7. What Took You So Long?

7

WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG?

DARREN

“ I ’m fielding questions about your marital status.” Rausch slides his phone back into his pocket while we walk towards the park.

“Don’t the press have better things to do?”

“You’ve been campaigning for three months, and your wife is nowhere to be found.”

“Can we talk about this later?” I go through my notes, avoiding the conflict, when normally I fall headfirst into it.

“Well, I need to know what to say,” he counters. “ You need to know what to say.”

“I don’t know, because I wasn’t planning on having to tell them anything,” I raise my voice.

I was planning that she would be here.

“This is important. You need to be on top of your game. The press will be there,” Rausch persists.

“I know,” I snap and then let out a breath. “I’m waiting.”

Rausch turns to look at me with a curious gaze.

“Explain to me why we’re doing this again?” I ask.

“You need to get your face out there,” he replies.

“My face is on every street corner,” I counter.

“And now we need to get your face on TV.”

“’Scuse me?” I whip my head in his direction.

“You have a face for TV,” Rausch compliments.

“Well, yeah, but,” I stop. “Don’t distract me from the real issue here.”

He stops walking and lets out a breath. “I know this is not what you want to hear, but it’s my job…”

“It’s your job to tell me the ugly truth,” I interrupt. “But can we put the ugly on hold for today?”

Rausch concedes by giving me a disgruntled nod.

I pull at my collar, the warm spring air already causing me to sweat.

“I hate suits,” I grumble.

“Stick to the speech,” Rausch retorts, getting back to business. “Talk about the union, bringing more business to the area…” He continues, but I’ve already tuned him out. I look at the small crowd that has gathered and groan internally.

“The ones with Walker signs—did you pay them to be here?” I accuse.

Rausch stays silent.

I narrow my eyes at him.

“Gently persuaded,” he offers. “But look,” he points to a few attendees with Calhoun signs. “They came on their own.”

“Great turnout!” Angie beams, looking at the small crowd, and she’s either blind or being paid by Rausch to blow smoke up my ass. She doesn’t wait for my reply and starts getting the microphone ready.

I walk through the crowd and introduce myself while I wait for Angie to get everything set up, and see Ethel waving me over to a group of seniors.

“I don’t usually leave my house,” a white-haired lady says. “And I certainly don’t get involved in politics, but I don’t want to lose my house,” she says. “Ethel said if I voted for you, that wouldn’t happen.”

I look to Ethel, who clutches her crochet bag tight to her chest. She offers me a small smile.

“Well, I can’t make any promises,” I start to say.

“Isn’t that what politicians do, make promises?”

“Most of them, yeah, but if you’re facing the same issue Ethel was, the only way we can combat that is to introduce the bill for the property tax relief program again,” I explain.

“You can do that?” she questions, and I can see the hopefulness in her eyes, as if it’s already a done deal.

“If I’m elected, I can reintroduce it, but I can’t guarantee it will pass. It has to be voted on by the other representatives,” I explain.

“Darren, we’re ready,” Angie pronounces, touching my arm to get my attention.

I hold a hand up for her to wait. “I just want to do what’s right for the community.” I look between Ethel and her friends.

I walk with Angie up to the podium. “You’re very sweet,” Angie says, handing me the microphone.

I let out a small laugh. “Not sure I’ve ever been called sweet before.”

“You really care about these people. It’s the reason I wanted to work on the campaign. This is like a dream come true for me,” she gushes.

“Thanks,” I say as she adjusts my tie.

“I’ll see you back at the campaign office?”

“You’re not staying?”

“I’ll be back with some of the volunteers to take everything down, but Rausch asked me to go pick up the pins from the printer. Insisted, really,” she rolls her eyes with a laugh.

“Hmm.” I press my lips together, looking over at Rausch as he greets one of the police officers that was hired for crowd control. An expense we overestimated considering the small number of people in attendance.

Standing at the podium, the sun beats down on me and I can feel beads of sweat down the back of my neck. Rausch stands to the side, giving me an encouraging gesture to get on with it. I have my speech in my hand.

I can’t help feeling how different I am than them. Wearing this expensive suit, sweating in the sun while they look eagerly on, waiting for me to change their lives. I take my jacket off and throw it over the podium.

The crowd shuffles their feet, and Rausch gives me a nervous look.

“I never intended to run to be your representative. I didn’t think I was cut out for politics. I would have happily lived off my trust fund, but then I had the fortunate opportunity to meet one of the community’s residents.” I smile at Ethel, who’s fanning herself with a pamphlet. “She was ready to beat me with her cane because she thought I was an investor, ready to scoop up another house in the neighborhood and turn it into a McMansion, as she so eloquently called it.” I loosen my tie, leaving it hanging precariously against my dress shirt. The crowd chuckles a little bit.

“It’s called cleaning up the neighborhood. Attracting people to live here!” Someone with a Calhoun sign calls from the back.

There are a few rumbles from the crowd. “Revitalization of older neighborhoods can be a good thing.” I hear a few protests. “But not at the expense of the most vulnerable of residents who live on fixed incomes.

“I have to admit, I was angry. Angry enough to try and think of ways to help her. But change, real change, comes from being involved with the very policies that impact the community. I want to be that change.”

The crowd cheers and then someone asks, “That’s big talk, but how are you gonna do that? I’ve got abandoned shops on either side of me on Main Street. That ain’t a good look.” The man furrows his brow while crossing his arms over his chest. “We need people to invest in the community.”

“I can’t make promises that I’ll be able to make everyone happy because that’s simply not feasible,” I explain. “But I can promise that I will listen because that’s what being your representative means. I’m your voice in one of the most influential areas of our government.”

I flip through my notecards. “So let me help you understand where I stand on some important issues.” I continue through my speech, making adjustments as needed. “If you’ll let me, I’d like to be that voice of change for you in Congress,” I finish.

Up front, Ethel claps vigorously and people raise their signs.

Some reporters from the local newspapers push to the front, hands raised, press passes swinging around their necks.

“Mr. Walker?” an older gentleman grabs my attention, and I nod for him to continue. “You’re running as a Democrat, but your father was a Republican representing the state of Virginia, do you think that will influence your party ties?”

“I don’t like party ties. I never have. I think we should vote for what is right and what is best for the community, not because it’s in line with how our party votes.”

“Don’t you think that will make you unpopular in the House?” another reporter asks.

I laugh. “Probably.” I shrug.

“Your father promised to shake things up in Congress, but you could argue his record shows otherwise,” someone else comments.

“I can’t tell you why my father voted the way he did on certain issues, and well, he’s not here for you to question,” I note sadly, causing a few of them to shuffle on their feet. “I can only tell what I will do.”

“Where’s your wife? We haven’t seen her with you at any of the rallies,” someone questions.

Rausch steps forward to put a stop to the personal questions, but I hold my hand up.

“Her grandmother passed, and she’s been handling things back home,” I explain, and Rausch presses his lips together disapprovingly.

When I look at the crowd, I can’t school the shock and elation on my face as I notice Evangeline standing at the back.

“Excuse me,” I say into the mic. “I haven’t seen my wife in a while.”

I jump down from the stage and push my way through the crowd until I reach her. Gathering her into my arms, I don’t hesitate to crash my mouth to hers, tasting salty tears. She kisses me back, her arms wrapping around my shoulders and her fingers splayed in my hair.

Everything fades into the background until it’s just her and me, the way it should be.

Holding her face in mine, I rest my forehead against hers while I wipe a stray tear from her cheek. I breathe her in, the sweet scent of cherry blossoms.

“What took you so long?”