Political Science 101

Chapter Sixty-Three

MITCH JOLTED. He must have dozed off. He thought he'd heard a beep. He didn't hear it again. He squinted at the clock-radio across his bedroom. He squinted harder. It's dark. 11:15? He rubbed his eyes. Ashlynn must've just got home, he thought to himself. He looked over; the bedroom door was still open! He sprang out of bed and leapt to his feet, naked and flailing, lunging for the door and shutting it with unnecessary force, hoping Ashlynn hadn't walked by and seen him in bed with Ana.

The sound of the bedroom door slamming, coupled with Mitch's sudden jolt and leap toward the door startled Ana from a deep sleep. She sat up in bed and pulled the comforter up to cover her body. "Is everything okay?" she asked in a perplexed tone.

"Yeah," Mitch replied, feeling a little odd to be standing in front of her, completely naked with the exception of his socks. "I think Ashlynn just got home and the bedroom door was open."

"Oh," Ana said with a curious pause, "but she probably got home hours ago."

"What?" Mitch said, squinting at the clock again. "1:15? Oh, I read that wrong." He pulled on some old sweat pants and threw on an old Red Sox t-shirt. "I'm going to check on her," he said with a somewhat embarrassed sight. "Be right back."

He heard the beep again and immediately recognized it as the interval beep of his cell phone indicating he had an unheard voicemail. He picked up his phone and scrolled to the missed call as he made his way down the hall to Ashlynn's room.

He didn't recognize the number.

He dialed his voicemail code and listened curiously.

"One new message," the robotic female voice told him. He pressed the –1– button to hear his unheard message.

He would listen to this message in its entirety before opening Ashlynn's door.

* * * * * * *

As Ana sat in Mitch's bed, watching with a sleepy grin as he left the bedroom with his cell phone, she couldn't help but be torn by two polarizing thoughts.

She was so full of joy and happiness over being able to finally show the man she loved the passion she'd so wanted to display with her body and heart. Her skin could still feel the warm and recent memory of his body against hers. The mere thought made her heart rate increase, gave her a pleasant shiver, and, of course, made her smile.

But she was also nervous. She knew what tonight meant to her, but she was also not blind to what this first-time physical act between them meant to Mitch, especially since it had — for so many months — been something of a silent and unspoken point of contention between the two of them. She knew this was a really big deal for him, and while this was certainly a cause for concern, it excited her as well. There was just something about Mitch's willingness to compromise his own ideals for her that made her feel special.

So here she sat, modestly covering her body with Mitch's comforter, in Mitch's bed, wishing he would come back so that the moment would resume — and hopefully never end. And just then, as if on cue, Mitch reappeared in the doorway of the bedroom, his silhouette casting a dark contrast between the dimly-lit bedroom and the hallway light behind him.

For a very long moment, Mitch stood motionless.

* * * * * * *

Mitch was frozen and time seemed to stop as he felt a rush of numbness pulsate through his body in a moment of surreal terror. It was like one of those "oh-my-god" scenes in a movie where the camera does a slow closeup on someone's face as the background draws farther away — like when Chief Brody was sitting on the beach and watch the little boy on the yellow raft being ripped apart by Jaws, the Great White shark.

"We have to go," Mitch said, almost mechanically.

"What?" Ana replied, sensing the low-tone shock in Mitch's voice. "Why? What's wrong?"

"I think Ashlynn was just killed in a car wreck," he said, hearing himself say the words but not feeling his lips move or feeling any vibration in his voice. At the moment, he wasn't sure if he'd actually said the words, or if it was his inner monologue speaking because he didn't have the ability to audibly express the horror of this sentiment. However, Ana's face told him that he had indeed spoken these words.

Now it was Ana's turn to freeze. She froze, not out of shock or grief or sadness, but simply because, right here, in this situation, she had absolutely no idea what to say or do. She had not yet been struck by the reality of the situation, but rather, was oddly-encapsulated by the propriety of the moment. But after her hour-long seven-second silence, she found herself able to speak. "How do you know that? That can't be! Who was on the phone? What did they say?"

"It was a—" Mitch paused, swallowed hard, and forced himself to speak. "It was a guy from the Highway Patrol. Said there was a wreck on I-70, Mustang convertible, and the driver was dead. She's at St. Alexius Hospital. They need us to identify her."

"What?" Ana said "Why the hell would they tell you in a voicemail in the middle of the night? Don't they send people to your front door to tell you that? That doesn't even make sense!" Ana's outrage seemed out of place, so she stopped talking.

"I don't know," Mitch muttered, still motionless and in-shock, "but they did."

Ana stood quickly from Mitch's bed and hastily got dressed. She could feel the panic in her own actions, but also noticed that Mitch still stood in the doorway, frozen. "Let's go. I'll drive," she said with authority.

"Okay," Mitch said.

His silhouette had not moved an inch.