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In one of the more up market restaurants in a big city a small group of men are sitting in a private room enjoying some fine wines prior to settling into their business. Two politicians from one of the major parties, their chief advisors, a well known radio personality and one of the party’s major benefactors have gathered this night to settle a deal. As the first of the entrées arrives a hearty laugh is heard as old tales of electoral battles are recounted.
Over a thousand kilometres away in a mid size regional city a family settles down to their evening meal. Well part of the family at least. Mum is feeding the two younger children while dad performs the nightly ritual of preparing the oldest son’s feeding tube. This process takes a few minutes and is always preceded by flushing the boy’s bowels, a procedure as humiliating for the father as it is for the son. A small whimper is heard as the boy endures what the doctors say is a painless procedure.
In the restaurant the men are tucking into their smoked Canadian salmon, imported grain fed beef and hormone free chicken. Talk has become a little more serious now as they manoeuvre towards the un-stated but quite plain objective. Many years have passed since this benefactor began to donate to the party. Large sums, spread over many small donations, so as not to attract the attention of the opposing parties or the electoral office, have ensured this man is considered worthy of some special consideration.
Finally the evening meal is completed. The babies are settled and mum is doing the washing up. Dad has eaten but as always, sits alone at the table. He listens to his wife hum a tune and knows that the unspoken words are, as always, of fear and hope mixed in unequal proportions. He examines carefully the last mouthful of beer in the bottom of his glass and wonders if tonight will be the night.
The first contact this benefactor had with the party was at the local level when he wanted to expand his factory space. Local laws would need amending and he would need to grease some palms. Fortunately for him the current shire CEO was about to retire and this coincided with local council elections. All he needed to do was ensure the right men won the council seats and that the right recruiting committee was formed. So it was his long lasting (and highly profitable) relationship with the party was formed.
Finding out you’re pregnant, so it had been told them, was the most exciting news you could get. Finding out your first born has severe and profound disabilities; no-one prepared them for that. Sixteen years had passed since the first night the two of them sat and wondered what it was they had created. Tears flowed freely and there was not much talk. The hugs were uncomfortable and that romantic, first time love they had shared until the birth seemed far gone and lost forever.
The benefactor had not been too demanding at first. His factory had expanded and he knew there would be a quid-pro-quo so it was not unexpected that state party representatives came knocking at his door. The deal, they said, would assist him expand his business. He would be able to break that invisible barrier that stalls so many medium size businesses and makes them ripe for corporate take over. Surely he didn’t want to be the boss that was? And so he started dealing and very soon found his own personal rewards growing.
After two weeks the new baby was allowed home. The small, swollen and bloated hands betraying the medical interventions and the shunt a display of life saving medical technology. The maternal nurse was able to visit every second day and said she was always available if needed. “Just phone me,” she said. But with an area that took four hours to traverse under her care, the nurse was very rarely there when mum rang in tears wondering what was going wrong this time. Despite those early days traumas the baby grew. Slowly though and without much energy. Dad grew more distant as he watched the life drain from his beautiful bride.
The party was very happy with their “man” as they had taken to calling him. He was not only generous with his cash but also not overly demanding. It had been quite a few years since their mutually beneficial relationship had started. One made in heaven said a party hack at one meeting. The time was rolling around when the party needed to decide what potentates would be devolved to whom. The party machine men knew that power, or at least the allusion of power, was what their benefactors sought. The question was who to appoint to what.
Two more children followed but as one friend said, it had been a long break between breeding cycles. They had not deliberately held off it was just that intimacy was not something they were passionate about anymore. This new life they had created was far more demanding than they expected and with the downturn in regional employment job security had not been there for some years. When dad finally lost his job, as the last section of the plant closed, his job network agent told him he would be fine and would be bringing home the bacon again in a short space of time. “Relax and enjoy your family” the brash young bloke behind the big desk said. “There’s plenty of work out there.”
Three committee jobs were left to be divided among the remaining benefactors. The discussions had gone on much longer than they had hoped. It’s a tricky business this, dividing the spoils of incumbency and trying to please everyone. Nonetheless the jobs had to be taken and the “right” people had to have them. Their major benefactor provided the biggest hurdle. While generous with his cash he also had a ‘thing’ for his office staff and it was important that this not be allowed to interfere with the smooth running of the party. A committee job was needed that compensated him adequately and which would not attract media attention. It needed to be high profile enough to support his ego but his role needed to be, strictly, back room. Once the deal was done in here, the appointment meeting could take place.
He set his beer down and said to no-one in particular, “good night and god bless”. “Mmm.” He thought, “God had never entered into this equation”. He pecked his wife on the cheek and took in her glorious odour. He went to each child and kissed their hair, his lips lingering on the blond locks of his eldest son. Five years of being un-employed, two years of full time carers benefit and the shame of not being able to satisfy his conjugal duties had taken its toll. The murky blackness that engulfed his heart was slowly killing him. Better to end it now than do something even more destructive later.
The last of the dinner drinks were complete. The pats on the back were done. The sinecure was established only the paperwork needed to be completed. A fine night it was at the highest office of the land. Men were happy and the intoxication of power seemingly made their vision clearer. It was done. The committee had a new member and the new member had another notch in his belt. Signed, sealed and delivered, the right man for the job had been found.
The police said the belt was the usual choice if a gun was not handy. The body was cold when she found it. Her children now fatherless. Her bed now empty. What kind of a deal was this? She thought it possible but never probable. He was gone now and they were alone. A widow’s pension and the carer’s allowance would be hers, so the social worker told her, once the paperwork was signed, sealed and delivered. And she thought she had found the right man.