The infinite sadness of Jeb Bush

“Please clap.”

His voice came after a moment’s silence, and he was immediately filled with regret and confusion. The moment he’d said it, he knew he would never forget it. He stammered his goodbyes to the New Hampshire crowd and stepped into the room that was prepared for him.

He was alone. He looked at the droopy man in the mirror and sighed as he took off his glasses. Oh jeez, Pops isn’t gonna be happy about this one, he thought, rubbing his eyes.

What happened, Jeb? he thought, a nervous grin he didn’t realise he’d smiled appearing on his jolly face. He’d followed all of Georgie’s advice. He made jokes. He wore a hoodie. He even managed to get Ma to endorse him! That was difficult. He had to sweep the porch — twice.

“Please clap.”

It hurt more to think back on it. Gosh, why did he even say it? Was he being recorded? Of course he was being recorded, dummy. He sighed. What was he gonna tell Pops? He had to be strong. Like Georgie. He had to be President. Like Georgie.

“Governor?”

The voice came from the door. It was one of his aides.

“Yeah I’ll uhh” - he realised his voice was breaking and cleared his throat - “I’ll be right out.”

“All I ever wanted was to play bass guitar,” he said to nobody in particular. His voice came out as a low whine, like a rabbit that suffered a minor wound. It caught him by surprise, he didn’t even know where it had come from. Did he want to play bass guitar? Does he?

All he knew was that he was sad, and tired. Tired of talking to all these people, trying to suck up to them for something he wasn’t even sure he wanted.

No. He did want this. He was gonna be the next President, and he was gonna fix this country. He’d show all of them. Starting with him. He shivered at the thought of that giant, orange bully. Interrupting, shouting, calling him names… it was like being back at school again, when people would give him wedgies, steal his lunch money, and flush his head down the toilet. God, he still really hated Texas U.

He sighed again. He reached into a pocket and felt the bundle of tiny plastic turtles in his hand. “Slow and steady,” he said to himself, once again flashing a smile that didn’t touch his eyes. He would say that to each kid he met on the campaign trail and hand them one of the turtles. It was more for his own benefit than for theirs.

He looked at his Apple Watch. It was time to go now. He took a deep breath, and looked at himself in the mirror one last time. He smiled again, but with confidence — presidential confidence. He jabbed at the air with a couple of punches, imagining the space in front of him as that jaundiced, smug bully.

“Please clap.”

it came again as he was walking out of the room, jacket flung over one shoulder. The smile did not falter, but a single tear rolled down his chubby cheek.

UPDATE - 23/12/2016

* * *

He smiled at Columba when she brought him his Mai Tai. He reclined on the long chair, a twinkle in his eyes hidden behind sunglasses.

He was wearing a pair of beige shorts that were showcasing his turkey-like thighs. His pink Hawaiian shirt was half undone, the cool sea breeze gently rustling his grey chest hairs. His feet were bare, socks and sandals removed and placed neatly next to him.

He brought the cocktail upwards, missed, and hit his plump chin with the twirly straw. He tried again, and almost took a sip from the colourful toothpick umbrella. Third time being the charm, he held the the bright red straw with one hand and slowly located his mouth. He took a triumphant gulp, choked a bit, coughed, and placed the drink on a wicker table.

He took in the salty air and folded his hands behind his head. He looked at the other item on the table, a copy of Nicholas Sparks’ The Notebook, and briefly considered resuming to read it. He decided against it. Take your time, he thought. You’re on holiday.

That felt good to say. Gosh dang it, he was on holiday. For the first time in almost a year, he felt at ease, relaxed. Not a care in the world.

It seemed like the last few months were so long ago, or a dream. Ma and Pops, the crowds, the Orange One… they were so far away. They didn’t matter. He was gonna do things his way from now on. Maybe he’d take that pottery class he always wanted to. Or work on his landscaping. He picked up the Mai Tai and, this time, straw met mouth. Yes! he thought, and grinned.

He looked up and saw a figure approaching. They were wearing a blue t-shirt that said “Life’s A Beach”, a black pair of speedos, and flip-flops. It was Georgie. He waved at him. Georgie waved back.

His brother was holding a pair of rackets and he lifted them over his head as if to say come on down. Jeb looked at Columba, and she smiled approvingly. Excited, he got up and rushed to meet his brother.

Boy, he thought. This is gonna be the best holiday ever!