Wide Awake Read Online Free PDF Page B

wanted to make me look like a fool, they didn’t actually wish me
harm.
But some of the people I called—I felt they would’ve killed me if they could have. Maybe not in the sense that they’d hold a gun to my face and pull the trigger. But if they had a button they could press to make me disappear, without having to see the mess, they’d press it. Not because of my specific self, but because of the things I believed in and some of the things I was. One guy with a big Decent cross hanging on the wall behind him told me he wished that AIDS was still around, so me and Stein and “the rest of you” could come down with it. One woman told me I was the downfall of America, and that if Stein was elected it was only a short time until we were invaded by Europe and Asia—“unless, of course, he gets all the other Jews to help him.” Another woman asked me if I was having sex with Stein, if I was his “little ass boy.” She said this as she held a baby in her arms.
    And I was speechless. I literally didn’t know what to say. I knew that hanging up on them would only give them the satisfaction that they’d won our encounter—since that’s what they’d made it, a conflict to win or lose. So I wouldn’t hang up. I would just sit there, silent, as they told me I was against God, against America, against Family, against Decency. Eventually they’d tire themselves out or realize I wasn’t going to say anything back, and they’d hang up. But even when they did, it didn’t feel like I’d won. Only one time—this one woman started attacking me for being immoral and disgusting. I shut myself down and just watched. Then, in midsentence, she stopped. She stared at my face in the screen, actually took the time to look at me and who I was, and she stopped. Our eyes met over our screens and she couldn’t go on. She didn’t say sorry; she didn’t apologize for taking things out on me. But she stopped. And stepped back. And hit a button and hung up.
    That made me feel a little better, but only until the next mean response. I found myself only calling the people who were coded as Stein/Martinez supporters. They thanked me, but most of them didn’t understand why I was calling since we already had their votes. Finally I gave up. I wandered over to Jimmy’s phone booth and stood in a corner where the phonecam wouldn’t spot me.
    Of course, Jimmy was better at this than I was. He was charming with the Stein supporters and even more charming with the all-important Undecideds, especially the ones who wanted to talk. When he was mooned, he would say a polite “Thank you very much for your contribution” before hanging up, and save his laughter for later. With the mean people, I could definitely see a tension—but he could control it better. Again, he’d manage to stay polite—“With all due respect, you’re wrong about that” and “That’s simply not correct” and “If you would read the Stein position paper on that issue, you’d see that what you’ve heard is incorrect.” Even when they got graphic in their insults, he refused to let them see him riled. He would say, “I don’t think there’s any call for that kind of language” before hanging up, so that their offensiveness became the cause to end the call. Only after the call had been disconnected would he unleash a string of his own graphic insults, until he was calm enough to make the next call.
    This, I guessed, was politics.
    He didn’t say anything about me being in the back of the booth, so I hovered there until Gus popped in and said he was going to hit the streets. I knew Jimmy would be cool about me staying with him, but I also knew that every call he made would mean a call I wasn’t making. I didn’t want to feel that defeated, and I didn’t know how to tell him about it, because clearly it was something that wasn’t bothering him as much. So I decided to act like I’d planned all along to join Gus in his canvassing. I’d still be dealing