The Ghost and President
The old man sat in a leather chair. His pale skin and gray hair gave him a ghostly look. He was surrounded by memories. On the wall to his right were pictures of him with former world leaders who, like him, were drifting from the public’s consciousness into history books. He didn’t want to be a piece of history, he wanted to be the man he was but when he tried to act, age and exhaustion held him back. On his right were framed headlines of election victories - congress, Governor, President. A book bound in leather stood alone on a shelf. It washis proudest achievement - the health overall bill. The bill that bore his name. The bill that didn’t change anything.
In a matching leather chair across from him sat a young man, maybe not yet twenty but whose face held intelligence and peace.
“I don’t want to do this,” former President Stilton said.
“You’ve already written two autobiographies. Why not a third?”
“Those were for campaigns. And I didn’t write them?”
“Who wrote them?”
“David.”
“Whose David?”
“David Anderson. He has been with me since my first campaign.”
“That guy who made Armani suits look like he got them off-the-rack Men’s warehouse”
“That was him.”
“Why did he write it?”
“Because I didn’t have the time.”
“But you didn’t tell anyone David ghost wrote it.”
“No one believed I wrote it.”
“The Pulitzer committee did.”
“No they didn’t. They were on my side in the campaign. An in-kind contribution, I guess.”
“David didn’t write about the things I’m wanting this ‘autobiography’ to address.”
“I think I’m having an episode.”
“You’re not. I’m a ghost who is going to write the story of your life. The true story.”
“And I have no choice.”
“None. You resist, you die.”
“I’m old already. Why shouldn’t I just die?”
“Because life holds on to people. You’ll barter away your children for another day.”
“Fine. Ask your questions.”
“Let’s start with Billy Taub.”
“What’s it matter? He’s dead.”
“The dead deserve to know why they died. So does his family.”
“What do you want to know about Billy Taub?”
“He told me he doesn’t remember killing that woman.”
“You spoke to Billy? What? In heaven?”
“In the afterlife.”
“So Hell?”
“Don’t be some binary.”
“You sound like my granddaughter with the shaved head.”
“Billy told me he didn't remember killing that woman and he doesn’t think he did.”
“Billy killed her.”
“You knew of Billy’s disability.”
“I knew he wasn’t that bright.”
“He was classified as ‘significantly intellectually disabled’.”
“He still killed her.”
“You knew he was that disabled. You knew the case against him was weak yet you still signed his death warrant.”
“Yes.”
“What did he tell the guards when they took him to the electric chair?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Yes, you do.”
“He said don’t throw away my pudding. I’m saving it for later.”
“You knew he had no idea what was happening to him.”
“It was out of my hands. He was convicted. He lost his appeals.”
“You could have commuted the sentence.”
“It was complicated.”
“Executing him let you appear tough on crime. You were running for president.”
“That’s what the other party always said.”
“But was it true?”
“I did what I did. Billy Taub murdered a woman. Commit a crime, expect to get punished.”
“Yet you pardoned Tony Scaluchi. He committed crimes - insider trading, campaign finance violations. Bribery.”
“Tony was never convicted of those charges.”
“Because you pardoned him. Your pardon killed the prosecutor’s case.”
“Tony was a good man.”
“That’s what Billy Taub’s mother said about him.”
The old man slapped his desk exasperated.
“So what? Billy got screwed. God screwed him by giving him half a brain. The cops screwed him by coercing that confession, the courts screwed him because the courts screw everyone. I screwed him by signing that death warrant but it won me the election and I did good things as president.”
“Like the war.”
“We overthrew a dictator.”
“There are a lot of dictators. Why did you overthrow that one? They didn’t have any nuclear weapons as your administration said.”
“There were intelligence failures. Everyone knows that. That’s history. The fact remains he was a horrible dictator who was cruel and violent to his people.”
“And his country had all those minerals needed for batteries a modern country like yours needs. And your VP was the former CEO of a battery company. And your son sat on the board of that company.”
“We took out a dictator. I won’t apologize for that.”
“You also took out a hundred thousand civilians who were managing to survive that dictatorship. I’ve spoken to many of the civilians who died during that war. They didn’t want your help. They didn’t want to die to make a better world. They wanted to live as best they could in the place they were.”
“Collateral damage. The cost of war. Our intentions were good. We had to rely on the intelligence we had. We were making the world a better place.”
“And now they have another dictator.”
“At least he’s on our side now.”
“Providing easy access to all those minerals for your country’s corporations.”
“Who are you? Are you one of the people who died over there?”
“No. I never lived. You remember Angie Hall?”
“Angie? From Harvard? Yes.”
“Remember pressuring her into aborting that baby you made together. That long night of badgering her into letting you drive her to the clinic the next day.”
“She had a right to choose.”
“I was that baby. Just another life sacrified for your career.”
The old man slumped.
“I won’t talk anymore. Send me to Hell if you want. I won’t talk.
“You’re already in Hell, Mr. President. Facing your sins is your Hell. Making you face them is my Heaven. Now, let’s start again….”