Dead Politician Society

Chapter 80: Jonathan

Jonathan wished Annabel would stay forever, would take down his story in one long, gushing tale. She was prettier today than yesterday. Could be the makeup she’d put on—subtle, but feminine.

“What was the question again?” he asked.

“It was why.” She gave him a look of soft pity.

“Why did I send the letters to the Star? Why was I in love with Jessica? Or why didn’t I go to the police when I saw her poison Hayden Pritchard’s dessert at the Working Child benefit?”

“I’m interested in all of that. Start with Jessica.”

His bangs were falling past his eyes. He’d been overdue for a haircut for weeks, and now he couldn’t just wander into a barber shop when he had a spare ten bucks. What did they do for haircuts in prison? Would they shave his head, or was that the army? He was pretty sure that was the army.

He took a deep breath and said, “I met Jessica in frosh week. We were lost together one day, spent an hour trying to read the campus map. Which was particularly funny because we both grew up in Toronto. Then we realized we were both trying to find the same party, and for the first hour we were there, we sat on the sidelines drinking a beer while we had this brilliant conversation about how we both felt like loners, especially in a crowded room.

“But then I stayed a loner and she became insanely popular. I don’t think she gave a shit about being liked, but she used it well. I’d see her at bake sales raising money to save some rare frog from extinction. Or outside the meal hall handing out flyers about Darfur. People followed her. She didn’t even seem to know it half the time, but she was always the leader. Even in her first year, I saw older students nodding when she spoke.

“I wanted to get closer to her. I had a crush on her that wouldn’t disappear. It kept getting bigger, though she barely seemed to register my existence. Songs would come on the radio and I’d imagine her listening to them, thinking about me while she flitted around being busy.

“Finally, this year, I got up the courage to talk to her again. Well, more like I forced the courage because I was more afraid of the regret if I didn’t say something. And she was even better in real life than in my fantasy.”

“How was she better?” Annabel asked.

“She had all the qualities I thought she did, but she was spicier. She has a sarcastic humor that I love. She’s a leader in the real sense—she doesn’t want to lead other people, just wants to do her thing. But her thing is so amazing, so infectious, people follow her naturally.”

Annabel nodded. “Is Dr. Easton the same way?”

Jonathan shook his head. “He’s a leader on purpose. As in, he derives his life purpose from it. He means well, I think, but he’s not a natural.”

Annabel smiled what looked like a private smile. “Why the letters?” she said. “The obituaries, I mean.”

Jonathan gulped. Stale prison air mixed with urine entered his mouth on his breath and flavored his saliva. He wondered when he’d smell green grass again. “I couldn’t turn her in but I guess I wanted you to figure out my clues.”

Annabel scribbled something on her notepad and inched forward in her chair. “Utopia Girl sounded arrogant, like she was having fun. Were you having fun?”

“Um.” This was a hard one. “I was on this constant high because of Jessica. I wasn’t happy, exactly, but I guess I felt kind of invincible.”

The metal chair dug into his spine and hips. He glanced up and saw his lawyer enter the room in another suit that was too tight. Suddenly Jonathan didn’t like his prospects with this guy. He wished he had someone he was paying, someone not legal aid, someone who would give a shit.

“Can we talk more later?” he said to Annabel. “I don’t even know what visiting hours are, but come anytime. I’ll sign a contract if you like. I promise I won’t back out on you.”

Annabel put her pen and notebook into her briefcase. “Of course,” she said to Jonathan. “Oh, and my sister is a crown attorney. I’ll talk to her about you. Make sure you get fair treatment.”