by Tara Sue Me
“Or twenty,” I add. They both look at me in shock. I shrug. “What can I say? I know people.”
Sunshine thinks this is hilarious. Navin? Not so much.
Navin and his family aren’t at my table, but they are close enough I can see Navin if I tilt my head the right way. I look in their direction only a few times to make sure they have everything they need. From what I see, they’re doing great. Navin looks a bit off, but maybe he gets that way before speaking.
Even though he’s given numerous speeches before, this is the first one about an issue so personal to him, he’d told me. I hope I haven’t made a mistake in asking him to give the keynote. My stomach churns with anxiety for him because he really doesn’t look well.
An hour later, he steps up to the podium, thankfully looking much better. I’m off to the side of him, a place I’m told where I can see and be seen. Watching him walk across the platform, the way his muscles move under his clothes, I once again get the feeling I was wrong to turn him down that day in the Oval Office.
Too late now, I tell myself, making sure I don’t move or shift or give any indication I’m anything other than two hundred percent content with everything.
“Madame President, honored guests, those of you who are survivors, and those of you who lost loved ones far too soon, thank you for allowing me to share with you a piece of my story. A piece of my heart.”
With those few sentences, Navin manages to captivate the entire audience, and I know he was the right choice. He continues by telling Sunshine’s story, though I notice he doesn’t mention Harvard or law school or any of the sacrifices he made personally. He talks about the sorrow of watching a beloved sister grow sicker by the day and not being able to stop it or make her better.
He then asks Sunshine to stand up, and though her face is beet red and she’s obviously embarrassed out of her mind, her love for and pride in her bother is in her expression for everyone to see. He thanks her and apologizes for putting her on the spot.
From there, he launches into a passionate plea for more research, more treatment options, and the absolute need for a cure. He is raw and real, and as he approaches the end of his speech, I doubt there’s a dry eye in the crowd.
“Lastly,” he says. “Life is uncertain and way too short not to squeeze every last drop of it possible from every day. Take some risks. Take some chances. Live. And never pass up an opportunity to say what needs to be said because none of us are promised tomorrow. Thank you, and goodnight.”
He nods as he walks past me. I’m up next to close the evening out, but what I really want to do is run after him. To ask him what he’s going to do and if he’s staying in DC. But my feet take me to the podium to do my job, even as his voice from months ago echoes in my head.
“You, Madame President, better learn you don’t know everything, nor do you have the right to know everything.”
He was correct then, and his words are still true now. And any right I might have had to know anything about him or his future, I lost the day I turned him away.
I thank everyone for coming and for what I know will be their generous donations. I thank Sunshine and the other survivors. To those who lost family and friends, I promise we will never give up looking for a cure. I end by thanking Navin, even though he seems to have left the room because I can’t see him anywhere.
After I step down, people surround me, but I excuse myself. There’s only one person I want to see, one person I need to talk with, and I can’t find him. I head to his family’s table. William and CeCe are talking with a Pediatric Oncologist from John Hopkins, but Sunshine is free and watching me with a peculiar look on her face.
“Are you looking for Navin?” she asks.
“Yes, do you know where he is?”
She nods. “He said if you were to ask, to tell you he’s in the library.”
I tilt my head at her curious word choice. “What if someone else were to ask?”
“Then I tell them he went to the restroom.”
I thank her and head toward the library. I don’t know what he’s going to say and even worse, I don’t know what I want him to say. Only the knowledge that I can’t keep going the way I currently am moves me toward him.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Him
The White House
Washington DC
I have no way to know if she’s going to come. Maybe I should have told more people than Sunshine about where I’d be. Everything in my head has been crazy the last few days, which means everything in my life has likewise been crazy.
Don’t get me wrong, I love having my parents in DC. With my work schedule being what it’s been the last few years in New York, I haven’t been able to take off and visit them as often as I’d like. This weekend with them in town is a perfect way to reconnect and I’ve treasured every second.
I hadn’t planned on my mom being able to see the truth between me and Anna so clearly. But she’s more intuitive than I’d thought. It’s either that or Anna and I are just obvious, but I don’t think that's the case. No one else has mentioned anything of the sort to me.
Footsteps sound in the hall, and I take a deep breath. This is it. This is when I put it all on the table.
She appears in the doorway. Following behind her by a few steps is her ever-present security detail. It’s comical in my head. Me, finally falling for someone, and she has a group of men following her everywhere she goes. I don’t laugh out loud, though, because I know she won’t share my mirth.
I wait while she speaks to them and then steps inside and closes the door so we’re alone.
Alone.
Such a rare place to find yourself. Especially in Washington DC. Yet, I’m here in this most public of all houses with a woman who is one of the most well known of all women. And we’re alone.
She moves toward me. “You left so quickly after your speech.”
“I needed some air.” I needed air then, but I think I need it now even more. “It was hard going back and remembering that dark time when we thought we might lose her forever. I’ll forever be grateful she beat it.”
“She’s definitely something else. I’m not sure I’ve ever met a thirteen-year-old so full of joy or high on life.”
That’s my sister, and I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure she never changes. “She mentioned earlier today she was thinking it might be fun to be President.”
Anna snorts. “Fun?”
I walk over to one of the bookshelves and drag a finger across several of the volumes there. “Do you think anyone’s ever read all these books? There are so many.”
Anna’s forehead wrinkles. She has no idea where I’m going, but at least it looks like she’ll go along with me for now. “I doubt it,” she says. “Are all of these in English?”
“I don’t think so,” I say. “All these books, and yet each one is different. They share some of the same words, but they’re arranged differently. And every word is made from a set of twenty-six letters.” I chuckle. “Well, the English ones are, and when you think about all the books that have ever been written, it’s a pretty amazing thing, isn’t it?”
“I suppose it is,” she admits. “But to be honest, it's not a matter I’ve put a lot of thought into.”
“I would be more surprised if you had.” I turn away from the books and when I do, all I see are the numerous questions in her eyes. “That day in the Oval Office, when I told you I wanted more than the weekend? I shouldn’t have done it. Not then. Not at that moment. You were right.”
Tears shimmer in her eyes because I know she blames herself for everything, and I’d give everything I owned to take that guilt from her if it worked like that. But it doesn’t, so I’m doing the next best thing.
“This is your moment,” I tell her. “You are in a position to make change that matters. That people will benefit from for decades to come. But you were right. You can’t do it with distractions, and that’s all I’ve been.”
She starts to protest,
but I stop her. “I am and you know it. Just because I didn’t plan to be one doesn’t mean I’m not one. I pushed you too hard and had you thinking about things you don’t need to worry with right now.”
“Why are you saying all this?” she asks. “You’re making it sound like you’re going away and never coming back. You’re taking the easy way out.”
“No, I’m not. Believe me when I tell you this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It would be easy for me to stay. To stay and keep you company, to take you to bed every night.” I swallow. I can’t tell her it’d be too easy to love her because I already do. “I’m doing the hard thing, but it’ll be the best thing, I promise.”
“Best thing for who?”
“For you. For the country.” I pause and close the distance between us. I want nothing more than to take her in my arms and comfort her, but I don’t because I fear giving her mixed signals. “For us.”
Her eyes are wet, but I see the strength and determination underneath. “There is no us.”
“Not yet.” But there will be. I keep that last bit to myself.
“Navin.” She sighs. “Maybe we should take this as a sign the universe doesn’t want us together. First law school and now this.”
“Are you really going to let the universe beat you that easily?”
“Why fight the inevitable?”
“What?” I ask. “Why fight the inevitable? Is this the same woman who said during her campaign that nothing and no one would deter her from leading the righteous charge?”
“I’m not sure which shocks me the most, that you used my own quote against me or that you can quote it in the first place.”
“Some months ago, a smart woman implied I might need to brush up on my Anna Fitzpatrick knowledge.”
Her jaw drops, but only for a second. “I didn’t occur to me you’d actually do it.”
“I can’t believe you think I’d blow off a Presidential Order so easily.”
“Presidential Order, my ass,” she says. “I didn’t order you to do anything.”
“I know. I just like to tease you.” Which is the truth.
“You seem to be the only one who does that.”
“Does what?” I can’t remember what we were talking about before my mind wandered off.
“Tease me,” she says. “It’s crazy, isn’t it? That sometimes you’re the only one who gets me?”
I want to tell her that no, it’s not crazy at all, rather, it’s something entirely different. Instead, I bite my tongue so it doesn’t appear as if I’m being duplicitous.
“Maybe it’s because I’m looking closer, or that I’m a news journalist and I’m really good at reading people.”
She nods, but I can tell she doesn’t believe that either.
“When will I see you again?” she asks, in a quiet voice that rips my heart apart.
I have to tell her the truth. I hate it because I know it’s going to hurt her more than she already is, and hurting her in any way is not acceptable to me. But in this case, it’s the best choice. I had understood Mom when she said if a relationship was easy it meant someone in it was either dead or didn’t care. What I didn’t grasp at the time, was how hard not-easy was going to be.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly.
She doesn’t try to hide the hurt in her eyes, and for that I am thankful because it means she’s being honest. “Will you tell me where you’re going?” she asks. “Or at least what you’ll be doing? I asked Gabe, but he said I had to get the information from you.”
Gabe had called me the minute she ended the call.
“Do not ever tell me to keep information from the President again,” he all but yelled in my ear. “You know they have ways to get information out of people.”
“Anna isn’t going to torture you for information,” I told him.
“I think you’re underestimating how badly she wants that information.”
Now that I’m the one she’s trying to get it from, I see what he meant.
“It’s better this way,” I say.
I want to tell her when she looks back on this, she’ll understand, but it sounds too condescending in my head and I don’t anticipate it’ll sound any better out loud.
I am certainly not going to tell her to trust me, because it only brings echoes of our weekend together to mind.
More than anything, I want to call her Anna, but I vow not to until she asks.
She turns to leave, I can’t say I blame her, but I can’t let her go just yet.
“Wait,” I call out, hoping she’ll stop.
She’s trying to put on a brave face, I can sense it when she turns back. Maybe I’m being a jerk because I know she has to get back to the benefit and she’ll have to compose herself before she does. “Yes?”
“This isn’t forever,” I say. “I promise I’ll be back.”
“I suppose if you show up before the next election, you’ll know where to find me.” She glances away for a second. “No matter what happens or where you go, I’ll always be glad for the time we had together.”
My heart feels stuck in my throat and I want to protest that I can’t do this. That it's too hard. “I feel the same, Madame President.”
She’s at the door, but in the second before she pulls the door open, she looks over her shoulder one last time. “Please. Call me, Anna.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Her
The White House
Washington DC
I take my time walking back to the room the benefit was held in. I want to think about everything Navin said, but I’m afraid if I do, I won’t be able to make it through the next hour or so without breaking down.
The sound of ongoing chatter not too far ahead warns me how close I am to arriving back to the benefit. I won’t be expected to give an excuse for my absence, and for that I am immensely grateful.
I stop at a nearby pillar to take a few deep breaths and to attempt to put my game face back on.
“Madame President?”
I turn to find CeCe Hazar standing not far from where I’ve stopped. I haven’t been able to reach the point I need to in order to make small talk, but I’m hopeful my face isn’t broadcasting the fact my heart isn’t quite right at the moment.
”Mrs. Hazar,” I say, with my fake smile in place. “Is everything okay?”
“Oh, yes. Everything is fine. I was looking for my son and Sunshine told me he was in the restroom. He’s been in there for a long time. I hope he’s all right.”
I start to laugh because for some reason I find it funny Navin wouldn’t even let his sister tell their parents where he was.
“Madame President?” she asks again and looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“Sorry,” I say, when I’m able to stop. “That was a horrible response I gave to your answer to the question I asked. I do hope you can forgive me.”
“Are you okay?” she asks me this time.
“I don’t think so, but I plan to be good as almost-new soon.”
She looks at me for a long minute before stating, “Navin isn’t in the restroom, is he?”
“No, Mrs. Hazar. He’s not.”
“You’re on your way back from talking with him, aren’t you?” she looks mortified. “Oh, dear. And you don’t look like things went very well.”
I should probably answer her but I don’t think I can. I can talk about anything else she wants, anything except Navin.
“Don’t answer that,” she says. “What a horrible thing to ask a person. Of course it didn’t go well.” She closes her eyes and when she opens them, she takes both of my hands in hers. “I don’t know what happened between you and my son, and I don’t want to know. You’re both highly intelligent and can figure things out on your own. I will share with you that I know for a fact he has deep feelings for you. If you can’t believe anything he told you, believe me.”
I want to. I want to believe both of them.
Only it isn’t possible at this exact m
oment. So instead of agreeing with her, I give her hands a gentle squeeze. “Thank you. Your family means the world to me and your son is an outstanding man. I hold him in the highest regard and always will.”
She asks if she can hug me, and I answer by hugging her instead.
“He’s in the library,” I tell her. “Or at least he was when I left. I can have someone take you there if you would like.”
She looks in the direction I came from and shakes her head. “I think I’ll head back with you and give him some time to be alone. If what happened between the two of you made you that upset, I can’t imagine he’s any better. And he’ll want to be alone for a bit.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
TWO YEARS LATER
Her
The White House
Washington DC
“Madame President!”
“Madame President!”
The news hounds keep repeating it over and over. Like I can’t hear them so they need to speak louder. Or that when I said, “No more questions,” it didn’t apply to them. Wrangling the press requires a bit of magic, a little finesse, and a lot of hard love. Today is a hard love day.
I continue walking until I hit the Oval Office and turn around so I can deal with David and get on with the remainder of my day.
“Madame President.” He follows me into the office, not bothering to close the door. “Was that really necessary?”
He’s upset because I wasn’t able to talk about my plan to reorganize several departments in order to maximize efficiencies. I’m upset as well, but I’m not going to play games with anyone.
“Yes, it was necessary. I answered three of their questions and then I told them I would not be answering any further questions about Prince Nicholas and the press conference was over if they asked one.” I glance to my side where Nicole is standing with my calendar. I can afford a few minutes with David, especially since the press conference was cut short. “They decided to test me. I had to follow through.”