furtl

by Strobe Witherspoon

  “A lot of new faces around here,” Manny said to Fiona, surveying the crowd.

  “Yes.”

  Fiona had recently announced her new cabinet. It was a diverse group made up of Fiona’s old inner circle, but also a veritable who’s who of powerful union reps and lobbyists from the sugar, natural gas, pharmaceuticals, organic food, and electronic cigarette lobby.

  “I see you brought in some DC power players,” Manny observed aloud.

  “We’re a big tent administration, and everybody has a place at this table. No interests go unnoticed.”

  “None?” Manny asked.

  Zeke tugged Fiona’s arm as he pointed at some people waiting to speak with her.

  “Look, revolution is one thing, governing another,” Fiona said.

  “Yeah but–”

  “We can’t just shut these people out. I want to understand every side of every argument, bring some rigor to this office. Only then can we start getting to the messy truth.”

  “The messy truth?”

  “The ‘big messy truth.’ Surely you remember our discussions on Austrian philosopher Luther Straub’s theory on universal governance discourse.”

  “Vaguely.”

  “Give them a voice, let them sink or swim based on the merits of their positions. Look, you and I both know that democracy is the worst form of government, except for all the others,” Fiona said.

  “Thanks, Winston,” Manny said.

  Fiona’s Churchill reference went over Zeke’s head, and he was getting restless. “Fiona, primping time is over. It’s time to usher in a new era in American politics.”

  “Okay. Manny, will I see you at the ball?”

  “I think I still need to take it easy.”

  “Well, let’s catch up real soon. I’ll never forget what you did. Remember that.” Fiona disobeyed her hairdresser – who was trying to keep her head straight for one last fluff of her hair – and looked at Manny. They enjoyed a brief moment of quiet, mutual recognition. Still sitting, Fiona reached out and clutched Manny’s hand. “Thank you,” she said.

  “Thank you,” Manny said.

  Zeke grabbed Fiona’s arm with both of his hands, guiding her out of her chair.

  Manny walked to the exit. He stopped at the door and watched Fiona practice her speech using her note cards. Zeke handed her more note cards. A number of people waited to speak with her. Outside, the crowd was getting restless. The excitement in the air was palpable. The horn section of the marching band struck up a rousing rendition of “When the Saints Go Marching In,” drowning out all other noise. Manny turned around and left the room.

  end