Becoming a Light - Episode 2

 By: Kelly McDonald

“That’s what makes me different,” Representative Hastings said. He was speaking to a small crowd who had gathered at the courthouse in his district to discuss county issues, including a new bill, being proposed in Congress to give relief to first-time homeowners. “And I’ll use that difference to secure the help you need.”

There was little clapping as the few spectators dispersed.

“What do you think of him?” A woman in the front row asked her husband as they walked out of the conference room.

“He sounds different.” Her husband griped. “But what will he be saying when his party wants him to toe the line? He talks a pleasant talk about wanting to help us with our housing challenges, but we’ve heard that kind of talk before. I wonder what he’ll do when his cronies find out what he promised to do for us.”

Trevor Hastings listened to the interchange between the woman and her husband until they walked into the hallway. Although his political party was in the minority in Washington, he had won the election for his district in the state. However, he did not carry the election in this county, which had many families like the front-row couple he assumed stood with the opposition party.

As he moved toward the doorway, a few people reached out to shake his hand. But most simply scowled—nodding their heads as he passed. “Let me help,” he repeated to each person he passed who seemed distant.

The next morning, as Trevor caught an Uber to the airport to return to Washington, his chief of staff called. “A tough crowd last night.” She said.

Trevor affirmed her statement, but wasn’t really listening to her. I’m going to make a difference here, he kept thinking to himself.

The opposition party was sponsoring a housing assistance bill that was opposed by Trevor’s party. It would provide federal tax breaks for young families in certain income brackets who were trying to purchase their first home. Many of Trevor’s constituents from both political parties fell into this demographic. He wasn’t sure why his party opposed the bill. It seemed well crafted to do its work. However, his leadership had declared it as dangerous, a ploy from the opposition to “create chaos” as party leaders continually reminded him during their heated discussions. He recalled his last party caucus, a few days before he left Washington to attend the county meeting.

“There’s plenty of help available for these families.” His party leaders contended.

“We don’t need another program from the opposition to keep them in power.” They continued.

A few days later, in the hallway, Trevor was confronted by Monica, the representative from the neighboring district in his state. She sat next to him in the House chambers. She had served multiple terms and was viewed as one of the driving forces in their party.

“Heard you talked to a crowd in your district last week.” She said.

“How did you find out?” Trevor asked.

“Party news travels fast.” She replied. “Sounds like you’re going independent on us, making promises to the opposition.”

“But I represent them too, in my district.” Trevor said.

“Trevor, if we’re going to get that party out of power, we need to hang together.”

Jared, a party representative from another state, stopped, drawn to the tense discussion in the hallway. 

“What are you two planning, a coup?” he asked.

“Trevor’s considering a vote against party lines on this upcoming bill.” Monica remarked.

“Why would you do that?” Jared said.

“Because I think many of my constituents would benefit from the results of the bill.” Trevor replied. “My district has the lowest percentage of home ownership of any district in my state.”

Jared grabbed Trevor’s shoulder and leaned in, lowering his voice. “But it’s going to be close. You need to learn, Trevor, that the only time you vote your conscience is when it doesn’t affect the party.”

“How can I be considered a member of the House of Representatives if I don’t represent the people in my district?” Trevor asked.

“You represent the party.” his colleague answered. “And the party will tell your district how well you are representing them.”

“That makes little sense,” Trevor grumbled.

“That’s just the way it is.” 

“Then why am I here? Why are any of us here?” Trevor grumbled as they moved into the House chambers.

The debate played out, as each party sent their most passionate orators to the podium. First, one party pleaded for support of the bill. Then, the other party growled about its unfairness. Spittle sprayed and clenched fists pounded as emotions drove the debate. Finally, the Speaker halted the frenzy. The final vote started. Trevor whispered to his neighboring representative, “Here we go,” to which she replied, “Don’t worry Trevor, you’ll do the right thing.” He wondered what she meant.

The aye’s, and no’s, accumulated. The bill was being sponsored by the opposition, and they had asked for a verbal confirmation of votes. Trevor couldn’t shake the thoughts of the meeting with his constituents a few nights before. That’s what makes me different, repeatedly echoed in his mind. 

His neighbor’s name was called. She rose and loudly declared, “No.”

Trevor heard his name called. His thoughts were a jumble. They called again. Trevor slowly rose and proclaimed, “Aye.”