Brad ran for office. He called me early in his campaign.
"I'm asking for your support," he said.
I didn't know him personally. We orbited the same social circles, I saw him at a party or two, but we never talked.
"Support?" I said. "What support?"
"Can you donate $1,000?"
I could donate $1,000. I had the money, but I didn't want to. What was in it for me?
"What's in it for me?" I said.
"If I win," he said. "I'll grant you three wishes."
That was tempting. I didn't have three wishes, but I knew I could come up with something.
"OK," I said. "Can I get this in writing?"
He emailed me confirmation as soon as the payment went through.
Brad won the primary. He was uncontested in the general.
I called him to follow up on the wishes. Did we still have a deal?
I got his answering machine. It wasn't even his personal answering machine; it was his campaign's answering machine.
I followed up over email to the address he sent for confirmation.
"Yup," it replied, a day later.
I waited for the general.
Brad won his seat. He made speeches in parks. I saw him on TV. I needed a new TV, so I called his office to wish for one.
"I'm sorry," his secretary said. "Brad's not in right now. I'll forward your message and you should hear from him in 5 to 10 business days."
On the 10th business day, I received a $100 voucher for a new TV at Bob's Electronics, which was far less than the price of a new TV and far less than I contributed.
"What the hell, Brad?" I responded. "That's hardly granting me a wish."
I received no reply.
I bought a used 40-inch plasma screen TV at Bob's Electronics and I needed to kick in $20 plus tax. It started to glitch after three months, but it wasn't under warranty.
In his first term, Brad proposed massive reforms. He fought like hell. I watched from my glitchy TV as he delivered scathing speeches to his colleagues. He was not afraid of a fight.
In the meantime, I was doing well, professionally. I didn't have a great TV, but I was pleased to see that Brad was running for reelection.
I got a call from him after his kickoff event.
"You were an early contributor," he said. "That's why I’m coming to you for continued support."
Support? I thought. You still owe me two wishes.
"You still owe me two wishes," I said.
"Wishes?" he said. "What are you talking about?"
I pulled up the confirmation and forwarded it to him as we were on the phone. I could tell he was reading as the phone went silent.
"Jesus," he said. "You're right."
He asked if I had one in mind. I told him the sanitation department could be more consistent with trash pick-up and he laughed, seemingly thankful for a wish in his purview. He promised he'd look into it and somehow, by the end of the call, I ended up donating an additional $1,000 for no additional wishes, but the promise of one better wish if he was reelected.
The primary was tight. A young upstart ran against him. They called it for Brad on election night, but a recount of votes showed he won by less than 1%. I watched him on election night and he looked sweaty and unsure of himself. Or maybe that was the glitchy TV.
The trash piled up. Where was the fight? He kowtowed to corporate interests. My business suffered immensely. I called his office and received their voicemail.
"This is not what I paid for," I said. "I want my money back."
No one responded.
Brad was voted out. No third term. His opponent from the previous election came back with fury. They won by a landslide.
I saw Brad at a party months later. He was in between things, taking time to figure out his next move. I walked up to him.
"You still owe me a wish," I said.
We'd never spoken in person.
"I know," he said.
We stood in silence. He looked afraid.
I didn't ask for a third wish. What was the point? The guy lost. I had a lot, even if it wasn't what I wanted. I didn't know what I wanted. I don't think anyone does. Not even Brad.
About the author: Jared Levy has stories published in several regional and international journals including Apiary Magazine, The Matador Review, and Cleaver Magazine, for which his short story, “Waiting for You in Paris,” was nominated for a Pushcart Award. He holds a BA in Philosophy from Bates College and is a recipient of support from the National Endowment for the Humanities, the Lacawac Artists’ Residency, and the Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference. He is a proud member of the Backyard Writers Workshop in Philadelphia, PA, and an MFA candidate at Warren Wilson College.
Learn more about Jared on Twitter and Backyard Writers.