by Tara Sue Me
It’s the day before the benefit and with a normal job, I’d be packing my desk up. But this is not a normal job and my desk in New York was packed up months ago. The only things I’ll be leaving the White House with are my laptop and memories. So many memories.
My family will be landing soon, and since Anna invited them, and me, to dinner in the Residence, I’m having a car pick them up at the airport and take them to their hotel to get checked in and changed before meeting me here an hour or so before dinner.
I haven’t seen my family since Christmas and I’m excited to spend time with them, and to show them around this city I’ve come to love. Dad will like it for the history it holds, mom will like it because it makes me happy. But Sunshine is a lot like me. She’ll love it for its people. One in particular.
Ever since I told her how Anna used to take ballet, has been borderline obsessed over our current Commander-in-Chief. I think she’s read every magazine article and book mentioning her that she can get her hands on. She’s talked about little else since receiving a personalized handwritten invitation to dinner from the President herself.
“Navin!” She giggles, nearly bouncing out of the car and into my arms.
I laugh and I swing her around the side entrance of the White House. Holding my little sister, hearing her sweet giggles, adding my own laughter to hers, and having my parents witness the entire thing, I feel a long injured part of my soul begin to heal.
“Is she here?” Sunshine asks in a whisper after I set her down and hug Mom and Dad. She doesn’t have to qualify which she. This is Washington DC and there’s only one she here.
“I certainly hope she is,” I say. “Especially since she invited us to dinner. It’d be rude otherwise and President Fitzpatrick is never rude.”
“I can’t believe I get to meet her. All the kids at school are so jealous.”
“She’s excited about meeting you as well.”
Her mouth opens in surprise and the resulting few seconds of silence are long enough for me to check in with Mom and Dad, make sure the hotel is acceptable, that sort of thing. As we’re talking, Mom takes something from her purse.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Just a little thank you for the dinner invitation.” She holds it out. Her little thank you is a five hundred dollar bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I tell her.
“I can’t show up for dinner empty-handed. You know me better than that.”
I smile and nod because as crazy as this world is, and as quickly as some things change, it’s good to know some things never will. “I know.”
“The Wilsons gave it to us for our anniversary a few years ago, and I don’t ever see us ever opening it, but it’s too nice to give to just anyone.”
Mom and Dad rarely drink, so what she’s saying makes sense. They don’t need to know Anna drinks even less. “I’m sure she’ll love it. Let’s get you guys in and through security so I can show you around.”
I take a certain kind of pride in showing them the behind-the-scenes tour of the White House and introducing them to different people. Sunshine is in complete awe. I’ve never seen her so quiet before and I don’t want to look too closely, because I’m afraid if I do, I’ll see a young Anna Fitzpatrick. Not that it would be such a bad thing. Anna is and will always be an outstanding woman. And a damn good President.
I think I’m doing a pretty good job at covering how I’ve really been feeling for the last few weeks, but when Dad and Sunshine are talking to someone’s assistant about a painting nearby, Mom pulls me aside.
“Are you okay?” she asks, proving for once and for all that mothers really do see everything.
But I’m not getting ready to jump into that sob story at the moment. Not when we’re minutes from having dinner with the main reason for said story. Mom will be able to see right through me and Anna both, I’m sure, and probably as soon as she sees us, it’ll be clear to her within seconds what my issue is.
I tell her we’ll discuss it after dinner. They’ve all three been given instructions not to tell Anna about my acceptance into Harvard. I made that point very clear before they accepted the invitation. Mom’s a smart lady, though, and it’ll be no problem for her to put the pieces together, but being as smart as she, she won’t breathe a word to anyone.
Nicole walks up and tells me she’s been asked to escort us to dinner. Sunshine takes Dad by the hand and all but floats behind Nicole. I glance at my Mom.
“After,” she confirms and gives my arm a pat.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Him
The White House
Washington DC
Anna’s not in the small room adjoining the dining room when we arrive, and I relax a touch. This will be the first time we’ll have to speak to each other since she rejected me in the Oval Office. Thankfully, this isn’t the same dining room the two of us had breakfast in, all those months ago. This one is more formal, but somehow more intimate as well.
She enters the room alone, though I see the ever present agents take their places outside the door. It would be so easy to hate her: for the job I no longer have, the way she turned me down, and how she’s put this distance between us. If she could pull off the benefit without me, I don’t doubt she’d find a way. But I can’t hate her anymore than I can blame not finishing law school on Sunshine.
“Mr. Hazar.” She nods my way, and though her smile is warm and welcoming, I know her well enough to know the mask is back and thicker than ever. I doubt its presence would be noticed unless you were one of the privileged few who’d seen her without it on. I’d rip the damn thing off if I thought it’d do any good, but in this case I really can’t blame her for having it in place.
“Madame President,” I say, matching her smooth tone. “Allow me to introduce my parents. William and Cece Hazar.”
After those introductions are finished, I turn to get my sister, but Anna’s beat me to it.
“You must be the Sunshine your brother has told me all about,” Anna says holding her hand out. Sunshine takes a tentative hold of it. “I’m so happy to meet you and so happy you and your family were able to come be part of tomorrow night.”
“Thanks,” my sister says. “I like your dress. Where did you get it?”
Anna looks down and smooths it out. It is a nice looking dress, and she had a suit on when I saw her earlier in the day, which means she changed for dinner.
“Thank you,” Anna says. “The gentleman I went to the first four balls with? Captain Phillips?”
Sunshine nods. “He was handsome.”
“He did look good in uniform,” Anna says. “I got it from his sister as a gift. She’s trying to start her own design business.”
“Really?” Sunshine asks. “I thought you only wore stuff from France.”
“A lot of people do. And there’s nothing wrong with that, but if I can help someone who needs it and they make really cool clothes, I’d rather do that.” She leans over and says in a loud whisper, “Most of those French designers don’t need any help.”
I’m in shock. How did I not know this about her? I remember some vague murmurs about the guy who designed her inaugural gown scoring a big contract, but to be honest, I didn’t pay that much attention to the story.
My mom steps forward and hands her the wine. “I forgot to give you this earlier. I’d put it on the side table when we came in.”
Anna takes it gracefully with thanks and asks, “Should we have it opened for dinner?”
“No,” Mom replies. “You save it for a special occasion. I just didn’t want to show up empty handed.”
Anna looks up at me in shock. “You weren’t lying.”
“I never did, Madame President,” I say and then add, “Well, about that anyway.”
“You lied?” Sunshine asks, thankfully before my admission can lead to an uncomfortable silence.
“Yes, but only a lie of omission.”
Then, because she’s my sister and t
herefore feels like it’s her responsibility to do such things, Sunshine rolls her eyes. “That’s the same.”
“Yes, and trust me, I learned my lesson."
At that moment, the door leading to the dining room opens. Anna leads the way inside.
The rectangular table has been set with no obvious head. Rather, there are two places on one side, Mom and Dad take those, and three on the other. Sunshine heads straight for the middle, allowing her to sit next to me and Anna both.
Any worries I’d had about the potential for dinner to be awkward are gone within seconds. Dad is a history buff, and soon he and Anna are talking about the history of the White House. Sunshine gets in a comment or question every so often, but for the most part seems content to sit and observe the President. Anna’s even able to get Mom engaged in conversation a few times, a rare feat since Mom would rather sit and take in as opposed to being an active participant.
To see my family and Anna interact so effortlessly, makes me wonder what it would be like if Anna wasn’t President. Or what if Anna was wrong about what would have happened if Sunshine had never been sick. Would it be possible at all for us to have made it? Would we have had the connection we do now? Maybe. Maybe not. Perhaps it’s only because of what we’ve been through in our past that makes us who we are now. Would we be the same people if just one of the trillions upon trillions of details making up our history changed? I don’t know. No one does.
All I know for certain is now. And now isn’t giving me a chance with Anna.
I watch Anna while we eat. Sunshine whispers to her a few times. I want to tell her whispering at the table is rude and she shouldn’t do it ever, and certainly not now. But before I have a chance, Anna leans down and, using a hand as a shield, whispers something back to her. I can correct my little sister, but not the POTUS. If Anna’s fine with whispering at her table, who am I to correct her?
I catch Mom watching me from across the table and I’m curious about how much she can pick up on. She obviously knew which direction I was heading with Sunshine because she gives me a look. Calm down.
Sure, easy for her to say. But I nod because she’s my mother, and she also happens to be right. There’s nothing to worry over about the dinner. Everything is going well, and we can worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.
I lean back in my seat and try to relax.
Dinner runs much later than I’d anticipated. The conversation rarely stops between talking about tomorrow, asking Anna two thousand questions, and hockey. As we’re finally getting up from the table, Anna asks if anyone wants to see the bowling alley. Sunshine’s in, of course, and Dad isn’t about to turn down the offer, but Mom says she’ll sit and wait for them to get back.
Anna meets my gaze for a second, worry in her eyes.
“Why don’t you let me take you to the China Room?” I ask my mom and when she agrees, I feel rather than see Anna’s relief.
The three of them head off. Sunshine right by Anna’s side, and Dad a step behind, letting the two of them talk. When they turn to go down another hall, Mom turns to me.
“She’s incredible,” she says. “You always wonder if what you see portrayed on the news is accurate or a bunch of PR. She’s the real deal.”
“You do remember that I work for the news?”
“Worked. You don’t work there anymore, but because you did, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
I don’t reply because she’s right on all accounts.
“Is it because she’s President? Is that why the two of you aren’t together?” she asks.
I run my hands through my hair. I’d expected her to pick up on the vibe between the two of us. I hadn’t anticipated her bringing it up so boldly. “Partially,” I say. “It’s…we’re complicated.”
She frowns. “I’ve never liked it when people use that as an excuse. Of course it’s complicated. It concerns people, and people by their very nature complicate things. If it’s easy, one of you is either dead or doesn’t care. That’s when I’d get worried.”
It makes sense when she explains it like that. Unfortunately, I don’t know how to take her words and make them applicable to me. I try to explain. “She’s like this brilliant light,” I say. “And I keep trying to look away, but I can’t.”
“Then maybe you should stop fighting and simply bask in her light.”
My throat tightens, and I take a deep breath. I’ll be damned if I’m going to stand here in the China Room and cry. “I offered. She turned me down.”
“I said she was incredible, not infallible,” she says. “In that case, you have to be patient until she realizes she made a mistake.”
Right. Sure. Because it was that easy. “I’m not a very patient man.”
“Then you have to decide how much you want her, and how long you’re prepared to wait.”
“What if she never realizes it and doesn’t come back?”
“She’s smart,” Mom says. “Let’s focus on that instead of the what ifs.”
Which in my mind translates to: That’s a possibility, but let’s try to be positive. Which isn’t much different than what I’ve been doing.
“Why don’t you want her to know about Harvard?” she asks, obviously picking up on my desire to change the subject.
I tell her about the flight back from London, and she laughs at the way Anna took down Rachelle. When I get to the part where Anna shared my dream to be a judge with those in the Press Pool, Mom’s eyes fill with tears.
“I’ve always understood why you didn’t go back to Harvard, and I know you made a name for yourself in the news media. But I never felt you belonged there, and I’m so very proud of you for following your dreams and returning to Harvard.” She turns and gives me a hug. “And if Anna Fitzpatrick is half as smart as people claim she is, the next time I see the two of you together, it’ll be very different from this weekend.”
I want to believe her, but I also know better than most, the type of world we live in, and that world is not known for its happy endings.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Her
The White House
Washington DC
Navin’s family is going to be the end of me. I can feel it coming. Since I turned him down in the Oval Office, I’ve been barely hanging on. An excellent support staff and years of projecting the best me forward are the only things getting me through. I’d thought I’d been doing a damn good job until I met his parents and sister.
Their love and support of each other is evident in everything they say and do. I’m an only child, and I’m completely jealous of Navin for having a little sister. Especially one like Sunshine. She’s exactly the way he described her and matches her nickname to the letter: funny, kind, and never without a smile.
I get the impression CeCe knows there’s something going on between me and Navin. She’s as nice and as sweet as she can be, but she’s a mom, and like all moms, she’s got a third eye or super psychic powers. I can’t picture Navin sharing the details of our relationship with her, but she clearly suspects something.
I’m in my bedroom, dressing for the evening. I try not to dwell on the fact that I don’t know when I’ll see Navin again after tonight. I know he isn’t planning on being at the White House on Monday, and that he’s renting his apartment out, but isn’t selling it yet. A bit of discreet checking, aka calling Gabe, tells me he’s not going back to New York City. Gabe shocked me again by saying Navin actually resigned. And no, Gabe said when I asked, he didn’t know what Navin’s plans were after the benefit. I know he’s lying, but I’ll give him a pass since he’s doing it to protect his friend.
That he feels the need to protect Navin from me makes me feel worse.
I’ll see Navin for myself tonight. I can ask him to tell me, but I don’t think he wants me to know. If he did, he’d have told me, right?
I’ve got to pull it together. I’ll be better tomorrow when he won’t be basically working in my house every day. But then it hits me, I may never see hi
m again, and I want to cry.
But I can’t cry. At least not yet. Not until the benefit is over. I sigh. The benefit was my idea, and it was my idea for Navin to give the keynote, so if it’s anyone’s fault I’m not able to spend Navin’s last few hours in the White House sobbing my eyes out, it’s all mine.
We’re holding the benefit at the White House, the way I’d told Navin months ago. Guests have started arriving, and I reach the antechamber where I’m meeting the Hazar family before they go in and I’m introduced. Nicole, keeper of my life and the person who should be cloned so there’s more of her, is behind me, at my elbow. She’s wearing a discreet and simple black dress. She catches my attention to follow-up on a few items I had her look into. We wrap up as Navin walks in with Sunshine at his side and their parents behind them.
Sunshine looks radiant, the absolute picture of health. I hope little Emma, from the children’s hospital, is as vibrant and full of life when she’s thirteen. After obtaining her parents’ information, I called them to check up on her a week ago. She’s at home now, her parents told me, and doing better than the doctors had predicted. I let them know that was the best news I’d received all week and I couldn’t be happier.
As a result of our picture going viral, the hospital has been able to set up a college fund for little Emma. Her parents don’t know about it yet because I wanted the staff who’d worked with Emma for so long to be the ones to tell them the good news.
I greet Navin and his parents. Then I whisper to Sunshine that I love the color of her lipstick. She thanks me and asks in a whisper back if there’ll be any boys attending her age. Unfortunately, her whisper is too loud and Navin shoots her down with a brotherly reminder she can’t date until she’s thirty and that he knows the perfect spot to hide dead bodies.
“You’re in the same room with the President, Navin,” she says. “You can’t say things like that in front of her.”
“Why not?” he replies. “She’s the President, so it stands to reason she knows a place or two, herself.”