Free Ordinary Love and Good Will by Jane Smiley Page A

used to call himself ‘the senator’ because it was subversive. Now I think he means it. The Republican party, Jesus.”
    Michael says, “I admire the way he went out and did it,instead of studying it, you know? I mean, most of these old lefties just end up going to graduate school in political science or something. I think he’ll ending up actually knowing something.”
    “I think he’ll end up actually knowing nothing.” Joe’s voice is tight. “Knowing less than nothing—knowing something wrong and thinking it’s right.”
    Michael is casual but disbelieving. “Contaminated just by brushing against a few Republicans?”
    “Assisting in smoky rooms is not just brushing against. It’s being paid, what, fifteen, eighteen thousand? Blood money.”
    I say, “Wasn’t it the Democrats who gathered in all the smoky rooms?”
    “Bullshit.” Michael’s tone is harsh suddenly.
    Joe is startled. He sits back in his chair, panting a little, staring at Michael. Michael pushes the hair off his forehead. “You know what blood money is? I saw what it is in India. It’s when somebody is caught for hoarding food in a town that’s starving to death, and he pays a little bribe, and gets to keep what he’s got and get more, and the people actually starve to death. It’s when the police are paid to look the other way when some people decide to go and teach some Sikhs a lesson by burning them up in their houses. I don’t think working for the Republican party qualifies Kevin for the lowest circle of political hell by any means.”
    “Okay, how is Kevin going to be any different in twenty years from those Union Carbide guys who were all over the media, making apologies and excuses about the Bhopal thing? You must have seen them.”
    “What’s this all about? I don’t see the connection. It’s just a crummy job in state government is all. I don’t think you’re being very logical, frankly.” He tips his chair back. He is being very cool.
    Joe is not. “I’m always logical, actually. It’s you that can’tsee the connection, but the connection is there, all right. Do you think those guys knowingly speak lies? Of course not. They wouldn’t be effective that way. They actually believe what they are saying, about the good intentions of the company, and the deep sorrow that the CEO feels about the tragedy. The company makes them that way, by bringing them in and training them.”
    “The CEO probably is sorry.”
    “He’s scared shitless that his insurance rates are going to go through the ceiling is what he is.”
    “What are we arguing about?”
    Joe is sweating. Michael is, too, a little. Joe says, “There’s nothing wrong with graduate school.”
    Michael shrugs. They sit silently, not looking at each other. Finally, Joe jumps up and says, “I’m going to cut the back now,” and bangs out of the house. After a moment I say to Michael, “Want anything else?”
    “No. Yes. A glass of water. I’ll get it.” But he continues to sit, only tipping his chair forward. He says, “Hey, Mom. Get this. I didn’t even realize we were arguing until almost the end. I couldn’t see it. I couldn’t see him. He was mad, wasn’t he?”
    “Almost from the beginning, I’d say.”
    “Ma, I haven’t been mad in two years. I don’t know what it feels like, looks like, except when I see it on the street in India, people beating on each other, yelling at each other. I forgot how mad he gets. I mean, during that I suddenly saw him carrying this big weight toward me, something unbearably heavy that he was going to put right in my lap.”
    I don’t say anything. He draws himself a glass of water, clears his throat, coughs, sniffs, sighs, puts the glass, then his head, on the counter. He says, “Ma, I could sleep for six days.”
    “So take a nap.”
    “Okay.” And he weaves out, as if drained of strength. Ibegin frosting the cake, green, because there’s nothing Diane likes better than a chocolate cake with green