The President is going to build a wall. It’s going to be a big wall. A big, beautiful wall.
Before I built a wall, the Secretary of State said, I’d ask what I was walling in or out.
They were playing golf. The President had just bogeyed a par four. He was waiting for the Secretary of State to putt out.
Illegals, The President said. Drug dealers, rapists. Jesus, haven’t you been paying attention?
Something there is that doesn’t love a wall, the Secretary of State said, lining up his putt.
The President looked at him, squinted his eyes, as if trying to bring the other man into focus. The Secretary of State was trying out one of those new putters. One of those weird ones, the President just didn’t get it. He was a traditionalist, the President. Why couldn’t the Secretary of State just sink a three footer with a regular putter? It was crazy – like gay marriage. He liked the gays all right, he just didn’t get it. You miss a few and all a sudden you switch it up completely. It made no sense.
He looked back at the Secretary of State, who had hit his putt and was now waiting on The President. What was all this not loving a wall nonsense? It was almost unpatriotic. Sounded kind of fruity, to be honest. If he were going to be frank. Which he was. Frank, that is. The President thought it very important to be frank.
Ah, right, he said, finally. Pink Frank. My daughter had a boyfriend that listened to those guys when she was a teenager. Awful. Awful music, really.
I always thought they were all right, the Secretary of State said. But no, it’s not them. It’s from a poem.
Damn British, the President went on. You’d think they’d be more grateful, after World War Two and all. Poem, you say. I never liked poetry. Never understood it really. Wasting time on feelings. Kinda fruity if you ask me. Money, now that’s my poetry.
The President saw the Secretary of State was looking at him.
You don’t think I’m very smart do you? The President said.
Mr. President –
You’re wrong. I have a big IQ, actually. One of the biggest.
Mr. President, that’s not what I was insinuating. I was just thinking about the diplomatic ramifications of building a wall, not to mention the fiscal ones. We’re a country with a great deal of debt right now.
Y’know, the President said. I’m pretty good at building stuff. Really good actually. It’s going to be a big wall, beautiful. You’re going to be able to see it from space – like the one in China.
Actually, that’s a myth. You can’t really see The Great Wall from space.
Are you sure? the President said. Well, good. You’ll be able to see mine from space. It’s time to start beating the Chinese again.
I read an article on the Great Wall once, the Secretary said. They were walking on to the next hole, the secret service following at a good distance.
You read a lot, don’t you? The President said, suspiciously.
Not so much. No time, really.
I read lots of books, The President said. Just started one actually. Or about to start it. Soon.
The Great Wall of China was never finished, the Secretary went on. It was built in sections, but the sections were never connected. There were big gaps. It was built over thousands of years, usually to whatever political ends the emperor at the time was trying to acheive.
The President nodded. Now this guy was starting to get it: political ends. The President liked the sound of it. It had a ring to it. A very good ring.
Thing is, the Secretary went on. It never kept anyone out. It was more about what they were walling in.
Which was? The President asked, but felt himself getting bored. He yawned, couldn’t help himself. Why did he agree to a round with this chump? He was always going on about stuff that had nothing to do with anything.
Different things. National identity mostly, I guess.
Yes, exactly, the President said. That’s what we’re trying to do.
But at what expense?
Expense? Don’t talk to me about expense. I’m rich. Don’t you worry – it’ll be a good deal. I read books too. I’ve read hundreds of books on the Chinese, I understand the Chinese mind. And my wall will get finished – I know how to cut a deal. I wrote the book on that – did you read that? I write books as well as read them, you know…
The President pulled a tee from his pocket. A caddy ran up from behind, traded him a driver for the putter. The President teed his ball. He was two strokes behind, and it was getting to him. He didn’t like to lose – especially not to this jerk and his weak-sister gay marriage putter. He breathed, lined up his drive, stepped to the ball.
They didn’t talk much for the rest of the round. Back at the clubhouse, they decided to skip lunch – both had meetings. As they were parting, The President looked the Secretary of State up and down. He was starting to wonder if he’d made a good choice. Still, he had been a businessman, the secretary had. Some guys just needed coaching.
Listen, he said, patted the Secretary’s shoulder. I like how you’re thinking. Political ends and all. Don’t worry about the money though. We’re going to build the thing – a great big wall you can see from space. Mark my words. We’re gonna beat the Chinese again, just wait.
He looked the Secretary in the eye, did his best to convey the great weight of his confidence.
Okay? The President said.
Yes sir, Mr. President.
Attaboy! The President tapped the Secretary’s arm and turned and went through the door that led back to the course.
Sir, the Secret Service agent said, but the President had gone out. The secret service agent followed, held the door and called after The President. Sir, sir, I think –
The President turned, came back in, nodding.
Right, he said.
He went out the other door, the secret service agent following behind him at a jog. The door had not even shut when the Secretary clapped his forehead, sighed heavily, and said under his breath: Fucking moron.