Political Science 101

Chapter Four

THE ROOM grew uncomfortably silent as Ray waited for Mitch to change his mind, but Mitch gently shook his head. Ray ceased his pacing, coming to a halt in front of his own customary spot on the couch and plopped down in surrender.

"Why?" Ray asked quietly, seemingly unable to make eye contact with his lifelong friend.

Mitch drew in a deep breath, held it for a moment that lasted hours, then let it out. "Because," Mitch began, "I'm good at politics, but being a professor is what I do." For Mitch, this sentence held significant gravity because it was as though he felt teaching was his calling. Teaching was his way of molding the future, because, in his mind, the present was a disaster and the future was the only hope.

Granted, the prospects of going to Jefferson City and partaking in real politics (even at the mere state level) seemed appealing, but Mitch knew, deep-down, he simply wasn't up for that kind of plunge into the deep end.

"Well," Mitch continued, "I could go to Jefferson City with you and maybe even D.C. one of these days, and I'm sure I could play a big part in politics with you." He paused. "But I've spent too many hours in Jefferson City. I've spent too many hours in that infernal capitol building for too many reasons."

"What the hell does that even mean?" Ray said, trying not to sound adversarial in his tone-of-voice.

"I'm just saying, even though I know everything there is to know about political theory, I just don't think I could set-foot back into the political arena, or even a political building."

"Well," Ray said, sounding disappointed, "I guess I can appreciate that." He paused. "But I still think it's bullshit."

Mitch's head shot up at Ray with a glare of annoyed surprise.

"I think you're being a pussy about this," Ray continued with brevity. "I think you're scared. I think you're comfortable teaching this shit, but you're too much of a pussy to actually do it."

In nearly any other context, this sort of banter would have been seen simply as two buddies giving each other a hard time. But not tonight. Tonight, this seemed serious.

Mitch looked at Ray, hoping to make eye contact. "You see," Mitch said, trying to remain in a civil voice, "here's my perspective: The contemporary American political system is a disaster." Mitch's gaze dropped, and he began to shake his head slightly and slowly. "It's in shambles," he said frustratingly, "and no current politician is going to change it. But maybe — just maybe — I can do my part to change American politics, one future politician at a time. That is why I'm a college professor, not a politician."

Ray shook his head. He could tell that Mitch would not be swayed and decided to respect the wishes of his friend.

"Two years from tonight," Mitch said, somberly hopeful, "we will be celebrating your victory again."

"Indeed," Ray agreed.

"To the United States Congress," Mitch Added.

Ray narrowed his eyes and grinned. "So you're still on the team?" Ray asked.

Mitch glanced up from his drink and, ever-so-slightly, revealed his own impish grin. "Maybe I'll even get you into Congress, just like I got you into the Missouri State Legislature: Incognito." Both men casually stood and met in the middle of the room, shook hands, hugged, and bade one another goodnight. It was late, both men were tired (and a little drunk), Ray would be starting a new career tomorrow, and Mitch had a phone number burning a hole in his pocket.

"Sorry," Mitch said, trying to make peace by using a soft tone of voice.

"Oh well," Ray replied, and he sat his drink down and left.

"Indeed," Mitch said, somewhat dejectedly.

"What now?" Ray said through Mitch's speaker phone.

"What do you mean?" Mitch asked, though he had a pretty good idea what Ray meant.

"I mean," Ray said, his frustration now very apparent, "we've won this election, I'm a politician now, and you're not coming with me. We've achieved this goal we set out for ourselves and now that we're there, and you're not coming with me, what do we do now? What do I do now?

Mitch was silent for a moment. For the first time, it occurred to him that he really had not put any thought into the "next step" of Ray's political career if/when he was elected. Getting Ray elected was their ultimate goal. Their ultimate goal was now a reality.

"What now?" Ray said again. "I mean, sorry to keep quoting Robert Redford here, but seriously, what now?"

Mitch took a breath. "We'll figure it out," he said, sounding unsure. Mitch could hear the metaphorical clink of the metaphorical can being kicked down the metaphorical road.

Be careful what you ask for — you may get it, Mitch thought to himself in the voice of Nichelle Nichols' "Uhura" in Star Trek III.

"Did you not think I would win?" Ray asked.

"I knew you would win," Mitch said, "I guess I just didn't expect it."

"What the hell does that even mean?" Ray said quickly.

"I don't know," Mitch muttered, "but I guess we'll just see what happens."

The two men walked wordlessly to Mitch's front door and Ray stepped outside into the cooling November air. As Mitch closed the door behind Ray's exit, he decided to dial the phone number on the paper. But before he heard it ring, he pressed the END button on his iPhone. He'd dialed the number with the full intent of calling her, yet he had no idea what he would say to her.

He'd just had a deep heart-to-heart discussion with his best friend — and in a way, he felt like he let his best friend down by not agreeing to go on his upcoming journey with him. But the truth was, during the entire conversation, he could only think of Ana.