Page 111 of 28 Summers
“Yes, Senator.”
Ursula doesn’t ask any further questions, but news anchors and political pundits across the spectrum later comment about the expression on Ursula’s face.
Rachel Maddow says,The senator looks skeptical.
Shepard Smith says,Senator Ursula de Gournsey clearly doesn’t believe him.
Luke Russert says,It’s obviousthe senator thinks Stone Cavendish is full of…baloney.
The Senate votes on the confirmation of Kevin Blackstone Cavendish three days later. Before Ursula leaves the house that morning, Jake says, “Just think if one of those young women were Bess.”
“Bess is too smart to get herself in that position,” Ursula says.
“Is she, though?” Jake asks.
Kevin Blackstone Cavendish is confirmed to the Supreme Court by a vote of 61 to 39, which is not surprising. What is surprising is that one of the dissenting votes is cast by Ursula de Gournsey.
Frankly, she surprised herself.
People will talk about her vote for an entire news cycle—five days—but no one will know exactly what moved her near-certain yes to a resounding no.
Jake might think it was his last-minute insertion of Bess into the conversation, and Bess might think it was because of her own final teary plea to her mother—she’d called Ursula during her car ride to the Capitol Building and said,Mom, please stand up for womankind!
No one will know that in the hour before Ursula cast her vote, she was visited by a memory that she’d relegated to the delete-from-deleted file of her brain.
She’s a first-semester sophomore at Notre Dame and she and Jake have just broken up. Ursula is upset about this. Jake was the one who wanted to split; he thought they should date other people.This doesn’t mean we won’t get married,he said.But I think it’s a good idea to see what other people have to offer.Ursula doesn’t philosophically disagree but hearing the words come from Jake, who has been so ardent since the age of thirteen, is hurtful. Ursula feels she has lost her magic.
She turns to religion, which is a comfort. She joins the campus ministry and attends every meeting, and in a few short months she is spearheading outreach for the undergraduates as well as service projects in the community. She organizes trips to shelters and soup kitchens in Gary, Indiana. At the start of the spring semester, she’s a shoo-in for president of the group. But when she approaches Father Gillis, he suggests she run for vice president instead. Father Gillis supports a junior named Nathan Bowers for president. Nathan, after all, is a year ahead of Ursula and has been in the group a year longer.
Right,Ursula thinks,but Nathan Bowers doesn’tdoanything.He’s a heavy-lidded dope smoker, good-looking, and with a certain lazy charm; he’s too cool for the campus ministry. He lies around,and makes wisecracks. He’s not exactly a model Christian. In November, when the group goes downtown to fill Thanksgiving boxes—frozen turkey, Stove Top stuffing, cranberry sauce—Nathan keeps calling themhandouts.
It takes a while for Ursula to realize that Father Gillis wants Nathan to be president because he’s male.
Nathan becomes president of the Notre Dame campus ministry and Ursula, VP.
Fast-forward to the end of the spring semester, mid-May. Nathan Bowers and his three roommates are throwing a party at the house they’ve rented for the summer on Chapin Street and Nathan is eager for Ursula to attend. Ursula doesn’t go to parties very often; she’s too busy studying. But it’s a mild spring evening, it’s a Friday, and Ursula thinks it sounds like fun.
She drinks way too much—two cups of the grain alcohol–and–Ocean Spray punch they’re pouring out of plastic pitchers. After that, there’s a game of Mexican, a bunch of warm beers, maybe a shot of Jägermeister. At some point, Nathan asks Ursula if she wants to go upstairs. Ursula isn’t sure if she says yes or no. The next thing she remembers is waking up to find Nathan grinding on top of her. They aren’t having sex, but she wants him to stop whatever it is he’s doing. However, she’s too tired and too drunk to push him away. She closes her eyes.
She wakes up in the middle of the night to find Nathan sitting in a papasan chair in the corner, smoking a joint and staring at her so intensely it feels like a violation.
Ursula looks down. She’s lying on Nathan’s comforter, fully clothed, thank God. He was on top of her before, yes? Or did she dream that? “What did you do to me?” she asks.
He exhales a plume of smoke. “Don’t you remember? You seemed pretty into it.”
“I wasn’t conscious,” Ursula says, and the nascent lawyer in her surfaces. “Did you rape me?”
Nathan laughs. “No, Ursula.”
“You did something. I remember”—she’s not sure how to describe it—“you were on top of me.”
“That was what you wanted.”
Ursula swings her feet to the floor. She feels like she’s operating a piece of heavy machinery trying to get herself upright. Her head is splitting. “You’re disgusting.”
“You asked me for it.”
“I was too drunk to know what I was doing, Nathan,” Ursula says. “What did you guys put in that punch?”
