Stay Out of Politics
Democratic
“Rob!” Juan shouted towards the house as he made his way around to the gate that led to his neighbor’s backyard. “Hey, Rob! You home?”
Juan’s neighbor, Rob Lewis, came and unlatched the gate. He wore short pants with cargo pockets and a long-sleeved shirt to keep the merciless sun from burning his fair skin. On top of his head was a ridiculous floppy hat that served the same purpose, protecting his bald head from the ever-present threat of sunburn. “Juan?” Rob seemed surprised to see his friend. “What are you doing here?”
“I told you,” Juan stated matter-of-factly as if the answer was obvious. He held up the post-hole digger, "I'm gonna help you put in those posts." Rob had asked Juan for help with the project days earlier. Juan constantly worked odd jobs for people throughout his neighborhood. He usually dropped by after he got off work from the metal fabrication plant. He’d work on any project, installing irrigation systems, repairing roof gutters, even pouring concrete for new patios.
“Oh? Come in," Rob still looked puzzled but grateful for the help. "Yes, please. Come in."
After transferring some tools from Juan’s pickup into Rob’s backyard, the two men stood looking at the project Rob was working on. He wanted to replace a section of an old wooden fence that had been falling apart for years with a new chain-link fence. A bright neon green string line was strung taut between two steel spikes pounded into the ground, marking the straight line where the post holes would go. "You got time for a cerveza before we get started?” Rob offered.
Juan nodded, “Sure! I got time for a beer.”
They sat in the shade of the patio porch Juan had helped build. “How come you’re surprised to see me?” Juan asked, cracking open the pop-top of his Coors Light. “I told you I was coming over. Did you forget?”
“Uh…” Rob stuttered a little before answering. “Uh, no. I didn’t forget. But I heard about that little girl, and I thought you’d just be staying at home. Spending some time with Maria, or something…”
“Maria went to bed.” Juan's wife worked the graveyard shift and always tried to lie down for a few hours before going to work. Then Juan took a long sip, closing his eyes. “Yeah, yesterday was pretty bad.”
Rob placed a comforting hand on Juan’s shoulder. “Hey man, I’ve got this,” he waived towards his yard project. “Why don’t you just take it easy today?”
“Why?” Juan said. His eyes implored Rob to understand, “I feel better when I’m workin’. If I stay home, I’ll have too much time for thinkin’.”
“No problem amigo,” Rob said.
He really means that, Juan thought. It was comforting to spend time with a close friend.
“How bad was she hurt?” Rob asked gently.
Juan sipped again at his beer and leaned back, “The doctors told me that when the bullet passed through her abdomen, it missed the major organs.”
“That’s a lucky break,” Rob sighed and shook his head.
“Yeah, but it nicked her intestine, so they are afraid that’s going to start leaking into her…” Juan stroked his abdomen thoughtfully as he remembered the conversation, “So they’re gonna have to keep an eye on her for a little while.”
“Did they catch the guy that shot her?” Rob asked.
“No!” Juan suddenly grew indignant. “The police thought I did it!”
“Of course they did,” Rob made a sour expression. “What else would they think when a Mexican walks into a hospital covered in blood, carrying a little girl?”
Juan ground his teeth. “I guess I could understand that," he said wryly. "But they interviewed me for almost two hours. I thought I was gonna go to jail!"
“What did you tell them?”
“I just told them what happened,” Juan looked down, swirling the contents of his can absently. "I was coming out of the community center after registering to vote, and I heard this noise like firecrackers. Next thing I know, there is the screaming, and I'm holding a little girl with blood all over the place…" Juan trailed off, unable to finish the story as he relived the experience.
Rob threw his empty beer can into a nearby recycling box, which landed with a clatter among the other empty cans inside. He offered another to Juan, but Juan shook his head. Rob opened the new can for himself. “It’s always the same,” he said with a curse. “The cops are always gonna rush to arrest a guy who doesn’t look like them.”
Juan eyed his friend cynically. Rob was always quick to lecture about perceived injustice. “The cop was Mexican, too.”
“Doesn’t matter!” Rob leaned forward, gesturing dramatically with his beer can. “Once they put on that uniform, they become part of the system. And the system is designed to keep us down. That’s where they want us.”
Juan was desperate to change the subject. “Well, at least I registered to vote, right?”
The announcement had the intended effect, “You did?” Rob asked, forgetting his lecture. Warming to the new subject, his face brightened, “Well, good for you, buddy! Is it safe to assume we’ve got another loyal Democrat living on the block now?”
Juan nodded.
Rob grinned, “Salud!” he toasted. “You made the right choice!”
“Why?” Juan asked.
What will Rob say next?
Choose Option 1: Demographics are Destiny
Choose Option 2: Commitment to Voting Rights