by The Bat
Just a draft, maybe a story later.
| James was going to see the new house today. Every time he thought about it, he got a cross between extreme giddiness and a deep sigh of relief. He never thought he could have it all - a dog, a family, a house with a picket fence, a loving wife. Of course he had taken these steps in order, he found a dog he liked, he found a woman he liked right smack in the middle of child-bearing age, and he found the house.
James favorite thing about his wife Lindsay, was no matter the situation, no matter how low on the horizon the sun was, she would always have a good attitude, and find the glimmer of hope - no matter what. He had graduated from Harvard, a few years earlier as a Doctor of Philosophy, in politics. He had really had ambitions of being the next President, he had a mind full of policies, operation, and even foreign policy. But time had grown on him, and as it did, he realized he didn't want to be directly in the spot light himself, no, he would rather be the man behind the curtain. A decision maker, who directly influenced politicians. A lobbyist.
So he hung his flag out, he even had the president of Harvard connecting with people, in other words, he hadn't had dinner by himself in a while. He imagined, having a Sunday night where he could just retire in the living room and drink beer and eat popcorn. This however went against his ambitions. He was slowly but surely putting a bug in everybody's ear he talked too. He even had dinner a night or two with a reporter. That was how he met his wife, Lindsay.
He remembered the dinner clearly, he would bring up some big public event, usually proving him right about his point of view. She would sit there, leaned in, listening to him the whole time and then sit upright take a drink of her spritzer, lean back and echo his point of view in another light, turning bad to good, and almost making headlines out of every thing he said.
"So, you're saying the Democrats are acting like Germans by enforcing life saving vaccines on people who don't necessarily want them?"
He just sat there, as she summarized the twenty minutes he had been speaking.
"I guess you could say that the people that don't want the injection are standing up for their rights, in the tradition of Jefferson, Washington, and Hamilton."
He replied, "Sounds more convoluted when you put it that way, but yes, we as Americans have certain unalienable rights, rights our forefathers believed in, god given rights, in the eyes of many."
The entire night went like this, him stumping, her summarizing; and before they knew it, they had polished off salads, dinner, desert, and four bottles of wine. The evening was winding down now, he wasn't working so hard on his points, she might've been playing footsie with him, the restaurant workers looked to see how their only patrons were getting on.
He was gazing in her eyes, she was flirting hard, and playing with her hair. The time was now, strike when the irons hot, as he had said to so many others.
"You know, Lindsay, it has just occurred to me, that we are the only ones in this restaurant. How about I have my driver take you home, I couldn't live with myself if you were too...say get in an accident."
She agreed. They both got in the back of a town car, and he poured himself a sipping scotch. She declined, "Senator, you don't have to get me drunk to sleep with me." She said as she waggled her finger. Her voice however was light and flirty, had he been more present, he might've worried about her passing out. They passed by the creatively named streets, he was flirting back now, and almost gotten her dress off, but she again said, "Let's wait till we get home, it'll be better in my bed." And then she passed out.