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A Phone Call from The SideKick

Yesterday, you called me on the phone screaming about something or another.

You continued to yell for the next two hours about something I had done

Or failed to do

Which is fine

Until you told me

I could never be a hero

That I was too selfish

Too stupid

Too weak

To ever be the hero

I almost laughed, yknow?

But I didn’t

Because I am good at keeping my temper

Good at pretending I was fine,

I am good at Diplomacy.

INstead I told you that I would call back the next morning

I could smell the alcohol on your breathe

And here is that call

I would have told it to your face,

But I would bet my left arm that you are sporting a heavy hangover

So, I'll leave you with this.

When you told me yesterday I couldn’t be the hero,

I almost laughed because I never wanted to be

I don’t need to be

I am the brain behind your whole operation

I am the reason you are what you are

I deal with the legal things

With the government and the people and the lawyers and the press

I am your spokesperson

I write your speeches

I am your PR

Your friend

Your Secretary

I am you

I am everything the people love

And I am everything your enemies fear

I don’t need to be the hero

I am your sidekick

The one that is thrown to the side by the hero and forgotten

But when you die,

It will be me they remember,

I will be your living memory

So you are right,

I will never be the hero

I am too selfish and weak and stupid to be

But a hero is nothing in the presence of the man behind the curtain

To My Villain

I know this is a sudden request, but I feel it important to note that I will not be in office next week starting Sunday, ending Friday. It is nothing personal, my grandmother is sick and I kinda need to be there for her (she’s the one with the two dogs). That being said, if you could reschedule the attack on the capital that would be lovely. Listen, I could call in a temporary, but I know that you really don’t like Sam (and who really does), and he is the only one available that week. Also, it's been a hot minute since you and I have had a good battle, and I really miss the witty banter we have. That being said, I won’t be making the cookout on Friday either. I’ll be getting back two hours after it ends. It totally sucks that I won’t be having your mothers pecan pie (if you could save me a slice that would be appreciated). So, yeah, nothing else to report!

Awaiting your reply,

Your Hero

Copy Cat

Who was the man?

The man at your door?

He screamed and banged and hurled at your wall

Who was the man?

The man in white?

Who stood there and screamed

All that night?

Why was he there?

What did you do?

He left behind a suitcase

For me to see to.

It opened when I grabbed it

And on the inside

Was a note written in a suave-like stride

What was on the note?

Inauguration Countdown

The clock sits in the corner of my room

I hear the ticking

Drowning out the voice in my headphones

I can’t pay attention

Scrolling through my phone

Tick Tick Tick

There is a notification

I click

My teacher drags on

I don’t know whose voice comes out

When I gasp

I read

It is not pretty

I put my phone down

Tick Tick

I look at the clock

I wait

I pick my phone up

I scroll

I click

I read

I gasp

I leave

Tick Tick

I look at the clock

I wait

I pick my phone up

I scroll

Tick Tick

The teacher is different now

The class is doing something

The discussion is quiet

They call on me

I don't remember if I answered

The article stares up at me

I recall

A story shared in history class

A promise of freedom

And Liberty for all

I look at the article again

I open my group chat

I type

They answer

“Are you ready?”

Tick Tick

I look at the clock

“No. Are you?”

“No.”

No.

A Life Altering Question

In the car we sat, originally there had been chatter. Yet now, I could not keep up the meaningless talk, for the building anxiety as I drove swept upon me, collapsing my voice. It was all I could do but to keep the car from crashing. The closer we got to the West Egg, the harder it got. The more enclosing the car felt. The more hopeless the future seemed. The more terrifying Nick appeared.

Nick. My one chance at redemption. The smallest sliver of hope, resided in a man I didn’t know. How would he react, knowing I was the one who scarred Daisy so? A good man he seems, better than most. Most definitely better than me. And yet, here I am, in all my wickedness and corruptness asking him for help. It was almost as though a demon were asking the help of a saint. How immature it is to ask another to fix my faults. Still, I will go on. For I am selfish and scared. And how much easier it is to ask a saint, then to approach an angel.

My angel. Daisy. Oh how she is everything good in this world. Oh how she was everything good in me. She was everything I could have asked for, now gone away and married, as I chased a dream. She is a darling, who deserves better than me. But I cannot let her go as easily as did to me. How selfish that is. How much better she deserves. For truly, how much happiness could I hope to bring in face of her husband? She must have chosen him for a reason, for a spirit like hers chooses only the best.

Perhaps I don’t need her love, although I crave it so. A friendship would be enough. Being there for her would be enough. Just seeing her would be enough. Closure. That’s what I’m after, I suppose. To hear her. Whether it be yelling, or degrading, or happiness. At least, then I would have put it to rest. At least then the parties would stop, the noise would stop. The curtains could finally close. But, that is a problem for the future.

For now I must ask the saint, I must win him over. For if Nick will not help, if Nick were to tell her. Or worse yet, not let me see her, nothing will change. And I will continue to crave. Crave my darling. Crave my friend. So, be your best. Stop tapping your leg! Talk. Surely he has heard the worst. He’s heard the people’s view. Give him yours, as twisted as it is. Show him Jay Gatsby. Win him over. For her, for us.