Drowning

Politics

I was eating Raisin Bran the Saturday after finals when Mark walked in and slammed the morning's newspaper down on the counter in front of me. I jumped and spilled my cereal all over my pants. Mark impatiently tapped his foot against the tile while I retrieved a towel and changed into shorts. "What is wrong with you?" I asked him while gesturing to the mess he created and didn't help clean up. "Read that," he replied with a stern face and nodded his head towards the front cover. I wasn't too concerned with the headline about the recent spread of the flu, since I already had my shots, but towards the bottom was an article titled: "Has Emmett Found His Saving Grace?" What the hell?

Mark looked at me again as I flipped through the pages and found where the article was located. At the top of the page was a picture of Emmett and me walking down the street where my apartment is situated. It had to have been taken only a week ago, since I hadn't seen Emmett since then. Why this was an important picture, I had no clue. The article was short but very insulting, and I almost spilled the remaining cereal from the bowl as I read it.

Judge Stanford Giles may have some hope yet with son, Emmett Giles, as he was seen here with Grace Cloud last Saturday night. The fairly new couple have been seen only twice in public, but it is no secret that they are in a relationship. We all know of Emmett's sketchy past of minor misdemeanors and constant outrages against his father, our most prominent county judge. It is said that Grace is a "good girl" that will surely cure him of his old ways. She attends Lake Michigan college and lacks any negative history in all of our searches. Grace is already a breath of fresh air from Emmett's previous choices in girlfriends. Although we have not heard anything from Judge Giles, we can only assume that he sees this relationship as a blessing to his house hold.

I was livid. How did this reporter have the right to write such rude things, much less, how does he know my name? I never would have guessed the connection Stanford Giles had to Emmett, but, then again, I just learned his last name from the article. There was so much I was still clueless on, and I had just been brought into a world of politics and injustices that I wasn't even aware I was walking into. I knew that once Mark began to campaign for governor that I would most likely attend social events and ceremonies with him, but this-this article and the realization that I was dating the most powerful judge in our county's son, I was not prepared for.

Judge Giles was the best known judge in the state of Michigan. He had once served in the House of Representatives, but a few years after his wife's passing, resigned the next election year and became our county's judge. He was known for his firm hand and stern face in the courtroom. He was probably the most intimidating man I had ever seen, and not once have I spoken to him. While I was having my minor panic attack, Mark was crumpling up the newspaper and walking to the trash can.

"Well?" He somewhat asked, still acting coldly to me as if I was the reason for the article and the situation I was in. "Well what? This would have happened soon enough. I had no clue that Emmett was related to Judge Giles, but on another somewhat related note, it'll be my name next to yours in that paper very soon." I said all this very matter-of-factly, and it seemed to stump Mark. Sadly, my little revelation didn't hold for long. "What about Emmett? Are you just going to continue hanging out with a criminal?" He said this with a very final look on his face, as if that was the end and I had no other choice in the matter. "The article says that they were only minor misdemeanors," I reminded him, looking towards the trash where the article was currently. "That doesn't change anything, Grace." "But it does, Mark. He isn't a murderer; otherwise I wouldn't be able to tell you this."

My humor was present again in the conversation and I almost saw the hint of a smile on his face. Mark and I had never really fought as children. Being eight years apart probably had a lot to do with that, since by the time I had become the annoying younger sibling, Mark was finishing high school and working all the hours he could as a secretary for the courthouse. Once I hit the teenage years, I was living with him in a small apartment close to our Grandmother's house, and I hardly ever saw him expect the rare late night I would be up finishing homework. We worked well together, and he provided so much for me that I doubt I'll ever be able to repay him.