"Hell, I could win the White House on red states alone. They love me!"
Lindsay Bonner stared at her husband. Regardless of the many ways a man ages-hair graying and thinning and finally disappearing entirely; the sharp jaw line descending into floppy jowls; the V-shaped torso gradually turning upside-down until his waist possessed all the structural integrity (and allure) of a mud puddle-his wife still sees the man she fell in love with. She is blind to his physical diminishment.
But disillusionment-that was another matter.
Her husband's hair was still golden, his facial features still sharply etched, his body still remarkably tight and muscular, almost as if he hadn't aged at all the last twenty-two years. But he had changed. She no longer saw the man she had fallen in love with. She now sat next to a complete stranger.
"Who are you?"
His smile disappeared. He groaned.
"Don't start with me, Lindsay."
Up front, Ranger Hank swapped an uneasy glance with Ranger Roy, as if to say, Here we go again. He turned up the volume on the radio.
"No. Really. Who are you?"
Her husband pointed at the cheering crowd outside the vehicle.
"Whoever they want me to be."
"Do you really believe all that?"
"All what?"
"Boys marrying boys, girls marrying girls, Mexicans having Americans…"
"I'm just riding the wave."
"What wave?"
He again gestured at the crowd.
"That wave. See, it's like investing-"
"Your daughter's a lesbian."
"I'm hoping it's a college fad."
"You really shouldn't encourage that."
"I didn't tell her to be a lesbian."
"Not her." She now pointed at the crowd. "Them."
"I'm not encouraging anything. Jim Bob takes a poll then writes a speech saying what they want to hear. That's different."
"That's following."
"That's politics. Jim Bob says-"
"Jim Bob says…"
She shook her head.
"He's tweeting for me now, on that Twitter."
"He was already thinking for you. Pretty soon, he'll be breathing for you. I guess I should have sex with him."
She shuddered at the thought.
"Well, you sure as hell ain't been having sex with me."
The Rangers grimaced, like kids when their parents argued. Their heads seemed to sink into their shoulders. Hank turned the air conditioning on full blast while she fought the urge to bring up Mandy Morgan- as if I don't know! — but she did not need that gossip running through the Ranger ranks across the State of Texas. Or did they already know? She stared west at the distant haze of the fires and took a long moment to calm herself; she then turned back to her husband.
"Can we talk about the colonias? "
Another groan from the governor. "No."
"Bode, we need to help those people."
"We're broke and they're Mexicans."
"They're still people."
"And we're still broke."
"If you saw how they live-"
"I've been to Mexico."
"But they live in Texas-without running water, sewer, or electricity."
He exhaled loudly, a sign he was annoyed.
"Jesus, all you've talked about the last month is the colonias. I wish to hell Jim Bob hadn't sent you down to the border. Incited your liberal Boston breeding."
She felt the heat rise within her.
"Bode Bonner, I'm not a Texan by birth or by choice. But after forty years living in this state, I am a Texan. And by God, it's high time you native Texans got over the Alamo and quit hating Mexicans!"
"I don't hate Mexicans. Hell, I was raised by Mexicans, I worked cattle with Mexicans, I dated… Never mind."
"You don't hate particular Mexicans, just Mexicans in general."
"I hate Democrats in general, not Mexicans."
They cleared the fairgrounds and headed north on the interstate. The wind rocked the Suburban, as if they were driving a billboard up I-27. A pickup truck sped past with a gun rack in the rear window and a bumper sticker that read: O LORD, PLEASE GIVE US ANOTHER OIL BOOM, AND WE PROMISE NOT TO SCREW IT UP THIS TIME. She braced herself to make another run at her husband's humanity-or to find it again.
"Bode, the poverty in the colonias is staggering. We need to do something."
"What? What can government do? We spent trillions fighting the war on poverty, and we lost. All we got for our money are more poor people. I got news for you, Little Miss Colonia-Texas is broke! But you want me to give more money we don't have to Mexicans so they can have more babies they can't afford? We can give those Mexicans all the money in the world, Lindsay, but they're not suddenly gonna start wearing J. Crew and shopping at Whole Foods. The solution isn't more money, it's better behavior. But government can't change human behavior. Government can't make people stop smoking or eating fast food or using drugs or having babies they can't feed. So government can't solve poverty."
"Government can try."
"It did. It failed. Government has never solved a single social problem, and it's never gonna solve a single social problem. You liberals cry for more money and more government, but the truth is, government can't make a difference in people's lives. Only people can."
Her husband's words jolted her-and she knew at that very moment what she had to do. What she would do.
"You're right."
"I am?"
"Yes. And I'm going to make a difference."
"Good. You go make a difference while I govern a goddamn bankrupt state."
"How bad is it?"
"Twenty-seven-billion bad."
"On TV, you said we don't have a deficit."
"I lied."
"Why?"
"Voters don't want to hear it."
"What are you going to do?"
"Cut the budget."
"What?"
"Everything."
"Schools?"
"Education and Medicaid eat up three-fourths of the budget."
"Raise taxes."
He laughed, but not as if it were funny.
"In an election year? You sound like a Democrat. Raise taxes. That's their answer to every problem."
She didn't think this was the time to tell him she was a Democrat.
"Use the rainy day fund. What is it now, nine billion?"
"Nine-point-three."
"Then use it. At least for schools."
"The tea party will raise holy hell."
"Do they control you?"
"No. They control the voters who control me."
They rode in silence for a few miles through land that lay as flat as a table top and was as dry as cement. The drought had turned Texas into another Dust Bowl. When she again spoke, her voice was soft.
"Bode, you don't want to be the governor who gutted public education. You saw the children in Graciela Rodriguez's kindergarten class. They need our help."
"How many of those kids will graduate in twelve years?"
"Half. Maybe. But she's their only hope. And you're her only hope. I told her you cared. Please don't make me a liar."
He sighed and stared out the window at cattle searching for grass on the plains.
"Bode, please do the right thing."
"You mean lose the election?"
"You used to want to do the right thing."
"I used to lose. Now I win."
"Is that all that matters?"