One of Us

“Let’s get the fuck out of here”.

Melanie Davis was growing impatient. Exhaustion overcame her as she and her personnel swiftly exited the hall where she just delivered a speech for an audience of one thousand. Life on the campaign trail isn’t easy. Running for re-election in her Ward, Melanie was struggling to keep up with the demands of the City’s by-elections while also managing day-to-day affairs as a City Councillor.

Leading Melanie’s staff was her top advisor and long-time colleague, Tom Samuels. Remarking her physical fatigue, Tom jabbed passive-aggressively:

“You sure you’re good for the rest of today?”

‘Am I sure I’m good?’ Melanie thought. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

She stopped in her tracks to sigh overtly. “Tom!”, she snapped while signalling her head to chat with him privately.

Irritated and confused, Melanie took a deep breath and began laying out her reassurance to Tom’s comments.

“Listen”, she proceeded vulnerably, “my whole life I’ve had to break barriers and glass ceilings just to get where I am today. You of all people know what’s at stake here. I didn’t come all this way to not show up daily – especially when every day counts.”

Tom looked down with his hand covering his forehead as Melanie continued.

“My people… my community… they look up to me. They trust me as someone who can mend. Who can repair. And most importantly, who can renew. So no, there’s no going back. Not today, and not until we beat Kowalski.”

Melanie’s Ward opponent – Sarah Kowalski – was a fierce business leader championing an election platform of fiscal conservatism. Kowalski believed in budget reductions for social assistance, a contentious matter in a Ward suffering from tremendous unemployment levels. Most notably, Kowalski vowed to repeal the Highlands Development Project – a new community-led revitalization effort posed to bring affordable housing and a transit hub into the Ward, while employing countless. Kowalski did not oppose the nature of the development plans, but she repeatedly spoke out against alleged corruption within its contracted development company, Brownings Developers.

In her time in office, Melanie was responsible for awarding the contract via a City Council vote. While Melanie too felt uncertain about ethical conduct at Brownings – she had to overlook this to secure the economic opportunity for her constituents. Accordingly, she voted in favour of their contract, but an unsettling feeling disturbed her gut since.

Tom listened as Melanie went on about the imperative nature of her prospective election victory – only to interrupt her sincerity with agitated haste.

“One sec”, he snapped while holding up his index finger and bringing his phone to his ear.

Dismissing himself to take a call, Melanie felt an oncome of unease. Something seemed off. Melanie was revered as a people’s champion and a local hero by many. Under Tom’s guidance however, Melanie had begun developing a pragmatic approach to her political character ever since the notorious City Council vote. In the timeline leading up to the vote, Tom had embarked on a campaign of persuasion with Melanie, encouraging her to “think outside the box” and get “more connected with the real-world”. Unclear of what this meant, Melanie was at least self-aware enough to understand that her naturally altruistic attitude would not best serve her ambitions as a politician.

Melanie watched sternly as Tom walked away to take his call, only momentarily before rejoining her staffers. In that moment however, Melanie pondered why Tom seemed to be growing a discrediting belief in Melanie. During that moment, and for the first time ever, Melanie was suspicious.

Meanwhile, Tom had distanced himself from the group to gain some privacy for his call. Speaking softly into this jacket, he murmured:

“What is it?”

A muffled, indistinct voice asserted:

“You’ve disappointed us, Tom. This contract is shit.”

“It’s the best we could do!” pleaded Tom. “You know damn well that she won’t budge on those numbers. She won’t even dare open the conversation with the Financial Committee”.

“Listen to yourself, Tom” nagged the voice. “You really haven’t given this much thought, have you? Get the money for us or we bury Davis at the polls. You’d be wrong to think we wouldn’t gladly give dirt to Kowalski’s team. You’d be wrong to think they wouldn’t help us get more lucrative business elsewhere. Think this through, Tom.”

The call ended abruptly.

Tom slowly staggered his way back to the group, who were now outside the venue hall departing in separate vehicles.

“What took you?” demanded Melanie.

“It’s nothing”, Tom rebuked dismissively. “I’ll be heading back to the office now though. Let’s rendezvous at the venue tonight before the debate?”

Without time to digest Tom’s newfound erraticism, Melanie stood firm.

“Yeah,” she shrugged, “I guess let’s do that.”

‘It’s politics’, she thought to herself. She knew she could not be bogged down by the spontaneity of her team.

Her primary focus needed to be her evening square-off with Kowalski, where a town-hall forum would allow constituents of the Ward to challenge either candidate on their ideologies and platforms. She knew she needed to be sharp. After all, she’d been anticipating that Kowalski would drum up voters to draw specific criticism towards her ethics among the Brownings contract. That’s why she had deliberately configured her day’s itinerary to remind her of her core political purpose – community.

“We’ll be canvassing the Highlands Creek neighbourhood”, announced a staffer of Melanie’s, among other aforementioned items. Melanie wasn’t paying much attention. Like a child, she was staring inquisitively out of her vehicle window as the driver turned onto a road that felt all too familiar.

The place where she grew up.

There wasn’t much to be observed. Dilapidated buildings, crumbling infrastructure, and rugged individuals pushing shopping carts down the sidewalk at a statue’s pace. Melanie inhaled deeply. She felt a combination of nostalgia and warmth, juxtaposed hauntingly by the eerie character of her surroundings.

The vehicle parked at an old lone apartment building, where Melanie’s team was greeted by a yapping German Shepherd tied to a chain-link fence. The team dispersed upon entry and began canvassing doors arbitrarily.

Knock knock knock.

An elderly man greeted Melanie at the door.

“What is it?” snubbed the old man.

“Hello, sir. If I could borrow a minute of your time to talk about our upcoming by-election?” politely requested Melanie.

“Fuck that”. The old man began to chuckle. “Politics ain’t nothing but a sick joke. Sick, sick, sick.”

Melanie was quick to refute condescendingly. “Well, some people are cynics. But we could all do our part to make the system work better for people. That’s actually what my campaign is all about.”

“Your campaign?” the old man asked, intrigued. “So you’re the one running? You’re not just some city bureaucrat?”

“Nope.” Melanie smiled. “I’m Melanie Davis, and I actually grew up in Highlands Creek.”

“So you’re one of us, huh?” the old man said sarcastically. He proceeded to reveal that he did not keep active with politics, so he hadn’t a clue who was in office and for what reason. He also revealed his name was Josiah.

Melanie glanced at Josiah’s shirt, immediately identifying its symbolism. CPCC, it read.

“Creek Park Community Centre?” Melanie alluded, pointing to his shirt. “I used to go there as a kid after school every day. Sometimes, I’d stay overnight when I had nowhere else to go.”

“Yeah, I know those stories all too well”, said Josiah exhaustedly. He began reflecting on his experiences as a community leader at the centre, describing his mentorship to vulnerable youth in elaborate detail. “That place is at risk of getting closed down ‘cause of maintenance issues. Imagine what’ll happen when those kids really have nowhere to go.”

The thought percolated heavily in Melanie’s brain. Her stomach trembled with fear as she processed the reality. It had been as though a flash grenade stunned the vicinity, and a ringing noise pierced the hallway. For all its warmth, Highlands Creek’s most familiar feeling in Melanie’s gut was trauma.

Bringing together her composure, she managed to confidently extend an invitation to Josiah to attend tonight’s debate.

“You know”, she began, “some candidates want to see even less community centres in the Ward. You should really come out and make sure your frustrations are heard.”

“Pfft.” Josiah didn’t seem impressed. “The only frustration I have is with that goddamn Highlands Development Project or whatever. That thing is a real bitch.”

“Actually sir,” Melanie confessed, “I’m the one leading that project. The project is my idea.”

Immediately, Josiah grew infuriated. His face illuminated bright red as his eyes watered.

“Go to hell”, he slowly whimpered. “That piece of shit will raise the cost of living so much, I don’t know if I can live here anymore.” He began sobbing. “I’m too old to work in construction, I’m too broke for all the shopping it’ll bring, hell, I don’t even have good enough credit to live in the new buildings.”

Perplexed, Melanie stood quietly still, watching as tears poured from Josiah’s eyes.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Josiah demanded, “you’re not one of us. If you were, you’d understand that this thing gets rid of us instead of helps.” Josiah retreated into his doorframe. “Thanks for selling out Highlands Creek.” Josiah slammed the door. Melanie was appalled.

The longer the day went on, the more out-of-touch Melanie began to feel. Had she really favoured short-sided gentrification at the expense of her Ward’s most vulnerable? Was she a sell-out?

Melanie and her team finally liaised with Tom at the venue in advance of the debate.

“I’m sorry for earlier,” Tom noted, “things have just been hectic lately.”

Untrusting, but willing to look past her doubts, Melanie mustered up a smile.

“You can say that again”, she joked. “Now let’s get this over with.”

Reciprocating a smile, Tom extended his hand to Melanie’s shoulder, then quickly brushed her aside.

“Just gotta head to the washroom.”

Tom was anxious. He rushed to the washroom, setting down his belongings on the sink counter, only to flee within seconds. In doing so, he left behind his belongings unknowingly. What was also unknown to him was that Josiah – who accepted Melanie’s invite to the debate – was occupying a stall in the washroom simultaneously.

Josiah then found himself alone, and didn’t hesitate to examine Tom’s forgotten belongings. Atop a binder was a peculiar little black notebook. Josiah scanned through its pages. He could not distinguish its content – except for one heavier-weighted page with a paperclipped note attached. He unfolded the note, and found himself reviewing a complex financial statement with a sloppy handwritten page title: “Verify this isn’t embezzlement.” He held onto this note.

Joining the audience, Josiah waited patiently for the Q&A section of the forum. He was quick to shoot his hand up when prompted to receive a microphone.

“I have something I’d like to give the panel.”

Indistinct chatter littered the room.

Melanie stood trembling as Josiah approached Kowalski and handed her a piece of paper.

Kowalski gasped.

“The Davis Campaign embezzling funds from The Progressive Party to the Brownings Developers?!” she exclaimed frightenedly.

A cohesive audience gasp was immediately followed by roars of:

“Shame. Shame. Shame.”

Months later, Josiah was called to visit Creek Park Community Centre. He was met by a small team of construction workers, who’d expressed they’ve received a check for $20,000 to revitalize the space.

Confused and delighted, Josiah squatted on his feet with his hands covering his head.

“How is that possible?” he cried.

“Dunno”, answered one construction worker, “check was made by some Melanie Davis… she actually sent it a while ago, we only just got the green light now. Figured you’d want to be here to help.”

Josiah scurried to put on a hardhat and help the team.

Well into the work, Josiah stopped to look up, only to find a tall woman occupying his presence wearing a CPCC shirt.

Stunned, he looked down in disappoint.

With one hand on his shoulder, the woman calmly suggested:

“Can I join?”