The Press Conference

Inspired by true events.

The knot in my tie won’t sit right.

I’m too upset. I need to calm down. “Come on, Budd,” I tell myself, “Get it together. You’ve done this ten thousand times.”

I notice the beads of sweat gathering on my expansive and expanding forehead, fringed by my once-brown hair, now turned mostly silver. I pull a handkerchief and dab it, drying my skin—for now. I set the handkerchief on the corner of the vanity, assuming I’ll need it again, and turn my attention back to my uncooperative tie.

I undo it, start over. Still crooked. I sigh and just leave it. The tie’s older than it looks. A little faded near the tip. I wore it the day I was sworn into office. Blue. Honest. I used to think that mattered—honesty. And maybe it still does—but it seems like maybe only to me and my wife, in the other room. She’s been my rock for twenty-four years—since the day we each said “I do.”

And she’s the only one who has never, even once, asked me if I did it.

The shirt’s snug. Collar too high. The suit jacket pulls tight across the shoulders. I’ve put on weight these past few months. Stress, probably. That, and the sleep I haven’t been getting since the investigation first began.

The coffee’s cold. I reheat it again anyway. Third time this morning. Still tastes like scorched pennies and old newsprint. I drink half and leave the rest on the counter next to the Bible.

The pages are cracked at the corners. I’ve had it since my teaching days. It’s followed me through every campaign. Numbers on one side of the desk, scripture on the other. Balance. Order. That was always the point.

Joanne hasn’t come out of the bedroom. I didn’t expect her to.

She didn’t ask what today was for. Didn’t need to. She trusts me to do the right thing for our family—for her.

She knows what I have to do. On the morning news show, some so-called expert is saying what he thinks I should do—resign before I get my fat ass fired. I look at the phone hanging on the wall, and down the curled wire to the receiver, dangling to keep my phone from ringing. If they want to fire me, they can fucking do it in person. After all I have done for this state, they can treat me like a man.

There’s been far too little of that lately.