Taft 2012 - Jason Heller [60]
I still want to bring Grandpa to show and tell!
Love,
Abby
P.S. Daddy showed me how to spell commercial and companies.
CLASSIFIED
Secret Service Incidence Report
BBR20120402.06
Agent Ira Kowalczyk
En route back to Ohio for week of speeches; have dispatched agents Pearsall and Horton to head advance sweep of venues in Cleveland, Columbus, Cincinnati. Note that Big Boy appears less concerned with security issues and more concerned about open access to chat with voters. Note also that Big Boy seems most concerned with making sure there’s time to visit Irene Kaye in Patterson Senior Village. More security around the perimeter this time, since the crazies and hoaxers online are getting louder. (Site diagrams attached.)
TWENTY-FIVE
The Rosewater smell had faded from Irene’s room in the nursing home and been replaced by something saccharine and sickly chemical. She lay in bed when Taft arrived, various machines hooked into her body, her veins visible through her skin like blue pen through vellum. “It’s about time,” she rasped, a rattle at the edge of her voice. “I haven’t got all day, you know. I might mean that quite literally.”
Her laugh was weak, but there was no mockery to it. Even on her deathbed, Irene had more stoicism and spine than most of the twenty-first century combined.
“Irene.” He took her fluttering hand. It felt as light as a parakeet. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner. Things have been … difficult these recent days.”
“Difficult? Oh, Taft, don’t let these times taint you. If there’s one thing this generation loves, it’s to make things more difficult than they have to be.”
A blush rose to Taft’s cheeks. He sighed and sat next to her on the bed.
“You’ve lost some paunch,” she noted. “Last time you planted yourself there, I almost slid off and onto the floor.”
Taft patted her hand. “Well, yes. I’ve been trying to take better care of myself.”
“Ah,” she said, “if only it were as easy as trying.” She coughed violently, but it passed before Taft could ring the bell for the nurse. “It’s all right,” she assured him, although her tone was anything but. “They pop in every few minutes to check on me anyway. I believe they’ve got someone waiting out in the hallway, eager to take over my room the instant it becomes vacant.”
“They may take your room, but no one will be able to take your place.”
“You’re a flatterer. And a maudlin one at that.” She wheezed. “But please, tell me, what’s on your mind? You seem twice as troubled as the last time you came to see me.”
“Ah, well now, I.…” He cleared his throat. “Lord, Irene, this is hard to say. For as dedicated as I am to running this campaign fairly and honestly, I find that I’m still having to play these infuriating politician games. Again! I hated it in 1912, and it’s even worse in 2012. It’s not enough to be oneself. I start off trying to discuss the truth as I see it, but no matter how clear I try to be, people misunderstand something I say or they focus on one little thing that they don’t like at the expense of the greater point I wish to make. And then, as I try to get closer to their perspective so that I might figure out how to explain what I want to say in words they’ll grasp, what ends up happening is that I bend around, prevaricate, hedge, compromise, conceal. It’s inhuman. I feel the rot of it taking hold of my soul.”
“Oh, Bill. Don’t be so melodramatic. Is it really that bad?”
Taft glanced around as if some partisan or spy was ready to eavesdrop or simply pounce on him. “It’s these infernal Taft Party people. Not the voters—the tub-thumpers. They all think they can paint me as the champion of whatever sort of ‘old-timey goodness’ will make their specific patrons happy. Between them all, they’ve backed me into a corner. No, that’s not