Political Science 101

Chapter Seven

MITCH DIDN'T sleep. He spent the night sprawled-out on his couch in a semi-drunken fog, contemplating his life's major events one-by-one, chronologically backward, asking himself if he had any regrets.

Did he regret never running for public office? No, he made the right decision and Ray will make a much better politician, he thought.

Did he regret taking the teaching position at Merriam University, leaving his job as a private practice therapist to become a professor (and eventual department head) at a small private Midwest university? No, he did the right thing, even though it inevitably cost him his second marriage. But he always seemed to justify that loss with the consolation that they hadn't gotten along for months.

His "second marriage." The sound of that never sat well with Mitch. Oh, what he would give to have his first marriage back; the most painful experience of his life that he never once regretted. Suddenly, the beautiful blonde hair, deep green eyes, and perfect smile of his first wife, Marie, flashed into his mind's-eye. His vision blurred with tears that slowly and discretely stepped onto his cheekbones, like a child cautiously stepping onto a frozen winter pond. He quickly wiped the tears away in a manner that would disguise him doing so, although no one was in the room with him.

* * * * * * *

Mitch Bradley met Marie during his sophomore year of college while she was — interestingly enough — dating his best friend, Ray Doyle; Mitch himself was in the midst of a relationship at the time of their introduction. His girlfriend at the time would — interestingly enough — be engaged to Ray during their senior year, but the two would never marry.

Mitch and Marie struck-up an immediate friendship, and it became obvious after only a few double-dates with Ray and Mitch's girlfriend, Emma, that the two got along far better than either of the then-linked couples. Ray, not blind to what was occurring, spoke to Mitch about this, but did not want to "confront" his friend.

"You and my girlfriend seem to get along awfully well," Ray said out-of-the-blue one afternoon in the University of Missouri — Kansas City dormitory room they shared. Mitch gave him only a quick glance, not wanting to look away from the game they were playing on Mitch's vintage console tube television — a very intense game of "Super Dodgeball" on their dorm room Nintendo.

"She's a cool chick," Mitch replied, delivering a critical dodgeball shot and knocking out one of Ray's players.

"At this rate," Ray said, pausing so that one of his players could fire the ball back at one of Mitch's players, "you'll sleep with her before I do."

"Huh?" Mitch exclaimed, whipping his head 90 degrees to the side and giving Ray a confused look, only to immediately whip his head back to the screen, just in time to see one of his own players get pummeled.

"You heard me," Ray said with unintended sternness, not looking away from the game. Mitch immediately pressed the start button on his Nintendo controller. The game came to a sudden and uncomfortably silent pause.

"Dude..." Mitch said, successfully but unintentionally sounding like a confused surfer. "She's your girl, bro. And I'm hooked up with Emma." Mitch paused for an oddly-deep breath; "Where is this coming from?" Ray was now staring down at his own Nintendo controller, but his focus was far beyond the wired plastic contraption resting in the palms of his hands.

"I'm gonna break it off with her," Ray said.

Mitch could hear the melancholy as it desperately staggered from Ray's voice, like a man lost in the desert, crawling toward a mirage that he thinks is a clear flowing stream.

"You two," Ray continued, still not looking up, "you get along better than her and I do, and it just bugs me." Ray looked at the frozen screen, then back at his controller, dropping his eyes in disappointment. "I'd rather be your friend than her boyfriend," Ray said slowly as he shook his head, exhaling his reluctance.

"Well, I—uh—" Mitch stammered. It momentarily struck him that this was going to be a very mature and grown-up conversation, which he found contextually odd and a little ironic since they were both sitting in front of a TV, playing a Nintendo game while both were obviously dressed for a Saturday afternoon in the dorms — Mitch wearing an old pair of sweatpants and a ratty Boston Red Sox jersey; Ray wearing an old pair of worn-out sweat shorts and his antiquated Frankie Says Relax t-shirt. This did not strike Mitch as heart-to-heart apparel.

"It's just the right thing to do," Ray muttered.

"The right thing?" Mitch fired back. "Dude, don't be the melodramatic Harlequin romance martyr." He regretted how cruel he'd just sounded. "I have no interest in dating your girlfriend." With a deep sigh, Mitch immediately felt more regret, this time for lying to his friend.

"My mind is made up," Ray said with firm resolve.

Mitch narrowed his eyes in contemplation.

Ray shrugged his shoulders.

"Well," Mitch said, "at least wait until after the games this weekend, Okay?" He tried not to sound as though he was pleading.

The games to which Mitch was referring were the weekend's three-game series between Mitch's favorite baseball team, the Boston Red Sox; and Ray's favorite team, the hometown Kansas City Royals. As was their tradition, every year, the two friends would attend all three (and sometimes four) between the two teams in Kansas City. This year, as they did every year, they donned the team apparel of their favorite ball club and cheered cartoonishly from seats behind Home Plate. And this weekend, they'd convinced their girlfriends to attend all three games with them.

As Ray and Mitch grew up together as kids and teenagers, this was always a momentous weekend since they both lived in St. Charles, Missouri (and both hated the St. Louis Cardinals, mostly because they both agreed that Ozzie Smith was too much of a showboat; and they both were big fans of George Brett), so the trip to Kansas City was an all-weekend event which involved both boys' parents and was typically accompanied by a trip to their favorite amusement park, "Worlds of Fun."

"Okay," Ray said, breaking several long moments of silence. "I'll do it Monday."

"Cool," Mitch said with relief, "and don't worry, I won't hook up with your girlfriend. I promise."

"Famous last words, douche," Ray said with a grin.

"Your mother," Mitch replied, playfully serious. He un-paused their game, and the epic Nintendo match of "Super Dodge Ball" continued.

Three years later, Ray would throw a bachelor party for his best friend, Mitch; an evening of epic wild times which began at a Royals / Red Sox game in Kansas City; Ray would be the Best Man at a wedding that started with a broken promise. And Ray was fine with that.

* * * * * * *

Mitch finally dozed around 5AM, only to be snatched back into consciousness at 6:46 by the sound of the alarm clock on his iPhone. He was up, awake, showered, dressed, and through the door of the lecture hall where he taught his 8AM class, Political Science 101.

He was only seven minutes late.