Running for a Cause

Election Night (Part 2)

Polls just closed. The night had been going fairly well for Democrats so far, we had picked up 3 seats in the Senate, and almost 30 in the House. Both of these were good signs, but there was still no guarantee that I, the 33 year old activist from a small town in Maine, would be elected to the Senate.

The MSNBC anchor mentions my name again, and everyone in the room falls silent again. My mom holds my arm in a death grip and my father puts his hand on my shoulder.

"The Maine senate race between Eric Foster and Harry Lewis is currently too close to call." The anchor says, then she goes on to call the two Maine Congressional races. Both were tossups going into the night, and now, they are both going in the blue column.

The anxiety filling the room starts to get to me, so I leave the room. Our campaign headquarters is in an office building in Augusta, it's not very big, but not too small either. I find Beth, my campaign manager, in the kitchen, making a new pot of coffee. We've gone through 3.

"Hey" she says, the stress being visible as she runs her hands through her curly red hair.

"We got this" I try to comfort her, but I'm barely sane right now myself.  I give her a hug just as the coffee pot beeps, and I hear my name on the tv again.
We run back to see what they're saying, and on the screen, is my name. My name, my face, and a green check mark next to it. We won. We fucking won. My parents, sister, and Beth all embrace me and each other, tears streaming down the faces of everyone in the room. And then I start crying.

I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket. I immediately realize that it's Lewis, calling to concede. I answer the call, and I am met with a deep gravelly voice.

"Mr Foster. This is Harry Lewis, calling to congratulate you. This has been a hard campaign."

"Thank you Mr Senator. It's been a pleasure running against you."

"I wish you the best of luck in the senate. Goodnight Mr Senator-Elect."

"Goodnight Senator Lewis."

I end the call, and I immediately see a million notifications from people I forgot even existed. Friends from college, coworkers, extended family members, and voters.

Beth leads me to a car that will drive us to to the victory party, where I'll give my victory speech. When we get in the car, I open my phone to see the messages I've received in the past 10 or so minutes. But there's one name that stands out to me. James Conley. James. Conley. I haven't talked to that guy in years, since college. We dated for a while in high school, until I found out he was cheating on me.

I was so naïve that I decided to give him another chance. That didn't work out well. And now, out of no where, he's texting me about my senate win. I try not to think into it too much.

The car slows to a halt, and I open the door. Immediately I'm met by a crowd of reporters, supporters, and protesters. People with signs reading things such as "Foster for Senate" and "Go to hell". You know, good things. I'm asked a million questions by reporters from what feels like a million news organizations big and small. Beth and I make our way through the crowd and inside.

I roll up my sleeves, and tighten my blue tie. I check my hair in the mirror, just to make sure I didn't mess it up on the way here. I'm led on stage to a podium, and suddenly there's a crowd of anxious supporters, awaiting my speech.

And I tell them everything they already know. I tell them that I'm going to fight for them. I tell them that my victory is all thanks to them, and their support. The usual stuff.

I end my speech, do some waving, the same campaign things I've done since day one. I walk into the crowd, and I'm greeted by a boy who seems to be around 14. He's holding a sign that reads "#FosterforPresident".

Foster for President. That's something I've never heard before. It has a nice ring to it.