Free The Department of Lost & Found by Allison Winn Scotch

tell her that I’d finessed her out of larger jams in the past, and that we were still seventeen percentage points ahead, and that when the dust settles, frequenting hookers really can sink a political career, but before I could say any of that, I went to move toward her desk, and, instead, made a mad reach for her bamboo wastebasket. But I didn’t make it in time. So I lurched over and vomited on my too-pricey Joan and David pumps.
    “I couldn’t have said it any better myself,” Kyle said, and he went to get paper towels from the kitchen.
    I sat on the senator’s creamy white rug, the outline from my puke sinking deeper and deeper into the strands of the carpet, and peered up at her.
    “Go home, Natalie,” she repeated firmly. “Take care of yourself. I think you’ve done enough.”
    The Department of Lost & Found
    69
    “I suppose this is a bad time to discuss the birth control bill?”
    I looked up at her and closed my eyes.
    “That discussion is over. There is no discussion, in fact,” she said, as she walked out of the room.
    By the time I had the stomach (literally) to turn on the TV that night, Taylor had eaten five percentage points into our lead.
    ◆
    ◆
    s i x
    D ear Diary,
    This is shit, Diary. My life is shit. I know that I should feel guilty over outing Taylor, but guess what?
    I don’t. In this job, anything goes. Kyle knows that. Dupris certainly knows it. And how am I repaid? By being cast off and ignored. So you know what, Diary? F-them.
    So it looks like it’s just the two of us, Diary. Ready to make a run for it? Wel , maybe not just the two of us. Sally showed up last night to listen to me bitch, even though it was pret y clear that she didn’t agree with my tactics. I guess she’ d interviewed Susanna Taylor once last year and thought she was a pretty okay broad. That’s what she said, “She’s an okay broad. She cares about making a difference. I think she’s helped a lot of women in 72
    a l l i s o n w i n n s c o t c h
    her . . .” and then she paused and looked at me, “wel , in your position.” Truth be told, Diary, I felt a pang of irritation because I hardly wanted to be compared to other cancer victims, but stil , for the most part Sally listened, and I don’t even think she judged me too much. So I guess it’s just the three of us, Diary.
    Maybe that’s not so bad.
    Anyway, the fact that work won’t cal me back is actually working out just fine because I finally got this little endeavor of mine off the ground. I know that you’ l find this surprising, but my first manhunt went off without a hitch. Ha! See, now I told you not to worry!
    I called up Colin the other day to get some answers. And, in fact, I plan on cal ing them al —no need for jokes, my list is not so long that I’ ll be two breasts smaller by the time I’m done—
    until I’ve successfully come out on the other side.
    Colin was, understandably, surprised to hear from me. We broke up just after graduation, our senior year in high school.
    Five months before that, he’ d robbed me of my virginity, though, if I’m being totally honest and I guess I should be since I’m the only one reading this, I’ d given it up pret y easily. He still lived in Bryn Mawr; actually, his wife answered the phone. God, I hope she didn’t get suspicious that some strange woman was cal -
    ing their house around dinnertime. Colin was never the type to cheat; in fact he might have been the most loyal of the lot of them. He set the bar high and all of that.
    When he asked why I was calling, I explained that I was trying to work some things out with myself, and I thought maybe he could provide one sliver of the answer. I didn’t mention the cancer, but I think he already knew—heard it in the hometown gossip cycle. So when Colin paused and asked, “How are you?”
    The Department of Lost & Found
    73
    with the overemphasis on the “are,” I knew that he knew. I got that sort of emphasis all the time now . . . it was