“Ms. Washburn?” The senator’s voice was so deep and rich, it reverberated in my chest and bounced around like a pinball between each of my ribs. “I’m Drake Prescott.” He strode into the classroom and extended his hand, and when I placed mine in his, it seemed small.
I was thankful I’d worn a black dress today that hit just above my knees, and a pair of simple black pumps. Most days I dressed casually, and I rarely wore heels. My coworkers probably noticed that I’d made an extra effort today, but I didn’t care.
“Very pleased to meet you, Senator Prescott.” I cleared my throat, trying to free the lump that formed so I could swallow and be articulate. “Class, this is Senator Prescott, who represents our fine state of Virginia, and Senator, this is my class.” I motioned toward the kids with a hand that trembled slightly, and jerked it back to my side.
“Thank you for having me here today.” He turned to look at the students. “I was going to give a speech about our wonderful country and the sturdy foundation our past leaders have set in place for us. But if it’s okay with Ms. Washburn, I’d rather field questions from you. You’re all young adults and will be voting within the next couple of years. You may not realize it yet, but you’re our country’s future.” He turned toward me. “Will that be okay?”
My tongue slid over my lips, which were now devoid of any moisture, rivaling the Sahara Desert. “Yes. That would be wonderful. Wouldn’t it, class?”
The girls agreed with shining eyes and appreciative murmurs, but the boys fidgeted in their seats.
Senator Prescott flashed his dimple that turned my legs to Jell-O, and nodded before addressing my students, who shifted in their seats. “So, who has a question for me?”
At first, no one raised their hand. Then Marcie, one of my star students, broke the ice.
“Yes, young lady.”
He raised a hand to point to the back of the class. When the other students turned to see who he was talking to, they grumbled, and Marcie’s face reddened.
“Please introduce yourself.”
She stood. “Hi. My name is Marcie Smith. I was wondering what your stance is on gay marriage.”
My heart raced. Marcie’s father was gay, and she had been raised by him and his partner. They were wonderful with her, always present at every parent-teacher conference and very involved with her academic career, but I couldn’t clue the senator in that this was a very personal issue to her. So I just held my breath as some of the students snickered.
Drake’s straight posture commanded authority, and when he spoke, the class silenced and stilled.
“That’s an excellent question, Marcie.” He leaned his long frame against the front of my desk. “The Supreme Court has ruled that states can’t keep same-sex couples from marrying and must recognize their unions. Therefore, it’s legal.”
Marcie looked a little confused but she wasn’t timid, which she proved by her follow-up question. “I wanted to know what your personal stance was. Do you support same-sex marriage?”
“My views may not be popular in the party I’m affiliated with. For lack of better words, they have some very old-fashioned and conservative thoughts regarding same-sex marriage, and whether the issue is truly a federal one. I was raised to believe in the love that two people have for each other regardless of their sexual orientation.”
“Thank you, Senator.” She smiled and slid back into her seat as he asked for the next question.
More students piped up to ask a few general questions, softballs in comparison to the curveball he’d just fielded.
“Have you met the president?” Yes.
“Have you ever been in the Oval Office?” His response was no with an easy chuckle.
The back and forth now had a more relaxed feel, and his responses were quick.
Jasmine raised her hand, and he nodded in acknowledgment.
“Will you be running for office again?”
“Yes, I’m the incumbent, and would love to keep my seat.” He was confident and his eyes shone with pride, which affected me even more than his good looks.