you'd still be a... a body-less head-sicle."
Walt laughs. "That's it? I caught worse from Julie Andrews about craft service on 'Mary Poppins'. Couldn't start her day without an ice-coldTab."
Richard gathers his things. "There's no point in my arguing with a crazy person. I'll take this up with party leadership."
And he's out.
Walt waves his hand at Jeffrie's stack of devices, not knowing which is which. "Call Ben, get him in here."
"He might not come," Jeffrie says. "Knowing him, he's devastated."
Sure enough...
Ben's smiling. Wait -- what? Ben lounges on his couch at home, relaxed and happy.
And he's talking with someone. Flirtatiously. "Well, I don't want to say 'I told you so'…"
Over at the fridge, Jeffrie is bent, lacy thong exposed, reaching for a bottle. "Seriously, all those things I told you you were wrong about? You were right." She stands and turns and… it's a hologram.
Holographic Jeffrie holds up a Stella Artois. "I bought your favorite beer."
Ben smiles lazily. The phone rings. Caller ID snaps him out of it: It's Jeffrie. He speaks for voice activation, "Fantasy off!"
Holographic Jeffrie disappears and Jeffrie's voice comes over the speakers. "Ben?"
Ben snaps to. "Jeffrie, what's up?"
"We need you to come back."
"You do?"
"Walt does."
"And you."
"Ben, come on."
And with "on," Holographic Jeffrie reappears. "Should I make spare ribs?"
Jeffrie asks, "Are you with somebody? (realizing) Are you with me?!"
"No -- it's the video from my sister's baby shower. Remember the fun? (quietly) Fantasy off." But Ben can't speak loudly enough for voice activation. He grabs the wrong remote - shit - then searches for the right one.
Holographic Jeffrie says, "Can we watch 'Sports Center'? Pleeeeease?"
Jeffrie can't see what's going on, but she can hear. "Oh, god, are you playing 'Sexy Jeffrie'? How could you watch that? I was so drunk."
Ben digs around for the remote. "No you weren't. Besides, it's not you."
Holographic Jeffrie unpins her hair and advances toward Ben. "I, Jeffrie Flanagan, completely sober and of my own free will--"
Ben spots the remote, dives for it and zaps off Holographic Jeffrie just as she starts to 'go down on him'.
Ben sits, relieved. "What were you saying?"
"Forget it."
"No, not 'forget it'."
"Walt and I were wrong. Don't rub it in."
Ben smiles. "Is there a helicopter on my lawn?"
A little while later, Ben is with Jeffrie and Walt back at the hotel.
Walt says, "I apologize. The clash we had wasn't a firing offense."
"I'm sorry, too," Ben says. "I wanted more respect and, yet, I wasn't exactly showering you with it."
Walt is gracious. "I'm still getting my sea legs. It hasn't been easy. The people I owe my life to disagree with me on the topic. My own family wants me dead. And my ex-wives wish I'd never been born."
Jeffrie is touched by his unprecedented dilemma. She tries to keep it light: "You've definitely covered the spectrum."
Ben realizes, "But we haven't. How did we miss this? It's not just about bringing a life into the world, it's about bringing a life back. It's about people who've died. Or who'll die tomorrow. It's about all of us."
"Thank you!" Walt says. "It's not just me."
Ben shakes his head of course not. "The question of when life begins has everyone invested when it can begin again."
Jeffrie is right there with them. "Like, would you want a law saying that if your father dies, you could never bring him back?"
"In the case of my father, yes," says Ben.
Jeffrie tries a better example, "What about when you die?"
Ben smiles. "Exactly."
And within two days, they're running this TV ad:
A daughter stands over her mother, who lies in bed in an ICU unit. The mother is on life support. The daughter's hand hovers over the plug. A man's voice says, "Death. The final destination, if you vote Democrat or Republican. Vote Bull Moose and it's just an inconvenient layover."
Michelle Obama sits on a sofa in the White House residence, between her 20something daughters and her 83 year-old mother, Marian Robinson. All four watch the commercial, the girls with an uncomfortable eye to their mother, Marian with a suspicious eye to her daughter.
Michelle frowns. "Turn it off."
Sasha starts to wave her arm, but Grandma Robinson catches it. "Hold on, Sasha. I like this one."
From the TV, the man's voice says, "Life is a gift. Vote Bull Moose and there is no return policy."
Michelle stands up and walks off.
Her mother calls after her, "Get back here, "Madame President!"
Finally, it's election night. The returns play on multiple screens that display varied coverage. Cricket brings Walt a scotch. Parker holds hands with his date -- a woman with a boyish look. (Baby steps.) Richard talks with Aaron. Jeffrie and Ben watch Diane Sawyer.
Diane consults the results board. "The polls are now officially closed in the state of Cuba. Let's check our map. It's looking, well, very good for the Bull Moose."
The map is all brown, except Florida. Everybody cheers.
Diane says, "The eye-scanning ballot system is being questioned in Florida, where 12 million voters have glaucoma."
Jeffrie turns to Ben. "Looks like you did it.
"We did it," Ben says. "Not exactly how I envisioned it in college, but... it feels good."
"Do you know that Leonard Cohen lyric? 'Ring the bells that still can ring, forget the perfect offering, there is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in'."
Richard overhears her. "Good Christ, you're a Democrat, aren't you?"
Jeffrie smiles mysteriously. The phone rings. The room goes silent.
Cricket answers the phone. "Hello?" She listens, then, "Certainly, Madame President. One moment."
Everyone cheers. Cricket hands the phone to Walt.
Walt takes the phone, not entirely sure where the mouthpiece is. He talks in its general direction. "Hello? …Well, thank you. I know this can't be an easy call for you to make, Madame President."
Again, the room erupts. Ben high-fives Jeffrie, but hangs onto her hands.
He smiles. "It's going to be an interesting four years."
"Four?" Jeffrie says. "Try eight."
Walt is clearly enjoying the President's concession call. He laughs. "Well, thank you, Michelle. Anyone ever tell you you look like Butterfly McQueen?"
Ben takes a deep breath. This fight has only just started. Let the drinking begin! He walks to the mini fridge and grabs a bottle of champagne, then goes in search of a towel. (Good champagne is still corked the way it has been for hundreds of years. As it should be.) While the room is understandably caught up in this historic victory, Jeffrie quietly picks up her purse to slip out.
"You're going?" Ben asks, suddenly right there.
Jeffrie says, "I have to be somewhere."
"Where?"
"Doctor's appointment."
Ben doesn't get it. "For your allergies?"
"No. It's for something else."
Ben still doesn't get it. Then he does."Oh."
"Yeah."
Jeffrie waits. Then she continues to the door.
Ben watches, knowing if he's going to say something he'd better say it fast… "We did a great job picking a head. ...You want help choosing a sperm donor?"
Jeffrie stumbles and recovers. She looks back at him, not sure what he's suggesting. "Did you know a good one?"
Ben buys time. "I need to know more about this process. I mean, I know about The Process, I'm just not clear where you are in yours."
Jeffrie admits, "Neither am I, suddenly."
Does Ben look…relieved? He says, "But you're still going to the doctor?"
"Fuck, yeah. I need Im
itrex. I've had a migraine since yesterday. I threw up ten minutes ago."
"I'm so not making out with you in the limo. C'mon." He holds the door open above her head and she passes underneath his arm. They walk out as the room erupts in celebratory cheers.
About the Author
Laurie Parres's writing career, like World War I, started with the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria. And that sixth grade play, like "Head Of State," featured a prospective world leader being shot in the head. (Any humor in the play was unintentional.) Laurie went to nine schools in ten years, which in no way contributed to her later seeking the stability of Hollywood.
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