Mason recognizes this as a sort of dance but as the leader of the world decides he doesn’t need to play along so he charges in. “Jason, I want achievements in my first year. I’d like to do it with your support and deliver it to the American people wrapped in a bow. Now, I’ve called my shots and they’re easy ones for you to get behind. I’ve chosen these issues in part for that reason. I want additional funding for green energy jobs and I want to cut back on tax breaks for oil. Oil companies are doing fine and we can present this as a package that will be cash flow neutral to the budget.”
Warren shifts in his chair.
“Second is an increase in budget for the Department of Education with a mandate to improve urban public schools. We’ll think of a name more clever than No Child Left Behind and roll it out.”
“Well, it’s in the details, sir. Education certainly needs help and I think people would certainly send more money in that direction provided they feel the money is spent efficiently. The Department of Education is seriously mismanaged. Any additional funding would have to be coupled with reform.”
“We’ll work in some reform. We’ll appoint a bipartisan committee. You and I will choose the members. Don’t put any of your hard-asses on it. Let’s both pick people who can play ball. I want legislation passed in these two areas in year one, Jason. Just these two areas. I need that for my base. And I’ll reciprocate support for your hot-button area. I can make some moves with regard to illegal immigration.” Mason knows this would play well with Warren in Arizona.
Warren is a powerful man but Mason knows congressional leaders can’t pull their party together in a block the way they used to. People at home watch Kevin Spacey play the House majority whip on TV and he uses leverage to intimidate congressmen to vote the way party leadership wants. People at home think that’s how it really works but it hasn’t worked that way in years.
The Supreme Court ruling on Citizens United let corporations give unlimited amounts to campaigns. For better or worse, that means party leadership can’t pull their caucus together because congressmen don’t owe the party, they owe whichever group gives them the money to win elections. The whip doesn’t have a whip anymore.
When Senator Warren and others from Congress come to the Oval Office, they don’t have the power they had a decade ago. It’s a relative advantage to Mason. Congress isn’t what it used to be. Most congressmen serve a few terms hoping they can turn that into a job in cable news.
“Again, it’ll be in the details,” says Warren.
“Of course. Let’s set a bipartisan committee and you be the chair of it. Come up with a set of recommendations and brief Homeland Security two months from now.”
“Okay. It’ll be done.” The new chief executive is much more prone to delegation that Hammermill was, thinks Warren. Hammermill was deep in the details. He loved it. That wasn’t always for the best but he knew the issues as well as any of the lawmakers. Maybe Mason’s methods are better. Mason was a governor and Hammermill a senator, so maybe that accounts for the different style.
“Very good. I think we have an understanding, Jason.”
Cuts to oil company tax incentives have not been discussed. Warren knows that’s a tough issue. It’s been on the table for years and never gets resolved. Maybe he can get something very small. A token that’s at least directionally correct. “As far as the big picture goes, sir, I think we do have an understanding. Let’s see what we turn up.”
The president’s goal is to push his two issue areas and to keep it friendly. He knows detail will interrupt the friendliness. “You’re a golfer, aren’t you Jason?”
“I’m from Arizona.”
“Of course. We’ll get a round on the schedule. Maybe after your Homeland Security briefing.”
“Certainly. I’d like that.”
Mitchell knows Warren is sizing him up and decides to be active rather than passive in the process. “I’m a different man from Hammermill. People describe him as a collector of friends. They say that as a compliment. I think that’s a bullshit way of being a friend and I never trust a man who is a collector of friends, a person who would acquire friendships like baseball cards on a shelf. That may make for good politics but it’s shallow and it’s bullshit. I’m the opposite. If someone is a friend of mine, they’ve likely put up with a hell of a lot of crap over the years. So we’ll see how things work out for you and me.”
Stark knows his cue and helps wrap things. He shows Warren out then returns to his chair by Mason. “What did you think, Mitchell?”
The president leans back with his hands in prayer position under his chin. Mason doesn’t like dealing with congressmen because he doesn’t respect them, especially those in the House. Congressmen think the people hate them and that’s true. They think they accomplish nothing and that’s also true. With the crackdown on earmarks, they can’t even swindle money home for their constituents. They have no individual power but are around power all the time and when they meet with a powerful person they scramble around for the second-most-important chair in the room, or in the Suburban, thinking that the chair will bring them some respect if they get it. DC is a hierarchical town. “Nice enough. Very civil. This wasn’t a meeting about commitments, but he seems like a noncommittal bastard.”
“He’s got his own base to look out for. There’s enough common ground that we’ll get something done, even if it’s small. Then each side will start the spin on why it was a win and real progress for their own party.”
“Exactly. And I have the bigger podium.” Mason never would have run for Congress. It was the governor’s mansion then the White House. He’s a natural executive. He finishes that thought and is on to another. “He looks awfully stressed out for a guy from Arizona.”
“The baldness doesn’t help. He looks healthy enough for sixty-one.”
* * *
Warren stops just outside the door to the Oval Office, trying to burn in his memory of the meeting with Mason for further review later. Little things in his subconscious will eventually surface to shape his opinion of the president. At the moment, he has no read of the man. He can’t decide if he likes him or not, though there’s no question he’s very different from Hammermill. Things are changing here, he thinks.
* * *
After the meeting with Senator Warren, Mason needs to get to a Washington, DC, school where he is doing a reading with a kindergarten class. He and Stark leave the Oval Office for the motorcade.
Just outside the Oval Office are the three secretaries, seated at desks with their backs to the Rose Garden. Marianne Aidala is seated at the desk closest to the office door and when Mason steps out he sees her hand rush to her face to wipe tears. His pace never changes but he makes a ninety-degree turn to her desk as though he has planned to do it.
“Marianne, what’s the matter?”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“What is it? Tell me.” In a soft voice.
She looks at him without squaring her shoulders to him. “It’s nothing, sir. I’m fine, thank you.”
Mason is standing straight up in front of her desk, trying not to invade her personal space. He turns to Stark. “Ron, back in my office.”
Mason and Ron Stark return to the Oval Office and close the door. The entourage that was on the way to the motorcade waits outside by the secretaries. “Ron, what’s that all about? It’s not the first time she’s looked upset about something.”
“I think that she and Regis Child are working through some issues.” Regis Child is the president’s personal aide. He’s responsible for making sure the president stays on schedule, knows the dress code for events, and anticipates any and all needs. He also manages the secretaries and sits in a small room across from their desks.
“What are the issues?”
“Regis has had a problem with her commitment. The hours she works.”
“She’s in he
re at six a.m. every day, at least two hours before I am.”
“And she leaves at four.”
“Exactly. It’s a ten-hour day. She has two kids she picks up from school. We went through all this when she started and we agreed to this schedule. Regis agreed to it.”
“Regis works a lot more than ten hours and he thinks that from time to time, if certain days require it, she should stay late and find an accommodation for the kids.”
“What does ‘working through issues’ mean? How has Regis been handling this?”
“He’s been a little hard on her lately. He’s working hard, under pressure. I guess it bothers him to see a regular ten-hour day.”
“We agreed on a ten-hour day with her.” Mason rubs his chin. “Damn.”
“Sir?”
“Regis is good and he does a hell of a lot for me. But I won’t have this. Fire him.”
“Sir?”
“Marianne’s a tough lady and he has her in tears for Christ’s sake. Fire him.”
“Are you sure?”
“Ron, number one, I won’t have any bullies around here. I have no tolerance for that. Number two, I’m not going to lose talented people, especially young women, because they need to balance work with family commitments. The woman needs to be with her children, we told her that would be fine, and I’ll be goddamned if we’re going to give her a hard time about it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Tell Regis he serves at the pleasure of the president and it is no longer my pleasure that he serve. If anyone asks why you let him go, you tell them exactly.”
They walk back out of the Oval Office to the secretaries’ desks. Mason walks back to Marianne’s desk and this time puts his palms down on her desk and leans into her space.
“Marianne, I value the work you do here. Very much.”
This triggers a response in Marianne right away. She’s not recovered but is recovering quickly. Small praise from the president is powerful. “Thank you, sir.”
Mason straightens back up and the entourage moves on without another word.
Stark is smiling. He likes Regis and isn’t looking forward to firing him, but watching Mason make this decision is one of the occasional reminders he likes to have of why he loves the man.
25
About three times per week Mason and Evelyn have dinner together in the private dining room of the upstairs residence in the White House. The marriage is not typical but they are connected and these dinners fuel the connection.
The waiter, butler, and chef come with the job. The Masons pay for the grocery bill. Evelyn agrees on the menu with the chef at the beginning of the week. Mason is easy to please and when at home he likes simple meals because the rest of the time he eats at places that have many courses of small portions and sauces that are a chef’s experiment.
Mason takes off his tie, changes his suit pants for jeans then walks the hall from his bedroom to the private dining room. The hallway is empty because they like to keep the Secret Service away when they’re home together.
He turns right into the dining room and Evelyn is at the table reading Harper’s Bazaar. Newspapers may die off but magazines with big, glossy fashion photos will be as tough as rats. “Hello, dear.”
“Hello, wife.”
“Spaghetti with meatballs.”
“Thank God.” Mason wonders if it would be better or worse for him if the public could see how normal he and Evelyn can be sometimes.
They had brought the Chippendale table and formal dining chairs from their home in New York because they wanted this room to feel familiar.
Mason sits under the Caio Fonseca painting which he bought when he was single because the painting seemed musical and made him feel good, which is the only reason to buy anything. He can’t understand why anyone would have another person buy his art.
Evelyn is across the table and behind her on the console are busts of each of their children made by Bob Clyatt, an artist from home in Westchester.
Mason likes to think that the busts are there to remind him of why he does the hard work, that it is all for his daughters and the next generations. He is only semiconscious of the truth, though. The truth is that while he is mired in his imperfections, he has done the perfect things before that are represented in the busts, and that he can be a force for good. When the girls eat with them, they cover the busts with napkins.
“You’re looking very handsome this evening.”
“And you look ravishing as well.” And she is a pretty woman. Mason says, “I saw a clip on the news from your speech at Georgetown Law School today. You were terrific.”
“Thank you, dear.”
The waiter enters in a tuxedo and white gloves and places salads of mixed greens in front of them.
There is kindness and warmth between Mason and Evelyn but in a Hallmark way. Each would spend twenty minutes picking out a card for the other with just the right sentiment, which is a thoughtful thing to do, but it would be better to write something on a blank page.
Both are a bit this way and both are capable of more but needed someone different to realize that potential in them. With each other, they have defaulted to what is emotionally easy and safe. But they have helped to realize the potential of other gifts in each other: efficiency, determination, and a desire to make the world better and to leave their mark on it.
A week ago, Ron Stark had shared news with Mason that had been less surprising to Stark the more he thought about it.
Stark had said, “Sir, I’m sorry to do it but I need to speak with you on a personal matter. It’s about Evelyn.” Stark had strained to keep eye contact and managed to do so right up to the word lesbian, when his eyes dropped to the floor then came back up for the next sentence. “Nothing’s certain, just rumors going around, but you should know, sir, while the rumors are still well contained.”
What the fuck? A lesbian?
“How is the State of the Union Address coming along?”
The president always begins major speeches with an outline of his own that he sends to speechwriters, then back to the president for changes, then back to the writers. “I’ll finish a draft tonight. I’d like to read the opening to you after dinner.”
“Of course.”
Evelyn can always tell when the words are something Mason can make to sound authentic and in his own voice.
He looks at her and wonders if she’s been with another woman. Recently. There’s nothing off-putting about the concept itself. He knows he’s worked with plenty of lesbians. It’s the not knowing that is so fascinating to him. He hears rumors that his wife is a lesbian and he doesn’t know her well enough to have an opinion on the rumor, and he doesn’t connect with her well enough to ask.
It’s not that he doesn’t know her well at all. He has plenty of intellectual knowledge of her but very little emotional knowledge of her.
Mason thinks how this captures the dysfunction and the greatness. Their senses are deadened in one area and heightened in another.
He thinks he could come out and ask her about it, but where to start? So, dear, I hear you like girls. Do tell.
* * *
Evelyn looks into her husband’s eyes and knows he’ll look away first. She can always hold eye contact longer. It’s a game she plays sometimes though he knows nothing of it. Tonight he’s holding his gaze with her longer than normal and he’s much more present tonight, she thinks.
Evelyn hasn’t given thought to labeling herself though she’s had a female lover for six years.
Helen Bly was on Mason’s staff in Albany. Professional, respected, and as appearances go would be the less feminine half of a lesbian couple. Her hair is brown and short enough to cut with clippers except for the bangs. Her body has the hard lines of a fifty-year-old woman in great shape.
Helen and Evelyn were friendly from the start and w
ithout any sexual undercurrent. Helen was openly gay and comfortable and Evelyn once made a joke about a sexual connection between them. It was only a joke and in innocent conversation but in a subconscious way had identified a possibility.
Soon in a conscious way, Evelyn would come back to the theme. Helen, it would all be so much easier if you and I were just lovers.
Helen would laugh and agree and arrange the governor’s schedule so that she could be near the governor’s wife as often as possible. It was self-inflicted tease and denial but she’d known many women exploring the borders of their sexuality and she recognized something in Evelyn that suggested a relationship was no longer impossible.
At a fund-raiser for Mason in a private home in Bronxville, Helen and Evelyn walked together into the study that served as a coatroom for the evening. Evelyn doesn’t remember who closed the door behind them because her heart rate blurred her recollection.
They both had been drinking wine. Before they could sort through the coats, Helen walked to the front of Evelyn and slowly closed the distance while they stared at each other on a dare, trying to find the courage between them. Helen stopped in front of Evelyn, too far to kiss and too close to talk.
Evelyn was in the position of authority and is on paper the nonlesbian. Helen has done all she can do and so they stare at each other with frightened smiles.
What Helen said next, Evelyn captured as a memory in the chaos of emotions and has savored it. “You have to be the one to do it.”
It was infectious courage. Evelyn loved that Helen said it and so she kissed Helen there in the coatroom.
Sex with Helen is slower, more knowledgeable, and more effective than sex before. It happens in utter secrecy and about once per month, which is enough because Helen works in the East Wing now and she sees Helen every day and that gives life to something in her that Mason thinks is dead.
What lives between her and Mason she also loves, even if she doesn’t love the man. She likes him and respects him, and the relationship allows her to do work she thinks is important. She believes in Mason and when his time as president is done maybe she’ll leave him for Helen, though she thinks probably not.
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