Vote For Yourself

“A vote for me is a vote for affordable healthcare.”

The crowd erupted in thunderous applause, in awe of the man before them.

“A vote for me is a vote for social equity.”

The cheers multiplied, filling up the sumptuously decorated hospital atrium.

“Most of all, a vote for me is a vote for research. It’s a vote for the promise of a better future for all of us. The stakes are high, and every vote counts.”

All attendees, hospital staff and patients alike, rose to their feet in near worship of Representative Skyler. Dressed in an immaculate suit punctuated by a shiny golden tie, the thirtysomething politician ran his hand through his auburn hair, as he so often did when trying to project false modesty. The representative did know his worth. He had no shortage of charisma, and no matter how hollow his speeches were, it was impossible to resist his charm.

“Thank you. Please, please sit down. I shall now introduce the man who made this fundraiser possible in the first place. His genius has catapulted the field of stem cells research years ahead. Join me in giving a warm welcome to Dr. Jai.”

A much older, stouter man made his way up the stage in the middle of the atrium, shaking hands with Skyler while taking place in front of the microphone. The representative hurried down the steps and rushed into a cold, empty corridor. Dr. Jai’s words did not spark the slightest interest in him. After a speech, Skyler always needed alone time to get back into his headspace. After all, his headspace was the only one that mattered.

Cough. Cough.

The sound came from the far end of the corridor, distracting Skyler from the feed on his smartphone. Its source started off faint, for sure, but the noise echoed down the hall in a deafening cascade of amplification. All patients in the acute care unit had been called to the atrium for the fundraising dinner. It was ludicrous to think one could have missed out on the party. It was ludicrous to think one could have missed out on him.

Skyler softly made his way down the corridor. The rooms were all eerily empty, yet exuded the ghostly, pervasive presence of sickness. The clamor of the event grew increasingly distant, as if it gradually faded like a hazy memory at the back of his mind.

Cough. Cough.

Again. This time, he was able to pinpoint precisely where it came from. A room to his right had its door half closed. He squeezed himself into the opening and saw a pale, bald woman on the bed in a hospital gown. She stared emptily into the void before her. Skyler, a Harvard-educated lawyer, had extensive vocabulary, but the patient’s face escaped his descriptive abilities. It was as if great beauty had decided to hide behind a veil, behind some half-translucent garment designed to suck the happiness out of whoever stood behind.

There was only one sentence in his speech Skyler truly believed. Every vote counts. It was unacceptable that a single patient in this hospital had the nerve to escape his charm. Besides, the woman was pale, but looked strong enough to survive until the next election.

“Pardon me.”

Skyler’s voice pulled the patient out of her blank contemplation. For a moment, the representative thought he saw a hint of fierce disgust flash across her eyes, but she quickly put on her façade again.

“Representative. What are you doing here?”

“I thought I heard someone coughing.”

“Coughing. In a hospital. How surprising.”

“It was my goal to meet every single one of my constituents in this fine facility. I couldn’t let one slip away.”

“You certainly couldn’t.”

A cold, tense silence settled. His charisma had no power here.

“What’s your name?”

“Take a guess.”

“A guess?”

“I’m sure you have a hunch, deep down inside.”

Her indifference puzzled him, but he held his own and picked up the patient file hanging from her bed.

“Sarah.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to read this, it’s confidential information.”

“I wanted to make an educated guess, that’s all. Not reading anything else.”

She steadily avoided eye contact. Skyler could sense his mere presence made her uneasy. People were sometimes mistrustful of politicians at first, he thought. Such aversion towards a man of his stature must have been a blanket statement, an expression of hatred towards the system and not towards the individual. His natural charm would not doubt soon reverse the situation.

“If I might ask, what brought you into this hospital room?” he gently enquired.

“Why don’t you pick up my file again to find out?”

“I don’t mean to intrude your privacy. I just want to make my constituents’ needs a priority, and your needs matter to me.”

“Lung cancer, if you really want to know.”

“I’m very sorry you have to go through this. Please know however that Dr. Jai’s stem cell research could lead to a complete overhaul of the treatments you are currently receiving, and I am committed to—”

“You’re committed to yourself.”

“I know it sometimes feel like all politicians only care about their own person, but I’m different.”

“I’m not talking about politicians. I’m talking about you. What’s my name?”

“Sarah.”

“What’s my real name? Don’t you remember?”

A branch now periodically scraped the surface of the room window, agitated by a sudden gust of wind. A storm drew near, both inside the room and out. Skyler peered with more attention into the beauty behind the veil. There was something vaguely familiar about these eyes, these cheeks, these lips. Somewhere in his mind, a foggy memory strived to emerge from oblivion.

“We have met before, haven’t we?”

“Ding ding ding, we have a winner. So, what’s my name?”

“I— I can’t quite—”

“You are even more self-centered than I thought you were. We met in Harvard. Rowing team initiation night. Does that ring a bell?”

The memory became more tangible by the minute.

“It does, but I—”

“You’re still clueless, aren’t you? Perhaps you’ve forgotten how you brought me back to your room. How you never spoke to me again afterwards. How you ignored me every practice and made fun of me with your stupid friends in the locker room.”

The face behind the veil now appeared to him sharp as a knife. Skyler had gotten rowdy that night, and countless more nights after that: the endless partying of his college days had caused the recollections of his many conquests to sink into murky waters. Her words had brought the memory out, just in time for the first drops of rain to shower down onto the window.

“Yes, of course. I remember now. I’m so sorry—”

“So what’s my name?”

“It’s Sarah, I don’t recall you saying—”

“I told you how I changed my name because the kids made fun of me in school, and you told me there was no need to change it because it was gorgeous and memorable. What is it?”

Deafening thunder shook the outside world, just as a suffocating silence befell the room once more. Skyler looked down in shame. There was nothing more to be said.

“It’s Enora,” she finally said, her voice cracking up. “My real name is Enora. You have forgotten it, just like you will soon forget the names of all the precious voters you met tonight. The show is over.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“I’m not giving you a chance to make a fool of me again. Vote for yourself all you want, but my ship has sailed. Leave. Now.”

Lightning bolts flashed across the window. For a second, Skyler wished for the electric discharge to strike him, right then and there. He mechanically got up and walked back into the eerie atmosphere of sickness, this time avoiding eye contact himself.

The fundraiser was still going strong. On his way out, the stem cell specialist wave at him in the atrium. For the life of him, he could not remember his name.