Political Science 101

Chapter Ninety-Three

MITCH PULLED his car up to the front door of Ashlynn's school, dodging jaywalking high schoolers crossing the street while texting, and waited for her to emerge. He didn't mind picking her up from school, although her car was fixed, and she'd been walking comfortably for several months, she was still a little sketchy about wanting to drive again, even though she hadn't been driving when her accident happened several months earlier. But regardless, Mitch knew his daughter well enough to know that when she was ready, she would certainly let him know. And until then, Mitch didn't at all mind picking her up from school.

As Mitch brought his car to a stop, the door of the school swung open and Ashlynn walked out, backpack hanging from both shoulders, books in-hand. Her walk seemed to be the only lingering reminder of the accident. She favored her left side (though ever-so-slightly) and it was probably unnoticeable to someone who did not know her well, but Mitch could see it. She repeatedly insisted that walking did not hurt anymore, but when Mitch saw her slight limp, he only wanted to hug her and do what he could to make the pain go away. After all, she was his daughter; it was his job to protect her.

She approached the car, opened the door, tossed her backpack and books into the backseat, and sat down in the passenger's seat of Mitch's car. He watched as she sat, trying to see if maybe she still struggled with any pain, but if she did, she hid it well.

"Hey," she said with a smile — as she always did.

"How was your day?" Mitch asked.

"Just fine," she said. "You?" She seemed to ask this question quite deliberately, as though she knew something about Mitch's day would have been somewhat out-of-the-ordinary — which, of course, it was.

"It was good," Mitch replied to his feisty daughter, picking up on her tone-of-voice. "Let's go. We have plans."

"Plans for what?" she asked inquisitively as the car pulled away from the curb in front of the school and into the flow of traffic.

"Well," Mitch said, "first you're coming with me while I go vote." He looked over at Ashlynn and saw her smile. She'd asked to do this before, but he'd never allowed her to go.

"Can I go in the booth with you?" she asked.

"Well, it's not actually a booth," Mitch explained, "the machines this year are new. It's a digital technology that's supposed to make the counting faster and provide a more reliable back-up tally. I'm actually pretty interested to see it myself." He paused and thought for a moment. "But you're welcome to stand with me while I press buttons." Mitch smiled.

"Okay," she said happily. "Then what?"

"Then," Mitch said as though he was about to make some sort of important announcement, "we'll go get an early dinner, then go down to the big victory party for Congressman Ray Doyle." Mitch paused, awaiting an immediate reaction, but got none.

"Seriously?" Ashlynn said in a tone of slight disbelief after a brief pause.

"Yep," Mitch replied. "Ray and Will are expecting us."

Then, she smiled.

For the two of them, this dialogue sufficed. This simple exchange told Ashlynn that Mitch and Ray were mending their issues, and both were okay with Will and Ashlynn dating. No more needed to be said. Over the years, being just the two of them, father and daughter, they'd developed a bit of a short-hand and could read between one another's verbal lines.

Ashlynn looked over at her father and saw that even though he appeared happy, he wore a tired look on his face — a look of emotional exhaustion. She was no stranger to this expression, and she knew her father well enough to know hat this was the kind of tired that he didn't particularly mind. But nonetheless, it made him weary all-the-same. She thought about offering to drive, but the thought of it still made her a little nervous — "gun-shy" as her father often characterized it.