Trouble in the White House

by Brenda Hampton

  Andrew left my office, allowing me time to go through a file he had given me in reference to Joshua. From a very young age, he seemed to have been a bright kid. He was handsome, and many of his pictures looked identical to mine, especially when I was younger. He made straight As, was very athletic, loved computers, and had numerous friends from different ethnic groups. The schools he attended were some of the best, but things had started to take a turn about a year and a half ago. He’d gravitated toward the wrong crowd. Started hanging with kids who felt as if the world was against them.

  In some of the letters he had written, he expressed his anger with America. As a black kid, he felt as if our country had no respect for people of color or for those who were affiliated with certain religions. Like his friends, he was determined to cause damage. None of them were afraid to die. They viewed what they were doing as God’s work—payback for decades of mistreatment. And when all was said and done, they all felt as if they would be rewarded for their deeds whenever they transitioned to the other side. Sadly, in no way did I believe the other side was what Joshua envisioned it to be. There would be no rewards. Only consequences for his hateful ways, thoughts, and actions.

  In deep thought, I slowly closed the file. A lump was stuck in my throat. No matter how many times I swallowed, it wouldn’t go away. I got up to get some water, and after several swallows, my throat cleared. I put Joshua’s file in my desk, and seeing that it was almost midnight, I decided to go to my bedroom and get some much-needed rest. Thankfully, when I opened the door, the bed was still made. Raynetta wasn’t there, but her clothes were still in the closet. Many of her belongings remained in the bathroom too, but they wouldn’t be there for long.

  Trying not to think about my fucked-up marriage, I removed my clothes to take a shower. I wished I could wash away thoughts of my son, but all I could see was his smile in those pictures. I envisioned him running into my arms, calling me Dad, playing sports with me, showing me his good grades.... I even thought about the explosion that had taken his life. I kept telling myself how things would have been different if I had been in his life. And with each second that passed, my hatred for Ina grew.

  Feeling disgusted, I stepped out of the shower, dried myself off with a towel, and then put on my Turkish terry robe. The second I stepped into the bedroom, I saw Raynetta sitting on the edge of the bed. Her hair was brushed back into a ponytail. Eyes were narrow and swollen. Skin looked pale; clothes were wrinkled.

  “I know you don’t want me here, but I’m still your wife, and you will listen to me.”

  While I stood in the doorway to the bathroom, my eyes shifted to a black briefcase on the bed. I didn’t have much to say, so I remained quiet. She continued.

  “I was wrong, and I know that sorry doesn’t cut it. I never wanted to lose you, and I was so afraid of telling you that I didn’t want a child. Call me selfish or whatever, but I doubt that I will ever want one. Being a mother scares me, and with me being an adopted child who was abandoned by my real mother, I don’t know if you will ever understand my concerns. As for your son, I didn’t know about him until several days ago. Your mother told me, and she had so much hanging over my head that I had to think about when and how to break the news to you.”

  She took a deep breath and went on. “That goes for this thing with Mr. McNeil too. In no way would I ever do anything to harm you. You know that, Stephen. I took the money because I wasn’t sure where our marriage was headed. If you had divorced me, I wouldn’t have had a safety net at all. That’s why when he presented the money to me, I couldn’t walk away. I pretended to be on his side only to get what I needed at the time. I took a big risk, without even knowing or understanding how deep his hatred was for you.”

  She paused, waiting for me to respond. I didn’t. All I did was step farther into the room, but I halted my steps when she jumped in front of me, blocking my path. I looked into her eyes and immediately saw her frustration with my coldness toward her.

  “I wish you wouldn’t be so stubborn at times,” she said. “I really need to get through to you. You can have every single dime of that money. It’s in that briefcase. I don’t even want it. All I want is for the love that we have for each other to prevail through all of this. I have your back, and I am here for you every step of the way.”

  With tears in her eyes, she reached up, held my face with her hands. “I . . . I know you’re hurt. I can see it in your eyes. But let me help you get through all of this. I can help you, and we can claim victory together. We can win against your mother, against people like Mr. McNeil, and against Americans who just don’t understand you. I am here, and no matter what you say or do, I’m not going anywhere. Nowhere, Stephen, unless you pick me up, carry me to the door, and toss me out on my ass. Is that what you want to do? If so, do it.”

  Raynetta didn’t want to temp me right now. I removed her hands from my face, then stepped around her. Still having nothing to say, I exited the room, thinking about one person—my son.

  * * *

  The day of Joshua’s funeral had arrived. Air Force One landed at Lambert Airport in St. Louis, where the presidential motorcade awaited me. It had already been transported to St. Louis by a C-17 Globemaster III aircraft. The only people who joined me were several members of my Secret Service detail, Andrew, and Sam. Vice President Bass had offered her condolences at the White House, but we all felt that it was best for her not to attend the funeral.

  Many people were upset about my decision to pay my respects to my son, and the second I exited the plane, the welcome I got from some of the politicians who greeted me was ice cold. They barely wanted to shake my hand, but today I just didn’t give a damn. My expression backed up my thoughts. Dressed in a tailored black suit that was cut perfectly to my frame, I strutted to the motorcade. From a distance, I saw many members of the media.

  There were protestors at the airport as well. Signs calling for me to be impeached were visible, and there were plenty of signs referring to me as a traitor. Some even said that my being here was an act of treason. I couldn’t help but to wonder what drove these people to make themselves look like fools. I wanted to laugh at some of the ridiculous signs I saw, but unfortunately, I couldn’t laugh. Not today. Possibly tomorrow. I just climbed in one of the vehicles, sat back, and relaxed, and as the motorcade rolled on, I shut my eyes. Darkness was before me, and for the next several minutes, I found a sliver of peace inside of me.

  “Mr. President,” Andrew said, interrupting me. I opened my eyes and saw him texting. “The vice president has been trying to reach you. Is your phone available?”

  “Mine isn’t, but yours is. What does she want?”

  “She just received an urgent message from the Pentagon. Seven soldiers were killed earlier today, when their plane went down in Syria. We don’t know yet if it was a result of terrorism or not.”

  Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, they did. We awaited more information, but by the time we reached the church where Joshua’s service was being held, nothing had been confirmed by the Pentagon. On the streets and the steps to the church, however, were more protestors. Many were in support of me being there; many were not. I was advised not to stop or respond to anyone when I made my way inside the church.

  “I know how you are,” Levi said. “Just keep it moving and ignore what you hear.”

  I assumed that would be easy for me to do. That was until I exited the motorcade and proceeded toward the doors of the church. The Secret Service covered me, but that didn’t silence the noise. I was surrounded by many concered people who were there to exercise their First Amendment rights. It was a real circus, and with the media rushing in to get as close as they could to me, they got an earful.

  “Mr. President, why are you here?” one man shouted. “Do you support terrorism?”

  “How did your son learn to make bombs?” another said. “Did you teach him? Do you also hate America?”

  “We can’t trust you!” a lady shouted. “Y
ou’re a liar, and you need to step down and let someone who is not related to a terrorist take over!”

  “March on, my brotha. Keep your head up! We got you!”

  “Yes, we do! ’Cause you are finer than a mutha! Dang, Mr. President. Allow me to bow down!”

  People were pushing and shoving each other. The police had the area surrounded, but that didn’t appear to strike fear into anyone, especially a man who lashed out at me with his fist lifted in the air.

  “You created a monster that needed to die! May he rot in hell, like you will when someone has the courage to assassinate you!” the man shouted.

  In a flash, I snapped. And before I knew it, I reached out, grabbed the man by his collar, and pulled him toward me until he was face-to-face with me. Thick wrinkles were visible on my forehead, and my brows were arched inward. The cameras flashed; I gave everyone a pretty picture of me.

  “Why don’t your tough ass do it!” I yelled while spraying spit in his face. “If you’re brave enough to stand out here, talking shit, then show me your gun!”

  Fear was trapped in the man’s eyes. He was speechless. His whole body trembled. No one could believe what I had done. Not even those in my Secret Service detail, who were saying words I couldn’t hear. I was too occupied with the cowardly fool before me. I shook him hard, and before shoving him backward, I head butted him, trying to knock some sense into him. He hit the ground hard.

  “I . . . I will sue you for every dime you have! How dare you put your fucking hands on me, nigga!” he yelled.

  “What did he say?” one lady shouted. “Oh, no, he didn’t!”

  “Yes, he did! Nigga, who, what, and where is he?”

  “Did he just call the president a nigga?”

  The boisterous crowd of people went after each other. The Secret Service rushed me inside the church, then ordered that the doors be locked. Outside, the police had their hands full. Sam and Andrew were still out there, and in no way did I want them to get hurt. As I reached for the doorknob to open the door and let them in, Levi put his big hand on my chest to stop me.

  “I’ll go see what’s up. Follow Rich down the hallway now.”

  I ignored him and turned the knob.

  “Now, Mr. President!” Levi roared. “Listen to me for once and let us handle this!”

  At that moment, shots rang out. People already inside the church started to run for cover, and not only was Levi yelling for me to get away from the door, but so were my other agents.

  “Please, Mr. President! Go now!” Levi urged.

  This was a mess. Maybe I shouldn’t have come here. Maybe I shouldn’t have touched that man for saying what he did, but I hadn’t been able control myself. Not today.

  I was escorted to a room where I couldn’t hear much of what was transpiring outside. Minutes later, Andrew rushed in, with a small gash on the side of his cheek. Sam followed. His jacket was ripped, and a scratch was visible on his chin. They both were out of breath.

  “Th-those people are out of control.” Andrew dropped into a chair, trying to catch his breath. He was given a handkerchief to wipe his cheek. “It’s a madhouse out there. Jesus Christ.”

  I took a deep breath, feeling awful, because this was on me. “Are you hurt? Do you need a doctor . . . anything?”

  With disgust on his face, Andrew threw his hand back at me. I sensed that he was upset with me, but he didn’t want to say it. “I’m fine. Some woman hit me with a stick. She got me on my leg too. Crazy broad.”

  “Her and the guy she was with almost got me,” Sam said, looking at his ripped jacket. “Luckily, I got away from them.”

  Levi rushed in and closed the door behind him. He also took a deep breath. “More police officers are here, so everything should be under control soon. Thankfully, no one was shot, but a man with a gun was arrested. I don’t know what to say about you, Ma . . . I mean, Mr. President. You have to cool out. I know you’re under a lot of pressure, but this really doesn’t help.”

  No, it didn’t, but the damage was done. I swung around, closed my eyes, and asked silently for God to forgive me. After all, I was in His house. There was a very ugly side to me, and whenever I was pushed, I couldn’t control that side.

  There was a hard knock on the door, which caused everyone to pivot. Levi opened it, and Ina walked in. A visible frown was on her face. The black-and-white dress she wore hugged her curvy figure, and the black floppy hat on her head was slightly tilted. Dark shades covered her eyes, but she removed them to look at me. Sadness was clearly visible in her eyes; the bags underneath showed she was under a lot of stress.

  “Can . . . will you all please leave the room so that I can have a moment with Stephen?” she said.

  The Secret Service agents received a nod from me, and after they all left the room, Ina looked at me with tears on the rims of her eyes.

  “I know you have plenty of questions, but I can’t answer them for you today.” Her lips trembled as she spoke. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to answer them, but today is about Joshua, nothing else. I don’t know what happened outside, but I wish you wouldn’t have come here. This spectacle is too much, and the things that are being said about my son hurt like hell. He . . .” She paused to suck in her quivering lips. Tears rolled down her face as she struggled to speak. “He was the best son—a good kid. A very good kid who was ju-just confused and . . .” She paused again to gather herself. Appearing weak, she reached for the chair in front of her, then grabbed her stomach. “Help me understand why. Why did this happen to my child, and how did I not know what he was going through?”

  I couldn’t answer those questions for Ina, and upset as I was with her, I couldn’t even say some of the harsh things I wanted to say to her. Especially when she dropped to her knees, crying and blaming herself for what had happened.

  “I failed him, Stephen. I lied to him about his father and denied him an upbringing with a decent man.” She wiped the dripping snot from her nose while gazing at me. “Y-you would have been a great father. You would’ve taught him right from wrong. He needed that. That’s all he needed, and his life wouldn’t have ended like this. I so hate myself right now. If I could trade places with my baby, Lord knows I would. In a heartbeat. Just bring him back to me.”

  Ina was a mess. Then again, so was I. Everything she said was true—she had definitely denied Joshua and me the opportunity to have a healthy relationship. Nonetheless, it pained me to see her like this. I walked up to her, then reached out my hand.

  “What’s done is done. I don’t want any answers to my questions. It doesn’t matter anymore. Let’s stand together for Joshua today. We know he wasn’t the kind of kid people are making him out to be, and I ask that you hold on to the good memories that you have of him. I’m sure there are plenty, so think about those memories to make it through this day and the days ahead. I know you may not have wanted me to come here, but after finding out that he was my son, there was no way in hell I wouldn’t be here, regardless of my status.”

  Ina slowly stood, looking at me through the slits of her very narrow eyes. “Thank you,” was all she could say before wrapping her arms around me and breaking down in my arms. I held her up, even when we entered the sanctuary and saw Joshua’s gold casket before us. Seeing a huge picture of him beside it caused my legs to weaken. I straightened my back, trying my best to stand tall and not break down in front of everyone. Whispers could be heard, but Ina’s cries drowned out everyone.

  I helped her to a seat and felt a substantial amount of relief when I was able to take one right next to her. My eyes shifted to Joshua’s picture again—he looked like he was a happy child. A huge part of me wanted to open the casket, just to see him, touch him . . . whatever. But I had seen plenty of dead bodies, the bodies of people who had been killed by bombs. I could only imagine what he looked like inside of the casket, and opening it would do me no good. Pictures were all I had. No memories like Ina had, no nothing.

  The service got under way, and after
several songs, people came forth to say nice things about Joshua. One friend spoke about how Joshua had been there for him when he was being bullied. Another talked about a time when he had tried to teach Joshua how to play the trumpet and how horrible it had sounded. Joshua’s uncle, Ina’s brother, talked about how much fun they used to have playing sports. He admitted that the competition was always steep. Even one of his teachers spoke. She joked about his love for Twizzlers.

  “Every single day Joshua brought Twizzlers to class. I could always hear the bag rattling, and I would tell him to open the bag quietly and not to interrupt the class. Then one day, he came to class without them. I said, ‘Joshua, where are your Twizzlers today?’ He said he didn’t have any money to buy them. I missed the sound of that rattling bag so much that I went to the vending machine to buy him some. He thanked me, and the next day, instead of an apple on my desk, there were two bags of Twizzlers and a note, thanking me for being such an amazing teacher. It truly is the little things that count, and I am really going to miss him.”

  Everyone laughed, but sniffles could also be heard throughout the sanctuary.

  Ina cracked a tiny smile and nodded her head. “Yes, he did,” she whispered. “He loved Twizzlers and ate them every day.”

  I smiled myself, but deep down, I wanted to cry. I was holding it all in, and right when a lady got up to sing “Amazing Grace,” my stomach started to tighten into knots. A sheen of sweat started building on my forehead. My heart rate increased, and one of my legs shook. Ina’s loud cries, along with those of many others, echoed throughout the sanctuary. I couldn’t console her when I was trying my best to hold in all that I was feeling. I kept wiping my forehead, shifting in my seat, and taking deep breaths. Ina finally let it all out, and she rushed from her seat to Joshua’s casket and latched on to it. She held it as if she was holding him. Her mother joined her. It was devastating to watch the two of them suffer from a loss that shouldn’t have ever happened.