The TV was on in the living room just inside—loud enough to hear the broad strokes of the news. Trump was back. Sworn in again, defiant as ever. Bill’s mood was noticeably lifted.
“Now we’re talkin’,” he said, tapping the spatula against the grill. “Finally, someone who’s gonna clean up this circus. Bring back some real order.”
Tom gave a neutral nod. “You sound optimistic.”
“Damn right, I am. This country’s been slipping for years. Now maybe we can get it back to what it was.”
Tom took a sip, then leaned forward slightly. “I’ll be in New York next week. Urban expo. Trying to get more business with cities.”
“Oh yeah?” Bill said, handing over a plate. “That’s what I’m talking about. Get out there, hustle, build something.”
Tom chuckled softly. “That’s the plan.”
They ate in silence for a bit, the buzz of insects filling the pauses. Then Bill spoke again.
“I don’t get why people fight it so much. Trump’s just trying to make the country great again. What’s wrong with that?”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Tom looked down at his burger. “Nothing wrong with wanting that. It’s the ‘again’ part that gets tricky.”
Bill frowned. “Why?”
“Because it wasn’t just leadership that changed things. The whole structure underneath shifted. The world we used to thrive in isn’t there anymore.”
Bill tilted his head, skeptical. “What, you mean jobs going overseas?”
“That’s part of it. But it’s bigger.” Tom leaned back. “Look, our economy was built on the idea that it grows forever. That every year, there’ll be more customers, more demand, more profit. So businesses took loans expecting to pay them back with future growth. But now that growth isn’t happening like it used to.”
Bill raised an eyebrow. “Growth always comes back. People said the same crap in the ’80s.”
“Maybe. But back then, population was booming. Global markets were opening. Middle class expanding. Now? Birth rates are down. People aren’t spending the same. Everyone’s maxed out on stuff. And when demand stops growing, everything starts to jam.”
He paused, then added, “Imagine you took out a loan expecting 100 customers this year. But you only get 99. You still owe the bank the full amount, plus interest. So what do you do? You raise your prices a little. Pass the cost onto those 99. But now some of them stop buying. That’s the loop we’re in.”
Bill grunted. “So what, just sit around and let things collapse?”
“No. But nostalgia’s not a strategy. Wanting to go back doesn’t mean we can. Trump wants the best for the country, I don’t doubt that. But you can’t fix structural decay with slogans. It’s not malice—it’s misalignment.”
Bill looked at his son, then out over the yard. The flags on the neighbor’s porch were still.
“So what’s your fix?”
Tom shrugged. “I don’t have one. Not all of it. But I’ve been thinking a lot lately—feels like I’m circling something important. It’s not a technical fix. It’s how we see the world, how we define success, what we believe life is for. That’s what needs to change. I’m not there yet. But I’m trying to get closer.”
Bill picked up his beer. “Well, I still think we’re better off with someone who believes in this country.”
“I do too,” Tom said gently. “But belief needs a plan. Otherwise, it’s just hope dressed up in a red hat.”
They sat in the quiet again. Fireflies blinked. The last light drained from the sky.
Bill raised his bottle. “To the old days.”
Tom clinked it. “And whatever comes next.”