Of Kings and Demons by George Han Page A

guv’nor. You have been doing that every day since last week!”
    “You are thinking of it ,
aren’t you?”
    Walter chuckled like a child. “Robin,
you are such an asshole.”
    “Will you consider running?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “If you haven’t been thinking
of it, why are we having this conversation?”
    "You have gate-crashed.”
    “You knew I would be here
tonight. If you aren’t happy, you can have me arrested, guv’nor !” Robin
held his hands up in feigned surrender.
     “No crap, Walter. I’m
serious.” Robin turned grave “Give me an answer.”
    Walter shook his head. “I am
tired. It has been one hell of week, meetings, conventions, and a trip to
Congress.”
    “No excuses, Walter. It’s a
dog’s life since the day you decided to run for public office.”
    “Yes, I know but Robin, I was
only thirty-five then and after five terms, I was only forty-five! I am coming on
to sixty now.”
    “Come on, Walter!” Robin jumped
to his feet. “Age is not an excuse. It is a badge for the dead or dying, and
you don’t belong to either group.”
    “On my way to one of them…”
    “Shut up.”
    “I should remind you that I
have a heart condition since I was fifty-two.”
    “We all will die, but it’s how
we die that matters. You want to run again as governor and then retire in five
or six years down the road or do those corporate advisory things?”
    “I am going back to teaching,
Robin,” Walter said.
    “I hope you die while marking
assignments if you go back to teaching.”
    “Wicked bastard. Teaching is a
noble vocation; my father did that for forty years,” the governor said.
    “Politics is just as noble,
only much dirtier.”
    Walter kept quiet. Serving his
country and community had been the best years of his life. Despite the acidic
grind of bipartisan politics, which sometimes grew too much to stomach, the
sweetness of achievement outweighed all else. The thought that he had made a
difference provided the motivation that kept him soldiering on.
    “Run for president, Guv’nor
Johnson!” Robin forthright comments made him cringed.
    Walter stood and folded his
arms and before Robin shot before he could speak
    “Don’t use age again. McCain?
Ronald Reagan? You are still a young man, Walter.”
    “McCain lost.”
    “Look across America now. A
wavering Democratic White House administration, festering terrorism in Middle
East and South Asia, ballooning deficit, we need a strong president to hold
this nation together. There is despair and uncertainty everywhere.” Robin
continued, deaf to Walter’s cynicism.
    Walter searched deep within for
a reason to overturn his arguments. Robin Ballard had such persuasive powers
that rendered him speechless. A senator who was his classmate at Princeton once
joked that if Robin was made Secretary of State, he could make the North and
South Koreans best of pals, and the Pakistanis and Indian troops would kiss and
make up in Kashmir. All jokes meant as compliments, but the point about the
man’s qualities had been made.
    Walter strolled over to the
fireplace and looked at framed photographs. He saw the one he took of his
parents. He was only fifteen, and they had gone to Maine to fish. It was a
memorable trip and maybe that’s the reason why he and Robin were such good
friends. Robin was just like his father.
    Walter’s silence nibbled at
Robin and his tone strengthened. Storming over to the governor, he said, “Walter!”
    Walter turned to find a face of
grit. He had not seen that much energy in his friend since he first met him on
the congressional election campaign trail.
    “The White House is not an
office that you choose to run for in a whimsical swing, or at the turn of a
dime, or whether it’s Sunday or not!” Robin waved his arms. “It is an office for
a special man, an office fit for a unique man of destiny.”
    Walter paused “It is not just
about brains, it is about the heart. It is about that rendezvous with destiny.
It is