The Department of Corrections

March 30th, 1981 2:25pm

It was a grey afternoon, and although the rain had receded into a drizzle, it did not make Allison any happier to be there. It was the day before her birthday, the day before she would be an impressive five years of age. She had looked forward to this moment all week, when her mother had promised that she would be able to pick out the balloons for her party. Those balloons had yet to be chosen, the store not even visited. Instead she was standing in front of some awful hotel, huddled under an umbrella held by her mother, who was so excited she was practically shaking.

Allison was not excited. In fact, she had descended into a mood much darker then the clouds that lined the sky above their heads.

"You promised me balloons mom, not umbrellas," she said, tugging at her mother's sleeve.

Her mother looked down at her, not quite comprehending what she was saying. Barbara Capshaw was normally a quite sensible woman. Member of the PTA, baker of fine goods for the rotary club, that sort of thing. But there had been a time, just nine months before, when something special had happened. She had volunteered at a call center for the Reagan campaign, which by itself wasn't all that exciting. Just making phone calls and reciting little bits of information off index cards that the campaign had supplied. But there was one night, as ordinary as all the others that came before it, which had suddenly became something more. That had been the night President Reagan himself had walked in the door.

It was just a quick stop, to shake a few hands and urge everyone to keep up the good work, but it was a night that Barbara couldn't forget. It was the night Ronald Reagan had shook her hand and kissed her on the cheek. Oh, that kiss! She still remembered it, the exact impression it had made on the rouge adorning her face. She had thought of it on many nights since, especially on the ones where Roger was out late, drinking himself into a stupor. Her husband might not have cared enough to be with her that evening, but oh how the president had cared.

And so, when she had read in yesterday's paper that Mr. Reagan would be stopping by, she thought there might be a way to see him again. That maybe she could remind him of that night... if she could just come up with a good plan. There was a shop a few blocks from the hotel that sold balloons, which she had promised Allison could visit anyway, and so it was all so very easy to arrange. If only it hadn't started raining, making her daughter such a difficult thing to manage. Perhaps when Allison saw the president herself she would realize why this was so important.

Barbara looked down at her daughter and smiled.

"Just another minute dear and you'll get to meet him. Then all this rain will have been worth it."

Allison frowned in her mother's general direction and was about to say something that would earn her a scolding; when suddenly the crowd came alive around them. The girl turned and looked behind her, just tall enough to see over the velvet rope that barred her from stepping any closer to the hotel. She could see a long corridor that stretched deep into the bowels of the complex, and emerging from it was a team of men, all wearing fancy suits and looking quite official. In the middle of the pack was the president, who she recognized from the TV. She supposed she should be impressed, though she wasn't exactly sure why.

Reagan hadn't really seen them yet, the crowd that had gathered; the crowd where Allison was regrettably waiting... He was busy talking to a man on his left, someone Allison didn't know. Had the five year old attended any of the press briefings at the White House, she would have recognized him as James Brady, who was Reagan's press secretary at the time. The president and Brady chatted for a few more seconds, and as they neared the crowd the president turned to look at them, a smile filling his face. It seemed a genuine smile, and it actually did make Allison feel a little better. At least it did until the man next to her caught her in the head with his elbow, nearly knocking her to the ground.