After

After listening to opera all afternoon, Rose felt compos mentis again. But she didn’t want anything to do with her sister. Megan was just...inappropriate. Giving her that joint this morning. And Megan had advised her to vote socialist. She didn’t want to admit that Megan might be right. When she saw the politicians smiling fulsomely at the camera, she thought Megan had a point. The politicians were mostly Democrats, friends of Ben, whom she’d met at parties during other election years. They were better than Republicans, but still conservative and hypocritical. They said what pollsters told them to say. It was always the same thing: the economy, health insurance, the war. Yadda yadda yadda. All that would be taken care of now. Sure. What would they do? The health insurance situation never changed. She had a feeling that the war would go on and on like Vietnam even though President Bush announced Rumsfeld’s resignation. Obviously brought on by the election. Well, that was a good thing. So why didn’t she feel triumphant? Why didn’t she believe it would get better?

She listened to Wagner’s Parsifal in her bedroom.

Megan finally brought her a sandwich and some herbal tea.

No, thanks.

It’s only peanut butter. It’s not like I’m spoiling you.

Who are these politicians? Where’s my Huey Long?

Yeah but...just yesterday you were yelling, Nail them up! Nail them up! Nail them up!

Well, we nailed them up.

You did. I voted socialist.

Really?

Of course. The Democrats got us into the war by letting Bush do anything he wanted.

I’d like to revoke my vote.

Don’t you think any of them will help us? How about Nancy Pelosi of San Francisco?

Oh, Nancy. She doesn’t have a clue. Don’t you love it when they say she’s the only Democrat who knows what Middle Americans want?

She’s clueless...Drewless. More liberal than most, but she voted for the Patriot Act, I think. Did you smoke the joint?

No. You can have it back.

Now if you’d only let me smoke in your house...

No.

But Nancy of San Francisco would let me.

Huh.

The sisters wore bathrobes and slippers. It was almost five. They both sipped tea and looked out the window. It was a beautiful day. Violet sky, sun already going down. A few dead leaves clung to the trees. The trees looked the way they would until April.

Let’s get dressed and go out and rake leaves, Rose said suddenly.

Rake ‘em up! Rake ‘em up! Rake ‘em Up!

Yeah. Something normal like that.

You know Rose you’re not normal. Don’t be serious about elections. They don’t matter.

Well, if you say so, said Rose, struggling into her jeans and a rumpled T-shirt.