightly workload. Shelves that had been groaning under the weight of too many books were neatly ordered, and there was even some space left, just like in Real Simple magazine. End tables just had one or two items on them. The stacks of old magazines were gone from the corners of the room. There was a clear path to the coat closet. Ann couldn’t see a single pair of snowshoes.
“I’ll say! You did your whole living room?”
“No...” Leslie looks a bit uncomfortable.
“What, are all the extra books hiding in the coat closet or something?” Ann’s kidding her but it doesn’t seem to be working.
Leslie looks sheepish, if anything. “Actually, I did the whole house.”
Ann’s jaw drops - literally, her mouth is hanging open. “The whole house?”
So Leslie takes her on a tour and shows her.
The basement, with its ordered bins of extra art supplies and office supplies and seasonal supplies and spare kitchen gear - there’s still a lot here, but Leslie knows where everything is, and everything seems to be still-functional (unlike the rusty sewing machine from the 1920s which Ann had had to cajole Leslie into taking to the dump last year).
The office, with the files and binders and pens and pencils and markers neatly arranged on the shelves, which, again, aren’t crammed full. Ann isn’t sure why Leslie needs Arbor Day wrapping paper, or, come to think of it, where you would ever buy Arbor Day wrapping paper in the first place, but it’s neatly tucked away with the other wrapping paper, sorted by holiday. And, of course, if anybody can find a use for Arbor Day wrapping paper, it’s Leslie.
The kitchen, with the spices finally labelled, and the ten soup ladles reduced to four or five so that you could actually pull one out of the jar without having half the rest of them come spilling out as well, and the pantry purged of the ten-year-old colored icing tubes which had dried up harder than rocks.
The attic, which Ann had never seen before, and which has the boxes of deep storage for Leslie’s childhood memorabilia, and, OK, there’s still quite a bit up here, but they are all labelled (Letters, Awards, Trophies, Ribbons, etc.), and you can now physically get into the attic.
Ann gets the sense that Leslie’s house finally looks the way it always should have. It looks more like Leslie’s life - full, busy, a bit crowded, but sunny and inviting, and like there’s room for more in it. Ann knows Leslie’s probably always going to be a bit of a packrat, but she somehow seems to have tamed her tendency to take it too far.
Once they’re done with the tour, they sit down to eat (the pot pie first) and Ann asks, “So, why now? What got you started on this? It’s not like you don’t have a lot of other stuff going on right now.”
Leslie looks down into her bowl, stirs her spoon around a little, and frowns. “Honestly? It was sort of because I was missing Ben.”
Ann puts her spoon down. “Oh, Leslie.”
Leslie doesn’t look up; she looks at the placemat, which she’s started scratching at with her fingernail, absently. “Late at night, when I couldn’t phone him any more, and he couldn’t, you know, come over any more, I didn’t know what to do, and I needed a distraction to keep me from calling him. And it was too late to start calling you. And one night there was pretty much nothing on C-Span or PBS or the History Channel that I hadn’t seen already, so I started on my living room and spent about four hours just sorting through things and deciding that I didn’t want to own a lot of it any more.”
“Wow. That’s a lot more functional than blowing a whole bunch of money on candles.” The living room alone would have taken ages. Ann’s pretty sure there was more than one brass instrument in there.
Leslie laughs. “I kind of lost my mind. I got a little compulsive about it, maybe. I turned it into a project like I do at work. I did get to listen to a lot of This American Life while I was doing it, though. Did you know they have podcasts? And I got through all the Game of Thrones audiobooks - Ann, you totally have to read those! It’s not just swords and wolves and stuff - it’s all politics! Plus the smutty parts are kind of awesome.”
“OK, I will. And, well, you know, you have to see the positive in any breakup, right? Why didn’t you tell me you were having such a hard time, though? I thought you were doing so well.”
Leslie shrugs. She looks really tiny at moments like this, Ann thinks. “I don’t know, really. Maybe I was just channeling all my energy into this? I haven’t ever had a breakup that felt like this, that hurt like this before. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. And what is there to say, really?”
“Other than you miss him.”
Leslie looks really bereft. “Other than that.” She looks like she’s going to say something else, but stops.
Ann reaches over and takes Leslie’s hand. “You’ll be OK. I promise.”
Leslie smiles sadly at her. “Ann, you’re such a good friend. Maybe we can grow old together - we’ll have to learn how to knit, though, I think. And play poker.”
“What?”
So Leslie tells Ann about her visit to the retirement home, and they end up watching Cocoon and Steel Magnolias, eating Leslie's chocolate cake, which was amazing.
They talk about Leslie’s campaign, too, and after hearing about Elizabeth’s plans for the volunteer management, Ann agrees that she’ll coordinate the election day volunteers instead of the whole thing. As she says to Leslie “You’ll have other campaigns - I can do more next time. Don’t worry. I’ll be happy doing this, and I’ll do a kickass job. And just think: I’ll get to boss Tom around all day.”
Leslie seems really pleased to hear that.
It’s good to hear Leslie laugh so much. Ann realizes she hasn’t heard Leslie laugh as much as usual lately. She wonders if it’s the campaign, or Ben, or both.
**************************
Leslie closes the door behind Ann and smiles, then sighs. She cleans up the last of the mess in the kitchen, and heads upstairs.
She goes into her bedroom and surveys it. She and Ann hadn’t come in here, just because there was so much else to show her, and Ann was so amazed by all the rest of it, and they were getting pretty hungry by then, and the food smelled so good. And because she maybe still feels like this is where she can really be honest with herself, so she wants to keep it just for her.
She sits down on her bed, and puts her head in her hands.
She couldn’t say it out loud to Ann.
She is just going to pretend she doesn’t know he’s leaving. She won’t mention it to anyone. If they mention it to her, she’ll just pretend it doesn’t matter much to her. Just like any other colleague, just like anyone she hadn’t really expected to stay in town.
Even though, she now realizes, she’d been hoping he’d stick around, and, somehow, after the election, maybe they’d have had another chance. She’d been taking for granted that they weren’t really over, not in a final kind of way.
But he’s leaving, which will make it final.
If that is what he wants, she can’t change that. Not without changing everything else.
And if that is what he wants, he obviously doesn’t want her to change everything else.
She reaches under her covers, pulls out the pillow. She buries her face in it, and inhales. Really, it’s lost all vestiges of Ben by now. She strips the pillowcase off the pillow, uses it to wipe her few stray tears, and grimly gets up to throw it in the hamper.
**************************
At this time of year in Pawnee, Donna’s not going to subject her new suede boots - or her Benz - to any more of the winter snow and salt and slush than she absolutely has to. So she’s contenting herself with the cafeteria food, but that doesn’t mean she has to actually eat there. Plus, that guy from Public Works might be there, and, just, no. No thank you.
She brings her BLT (the deluxe version, on foccacia with chipotle mayo, because Donna still has standards) back to the Parks department meeting room and sees she’s not the only one with the same idea. Leslie is picking at her salad while eyeing a cookie, while Andy and April are sharing a big Tupperware of what looks like SpaghettiOs combined with... baked beans?
“Looks like you two did some cooking, hey?”
Andy pauses between stuffing mouthfuls into his mouth. “Yeah! Wanna try it? We call it Beanaghettis! It’s awesome.”
“Well, it’s not, but we were out of food.” April nonetheless is digging in, Donna notices.
Leslie asks, “Then why not get lunch from the cafeteria? Don’t you usually do that? Isn’t their turkey chili your favorite?”
April whacks Andy on the shoulder. “I thought my turkey chili was your favorite! Liar.”
“No, honey, yours is my favorite homemade. Theirs is my favorite cafeteria-made.”
“I’m gonna divorce you.”
“I’m gonna divorce you first.”
Leslie waves her hand at them. “OK, lovebirds, before you wind up on the fourth floor, settle down.”
Andy looks up excitedly. “Anyhow, we’re trying to save money! We’re being adults. Plus we might need to pay our own rent soon.”
Donna squints at him. “What’s that? Don’t you pay rent now?”
“No, well, Ben pays the rent, and...”
April puts her hand on Andy’s shoulder and interrupts: “No, well, we all pay rent...” Andy looks askance at her but she waggles her head ever so slightly and gives him a warning look, and he quiets down. That boy is learning a thing or two, Donna has to admit. “But we’re just trying to save money,” April continues.
“Yeah, because Ben pays part of the rent...” Andy looks at April who just barely nods her assent, “and he said we should start thinking about what we’ll do when he moves out. He made us promise we'd start putting at least part of his rent check in the bank.”
At this, Leslie abruptly puts her fork down, picks up her salad, and throws it in the trash. “Well, I better get back to work. Donna, let me know when you want to talk about the seniors’ center - I won’t be at the meeting about it later today so we should catch up on it.”
“Sure, Leslie, I’ll get back to you about that once I’m back at my desk.” Donna wonders if Ron has noticed that Leslie’s been avoiding meetings that include Ben. Then again, Leslie hasn’t made Ron attend any extra meetings himself, so maybe not.
Once Leslie is out of earshot, Donna says, “So, where’s Ben going?”
April pretends to be nonchalant, but she actually makes eye contact with Donna. “He didn't say, but he’s been acting weird. Er. Weirder. He wears a suit more often. We usually can’t catch a ride with him to save gas because he says he has meetings after work, or sometimes he’s gone before we want to leave anyhow. But he isn’t going out with anyone because he’s home in the evenings. Making soup or whatever.”
Huh. “He must have some kind of important meetings. Maybe the kind that are like a date, you know, where you’re getting to know each other, and maybe it will lead to something more, except for it being in a professional context, know what I mean?”
April shrugs in that way that means Yes. “Maybe. Or maybe he’s joined a cult. One of those ones that dresses up more than the Zorpians. Maybe he’s not actually going to move out but he thinks he’ll be beamed back to space instead, and that’s how we’ll get stuck with the rent.”
Andy looks up from the Tupperware, which he’s licking. “That would be awesome! Honey, we should join a cult!”
************************************
TBC
In the next instalment: a return of Ben Wyatt, Human Disaster. Plus, Perd! Joan! The Pawnee Sun! Ron Effing Swanson!
Here's Part Four.
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Rating: The series is R, this instalment is PG-13 at most (mild language).
Length: Almost 9000 words (this instalment)
Timeline/Spoilers: Takes off from somewhere between "Pawnee Rangers" and "Meet and Greet" - AU from there. Basically another way of thinking through the questions posed by Season 4.
Summary: Leslie and Ben both have some work to do after they break up. Hijinks ensue. If you can say that about responsible grownups like these two.
Part One.
Part Two.
Thanks to rikyl and stillscape for all the help and encouragement! saucydiva also provided some key advice on some specific things which was really useful in pointing me in a new direction. And thanks to the ficathon for all the prompts, some of are definitely going to be addressed in upcoming sections, I swear.
If you don’t comment, I shrivel up and blow away. For real. It’s a medical condition. You can look it up on Altavista.
****************************************
“Ben Wyatt!”
“Hey, Chris, do you have a few minutes?”
“Sure, buddy, my next meeting isn’t for fifteen minutes. What’s on your mind?” Chris leans on the edge of his desk as Ben sits one of the chairs, and shines his smile down.
There are a lot of conversations that Ben would rather have instead of this one, but he knows James was right. If he’s going to be job-hunting in Pawnee, Chris is going to find out about it sooner rather than later. He can expect that some people might even pick up the phone to call Chris the second Ben left their office, to find out what’s going on in the City Manager’s office - or, more specifically, what’s going wrong in the City Manager’s office, with Chris, or Ben, or both of them - that would explain why Ben is jumping ship after less than a year. Worse, they might call someone else instead. Ben knows that he himself would have a lot of questions about someone applying for a new job this soon into their current job in a new town.
So, if he’s going to be telling people he wants to leave his job at City Hall this soon, he’s going to need Chris’ support in backing up his story as to why that is.
So he has to find a way to tell Chris why that is.
Without really telling him why that is.
They’ve got a long history together. Logged a million miles on Indiana highways. And still, Ben isn’t quite sure how much he can count on Chris, what he can bank on here.
He might wind up needing a new job before the end of this conversation, it occurs to him, if he somehow were to blurt out the truth.
Well, Ben’s habit of getting directly to the point in meetings comes from years of dealing with the man sitting opposite him.
“Chris, I wanted to tell you that I’m about to start looking for a new job, outside City Hall. I wanted you to hear it from me first. And I’m hoping to get your support.”
As Ben expected, this comes as a bit of a shock. Chris’ whole face changes; he slaps his palm against his chest.
“Ben! I don’t understand. Why? Are you unhappy with something in your role? Is there something I can do? Whatever it is, we have to be able to fix it. Come on, let’s problem-solve.” Chris puts a hand on Ben’s shoulder.
Ben shakes his head. “Chris, I really appreciate that, but this is a decision that’s been made. That I’ve made.”
Chris leans back, exhales sharply. “Wow. I did not anticipate this.”
Thank goodness for that, maybe. “I realize it’s coming as a surprise to you.”
Chris looks troubled; he comes down to sit beside Ben, leans in and props his elbows on the arm of his chair, and says, “Ben, what’s going on? Is it something I did? Is my management style an issue? Can we change the design of the job? Really, I want to understand. We’ve only been in these roles less than a year. This is highly unusual. There must be a good reason.”
Ben pushes up the sleeves of his sweater, runs a hand through his hair.
“Listen, there are a couple of reasons I need to leave this job. There are good career reasons for me to look for something else, in the grand scheme of things. But really, the timing is because of a personal matter.”
Chris has trouble remembering that people have personal lives, Ben knows. In fact, Chris has trouble remembering people have lives at all, separate from his own life. But when Chris is reminded that he’s supposed to remember these things, he tends to latch on.
“Ben, you have a personal issue going on? What is it? I want you to feel you can come to me with anything that’s troubling you. You barely even take vacation - for you to want to change jobs, it must be something significant. Do you have to go back to Minnesota? Is it your parents?”
Damn. Chris isn’t going to let him gloss over this. He’ll do everything short of launching a full-scale commission to get to the bottom of this, and won’t be able to get past it to what Ben really needs him to do. So the only way out is through. Right through the sunniest auditor in the galaxy.
Ben takes a deep breath. He looks just over Chris’ shoulder, at the doorway to his office, where he kissed Leslie for the first time. Where he set himself on this path. He just hadn’t foreseen, at the time, that he’d be alone by now.
“No, I’m not leaving town. The issue is... it’s... you remember, just after I started the job, when I asked you about dating someone at City Hall?”
Chris nods, mystified.
Ben looks down, and clears his throat. This is the really tricky part. He’ll lie to Chris to protect Leslie if he absolutely has to, but he really doesn’t want to.
“Well, the feelings I had for that person haven’t gone away. I really don’t think it has had any kind of negative impact on city business, but I still have these feelings, and have for a long time now, and I can’t do anything about them. I can do my job, but it's clear to me that I can't... I can’t be happy if I keep working here.”
Ben stops. For now. Chris is processing, as he would say. “Does she... does she know you’re telling me this?”
Ben shakes his head emphatically, and looks hard at Chris. “No. Our relationship is strictly professional. My decision to leave, and to tell you this, has absolutely nothing to do with her.” In the present tense, it’s all true. Their relationship now is strictly professional, that’s a factual statement. If you are prepared to split a few hairs.
Chris gives a little Humph.
Ben takes a deep breath, and continues. “I am just asking for your help in getting into a more tenable situation, even if that’s just giving a reference if you’re asked. Because, if I’m job-searching out there in the community, I don’t want people to think it’s got anything to do with problems with you. I can figure out something to tell other people during my search, but I knew that the timing wouldn’t ever make any sense to you if I didn’t explain." Ben holds out his hands, open.
Ben looks down, and then fixates on the lamp on Chris’ credenza. Wonders when it was bought, how much it cost, it must be fully amortized by now, they must amortize table lamps over just a couple of years, where do they actually source table lamps from, he hasn’t ever been involved in decorating offices much, just pulling them apart and selling the furniture and using them for other purposes when people are laid off and the offices aren’t needed any more, there’s got to be a worldwide glut of office lamps in all these storage rooms in various office buildings and warehouses...
When will Chris say something else? Ben’s calm is starting to wear off.
He looks up at Chris, and sees him looking back with a genuine compassion, and... good lord, are his eyes filling up with tears? “Ben, what you must have been going through... why didn’t you come to me about this sooner? No, I understand, you couldn’t. I’m so sorry, my friend, that I couldn’t be there for you! What a burden for you not to be able to share with me! And Ben, this is so romantic!”
“Well, I don’t know if she has any feelings for me at this point, Chris, so don’t get your hopes up."
“Ben, it's true, I am very surprised to learn of this, but it’s just another example of your strong ethics and integrity that you are dealing with it in such a proactive manner.” Ben winces at little at this, but tries to hide it. “I can only say that you will have my full support in your endeavors. After all we’ve been through together, I owe you at least that much, and more. Please let me know if there is anyone in town you want me to introduce you to, or anything else I can do to help with your job search. Really. And I do hope you get the mystery woman in the end.”
Ben is surprised, and he’s not, at the same time. It’s always hard to tell with Chris, even after all these years; in some ways Chris is so predictable, and in other ways, he’s not at all.
Mostly, he’s relieved.
He stands up, reaches out a hand to Chris. “Thanks, really. It means a lot.”
Chris’ eyes are suspiciously wet again. Instead of a handshake, he wraps his arms around Ben in a hug. It actually does feel like the right thing to do, and Ben pats Chris’ shoulders less awkwardly than he’d have expected to.
They let go, and Ben shoves his hands in his pockets, looks at the floor. Chris puts his hands on his hips, arms akimbo, and twinkles at him, “It’s the end of an era!”
Ben looks up and half-smiles. “Yeah, I guess.” Wow. No more Chris. Ben wonders what it will be like to work with people who are not-Chris. And not-Leslie. And, for that matter, not-Ron.
“We’ve worked together for so long, Ben. What will I do without you?”
“Chris, I promise, I’ll leave everything in great shape, and document what I’m doing. And I’m not going for a while yet. It will take a while to make a move.”
“Oh, I know I can always count on you to be conscientious. But it’s going to be a real loss to the fine City of Pawnee, Ben.”
Ben looks up at Chris, and smiles. “Oh, you’ll do fine, I’m sure.”
Chris looks serious. “You’ll be missed, buddy.”
Ben is surprised how touched he is by this. It’s not the kind of thing he’s heard much in his career. “Thanks a lot, man.”
Chris smiles. “Really, you tell anybody you’re talking to that I’d be happy to provide you with a fantastic reference. You are literally wonderful.”
“That’s... that’s really great, Chris, thanks again.”
A moment later, as Ben’s leaving Chris’ office, he almost physically runs over Leslie, who seems to be approaching the door. She looks like she ran here; she’s flushed and flustered. She must be Chris’ next meeting.
Fantastic.
He hopes Chris focuses on the content of his meeting with Leslie, and doesn’t think about how Ben and Leslie’s working relationship has changed recently, how Ben works with Ron on Parks business now, how Leslie goes directly to Chris with new ideas rather than going through Ben... and, also, he hopes none of this occurs to Chris to wonder about at all, since Leslie's a petite blonde.
Of course, since they almost walk right into each other, it’s incredibly awkward. They both step in the same direction and do a little dance back and forth to sort out a way to just walk past each other. “Sorry.” “Sorry.” “After you.”
He steps aside to let her pass, and she mutters a “Thanks” as she walks into Chris’ office, pausing for a moment to stand up straight before she strides in. She doesn’t look him in the eye, not once.
She’s wearing a pink flowered blouse he distinctly remembers unbuttoning slowly, one particular night after a bottle of cheap red wine, a Republican debate on television ignored in the background.
Ben rubs his neck, and then turns and walks down the hall, one hand stuffed into his pocket and the other holding his padfolio. He gets all the way to the Sewage Department offices before he remembers his meeting is with Legal instead.
********************
Leslie barely makes it out of Chris’ office intact. She felt like she was going to split into pieces, trying to nod and smile and pay attention to what Chris was saying, something about changes to the system to make community center class registration easier so she has to talk to IT about it to create synergies, blah blah blah.
She’d been coming up to Chris’ office when she heard their voices through the door, which was halfway open. She wasn’t really eavesdropping, was she? She just made sure she didn’t click her shoes as she approached the door. Which she needed to go through anyhow. But she was early. It’s only courteous to let them finish their meeting, isn’t it? And not distract or startle them by making noise? Right, that’s it.
Chris sounded a bit worked up; Ben sounded quiet, but Leslie could hear the emotion in his voice as well. What on earth were they talking about?
“It’s the end of an era!”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“We’ve worked together for so long, Ben. What will I do without you?”
Without Ben? Why will Chris be without Ben? Where’s Chris going? Is Paul coming back?
“Chris, I promise, I’ll leave everything in great shape, and document what I’m doing. And I’m not going for a while yet.”
Wait, what? Ben’s going? Where the hell is he going?
“Oh, I know I can always count on you to be conscientious. But it’s going to be a real loss to the fine city of Pawnee, Ben.”
A loss to Pawnee? Ben’s leaving Pawnee?
“Oh, you’ll do fine, I’m sure.”
“You’ll be missed, buddy.”
Missed...
“Thanks a lot, man.”
“You tell anybody you’re talking to that I’d be happy to provide you with a fantastic reference. You are literally wonderful.”
Oh god, a reference. A job reference. He’s really leaving. This is really happening.
“That’s... that’s really great, Chris, thanks again.”
He sounds so relieved. Relieved to be leaving Pawnee. Oh, my god.
Leslie had only barely stepped back from the door when Ben stepped out. It had been weeks since she’d been that physically close to him; she could feel his warmth, hear him exhale quickly in surprise. It gave her a flash, a sensation from when he used to slide out of her bed, and she would roll into the space he’d just vacated, to feel his absence and breathe in his smell.
She could feel him watching her as she pulled herself together to go inside. If she’d looked back at him she would have lost it entirely, she’s sure of it. She might have thrown her padfolio at him, or smacked him, or thrown her arms around him. Or something. But she could not possibly have gone inside and met with Chris in the only-barely-professional manner in which she did. Even then it was a struggle.
She makes it back to her desk and sits there, pretending to stare at her computer screen.
Ben is leaving. Leaving Pawnee. (Leaving her, she barely whispers to herself, but that’s not fair, is it? They aren’t together any more.)
It shouldn’t be such a shock, really, though, should it?
How could Ben give up on Pawnee, though? She’d thought he’d really started to love the town. She thought it felt like home to him.
She knew he’d been back in Indianapolis, but he’d said that was personal. Although a job search is personal, isn’t it? And moving is definitely personal. Maybe he was apartment-hunting or something. She’d heard from Tom that he’d been working on his resume with Ben, but she’d thought that was kind of a joke, somehow. Just a way to hang out with Tom and help him out.
But apparently not.
He doesn’t really have ties to the community in Pawnee, not like she does. (Was she his tie to the community? She can’t think too much about that.) He doesn’t have the history here, and most of the people he knows are at City Hall. (And so is she. Does that matter to him any more?)
She was a bit surprised he could contemplate moving on to another job so soon, but she figures that his years as an auditor probably count for a lot in terms of experience, and he’s used to moving around. Maybe he misses that. He could probably land a great job. Somewhere else.
Suddenly, she feels angry.
So, Ben never really loved Pawnee after all, did he? He was just passing through all along? He didn’t mean to stay forever, nope, he was just going to get some experience inside city management and then move on to a bigger city, maybe, or a more senior job in a smaller city.
Maybe he never cared about Pawnee as much as she thought he had.
Maybe Pawnee wasn’t so special after all. Maybe he didn’t really love living here.
Screw him, then. If he is really leaving, well, then, she’ll just ignore him until he leaves, and then he can go off and have his brilliant career as City Manager of Eagleton or Noblesville or Muncie or wherever, and she’ll never have to see his terrible face again.
That’s a great plan. That’s what she’ll do. Fantastic. Settled. She’ll be in Pawnee, and he... won’t.
Why doesn’t that make her feel any better?
Leslie wipes her eyes, which are watering a bit, and grabs her padfolio for her next meeting. Which is with... oh, who cares. Oh crap, it’s a campaign meeting.
For once she really doesn’t want to talk about her campaign.
**************************
At the start of the meeting, Ann’s proud of her work as Leslie hands out colour-printed copies to her campaign advisors: Mr. Kernsten, William Barnes, and Elizabeth McArthur.
“This is really promising, Leslie,” Barnes begins as he leafs through it. Leslie smiles, although Ann does notice she seems a bit subdued. Maybe she’s intimidated by her campaign team? That doesn’t seem like Leslie, though.
“Thanks. And as we discussed, we started the category of ‘People met on campaign trail’ which I hope to add to.”
Elizabeth jumps in. Ann’s not sure if she likes her or not, yet. She seems nice enough, but she’s a bit... slick. A tiny bit too formal. Although she does seem to know whats she’s doing, Ann has to admit. “And with the schedule of personal appearances we’re setting up, you should have lots of opportunities to do that. Also after media coverage and debates, people come out of the woodwork to volunteer.”
“Great!” says Leslie. That sounded a bit forced to Ann, but nobody else seems to notice. Maybe she is intimidated.
Barnes says, “OK, it’s time to talk volunteer mobilization. I’ll work with you on the approaches to potential donors, along with Mr. Kernsten here.” Ann can see why Leslie would seem nervous at this one, and even Barnes notices this time. “Don’t worry, Leslie, we will work with you on the approach and really get you comfortable with it. People want to help. Some of them do that with their checkbooks rather than their time, and some do both. We don’t know who wants an opportunity to give, so we just have to ask them. Okay?”
Leslie looks a bit relieved at this. “Thanks, that sounds like a good plan.”
Barnes continues, “And separately from that, as we’ve discussed, Leslie, Elizabeth is going to coordinate the overall volunteer efforts, so you should set up some time with her one-on-one to brief her on the specifics of each volunteer list so she can start to get to know your supporters.”
Leslie nods, says, “Sure, we’ll set something up.” and makes a note in her to-do list in her padfolio.
Ann can’t believe what she’s seeing. “Um, Leslie?”
Leslie doesn’t look up from her writing. “Yeah?”
“Leslie?” Ann is hoping just a look from her will remind Leslie of their conversation, of her offering to manage the volunteers for Leslie’s campaign.
Finally Leslie looks up. “Yup, Ann, what is it?”
This is getting awkward. “Didn’t we talk about my role being... doing...” she nods her head sideways at Elizabeth. A couple of excruciating seconds pass, as everyone else stares at Ann, and Leslie stares down.
At last Leslie seems to get what Ann’s trying to say. “Oh, right, Ann, yeah, well, I talked it over with William and Elizabeth and we agreed that she would manage the volunteers. She’s got the experience, and she did offer...”
Ann can’t keep the irritation out of her voice. “So did I!”
Barnes’ tone is smooth. “Ann, your interest in the campaign is great, but we do find that experience really counts in things like this, to be really effective. What we would like to do is ask you to coordinate the get-out-the-vote volunteers on election day itself. Make sure rides to the polls are happening, phone calls, keep everyone fed and watered and keep the machinery running. It’s a very important job, and on that day Elizabeth will be needed to handle media and troubleshoot.”
He’s throwing her a bone, and she can see in his face the message Take it or leave it. Beside him, Elizabeth is studiously reviewing the spreadsheet that Ann spent so many hours typing up.
Ann can’t really get mad at them. They’re just doing their jobs. Leslie, on the other hand, is writing a note in her padfolio, but Ann can see that she’s really just writing the same reminder to set up a meeting with Elizabeth a second time. She doesn’t look up at Ann.
Alrighty then. If that’s how it’s going to be. Ann takes a deep breath. “Sure. Fine. I can do that.”
“OK, so, let’s move on to the next item on the agenda. Which is our media strategy.”
Barnes and Elizabeth look politely at Ann. She’s confused; what does she have to do with the media strategy?
Ah. That’s her cue to leave. So she’s going to be typing up a spreadsheet and then buying pizza for people on election day, is that it? And she’s going to be dismissed without a word?
She looks over at Leslie, who still won’t look at her, and thinks, No. This is not OK.
“Leslie, can I speak with you for a moment, please?”
Leslie looks at everyone else but her, and almost mutters, “Ann, I need to continue the meeting right now.”
The nurse voice comes out. “Leslie, I’d like to speak with you right now, please. Just for a moment. Then you can go back to your important meeting.”
Kernsten looks between the two of them and says, peaceably, “That’s OK, Leslie, I have a quick call to make, let’s take a 5 minute break and reconvene.” He pulls out his cellphone, which probably dates from the 1990s, judging by the size, and the antenna he has to pull out. Ann’s surprised it still even works.
Leslie follows Ann into the hallway, but that’s not going to be private enough for what she has to say. She grabs Leslie by the arm and pulls her into the stairwell nearby and shuts the door behind them. Leslie looks shocked. Good.
“What the hell was that?”
“What are you talking about, Ann?” Leslie has that look on her face, that look that says Don’t say it out loud and everything will be fine, let’s just rocket along and it’s all good, right? Right. Of course! Lalalala.
Well, not this time.
“I offered to coordinate your volunteers! I wanted to do it! Even though I knew it would be a ton of work and that you’d hardly notice it because you’re so busy lately! That’s fine if you didn’t want me to, it really is, but you didn’t even have the courtesy to tell me yourself! You just let them say it and you couldn’t even look at me! Leslie, what is wrong with you?”
Leslie gapes at her.
Ann feels like a volcano that’s finally exploded, raining down rocks and lava. “Leslie, you can’t just take people for granted and treat them like crap and assume they’ll be there to help you when you need them! That’s not fair! Even people who love you won’t stand for that!”
Leslie looks stricken. “Ann, that’s not what I’m doing! This is really complicated! There are just things going on that you don’t understand...”
Ann doesn’t have the patience right now to wait for her message to sink in. It’s not always her job to see Leslie through the whole cycle of realizing she’s wrong and trying to fix things.
Ann has a moment where she feels surprisingly calm despite her anger. “Leslie, everyone has their breaking point. Maybe I’ve reached mine. I love you, but I am not putting up with this.”
She turns and walks out, leaving Leslie behind her, wide-eyed and quiet.
**************************
It’s a good thing Mr. Kernsten is driving. Leslie has a folder of materials to review in front of her, but, honestly, she’s just ruffling through papers in order to avoid talking to him. He seems to be concentrating on the driving, anyhow. So she has a few moments to think.
Well, maybe thinking is not such a good thing right now. She has this appearance to do at the retirement home, and then Mr. Kernsten is taking her back to City Hall to get her car, and then she’ll get to go home, and... then what? More work?
It’s not like she has plans with anyone. Certainly not with a boyfriend. Not with a best friend, either. She could do more campaign work, but she isn’t really feeling so good about that right now, either.
No, ruffling through papers is a much better idea.
When they’re almost there, Mr. Kernsten breaks the silence that’s descended on the car. “So, we know that not everyone here will necessarily be in your target demographic, as they say, but it’s a great chance to practice your meet and greet skills, and you’d be surprised, a huge number of these folks vote. We’ll be giving some of them rides to the polls come election day. And they can be lots of fun to talk to. I come up here every couple of weeks.”
Leslie forces herself to put on a cheerful air. Mr. Kernsten has actually proven to be a really great addition to her team - he’s been around local politics since forever, and he often surprises her, like just now. “You do? Do you know people who live here?”
“Well, sure, I have former employees here, and people I’ve met over the years. But I just like to just come on up and keep people company, too. Some of them are lonely, and not everyone has a big family to come visit. So even if I don’t know people, sometimes I’ll play a game of backgammon or checkers and just chat, if that’s what they seem to be up for.”
She looks over at him. “That’s really nice of you.”
“Eh, I’m just putting something in the bank. At your age you don’t want to admit it, but most of us would be lucky to end up here - I mean, none of us wants to get old, but what’s the alternative?” He chuckles a bit, and Leslie smiles.
She can do this.
Inside, it’s a bright and humming space, with lots of activities going on - there’s a woman in a bright purple sweater playing the piano in the corner, and there are tables set up for cards, board games.
Leslie moves from group to group, introducing herself and talking with people - although she knows enough to avoid the bridge table, because that’s serious business. Plus she thinks there’s a retired librarian she remembers from her childhood at that table. She shudders a little.
She does play a few hands with the poker players, though, because they are playing for jelly beans, so she figures it’s mostly social, but she runs out of candies pretty quickly. Although, perhaps she underplays just a bit. She’s a politician now, so she can be a bit sneaky, if only about poker bets against potential voters. She eats some of her jelly beans, too; how can she resist?
A few photos get taken with some people that Mr. Kernsten knows, but it’s pretty low-key. People have things to say - even about municipal government, although some of their preoccupations are a bit out of date - it’s been a while since Pawnee had chicken coops in backyard.
Eventually she finds herself sitting with two women knitting on the couch, making blankets, which they explain they donate to the hospital. “Our kids have banned us from giving them any more.”
“How many did you have to give away when you moved in here, Louise?”
“Oh, gosh, a few dozen. Yes, that ban is maybe a good idea.”
They laugh.
“You’ve been friends a long time, I take it?”
“Oh yes, sweetie, what has it been, sixty-some-odd years now?”
“Something like that. Which means we met in preschool, right?”
They laugh again at this, and Leslie can’t help but laugh, too. It’s infectious. It’s easy to see them as the younger women they once were.
Dottie clarifies, “No, we met during the war, when my mom organized a scrap drive, and I wound up knocking on Louise’s door, and we talked her into helping us. Well, my mom did the persuading, mostly.”
“Oh, she was a pistol, your mom,” Louise adds. This makes them laugh some more.
“She was,” Dottie agrees. “Remember when she met your husband for the first time? Called him ‘sweetheart’ and told him he was handsome and made him so uncomfortable that he dropped the potatoes he was carrying to the table?” She’s giggling as she’s explaining this.
“Oh, lord, yes,” Louise replies, “He never really recovered from that with her. All those dinners and he still used to carry things so carefully to the table, that great big man, holding on so tightly to a little plate of meatloaf.” She’s giggling too.
“He was such a sweet man.”
Louise smiles warmly. “He was. Leslie, are you married?”
Leslie shakes her head. “Ah well. There’s still time. I loved being married. We were on the same team. Didn’t you feel that way, Dottie?”
“Yup. I know a lot of people didn’t, but we did. Not that we didn’t fight sometimes. That one time, we wallpapered the bathroom, I thought I was going to need a lawyer by the end of it - maybe a divorce lawyer, maybe a defense attorney!” This cracks them up, and Louise coughs enough she needs a sip of water. Dottie continues “But we got it done and made up and that was that. With the right man you can get through anything.”
Leslie swallows, and decides to ask her question. “So, what do you think is your secret to such a long friendship?”
They look at each other. Dottie is the more talkative of the two, but this time she looks at Louise, clearly waiting for her to go first. It occurs to Leslie that she’s genuinely curious to hear what her friend is going to say. This touches her more than anything, she realizes later, that ability to recognize that her friend could still interest her, could still surprise her, after all this time.
Louise begins, and looks back at Dottie, “Well, to be honest, we weren’t always the very best of friends. Things happened in our lives at different times. We sometimes had different problems. Dottie’s husband was pretty sick for a long time, and I was busier with my kids than she was. But I think we always could recognize that we were such good friends, and be patient with each other. And always tell each other the truth. But life is long. The good people are with you for the long haul.”
Dottie adds, “And I think you have to apologize when you know you’ve been wrong. Never take each other for granted. You have to take care of your friendships, just like you take care of your marriage.”
Louise says, “Remember that fight we had about those boys, before we were married? And how you brought me a chocolate cake to apologize? And I’d made you a pot pie to apologize, but it wasn’t out of the oven yet?”
Dottie laughs, “Yep. I still say that pot pie is better if you eat it after the cake rather than before.”
This cracks them all up.
Dottie muses, “I wonder who those boys were?”
Louise laughs again, “You married one of them, you silly woman. Are you forgetting?”
Dottie laughs back, “Right! I always forget that. He was so good-looking back then, wasn’t he?”
Louise says “Oh yes he was. And I was right to be pushing you to go out with him, wasn’t I?”
Dottie shoots her a look and says, “Yes, Louise, as I’ve admitted I don’t know how many times in the fifty years since then, yes, you were right.”
Mr. Kernsten catches Leslie’s eye and makes a subtle but unmistakable Time to get going signal. Leslie nods and then says, quickly, “Well, ladies, it’s been a real pleasure meeting you. Good luck with your blankets - I’m sure the hospital will be thrilled to have them.”
“Well, when you decide to have a baby, young lady, you just come on up and visit us and we’ll make you a blanket for the little one.” Louise has a twinkle in her eye as she says this.
Leslie opens her mouth, pauses, and then says, “You know what, that’s a lovely offer. If I ever do, I’ll definitely come and see you. But I think I’ll come back again before that anyhow.”
“You do that, sweetie, and good luck on the election. Marcia Langman was here a while back, and I didn’t like her. She’s got a stick up her rear end, as my granddaughter would say! You’ll do fine. People will like you.”
On the car ride back, Mr. Kernsten looks over at her when they’re stopped at a red light, and says “You seem like you're in better spirits now.”
She smiles back at him and says “Yes, that was actually a lot of fun.”
“That’s a good sign. In my experience, the finest politicians are the ones who actually enjoy spending time with people.”
“Thanks for that. Really.” Leslie smiles over at him, and then turns and looks out the window at her town, going past her in a dim blur.
**************************
The text from Leslie was simple and direct, although there was part of it she didn’t entirely understand.
Please come over. I hope we can talk. Making chicken pot pie. And chocolate cake. You can eat them in whatever order you like.
So Ann doesn’t quite know what to expect. But she’s driving to Leslie’s house anyhow.
She’s not sure how she feels about having blown up like that at Leslie. It was all true, but it was way harsh. Sometimes she feels like she’s got to learn how to stand up for herself without losing her cool and getting so exasperated. And today she was kind of awful.
So she feels like she owes Leslie an apology. But she also feels like Leslie owes her one too.
But does she get to go first? She’d kind of rather go first, to get out all the thoughts she’s got inside, to get it over with. But maybe if she goes first she won’t ever get an apology from Leslie. Maybe she should let Leslie go first. Is that too passive?
She hopes she hasn’t hurt Leslie’s feelings too badly.
She also hopes Leslie understands why she got so mad. She isn’t sure she wants to try to explain it again.
As it turns out, Leslie pretty much takes the decision out of her hands about whether to apologize first.
When Ann knocks on the door Leslie opens it, looking unnaturally timid, and ushers her in. Ann doesn’t even have a chance to take off her coat before Leslie begins, speaking calmly but quickly, like she wants to make sure she gets it all exactly right as she’d rehearsed it.
“Ann, I’m so sorry. You were totally right. I’ve been taking you for granted. I’ve been... I’ve been taking a lot of people for granted, I think. I’ve been so wrapped up in my life and my campaign that I forgot to make sure that you knew how much you mean to me and I didn’t treat you with enough respect. And I’m really, really sorry about that. It’s going to be different from now on. You can coordinate my campaign volunteers if you want. If you still want to. Or I would totally understand if you don’t want to any more. But I want us to be OK. That’s so incredibly important to me. You’re so important to me. Can we be OK?”
She looks at Ann, waiting for her to answer.
Ann breaks into a smile. “Leslie, of course we can be OK! I was mad, but I understand, you have a lot going on. I’m sorry I yelled so much at you. That was kind of uncool.”
Leslie pulls back one corner of her mouth ruefully, “No, I kind of deserved it. It was actually kind of awesome, Ann. You were so righteous.”
Ann pulls Leslie in for a hug. “Aw, thanks.” She pulls back, grabs Leslie’s shoulders, and looks at her mock-sternly, saying, “But don’t mess with me, OK?”
“No, ma’am,” Leslie is laughing and then gets serious again. “Really, Ann, I’m so sorry.”
“Really, we’re good.” Ann smiles at her, and then looks over Leslie’s shoulder, and stops still.
“Leslie...”
“What?”
“Are you... what are... are you moving or something?”
Leslie looks puzzled. “No, why?”
“Well, your house looks like someone from HGTV’s been here. What’s been going on?”
“Oh. That. Um, I’ve been doing a bit of a project.”
Leslie’s house had, as far as Ann knew, never quite gotten back to the point it had been before they cleaned it up for her dinner party, but still, it had been pretty cluttered, to the point where Ann had considered an intervention once or twice, but then Leslie had gotten it just enough under control to the point where Ann hadn’t wanted to push it. And Ann hadn’t been over lately, not since the summer.
And now it looked... fantastic. Clean, uncluttered, except for a stack of binders on the coffee table, but Ann figured that was just Leslie’s nightly workload. Shelves that had been groaning under the weight of too many books were neatly ordered, and there was even some space left, just like in Real Simple magazine. End tables just had one or two items on them. The stacks of old magazines were gone from the corners of the room. There was a clear path to the coat closet. Ann couldn’t see a single pair of snowshoes.
“I’ll say! You did your whole living room?”
“No...” Leslie looks a bit uncomfortable.
“What, are all the extra books hiding in the coat closet or something?” Ann’s kidding her but it doesn’t seem to be working.
Leslie looks sheepish, if anything. “Actually, I did the whole house.”
Ann’s jaw drops - literally, her mouth is hanging open. “The whole house?”
So Leslie takes her on a tour and shows her.
The basement, with its ordered bins of extra art supplies and office supplies and seasonal supplies and spare kitchen gear - there’s still a lot here, but Leslie knows where everything is, and everything seems to be still-functional (unlike the rusty sewing machine from the 1920s which Ann had had to cajole Leslie into taking to the dump last year).
The office, with the files and binders and pens and pencils and markers neatly arranged on the shelves, which, again, aren’t crammed full. Ann isn’t sure why Leslie needs Arbor Day wrapping paper, or, come to think of it, where you would ever buy Arbor Day wrapping paper in the first place, but it’s neatly tucked away with the other wrapping paper, sorted by holiday. And, of course, if anybody can find a use for Arbor Day wrapping paper, it’s Leslie.
The kitchen, with the spices finally labelled, and the ten soup ladles reduced to four or five so that you could actually pull one out of the jar without having half the rest of them come spilling out as well, and the pantry purged of the ten-year-old colored icing tubes which had dried up harder than rocks.
The attic, which Ann had never seen before, and which has the boxes of deep storage for Leslie’s childhood memorabilia, and, OK, there’s still quite a bit up here, but they are all labelled (Letters, Awards, Trophies, Ribbons, etc.), and you can now physically get into the attic.
Ann gets the sense that Leslie’s house finally looks the way it always should have. It looks more like Leslie’s life - full, busy, a bit crowded, but sunny and inviting, and like there’s room for more in it. Ann knows Leslie’s probably always going to be a bit of a packrat, but she somehow seems to have tamed her tendency to take it too far.
Once they’re done with the tour, they sit down to eat (the pot pie first) and Ann asks, “So, why now? What got you started on this? It’s not like you don’t have a lot of other stuff going on right now.”
Leslie looks down into her bowl, stirs her spoon around a little, and frowns. “Honestly? It was sort of because I was missing Ben.”
Ann puts her spoon down. “Oh, Leslie.”
Leslie doesn’t look up; she looks at the placemat, which she’s started scratching at with her fingernail, absently. “Late at night, when I couldn’t phone him any more, and he couldn’t, you know, come over any more, I didn’t know what to do, and I needed a distraction to keep me from calling him. And it was too late to start calling you. And one night there was pretty much nothing on C-Span or PBS or the History Channel that I hadn’t seen already, so I started on my living room and spent about four hours just sorting through things and deciding that I didn’t want to own a lot of it any more.”
“Wow. That’s a lot more functional than blowing a whole bunch of money on candles.” The living room alone would have taken ages. Ann’s pretty sure there was more than one brass instrument in there.
Leslie laughs. “I kind of lost my mind. I got a little compulsive about it, maybe. I turned it into a project like I do at work. I did get to listen to a lot of This American Life while I was doing it, though. Did you know they have podcasts? And I got through all the Game of Thrones audiobooks - Ann, you totally have to read those! It’s not just swords and wolves and stuff - it’s all politics! Plus the smutty parts are kind of awesome.”
“OK, I will. And, well, you know, you have to see the positive in any breakup, right? Why didn’t you tell me you were having such a hard time, though? I thought you were doing so well.”
Leslie shrugs. She looks really tiny at moments like this, Ann thinks. “I don’t know, really. Maybe I was just channeling all my energy into this? I haven’t ever had a breakup that felt like this, that hurt like this before. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. And what is there to say, really?”
“Other than you miss him.”
Leslie looks really bereft. “Other than that.” She looks like she’s going to say something else, but stops.
Ann reaches over and takes Leslie’s hand. “You’ll be OK. I promise.”
Leslie smiles sadly at her. “Ann, you’re such a good friend. Maybe we can grow old together - we’ll have to learn how to knit, though, I think. And play poker.”
“What?”
So Leslie tells Ann about her visit to the retirement home, and they end up watching Cocoon and Steel Magnolias, eating Leslie's chocolate cake, which was amazing.
They talk about Leslie’s campaign, too, and after hearing about Elizabeth’s plans for the volunteer management, Ann agrees that she’ll coordinate the election day volunteers instead of the whole thing. As she says to Leslie “You’ll have other campaigns - I can do more next time. Don’t worry. I’ll be happy doing this, and I’ll do a kickass job. And just think: I’ll get to boss Tom around all day.”
Leslie seems really pleased to hear that.
It’s good to hear Leslie laugh so much. Ann realizes she hasn’t heard Leslie laugh as much as usual lately. She wonders if it’s the campaign, or Ben, or both.
**************************
Leslie closes the door behind Ann and smiles, then sighs. She cleans up the last of the mess in the kitchen, and heads upstairs.
She goes into her bedroom and surveys it. She and Ann hadn’t come in here, just because there was so much else to show her, and Ann was so amazed by all the rest of it, and they were getting pretty hungry by then, and the food smelled so good. And because she maybe still feels like this is where she can really be honest with herself, so she wants to keep it just for her.
She sits down on her bed, and puts her head in her hands.
She couldn’t say it out loud to Ann.
She is just going to pretend she doesn’t know he’s leaving. She won’t mention it to anyone. If they mention it to her, she’ll just pretend it doesn’t matter much to her. Just like any other colleague, just like anyone she hadn’t really expected to stay in town.
Even though, she now realizes, she’d been hoping he’d stick around, and, somehow, after the election, maybe they’d have had another chance. She’d been taking for granted that they weren’t really over, not in a final kind of way.
But he’s leaving, which will make it final.
If that is what he wants, she can’t change that. Not without changing everything else.
And if that is what he wants, he obviously doesn’t want her to change everything else.
She reaches under her covers, pulls out the pillow. She buries her face in it, and inhales. Really, it’s lost all vestiges of Ben by now. She strips the pillowcase off the pillow, uses it to wipe her few stray tears, and grimly gets up to throw it in the hamper.
**************************
At this time of year in Pawnee, Donna’s not going to subject her new suede boots - or her Benz - to any more of the winter snow and salt and slush than she absolutely has to. So she’s contenting herself with the cafeteria food, but that doesn’t mean she has to actually eat there. Plus, that guy from Public Works might be there, and, just, no. No thank you.
She brings her BLT (the deluxe version, on foccacia with chipotle mayo, because Donna still has standards) back to the Parks department meeting room and sees she’s not the only one with the same idea. Leslie is picking at her salad while eyeing a cookie, while Andy and April are sharing a big Tupperware of what looks like SpaghettiOs combined with... baked beans?
“Looks like you two did some cooking, hey?”
Andy pauses between stuffing mouthfuls into his mouth. “Yeah! Wanna try it? We call it Beanaghettis! It’s awesome.”
“Well, it’s not, but we were out of food.” April nonetheless is digging in, Donna notices.
Leslie asks, “Then why not get lunch from the cafeteria? Don’t you usually do that? Isn’t their turkey chili your favorite?”
April whacks Andy on the shoulder. “I thought my turkey chili was your favorite! Liar.”
“No, honey, yours is my favorite homemade. Theirs is my favorite cafeteria-made.”
“I’m gonna divorce you.”
“I’m gonna divorce you first.”
Leslie waves her hand at them. “OK, lovebirds, before you wind up on the fourth floor, settle down.”
Andy looks up excitedly. “Anyhow, we’re trying to save money! We’re being adults. Plus we might need to pay our own rent soon.”
Donna squints at him. “What’s that? Don’t you pay rent now?”
“No, well, Ben pays the rent, and...”
April puts her hand on Andy’s shoulder and interrupts: “No, well, we all pay rent...” Andy looks askance at her but she waggles her head ever so slightly and gives him a warning look, and he quiets down. That boy is learning a thing or two, Donna has to admit. “But we’re just trying to save money,” April continues.
“Yeah, because Ben pays part of the rent...” Andy looks at April who just barely nods her assent, “and he said we should start thinking about what we’ll do when he moves out. He made us promise we'd start putting at least part of his rent check in the bank.”
At this, Leslie abruptly puts her fork down, picks up her salad, and throws it in the trash. “Well, I better get back to work. Donna, let me know when you want to talk about the seniors’ center - I won’t be at the meeting about it later today so we should catch up on it.”
“Sure, Leslie, I’ll get back to you about that once I’m back at my desk.” Donna wonders if Ron has noticed that Leslie’s been avoiding meetings that include Ben. Then again, Leslie hasn’t made Ron attend any extra meetings himself, so maybe not.
Once Leslie is out of earshot, Donna says, “So, where’s Ben going?”
April pretends to be nonchalant, but she actually makes eye contact with Donna. “He didn't say, but he’s been acting weird. Er. Weirder. He wears a suit more often. We usually can’t catch a ride with him to save gas because he says he has meetings after work, or sometimes he’s gone before we want to leave anyhow. But he isn’t going out with anyone because he’s home in the evenings. Making soup or whatever.”
Huh. “He must have some kind of important meetings. Maybe the kind that are like a date, you know, where you’re getting to know each other, and maybe it will lead to something more, except for it being in a professional context, know what I mean?”
April shrugs in that way that means Yes. “Maybe. Or maybe he’s joined a cult. One of those ones that dresses up more than the Zorpians. Maybe he’s not actually going to move out but he thinks he’ll be beamed back to space instead, and that’s how we’ll get stuck with the rent.”
Andy looks up from the Tupperware, which he’s licking. “That would be awesome! Honey, we should join a cult!”
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TBC
In the next instalment: a return of Ben Wyatt, Human Disaster. Plus, Perd! Joan! The Pawnee Sun! Ron Effing Swanson!
Here's Part Four.
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