Saturday, July 01, 2006
The Mistake
‘You’re too hard on yourself.’
She shifted closer to him on the sofa, rested the backs of her fingers against his cheek. He slumped forward, staring ahead, morose.
‘It’s not so bad.’
He gave the barest laugh, a quick dart of air through his nose. After a moment he said: ‘I screwed up.’
‘No…’
‘I’m a failure.’
‘No!’ She grasped his shoulders and turned him to face her, gazing at him until he was forced to meet her eyes.
‘Listen to me. Listen. You made a decision. It might be the right one, it might not. It could turn out to be a mistake, in which case you just pick yourself up, dust yourself off and move on. Chalk it up to experience.’
‘But…’
‘But nothing. You’re a good man, darling. You’re good at what you do. But you’re also human. Nobody expects you to be perfect all the time.’
He watched her, suddenly filled with a surge of love for this woman he had known so intimately for so many years. He remembered the real struggles they’d faced together, when his drinking problem had threatened to tear their home apart, and how she’d been there for him, believed in him, and in the end helped him see it through and emerge intact on the other side.
‘You sure know how to push the right buttons,’ he murmured, and realised what he’d said a second after she did. She put her hand up to suppress a giggle.
There was a tap on the door and it opened discreetly. Harris stepped in, crew-cut and serious, the faintest tic in his left cheek the only flaw in his mask of impassivity. Through the doorway behind him was a storm of siren noise and panic.
‘Mr President, please. You have to go down into the bunker. Now.’
They stood and followed Harris, hand in hand, a small smile slipping between them. Perhaps she’s right, he thought. It’s not the end of the world.
She shifted closer to him on the sofa, rested the backs of her fingers against his cheek. He slumped forward, staring ahead, morose.
‘It’s not so bad.’
He gave the barest laugh, a quick dart of air through his nose. After a moment he said: ‘I screwed up.’
‘No…’
‘I’m a failure.’
‘No!’ She grasped his shoulders and turned him to face her, gazing at him until he was forced to meet her eyes.
‘Listen to me. Listen. You made a decision. It might be the right one, it might not. It could turn out to be a mistake, in which case you just pick yourself up, dust yourself off and move on. Chalk it up to experience.’
‘But…’
‘But nothing. You’re a good man, darling. You’re good at what you do. But you’re also human. Nobody expects you to be perfect all the time.’
He watched her, suddenly filled with a surge of love for this woman he had known so intimately for so many years. He remembered the real struggles they’d faced together, when his drinking problem had threatened to tear their home apart, and how she’d been there for him, believed in him, and in the end helped him see it through and emerge intact on the other side.
‘You sure know how to push the right buttons,’ he murmured, and realised what he’d said a second after she did. She put her hand up to suppress a giggle.
There was a tap on the door and it opened discreetly. Harris stepped in, crew-cut and serious, the faintest tic in his left cheek the only flaw in his mask of impassivity. Through the doorway behind him was a storm of siren noise and panic.
‘Mr President, please. You have to go down into the bunker. Now.’
They stood and followed Harris, hand in hand, a small smile slipping between them. Perhaps she’s right, he thought. It’s not the end of the world.
Comments:
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....I wonder what their nuclear response capability is?
I remember the Russians used to have enough to kill every damn one of us several times over.
As a Detroit area resident, I'm pretty sure I'd be gone in the first volley. Arsenal of Democracy and all that, right?
I remember the Russians used to have enough to kill every damn one of us several times over.
As a Detroit area resident, I'm pretty sure I'd be gone in the first volley. Arsenal of Democracy and all that, right?
Careful Mr president where you 'dust yourself off'!
I have an allergy.
To nuclear fall-out.
The song goes 'Pick yourself up' dust yourself off,
And start all over again!'
Goody goody gum-drops!
I have an allergy.
To nuclear fall-out.
The song goes 'Pick yourself up' dust yourself off,
And start all over again!'
Goody goody gum-drops!
Footsie, you have a sick sense of humour, but it could happen! As one of the previous presidents had Alzheimers, he might have thought he was pressing the button for a nurse (or a bedpan)
Hey, if you want to clean up the text a bit, here's my secret.
Remove the spaces and you will have the code I use.
& n b s p ;
You can string these together (I usually use four) and it will make a handy indent.
& n b s p ; & n b s p ; & n b s p ;
This code stands for 'non-breaking space'...I think. I just know it allows you to force the web page to produce a space.
Remove the spaces and you will have the code I use.
& n b s p ;
You can string these together (I usually use four) and it will make a handy indent.
& n b s p ; & n b s p ; & n b s p ;
This code stands for 'non-breaking space'...I think. I just know it allows you to force the web page to produce a space.
Shebah:Wasn't there a spittin' image video for a Genesis song that ended in just that way?
If I remember, the Reagan puppet hit a button he thought was going to summon a nurse with a glass of water but instead started WWIII
If I remember, the Reagan puppet hit a button he thought was going to summon a nurse with a glass of water but instead started WWIII
The song was Every Breath You Take by, I think, Police. Best thing Spitting Image ever did - that and The President's Brain is Missing.
No, no, I've looked it up and it was "Land of Confusion"
Also had Ronnie wearing a superman cape and gallavanting about with a triceratops.
Also had Ronnie wearing a superman cape and gallavanting about with a triceratops.
I think SafeT's right, Philip. SafeT, I'll have to try that nbsp thing of yours once I've got my head round it (British expression).
By the way, I think Detroit has been seen as the prime target for a first strike since Einstein's days, so I'd get digging if I were you in case Kim Jong Il develops missiles with a greater range.
Pat: welcome back. Sam too, though you're here a lot.
SheBah: I have a soft spot for Ronnie because the Reagan Institute has done some great work in the field of dementia over the last few years.
By the way, I think Detroit has been seen as the prime target for a first strike since Einstein's days, so I'd get digging if I were you in case Kim Jong Il develops missiles with a greater range.
Pat: welcome back. Sam too, though you're here a lot.
SheBah: I have a soft spot for Ronnie because the Reagan Institute has done some great work in the field of dementia over the last few years.
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