Political Science 101

Chapter Forty

"MAKE THIS happen? What the hell are you talking about?" Ray gave this woman a discombobulated look as she stood charmingly yet ominously in his office.

"Well," she said, stepping slowly (and almost provocatively) farther into his office," as you know, the late Congressman Jenkins has not been replaced. The governor hasn't yet appointed a person who would adequately fill the shoes of such a great man." She paused. She grinned.

"And you think," Ray said, pausing to think, knowing exactly (so he thought) where this conversation was going, "you think I could be his successor?"

Lenore Sable's grin widened into a devious smile. "Indeed I do," she said confidently.

"Miss," Ray began, looking to the floor as he shifted his weight uncomfortably, "the governor is a Republican. Mr. Jenkins was a Republican. I'm a Democrat. It doesn't work that way. A Republican appointing a Democrat to replace an assassinated Republican would cause a shit storm of epic proportions. And besides—"

"Why do you think it's taken six months to find a replacement?" she interjected, trying to interrupt Ray before he had a chance to say "No."

"I'm sorry," Ray muttered, shaking his head, "but I'm going through a very difficult personal time right now and I don't think I'd be up for it."

"I understand, but just hear me out," she said, attempting to sound enthusiastic. Ray shook his head. There was no way that this woman understood anything. Ray himself didn't even understand.

* * * * * * *

Ill-timed, indeed, thought Ray as he quickly pulled his face back from Amber's, her cell phone ringing in the form of some current song which he'd never heard before. For the previous ten seconds—which seemed like ten (or-so) minutes—they'd sat in silence, knees touching, as their faces, their lips, drew closer and closer together like some quintessential romantic film finale. Ray imagined the theatric orchestral music accompanying this scene as the crescendo rose to a pinnacle when their lips would meet. But their lips did not touch. Instead, the phone rang.

"Hi, Mom," she said when she answered. She placed a subtle finger over her lips; Ray remained quiet. "Yes, I'm still here. I'll be there in a little bit. I'm just now finishing up." She winked at Ray. "Okay. Love you too. Bye, Mom."

Ray wasn't sure why he was nervous, but he was petrified. His heart pounded like clamoring church bells.

As Amber pressed the "End" button on her cell phone and sat it down on the desk next to her, the two of them—seemingly reflexively—readjusted themselves into what seemed like a more comfortable arrangement with regards to one another, only to find that they were situated in a nearly identical position as they had been prior to Bradbury's Butterfly fluttering into the room as an ill-timed phone call, face-to-face, knees touching. But as they sat, they were again gazing into the eyes of the other, frozen. Then nearly out of instinct, they again drew closer, slowly. No music in Ray's mind this time, only the deafening hum of silence.

As their lips nearly met, Ray heard the silence broken by a whisper. It was his own voice. He'd spoken.

"Is this really happening?" Ray heard himself whisper to the beautiful young woman who sat only millimeters from him. He could feel her soft breath on his lips.

She nodded slowly, calmly, passionately.

Ray's heart was racing like clamoring church bells. For some reason, being in this situation with this young woman at this moment made him feel so vibrant, so alive, so young. Thoughts of the wife he loved and the son she'd given him never entered his mind. Ray would realize later that he honestly had no romantic feelings for this woman whatsoever, but rather, seemed to instantly fall in love with the feeling of youthful excitement that she gave him at the electric moment when their lips finally met. He kissed her, softly, gently, trying not to breathe, drinking in the rush of passion that flooded his consciousness and awakened his slumbering soul.