The Fight for Kidsboro (58 page)
Valerie came in with her shovel. She was covered in dirt from head to toe. “You got your bathroom. But do me a favor. Don't give us any more government jobs,” she said, spearing the ground with the shovel and walking away.
The city council members exchanged looks and started chuckling.
“We gotta do this again sometime,” Scott said.
“Absolutely,” Nelson said.
“Next time, I'll bring the popcorn,” Jill said.
Alice just smiled with her arms crossed. For Alice, who rarely even smiled, much less laughed, this was like rolling on the floor.
We all laughed and talked for 20 minutes or so, and then remembered that we had jobs to do. Mainly, we had to vote to change the budget plan to exclude the groups who failed to pass their tests. It was unanimous. The budget would be amended.
I couldn't really get any work done on the budget when I got back to my office. I was too distracted thinking about how this was going to benefit Kidsboro. The special-interest groups had lost their funding, taxes were back to normal, and Nelson would be able to hire his employees back. I sat at my desk with my hands folded behind my head, very proud of myself.
There was a knock at my door, and Lauren came in. I had completely forgotten that I had given her an assignment, and that it was due. My glee suddenly turned sour because I knew I was going to have to fire her.
“Mr. Mayor?” she said, stepping in anxiously.
“Lauren, come in.” She did, and then she sat down. I swallowed a lump in my throat and asked, “How did you do?”
“I don't know. I hope I did okay.”
“You finished it?”
“Yes.”
She handed me her work. It was hardbound like a textbook and much thicker than the city charter I had given her. I opened it, and my chin dropped to the floor. Inside were beautiful computer graphics, illustrations, and big ornate fonts. Written in gold calligraphy on the first page, were the words:
The City Charter of Kidsboro
. It almost made me weep. On the sides were category dividersâthe divisions were perfect: judicial, legislative, and executive branches of government, just like in the Constitution of the United States.
There was a table of contents on page three, dividing up the book into sections, such as the government; the courts; elections; rights of citizens; selection of citizensâevery word spelled correctly, every punctuation mark in the right place.
It was beautiful.
“Lauren ⦠this is fantastic!”
“Really? You like it?”
“I can't believe this. You did a great job! How many hours did you spend?”
“All day every day. I've slept a total of seven hours over the last two nights.”
“But, why?”
She seemed stunned by the question. “Because I love this job. I love working here. I love ⦠working with you.”
I smiled, and we looked at each other for a long moment. Even with an average of three-and-a-half hours of sleep the past two nights, she was radiant.
We were interrupted by a knock on the door. “Come in,” I said.
It was Jill. “Oh, Lauren. Hi.” She looked at me. I think she thought I was in the middle of firing Lauren. “Oh, I'm sorry. I guess you're ⦠I'd better get going.”
“No. Wait, Jill. I was just about to send Lauren home to get some sleep,” I said.
“Thank you,” Lauren said, smiling.
“Oh. I see,” Jill said, then looked at Lauren sympathetically. “Hey, I'm sorry about ⦠you know ⦠But with the taxes ⦔
“Jill, Lauren did a great job on the charter.”
“What?”
“Here.”
She looked at the charter and her jaw dropped even farther than mine had. “This is great.”
“Thanks,” Lauren said.
“Why don't you go home now?” I said.
“Okay. Thanks. I'll see you first thing tomorrow.”
“Bright and early,” I called after her. She left.
“You're really gonna keep her on?” Jill asked, shutting the book.
“Look at what she did.”
“One project. Big deal. Can she be consistent?”
“I don't know. But we're gonna see.”
“Yeah, I guess we will.”
“Jill,” I said, “What's your problem with her? You've been really focused on getting her out of here. Why?”
“I don't have a problem with her,” she said.
I smiled at her because I knew she was lying. She always looked over my shoulder instead of at my face when She was telling me something that she knew was untrue.
She smiled back because she knew I knew. “Maybe I just don't think she's good enough for you.”
“She's my assistant, not my fiancée.”
“Maybe I can sense a little office romance budding between you two.”
“And why would that bother you?”
She chuckled and looked away from me. “You deserve a good speller.”
“Yeah. You're right. I do.”
Dear Dad,
One of my favorite memories of you is when you taught me how to make a soapbox derby car. You were so set on me learning to do it right that you made me repeat all of your instructions, and you had me do all the work myself so that I could get a feel for it. I never told you this, but I had no interest in soapbox derby cars. I didn't care about making one, and I've never made one since. I've probably forgotten all you told me. But I always loved learning from you. You were a good teacher.
And I hadn't realized how much I missed listening to you teach until last week. Last week I made an unpopular decision in Kidsboro, and I had half the people in town hating me. A lot of groups lost their government funding because of me, and everybody was pretty sore. They might not like me right now, but you taught me that at least they respect me now. And they trust me. I'll try very hard not to break that trust.
Any way, I just wanted to let you know that you are still teaching me. Even if you're behind bars, miles away, you're still showing me what it takes to be a man.
I would be lying if I told you I wasn't glad you're behind bars. I am finally able to sleep at night. You deserve to be in prison, and I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive you for what you did to Mom and me. But there's also a part of me that knows you're still my dad and wishes that we could one day be a family again. I know that's not likely, but I do want you to know that there were times when you were a good father. I still love that part of you very much.
I'll see you again sometime.
Your son,
Jim
THE END
