The blathering idiot opened his front door. On the other side was Lydia and … and the consultant. The consultant was in front.
“May we come in?” the consultant asked, but was inside before he finished the question.
Lydia followed him in.
“Is your child home today?” the consultant asked.
“I don’t have a daughter.”
“Xenia,” Lydia said.
“She is not my daughter,” the blathering idiot said. “It would be nice if she were, but she is my ex-girlfriend’s daughter.”The on-again, off-again relationship with Zoey was off again. Maybe for good this time. There was some thick-glasses looking guy hanging around her these days. She said he was just a friend.
“Oh … that’s most unfortunate,” the consultant said.
“I agree,” the blathering idiot said. He missed Xenia very much. Maybe even more than his ex-girlfriend.
“Can you get another?”
“I guess. But I might have to get another girlfriend first. That might take some time.” The blathering idiot had not had a date in … he couldn’t remember. It had been even longer since he had had any intimacy.
“We don’t have time.” The consultant’s high forehead was covered in sweat.
The blathering idiot wondered if it had started raining. He glanced up at his ceiling: no leak.
“Let me try,” Lydia said, stepping forward.
They were all still standing inside the blathering idiot’s front door.
Lydia was as blond and as pretty as the blathering idiot remembered.
“It’s like this,” Lydia said. “The Pro-Accordion Party is gearing up for another run at the highest office in the land. We realized from the last time that one of our biggest mistakes was not starting early enough. My friend here did some polling and he found that a candidate with a daughter polled better than one without a daughter. So we were hoping you would still be interested in running and that your ex-girlfriend’s daughter would be interested in accompanying you.”
“You have a daughter,” the blathering idiot said.
“Yes she does,” the consultant said. “And she could loan her to you for the campaign.”
“My daughter is not fodder for this campaign!” Lydia said.
“We all must make sacrifices,” the consultant said.
“I sacrifice enough for Pro-Accordion Party.”
“My wife told me it was either my career or my marriage … and here I am.” He threw his arms open wide.
“Not my daughter,” Lydia said again. A tear trickled down her cheek.
The consultant put his arm around her. “We’ll talk.” He looked over at the blathering idiot. “If, you’ll excuse us for now.”
The blathering idiot opened the front door and they left.
As they walked down the steps from his porch, the blathering idiot signed and hoped it meant he would see Lydia again. Maybe even for a date.