Political Science 101

Chapter Forty-Two

"HAPPY THANKSGIVING," Ray said aloud to the ominous empty void surrounding him as he drove in his car, passing traffic in downtown St. Louis, dodging pedestrians as they walked through the newly-brisk November breeze on their way to the metro's annual Thanksgiving Day parade. But today would be no parade for Ray Doyle. Here would be no turkey, no pumpkin pie, no football for Ray Doyle. He was on his way to meet his best friend for a late morning drink, needing to speak to someone — anyone — who could help him make sense of the turmoil of the previous month-or-so of his life. And lucky for him, his favorite St. Louis sports bar — the locale of his victory party a year ago — was open on Thanksgiving Day.

As he stepped into the front door of the sports bar, a waft of the familiar and distant past wisped across Ray's senses. He glanced to his left, to the end of the long rich mahogany bar, where a casually dressed man in a gray hooded sweatshirt and an old worn navy blue Red Sox cap sat sipping a rum-and-Dr. Pepper while tapping casually on his iPhone.

Ray approached, pulled out the barstool next to Mitch, and sat down with a deep sigh. These two men shared these two seats in this bar for years, listening as the other unfolded his life to his best friend over strong cocktails. They were Norm and Cliff.

"Thanks for meeting me here," Ray said without looking over, "because I've royally fucked up."

Most of these conversations took place without eye-contact, which made Mitch's next move a notable one.

"Ray," Mitch said, leaning forward and looking directly at him, "you are my best friend, you were the best man at my wedding, and I yours; you've been my best friend since we were kids. There is nothing you could do, no situation you could be in, that would prevent me from being here for you. I know you did something you regret — and we really haven't had a chance to talk about it — but no matter what, I will always be your best friend."

"I know," Ray said forcing a smile across his face.

"Seriously, brother," Mitch said intently, "you're my best friend, and that's not something I take lightly. This kind of lifelong friendship is all about unconditional loyalty and brotherly love, and I would never turn my back on you, no matter what." Mitch paused, looking to Ray for a reaction. "I mean that. I may have a little sister, but you're my only brother."

Ray nodded, gazing down at the mahogany bar.

"So," Mitch said, "tell me, what'd you fuck up?"

Ray finally looked back at Mitch and they both shared a moment of understanding. "I would never cheat on my wife," Ray finally said, his voice slightly wavering, "but I kind of did."

Mitch sat back for a moment, then leaned forward again, knowing exactly what Ray was feeling. "Well, what do you mind by 'kind of did;' because it's been my experience that either a person cheats or they don't, and you know about the skeletons in my closet."

"Okay," Ray said, "then I guess I did."

"Does Samantha know?" Mitch asked.

"Yeah, Sam knows. She and Will are staying with her mom in Springfield.

"So, she left you?"

"For now," Ray said, pausing for a moment, "yes." The tone of his voice indicated a hopeful sense of hopelessness.

"It was your assistant, wasn't it," Mitch said, knowing his best friend quite well.

"Yeah," Ray said, "Amber. You met her."

"Yeah, I remember her," Mitch replied, nodding with a comforting sense of understanding.

"Amber," Ray said again. He hated the way her name sounded as the words floated into the air. He remembered how he'd once loved the sound of her name, spoken in the voice of a man who used to be him.

"Well, she was a cutie," Mitch said, trying to unsuccessfully lighten the mood a little.

"Go to Hell," Ray muttered quickly and quietly.

"Sorry, bro," Mitch said with regret.

"It's okay." Ray's tone was dejected and despondent as he divulged the details of his difficulties. He reluctantly gave Mitch the play-by-play of what happened between Amber and him on that first night they kissed; he then proceeded to tell him about the other three instances in which he and his former assistant had continued their physical interactions.

"Four, total," Ray said, wrapping up his account of the relationship.

"And you didn't sleep with her?" Mitch asked, confirming that he understood the details correctly.

"No."

"Never?"

"Never."

The two men paused, as if to replay the exchanged they'd just shared. The silence was comfortably awkward, only broken when Ray spoke again. "Samantha only knows we kissed, and she only thinks it was once."

"But the truth is," Mitch said analytically, "you guys made-out, right?"

"Yeah."

"But no clothes came off, right?"

"Well," Ray paused, "not all the way off."

"I see," Mitch said with a nod of comprehension.

"There was once in my office, once in my car, and once on this little wooden bridge at a quaint little nature park. But that was it. A lot of hands and stuff, but definitely no sex."

"Hmm," Mitch hummed in a syllable of neutrality.

"I can't even describe how glad I am that we never had sex," Ray said with conviction. "I would never have forgiven myself if I'd slept with her."

"Indeed," Mitch replied.

"Seriously," Ray said with insistence. "I didn't have any real 'feelings' for her. None. Anything I felt for her was more of an infatuation of flattery at the thought that she might be attracted to me." He paused, looking down in shame. "I guess," his voice quivered, "I just used her. I used her because she made me feel vibrant and young."

"Well brother," Mitch said sardonically, "to be honest with you, that sounds pretty fucking shitty."

"Well," Ray said "that's because it is pretty fucking shitty," Ray replied, appreciative of the honesty Mitch was displaying.

"So," Mitch said, leaning forward, crossing his arms and sprawling both elbows onto the bar, "here's the million-dollar question: If the relationship had progressed and the situation had presented itself, would you have had sex with her?"

Ray paused.

Mitch waited.

Ray thought.

Mitch raised his eyebrows, waiting-out the silence.

Ray thought some more. "Probably," Ray finally said, "and I hate myself for that even more."

"How did it end?" Mitch inquired.

"Well," Ray said with a breath of contemplation, "I kind of had a moment of clarity and it just hit me that it was completely wrong, so I told her we couldn't be physical anymore."

"And how did she react?"

"She quit," Ray said.

"Well," Mitch said, "the most important thing here is that you came to the realization that you were wrong, and you did the right thing."

"I guess," Ray said, "but if I hadn't done the wrong thing in the first place..."

"I know, brother," Mitch said. "We all make mistakes."

"I didn't make a mistake," Ray interjected, "I made a choice, and it was the wrong choice."

"True," Mitch said, and he suddenly thought about Ana.