“Shouldn’t we go down to the campaign office?”
“No, I don’t believe that would be a good idea today. Gainsburg will be stressed out and may take it out on us in some way that may spoil the positive energy that is so very needed at this time. There is also, quite simply, nothing else to do but wait. The man said it himself.”
“He did?”
“More or less.”
I was not totally convinced, but knew that any attempt to change Dawsley’s mind would prove pointless. He asked Sandra to bring out bottles of liquor for our “alcohol feast” as he referred to it. She huffed and puffed and muttered in her language, but as always she did as requested. We spent the entire day drinking, slowly at first and then more quickly as the day progressed.
The next morning was brutal and we were expected to be at the top of our game in order to help bring in as many last minute voters as possible. We drank that awful, syrupy liquid that Sandra made and were chauffeured down to the campaign office by the driver. Everyone was making calls and Gainsburg was standing in the back of the room wearing a suit with a pin reading “Gainsburg for Governor” on it. He was very clearly in a state of great stress and anxiety.
“Today’s the day!” declared Dawsley.
“Don’t remind me.” replied Gainsburg.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Just pre-election jitters.”
“They’ll pass.”
“They’d better. I need to hit the streets and head over to where the votes are being cast.”
“Let’s take the limousine.” suggested Dawsley.
Gainsburg nodded and the three of us left the building and entered the car. Gainsburg’s right leg was shaking rapidly from his anxiety.
“Drink this.” said Dawsley handing a glass of something dark to him.
Without questioning the contents, Gainsburg drank the whole thing. The car pulled up to the building housing the voting booths and we got out. Gainsburg put on a smile and began to wave to the group of people who were cheering. A news crew hurried over for an interview.
“Mr. Gainsburg! Mr. Gainsburg!” called the newswoman. He stopped and smiled at her. She approached with a microphone.
“Hello, my fellow American!” he said with a chuckle. I realized immediately that something was not quite right.
“Mr. Gainsburg, what do you have to say about the voter turn out today?” she asked.
“Hey now, I just got here!” he said. He began laughing a little and reached for the microphone. The newswoman stepped back and shot him a disgusted look.
“Mr. Gainsburg have you been drinking?”
“How dare you accuse me of such a thing!”
“I can smell bourbon on your breath!”
“Oh no.” he said as he raised his hand to his face and checked his breath.
I turned to Mr. Dawsley who was watching the situation unfold as he chuckled quietly.
“Mr. Dawsley, you gave him bourbon?!” I said in an angered whisper.
“A single glass! It seems as if Mr. Gainsburg is a light-weight if I’m using the term correctly.” he replied.
“Why would you give him alcohol?! It’s not even noon!”
“He was too stressed out. A strong candidate must appear confident if he wants to win!”
“A strong candidate must not be drunk during a morning interview!”
“If I had known he would become so easily intoxicated, I would have given him half a glass instead.”
Gainsburg had somehow acquired the microphone and was singing into it while staring into the camera. I put my hands over my face, too horrified to continue watching. I could hear Dawsley laughing hysterically next to me, as well as the crowd of people who had gathered to see what was happening. To escape, I entered the building and voted for Gainsburg, taking my time in hopes that the spectacle outside would be over by the time I returned. However, this was not the case. Gainsburg had been lifted by the crowd and was being carried around while people took turns singing into the microphone. Dawsley approached me, still laughing.
“What a wonderful day this is turning out to be!” he proclaimed.
“I have to disagree.” I replied.
Dawsley shrugged and went inside to vote, wiping the sweat off of his brow as he entered. A short while later he returned and we decided to leave the scene which was still unfolding. In the bar we went to, the television was showing the chaos still occurring outside of the building that housed the voting machines. Dawsley smiled, but the comedy had become less funny to him now. We drank bourbon and talked about Gainsburg. The television then began to show DuChamp, sober and greeting a large crowd of people.
We went back to the estate after our time spent in the bar and relaxed. Dawsley read a book and I took a nap. When I awoke, we ate filet mignon and drank wine while we speculated on the outcome of the election. At ten o’clock, a call came in from Gainsburg’s office. Gainsburg had somehow won by a narrow margin. We hurried down to the office, which was filled with balloons, confetti, and cheering people. Gainsburg gave an impassioned speech and specifically thanked Mr. Dawsley, who received a round of applause.
“Now is the true test!” declared Gainsburg at the end of his speech. His suit jacket was off and his tie hung loosely around his neck. He was sweaty and his hair was a mess as well. The people cheered and loved every word of what he had said. We all drank champagne and made toasts all night.
Chapter 12
A call from Gainsburg came in the following morning. He had decided to appoint Dawsley and I as advisors to him like he had planned to do on the night we agreed to help him with his campaign.
“I did not know a governor actually had advisors.” said Dawsley.
“Nor did I. I suppose it makes sense, though.” I replied.
Dawsley nodded and we left the estate to go down to the office. We found it to be empty and were told by a nice older man who was sweeping up confetti that the new governor was now in the governor’s mansion. We left the building and hopped back in the limousine and headed toward the mansion.
The mansion was beautiful, but smaller than Dawsley’s. The architecture was much the same as the Atlantis restaurant’s. Both buildings must have still been standing when Atlantia rose to the surface and were likely to have been converted into different establishments. Gainsburg greeted us at the door and invited us inside. He poured us wine and seemed to already be drunk.
“How ya like me now?!” he shouted with a friendly laugh. His voice traveled through the whole house and several people stuck their heads out of several different rooms to find out if the shouting was related to some kind of interesting event. Disappointed, they disappeared back into their rooms.
“Lovely place!” remarked Dawsley as he looked around.
“Isn’t it? Though I think it could do without the portraits of the other governors hanging all over the place.”
“You would so soon cast out the past?”
“The past is for fools! There is only the present and the future.”
I silently wondered about that statement and it seemed that Dawsley was doing the same. We drank our wine and followed Gainsburg into a room with a long table where several people were sitting.
“Have a seat, boys.” he said. “We have business to discuss.”
We sat down and greeted the other people in the room. Some of them we knew from the campaign office, but others were new faces.
“You absolutely can not tear down the mining industry in Atlantia!” declared a woman sitting next to me.
“I’m the governor!” replied Gainsburg. “I can do as I please!”
“If you ruin that industry, you will ruin the state’s economy.”
“Then I’ll keep it open! But I’m passing something into law today!”
“Sir, you are drunk.”
“Get out!” shouted Gainsburg. The woman, enraged, stomped out of the room and slammed the door behind her.
“Anyone else want to tell me about myself?”
> No one spoke. Gainsburg walked around the table slowly.
“This town is a mess.” he said. “We’re gonna sit here until we fix at least one thing. I don’t care how long it takes.” he said.
“What if we do something about obesity?” suggested another woman in the room.
“What can we do about that?”
“Ban something.” said one man.
“It could work.” said another.
“How about we ban cake.” said Gainsburg.
“Cake?” said the first man.
“Cake.” repeated Gainsburg.
“All cake?”
“Of course not! Just cakes sold in their entirety.”
“I don’t think I follow.”
“It’s as I said, we ban the sale of entire cakes, but still allow the sale of slices of cake.”
“I see.”
The man was not convinced that the idea was good at all, but he seemed too afraid to speak his mind. I couldn’t blame him, not after Gainsburg banished that other staff member not five minutes before.
“Then it shall be the law!” proclaimed Gainsburg as he staggered backward, his hand raised and holding a glass of wine. “Start drafting it.” he said. He pointed at Dawsley and I. “You two, come with me.”
We followed the drunk governor out of the room and down the stairs. He led us out of the back entrance into a large garden. It was quite lovely, reminding me of springtime and warmer days. The flowers perfumed the area and lit it up with vivid colors.
“We’ve done it, boys. We’ve taken the first steps toward saving the world.” said Gainsburg.
“By banning cakes?” I replied.
“Don’t get snippy with me! I’m saving the people from themselves.”
“But they can still buy enough slices to complete a full cake.”
“And they’ll pay more, which in turn will bring in more tax revenue.”
“What will you do with that money?”
“I haven’t decided yet. I am, however, contemplating the elimination of this dreadful garden. I think a swimming pool would be much nicer.”
“I’m not so sure you can make such changes to a government estate.”
“I’m the governor now. I can and will do what needs to be done.”
Dawsley was frowning, but remained silent. This was not the man he believed in before and these ideas were not the ones he had envisioned being put into action.
“Please excuse us, dear governor, but we must be going.” said Dawsley.
“Fine, get out of here.” replied Gainsburg.
We left the mansion and got back in the limousine.
“My dear Truman,” said Dawsley, “I fear we have been deceived by this man.”
I nodded sullenly. The car brought us back to the estate and deposited us at the pathway leading to the front door. Sandra greeted us and hurried us inside. I noticed that the bottles of alcohol that were usually on display were missing and assumed that Sandra had hidden them from us. I was not in the mood for drinking, however, and neither was Mr. Dawsley. We entered the piano room and sat down on different couches. My companion picked up a remote and pressed a button, causing the fireplace to light up and begin crackling. He stared into the fire and I laid down, staring at the ceiling. The ceiling was very high up and a lone chandelier hung from it. I was wondering what kind of metal it was crafted out of right before I fell asleep.
Chapter 13
The sound of a booming nocturne jolted me awake and I turned to find Dawsley hammering away on the piano keys. He seemed deep in thought. I left the room and entered another one where a large television hung upon the wall. I turned it on and saw that the news was reporting on the development of the new law that Gainsburg had decided to implement regarding cakes. The television showed images of people shouting in a group in the park and complaining to reporters. It was not a full-scale riot, rather it was a large protest rally.
I returned to the piano room to find Dawsley seated on one of the couches, buried in his book of poems. I did not wish to disturb him, so I left and ascended the stairs to my bedroom. I sat awake for quite awhile, shaking my feet under the silk sheets. The movement helped to calm me down after becoming angered at the thought of being used by Gainsburg. He had, in the end, turned out to be the exact opposite of the right man for the job. That is not to say, however, that DuChamp was the right man either. I fell asleep in an agitated state.
The next afternoon found Mr. Dawsley and I back in the conference room in the governor’s mansion. Gainsburg was drunk again, both on wine and undeserved power. He was marching around the room blathering about how the cake ban should be appreciated, not protested. His advisors sat nervously, afraid of what harm his drunken impulsivity might bring to them. Dawsley smiled, but I could see him breaking on the inside. It seemed that this was yet another personal failure in his eyes.
“The cake ban is going to save lives!” shouted Gainsburg. “No more little fat kids getting teased, less zumba studios taking up building space, the benefits are limitless!”
Several of the advisors agreed with him, presumably out of the same fear that kept them quiet. Gainsburg continued ranting until the phone on the table rang. He stopped marching and ranting and looked at it as it continued to ring. Everyone in the room exchanged glances, unsure of what to do. Finally, Gainsburg picked up the phone.
“Hello?” he said.
He immediately hung up the phone angrily.
“More reporters! How did they get this number?”
He looked around the room suspiciously.
“Was it you, David?”
The man named David shook his head nervously. Gainsburg was not convinced by this and shouted at him, both firing him and commanding him to leave the room. David got up quickly and without protest, hurrying out the door while clutching his briefcase to his chest. Gainsburg continued to march around the room, watching everyone suspiciously. He periodically stopped to take a swig of wine and belch. It was becoming abundantly clear that this man would bring about the downfall of the entire state if left unopposed.
Dawsley and I dined at the estate that evening, both of us thinking about the events of the day. Gainsburg was becoming more unstable by the day, whether it was due to the alcohol or the stress of the position was unclear. What was clear was that something had to be done quickly.
The following week saw more protests in the park, as well as more firings and hirings and firings again. Despite all of this, Gainsburg continued to drink and demand that the law banning cake sales be passed swiftly. He declared that it would be his crowning achievement as governor. The citizens of Atlantia, and at this point, the rest of the nation, thought otherwise.
Chapter 14
A few months of the same routine passed and finally so did the law. The people were outraged, claiming that Gainsburg had declared war on birthdays, weddings, and all kinds of other events. Gainsburg resented the accusations and refused to comment to the press about his new law. A week after the law was passed, Gainsburg called Dawsley and I to a private meeting with him. We entered the conference room and found him standing in front of the window, looking out onto the snow-covered lawn of the vast estate. He looked much older and as disheveled as he had the night he won the election. He turned to greet us sadly.
“They say I’m a fool.” he said. “They call my law an infringement on the rights of the people. The people I’m trying to save.”
“People can be cruel sometimes.” said Dawsley in an effort to comfort the governor.
“Perhaps. Or maybe I am a fool. What do you boys think?”
Dawsley and I exchanged glances. I admit that I felt a tinge of pity for the man. Had he acted in this more rational way from the start instead of like a drunken lunatic, he would most likely have had our full support and would not be sitting in his mansion completely alone. This, however, was not the case and I did not allow myself to forget the atrocities he committed against his staff.
“You are a fool.�
�� said Dawsley. I shot him an alarmed look, but he disregarded it.
“I admire you for telling the truth. You’re the most loyal advisor I have. In fact, you two are the only advisors I have left.” he said.
“What dreadful circumstances!”
“No, I deserve what I have now.”
“No one deserves to be left all alone.” said Dawsley with what looked like a tear in his eye.
“I’m finished, Dawsley.”
“Perhaps you can win back the people.”
Gainsburg turned from the window to look at him.
“How?” he asked.
“By giving them what they want.”
“What, more cake? I can’t do that, it would completely undermine my authority.”
“What if you gave them a holiday. A day off to enjoy something they love.”
Mr. Dawsley was in one of those strange periods where he made a lot of sense, his professionalism emerging in full. It was always interesting to see.
“That is not a bad idea.” said Gainsburg after mulling it over for a few moments. “Excuse me, boys. I have to think about this on my own for awhile.”
We nodded to him and left the room. Mr. Dawsley was feeling good about himself for helping someone in need, even if said person deserved no help at all. We went back to Dawsley’s mansion and drank warm spiced rum while Sandra played the piano. I did not know she was capable of doing so until that night. It was quite the wonderful surprise.
Mr. Dawsley was starting to look older. Grey hairs began to emerge upon his head and he had let his face become covered by a short, stubbly beard, also peppered with grey. The winter months had not been kind to him. His hands dried out and began to crack, shaking ever so slightly as well. It became so bad that he could no longer play the piano, instead having Sandra play for him. She enjoyed doing so and was actually quite good.
The stress of politics had wrinkled Dawsley’s forehead and often kept those wonderfully contagious smiles of his away for long periods of time. Together, we had watched terrible law after terrible law come into action, and each one hurt him a little more. I could tell that he held himself responsible for each of them, since he had sacrificed so much to help elect Gainsburg. He spent more and more of his evenings reading or drinking or both. I had prayed every night for the spring to come quickly and heal him of his hardships.
The Enigmatic Mr. Dawsley Page 6
