Chapter 13: Meet the Press, Take 2

Monday, July 11, 1983

Dr. Danforth called me over as the assembly ended.

“Would you please be at this room at three?” he said, giving me a note.

“Sure,” I said.

“We’ll have several reporters there. They’ve been informed that we’ll keep working with them, but for today, expect an hour or so and that’s it. Anything they write has to be approved by your parents, as well.”

“Works for me, I said.

“The Journalism folks are still figuring out a schedule.”

“I’ll await their decisions.”

“Thanks, Steve!”

“Happy to help!”

My classes this week were Library Research, with a guy named Kevin Bailey, and another Speech and Diction unit, taught by Diane Perot. Both of them seemed sharp and easy to work with.

Laura actually smiled at me a couple of times as we passed, which was a welcome change. It looked like we were getting through this.

I’d spent a fair bit of class time distracted by the upcoming interviews, or rather by what they meant to me. Angie had left me to my best judgment, and I needed to exercise that judgment.

When I’d been interviewed after Prom, it’d been mostly off-the-cuff, and my goal had been to support Janet and Lizzie. These were different. I’d had time to think about them, and I was clearly the subject. The question was: What did I want to do with that?

I could (and this was my first inclination) simply be modest and self-effacing and play up the ‘It was all for Janet and Lizzie’ angle. That certainly fit with the origin of the quote at the center of things.

On the other hand, this was an opportunity, both for self-promotion and for making some points to a wider audience. Angie and I were increasingly comfortable with making ripples, even waves. That had started by chance, but now we could just run with it.

Why not? Take your shot. They might not do much with these interviews anyway, but you miss every opportunity you don’t take. If I screwed up ... well, I was still just a high school junior in most people’s eyes. High schoolers are known for screwing up, after all.

I arrived just before three, glad that I’d worn a fairly nice polo and nice pants. In truth, that was me most days. Sometimes eclectic colors and such, but I dressed well. It wasn’t that much work and, as the noted sages of ZZ Top had noted, women go crazy for a sharp-dressed man. Not that this was ‘sharp,’ but the principle remains.

I headed in and found five reporters (three men, two women), each with table cards showing their name and affiliation. The Chicago Tribune had someone, of course. The other four were from the AP, the Wall Street Journal, the Washington Post, and Time Magazine. Curious group, and I wondered if the others would want in later.

Dr. Brigham acted as moderator, having me introduce myself first, then opening the floor to questions. There were a fair number of background questions (‘How did you meet Ms. Vinton and Ms. Collins?’, for instance) and a bunch specifically about Prom. They asked me how I felt about Reagan quoting me (‘I’m highly flattered that the President would choose my words to express his thoughts on welcoming our differences’) and how much it’d affected my life so far (‘Very little. People were interested, even impressed, but we’re all busy and I’m just one bright kid in a big group of bright kids’).

Probably the trickiest was a question about whether I thought Reagan would support the intention of my words — being inclusive of gay people. I had to think about the answer, and finally said, “I can’t be sure of what the President was thinking, and my words were pretty broad when looked at out of context. That said, I would hope that our President wishes every person of good will to be equally entitled to the American dream in all of its many forms.”

Two reporters slightly rolled their eyes at that, but it felt like something between admiration with my phrasing and frustration that I hadn’t said something foolish. At least, that was what I told myself.

The woman from the Washington Post asked how I’d feel if they did a brief profile of me. That surprised me, and I had to think about my answer.

“Ms. Atkinson,” I said, “I think that it would be an honor, if perhaps also embarrassing. I understand why I’m news, even though it’s not how this started. Prom wasn’t my story, it was Lizzie and Janet’s story. All I did was sum up how most of us felt in a nice, convenient quote. Now, that’s an achievement, as I’m sure you’ll all agree...”

That drew laughter.

“ ... but whether I’ll ever say anything else that the press is interested in, besides whatever comes of this interview ... well, who can tell? My parents would certainly want to see it first, of course — they’ll have concerns over how I’m portrayed — and I know Doctor Brigham would, as well.”

He nodded.

I continued, saying, “To me, the more interesting questions are for President Reagan, and time will show the answers. Will the big tent he’s proposing be big enough for Lizzie and Janet, for instance? One would hope so, but my quote doesn’t say gay or lesbian. Will it be big enough for other groups who statistically aren’t all that Republican, even if some members are? Obviously, there’s a reason why we have two parties, and people would need to mostly agree with Republican policies and principles to make sense in the Republican party, but if the differences are religion, or sexual orientation, or any of a number of other things, then how will that work, particularly with other Republicans who are opposed to whichever group they’re a member of? And, more broadly, what of people in other jobs? Should Federal jobs, across the board, be welcoming to everyone of good intent, even if they’re ... different? I’m just a high school debater, in the end. A good one, but still. I argue about policy proposals, but I can’t make them in a way that matters outside of a Debate round. Anyway, long-winded answer, which wouldn’t go well in a Debate round...”

Another good round of laughter.

“ ... but that’s the essence of it. If I say something, it might be interesting, or perhaps embarrassing, but that’s pretty much it, whereas if President Reagan were to expand on what that quote means for the direction of the Republican Party and the country, that would be news.”

Ms. Atkinson smiled. “That’s very interesting, and I mean ... I think readers would find it interesting. We’ll see where things go. Thank you!”

The rest of the questions weren’t all that earth-shattering, though I got the impression that the Tribune guy was also thinking of a profile. He’d have the local ‘kid at Northwestern’ angle, even if I was just here for the summer.

Late in things, I got a chance to mention talking to Principal Riggs, Meg or Steffie, maybe Janet or Lizzie, and so forth, if it was going to be focused more on me. The feeling I got was they were already planning on that, but hadn’t wanted to mention it (perhaps because I might contradict something one of them said, which might provide some drama).

In a way, if someone did a profile of me, I hoped the AP guy would pick up on it. It’d be hilarious (if maybe more embarrassing) for the Houston Chronicle, or the Houston Post (or both!), to publish a profile of me, and they’d definitely have an angle.

The Reagan points were a lot more salient to me. Reagan had to deal with people like Phyllis Schlafly, who might well throw a royal fit if the party more clearly welcomed gay people. She’d already directly attacked Lizzie, after all.

This would all have much more import as the AIDS crisis deepened, as it would, inevitably. If I could nudge Reagan into doing more, and sooner, that would make every three-ring circus they wanted to put me through totally worth it.

It wasn’t just that, though. What might happen if Reagan said anything about ‘gays in the military,’ to borrow a future phrasing? The quote Reagan (or, more properly, a speechwriter) had chosen worked directly against that ban, so Reagan would be in the position of either affirming existing discrimination or offending the large anti-gay wing of his party. It would change the 1980s, it might affect the election, but it would also change the 1990s. How would Clinton be affected without ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’? That whole thing had been a mess, in the end.

With the way the interviews had gone, I decided it made sense to give a few people a heads-up. The press might be heading their way, or perhaps they could be and should be nudged.

I left messages for Principal Riggs, Meg, and Cam Michaels, letting them know I’d been interviewed by a few major publications and might — might! — get some more press. Since at least some of it might be a profile of me, they should know, in case it affected Debate, the school, or the district.

I also asked Cammie to let Mel know. Someone might decide that the Social Committee Chair was interesting enough to interview. Maybe not, but it was worth a heads-up. Plus, it gave Cammie a convenient excuse to give Mel an extra call.

In the evening, I separated from the group and headed to the student center, taking a phone booth and watching for anyone to come anywhere near me.

This time, I got the answer I was hoping for.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Jane.”

“Steve! I’ve been waiting!”

“I’m sorry. It was late on Friday when we talked, Saturday was consumed with a field trip, and yesterday I didn’t get you. There are other things going on, too, which you might not know about.”

“Start at the beginning, I guess,” she said.

“Nah. I’ll start with Laura.”

“That’s what I meant, or what I think I meant, anyway!”

“Very briefly, she’s one of us, from yet another universe.”

She took a deep breath. “As we’d guessed, I think.”

“The ... me ... in that universe is a guy we’ve decided to call ‘Asshole Steve.’”

“That’s worrisome.”

“Remember all those times when we talked about how, if I was someone else, I could go from girl to girl, breaking hearts and causing trouble?”

“I take it that’s what he did?”

“That, and leave Laura at the altar after cheating on her, and after stealing her Ph.D. research and making a huge fortune on it.”

“Ugh.”

“Oh, and he dumped her for Jessica Lively.”

“Of course, he did.”

“That universe’s Angie was ‘just’ Steve’s cousin, but she was his partner-in-crime, helping recruit girls for him. I got the impression maybe there was more there, but we didn’t dig deep.”

“That’s quite the revelation. I imagine it will be difficult for her to trust you.”

“I think so. She accepted that I’m not ... him. I’m not really pleased with how that happened, because it’s a bit of misdirection, but...”

“Misdirection?”

“The Steve she knew had appendectomy scars, while I don’t.”

“Ah, but that proves nothing, since you had them in your first life.”

“She doesn’t know that it works that way, yet, and the biggest thing was just to interrupt her second-guessing herself as to whether I was really ‘Asshole Steve’ playing nice.”

“That makes sense.”

“She said she was already wavering on it, but her antipathy is, or was ... visceral, I suppose. The keys were, first, that she’d heard about Prom, and ... Asshole Steve hated any lesbian he couldn’t sleep with.”

“Charming fellow.”

“And then, second, shoving her out of the way of the truck. He would never have risked himself to save anyone else.”

“Sounds in character.”

“Her world was significantly different than ours, at least in the future. We’ve just scratched the surface on that.”

“Interesting.”

“And I’ve been skipping the biggest thing, because it would’ve dominated everything else.”

“I’m ready to worry.”

“I’m not sure this is something to worry about, so much as... maybe it’s a big deal, maybe it’s not, and ... I don’t know that it tells as us much as I wish it did, but it still maybe tells us something important.”

“I’m dying of curiosity!”

I chuckled. “Okay, so ... and I’m paraphrasing here ... Laura says that, when she died, she wished that somewhere, somehow, she could get what she deserved ... and that Asshole Steve, and his awful cousin, and his horrible friends could get what they deserved, too.”

There was pause, and then, “Oh, my God!”

“About how I reacted. As I said, I think maybe that was an overreaction of sorts.”

“How? It explains so much!”

“Or not. I think we have to credit that it’s the most likely explanation to date for why the three of us are all the way we are, but I’m not Asshole Steve, Angie’s not Awful Cousin Angie, and so forth. Either we’re ... well... here to help get Laura what she deserves, or we’re just ... connected. Maybe we’re taking up the space that Asshole Steve and Awful Cousin Angie took up. Or, maybe, the universe said ‘Hey, Laura could’ve done better, and so could’ve Steve and Angie, so let’s put them together and give the Magic Eight-Ball a shake!’”

Jane laughed, loudly. After a second, she recovered, and said, “Okay, the Magic Eight-Ball thing got me! You have a point, though.”

“It doesn’t give me direction. I don’t feel any particular obligation to make Laura’s life what she deserves, except that she’s like me and Angie and it feels like we should stick together, at least as long as we’re all being good-hearted people and doing the right thing. I’m certainly not after her. She was first-life Steve’s ‘One that got away,’ but that doesn’t actually mean that much to me. We never had anything vaguely like Jas and I have. And, for her, she apparently loved Asshole Steve enough to say she’d marry him, but that was then. Not saying it couldn’t happen, but a lot of things have to happen before even a night in bed is an option.”

“Good call on that one! Like everything else, it’s unprecedented, but I think that would take sleeping with the crazy ex-lover to new heights!”

“One thing that I’m happy about is that I have no idea what Laura’s research was, so I can’t possibly steal it, even inadvertently. The closest I could do would be investing in someone who came up with the same idea, but even then, that’s different, and I’d cut her in on it if that did happen,” I said.

“Good. Just monitor it, I guess.”

“Oh, I will.”

Jane said, “She knows about Angie?”

“Yeah. I had to tell her. Angie knew I would, of course. There’s no good way to explain why I expect people to be different versions of themselves except to point out that it’s happened before.”