The President's Wife

by Kathy Myme

  “What would you do George? Would you let her name get dragged through the mud to save you if you were in my shoes?”

  “Thankfully I’m not in your shoes,” he replies. “This is your decision, I can’t make it for you.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I respond. “I feel like no matter what I choose, I lose.”

  “We both know you get one shot at this,” George says. “The next press conference you make will go down in history. It’s up to you to decide how you want it to play out.”

  He’s right. I have a choice. I have one chance to talk to the American people where they’ll actually be listening. But what should I say?

  Can I really ask Veronica to testify on my behalf? Should I just throw her under the bus? Or could I tell the truth?

  Is the presidency really worth it if I have to lie to keep it? Perhaps not. Perhaps I should accept my fate and resign. Use this opportunity to make my peace and speak my mind.

  But that would mean giving up everything I’d worked my whole life to achieve. It would mean throwing away my chance to make the United States a better country.

  “Thanks George,” I reply. “Talk to you again soon.”

  “Good luck Mr President.” He hangs up and I sit back down. I have a lot of thinking to do and time is running out.

  Veronica

  It’s been four days.

  Four days of hurt. Four days of agony. Four days of regretting everything, even if I know that I did what was right.

  Admittedly, the hours have sort of all blended together in a weird mush of time. So the fact that I know how many days have passed at all is a miracle. At this point, I’m seriously considering abandoning my calendar and using the amount of ice cream I’ve guzzled down to mark the seconds going by.

  “Veronica, love,” Dad says, checking up on me for the fifth time that day. “I have to head off to work, but would you like to go outside today? There’s a new cafe down the street.” A beat passes. “We could go for breakfast. Order something greasy.”

  If my dad is this concerned about me, I must look awful. Sitting on a couch in your dressing gown for hours and hours and eating nothing but comfort food will do that to you, I suppose.

  “No thanks,” I say with a small smile. It comes out more like a grimace. “I’m fine here.”

  Dad isn't willing to let this go. I don’t blame him. “Veronica…”

  “I’ll be okay,” I tell him for what feels like the millionth time. “I’m just… I’m just thinking.”

  That’s a lie. I’m doing anything but thinking. I’ve worked my way through four seasons of some trashy rom-com TV show and today I’m going to watch the fifth. It’s not particularly entertaining, but it’s keeping my mind off things.

  Because whenever I let myself focus, there’s only one thing I keep coming back to. Him.

  I know that I did the sensible thing. No matter how right and real it felt with David, it was always too good to be true. Our whole relationship has been built on lies, right from the beginning. We were doomed from the start.

  “Okay,” Dad says, although it’s obvious he doesn’t really believe me. “Well, I’m going to go now.” He waves a hand. “Just… call me if you need anything. I’ll come home.”

  He’s so worried about me. When he leaves, he glances over his shoulder at least four times, as if there’s something he wants to say but can’t. As if there are magic words to fix the mess I’m in and the only problem is that he can’t think of them.

  Dad has to use the back entrance to get past the press. They’ve been outside for days now, standing on our lawn and making noise in an attempt to get me to come out. It’s like they don’t sleep. Sometimes I wonder if they’re even human.

  When he’s gone, I’m desperate to fill the silence. I want to scream. I throw the couch cushion at a wall, hoping that lashing out will make me feel better. It doesn’t.

  Out of everyone in the entire world, why did I have to fall in love with David Shepard?

  There’s a reason that politics and happy-ever-afters don’t mix. The world of government is a whole different league than what I’m used to. I see it now… emotions and feelings don’t matter to the people playing these games. All that matters is results.

  Why did I ever think David was different?

  Sure, we have crazy chemistry. That’s painfully obvious. Every glance he’s sent my way has left me dizzy. And he’s done more than just glance at me…

  But in the end, isn’t his need for power… why he’s gotten to where he is today? Deep down, he’s just as ruthless as all the other politicians out there. He’s just as desperate to cling onto control, no matter the cost.

  And why shouldn’t he? He’s the President. He’ll have his name remembered forever. I’m just some girl that has made his life a little more complicated.

  David is probably sitting in the White House right now, surrounded by a dozen strategists working to get him out of this mess.

  My comfortable, painful world of slumping on the couch is interrupted by the slamming of a door. Lacey appears in front of me.

  “You didn’t consider knocking?” I ask, but it’s half-hearted. Lacey is used to letting herself in when I’m home. It’s a quirk that developed after so many years of being best friends. “How did you get past the press?”

  “You don’t think I can intimidate some annoying reporters?” she retorts.

  I nod. It doesn’t take much for me to imagine Lacey strong-arming her way past a legion of cameramen.

  She eyes me closely and doesn’t look impressed by what she sees. “Veronica, you need to take a shower.”

  I turn my nose up at the idea. “I don’t need to do anything.”

  “Your dad is worried about you,” she informs me like I’m not already acutely aware. “He asked me to help you get cleaned up. And you know he hates asking anyone for anything.”

  I wince. Things must really be bad if Dad called up someone for help. One time the man wouldn’t even stop to ask for directions and we spent three hours lost in the middle of nowhere.

  “I… just need time,” I reply eventually. “Y’know, it’s normal to be upset after what’s happened.”

  My own words make me frown. Is it normal to be upset? I don’t really know. I doubt there are many other people in the world who’ve experienced my exact situation, so there isn’t really a precedent. It’s not like there’s an easy handbook for ‘What To Do If You Fake Date The President Of The United States For Political Reasons But Then Actually Fall In Love With Him’.

  But gosh, I wish there was.

  “You’ve had time.” Lacey is pushy this morning.

  “It’s only been a few days.”

  “That’s long enough for you to live like… this,” she says, gesturing to me. “Listen, you need to trust me. Getting up and getting ready will do you a world of good.” She snatches away my blanket. “Go take a shower.”

  I let myself be bullied into action. Of course I won’t admit it, but the heat of the shower is nice. The water feels as if it’s washing away the grimy memories burned into my mind.

  “Feel better?” Lacey asks with a smirk when I’m out and in a fresh set of clothes.

  “Hmm.” I try not to look too grateful. As always, she already knows she’s right. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  “Now, we need to talk about what you’re going to do,” she says.

  “Do?” I don’t understand. My only plans at the moment involve indulging in at least three more seasons of my trashy TV show before I even consider rejoining society. “What does that mean?”

  “I take it from your face that things are over between you and the President,” she says. “Well, your face… and the ten thousand news articles I’ve read about the whole affair. There are some wild conspiracy theories out there.”

  I’ll bet. I haven’t checked, and I never will, but I wouldn’t be surprised if people were saying crazy things about me right now. Especially on the internet.

  Lacey makes a
face. “Someone named Hailey is going around saying you’re basically Satan. She’s done about twenty interviews with different media outlets.”

  Oh my god. Hailey Chase, my ex-roommate. Why am I not surprised?

  “Is it all bad?” I sigh. “About me?”

  I know from Lacey’s face that the answer is a resounding ‘yes’. “Well… kind of. You can probably guess that people aren’t particularly happy right now. I think the public just feels lied to.”

  The full impact of what I’ve done hasn’t really sunk in yet. This is a big deal. People are going to be talking about what’s happened - what David and I have done - for years and years to come.

  Maybe I won’t be able to get a job after this. This has happened before, hasn’t it? An intern getting a little too close with the President? And somewhere, in between all the lying and the cover stories, my situation is a thousand times worse.

  Oh my god, what if I never work again?

  “Stop panicking,” Lacey tells me, her voice strict. “Deep breaths, Veronica.”

  “I’m allowed to panic,” I complain, holding my face in my hands. “My life has fallen apart.”

  I’m half expecting her to disagree, but it’s a testament to her honesty that she goes quiet. It’s hard to argue that everything is going to be okay when what I’ve done has changed… well, everything.

  “There are things you can do,” Lacey continues. “It’s not all over.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like… consider how you’re going to play this, Veronica,” she says. “Look, I’m not telling you to do anything…” A lie. She’d practically wrestled me off the couch. “But you might never have to work again.”

  “I’m sorry?” I don’t try to hide my lack of understanding. Has Lacey somehow forgotten what’s happening to me? “Don’t you mean ‘you’ll never work again’?”

  “No, I mean… there are ways you can benefit from this.” She points to my TV. “People out there want answers. They’re getting some that ‘Andrews’ guy, you know. The leak. But that’s not the same as hearing things from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.”

  I blink. “You want me… to go to the press?”

  “I’m just telling you it’s an option,” she says. “You’d make a lot of money. Like, a lot.”

  “I don’t care about the money.”

  “Okay, sure. It would still be a good chance for you to get your side of the story out there.” She looks at me sadly. “You don’t think that’s exactly what your president is doing right now? He’s probably working out exactly how to spin this to his advantage. Why not strike first?”

  I hate this. I know she’s right, but I hate what she’s suggesting. If the only way for me to come out of this unscathed is to play the game David loves so much, then I refuse. Getting dragged back into the world of PR is the last thing I want right now.

  “No, Lacey,” I say, brushing away the idea. “I can’t do that. I won’t.”

  She pulls me in for a hug. “I know you won’t. I just had to suggest it.” She squeezes me so tightly I think she’s going to break a bone. And then she lowers her voice, even though we’re alone. “Veronica… it’s not going to be easy. You know that the press are going to come for you. You’re going to be attacked from all angles.”

  “I know.”

  “And that’s not even thinking about the press conference this afternoon, you know-”

  I freeze. “Press conference?”

  Lacey stops. “Don’t you read the news? I thought you would, what with being in the headlines and all.”

  “Just tell me about the press conference,” I demand. “Is…?”

  The question on my lips is one that I can’t bring myself to finish. Is David going to be there? Will I get to see his face again?

  Luckily, Lacey takes mercy on me and answers quickly. “The President is hosting a press conference. It’s pretty clear what he’ll be talking about.” Me.

  “Oh my god,” I say softly.

  “It’s a shame,” Lacey says. “Other than all of… this, he was a pretty good president. The changes he’s been making… well, I think they would have paid off.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You really haven’t heard?” Lacey looks incredulous. “Veronica, there have been so many calls for President Shepard to resign. It’s clear what he’s going to do this afternoon.”

  The world seems to spin around me. I’d known it was a possibility, of course. But to hear Lacey say it… to hear her talk about David losing everything…

  He must be devastated.

  Part of me wants to hop on a plane and fly over to him. To try to offer some comfort when everything's falling apart around him. But that’s probably the last thing David wants. I’m the one who’s caused all of this, in a way.

  Lacey stays with me a bit longer, trying to chat. But I can’t bring myself to be responsive. Not with this weighing on my mind.

  She seems to understand, at least. “Remember to eat today,” she says, right before going out to fight off the press again.

  She’s a really, really good friend. I don’t deserve her.

  Almost as soon as she’s gone, I scramble to get my phone and Google the hell out of this press conference. The details seem pretty clear. At 1PM, the President is going live throughout the whole of America.

  From the crazy amounts of attention this is getting and the fact it’s been trending on Twitter for hours, I’m pretty sure everyone in the nation is going to be watching.

  Knowing David… this has to be a tactical move, doesn’t it? I wonder what he’s come up with. It’s undoubtedly a bid to save his presidency if it can still be saved. I can’t imagine him giving up this easily.

  But the rest of the world seems convinced he’s about to resign. Maybe the don’t know him as well as I do.

  David won’t just resign. He’ll work every second of every day to get what he wants, at whatever the cost. The man will die trying to save what matters to him the most. What he puts above everything else.

  The thought of just how much David is willing to sacrifice makes me curl up again. I don’t need to be reminded of that.

  When the afternoon hits, I’m split into two about what I should do. On one hand, I need to see David’s face more than I need anything else in the world right now. On the other hand… the thought of seeing his aforementioned face makes me sick to my stomach.

  But when the clock strikes one, my choice is made for me. I have to watch. I can’t stay away, even if it’s for my own good.

  The TV buzzes and crackles as I switch it on. Dad bought this thing second-hand years ago and it should rightfully have been thrown in the junkyard at least a few years before that.

  Colour erupts onto the screen. When I see David sitting at his desk in the Oval Office, my heart leaps joyously at the sight of him alone. Traitor, I hiss at my body. How am I supposed to pull myself together if all it takes is a brief glimpse of him to send me into euphoria?

  “Good evening, America.” He’s looking as frustratingly handsome as ever. “I’m sure you’ve all heard the rumors. I won’t bore you by repeating them or trying to gloss over them.”

  I can’t imagine what the world is thinking right now. If they’re even a fraction like me, they’re on the edge of their seats right now and entranced by David’s every word.

  “The truth of the matter is this: several weeks ago, comprising photos of myself and a White House intern named Veronica Waters were leaked to the press. We were in a position many people believe to have been intimate.”

  Hearing my name on live TV is strange, especially when I’m in the comfort of my own home and so far away from the world where all of that drama is possible.

  “Those photos were entirely innocent. I’d never met Miss Waters before the day in question, and an accident arose due to clumsiness,” he says, adjusting his tie. “On both our parts.”

  Hearing him admit that we might both be at fault would have given me immense
pleasure once. But to have him do it while he’s so far away from me, both physically and metaphorically, only makes me feel sad.

  “You might remember the media storm that came our way as a result,” the President says, shaking his head. “It wasn’t pretty. The uncertainty of the situation made it clear that there was no easy way out. As a result… Press Secretary Andrews - the former Press Secretary now, as you will know - and I came up with a plan. A plan Miss Waters reluctantly agreed to, through her own selflessness.”

  He’s not talking to me, not really. David probably doesn’t even know I’m watching. But I flush regardless.

  “She agreed to change her life forever in order to help me. To save my presidency.” David sighs. He always was reluctant to let this put my life on hold. “At the time, we all knew the plan was questionable. But due to my own recklessness, we went ahead with it.”

  I can practically hear every American in the world gasping as they watch this. This is hardly a regular, boring press conference. It’s high drama. Netflix would probably kill for the rights to this whole thing.

  “We told the whole world we were engaged,” the President says. “I’m here to tell you what you already know. That was a lie, and you have my deepest apologies for that. I was doing what I believed to be necessary. Instead, I violated the nation’s trust.”

  I can practically hear the hissing and screeching of people reacting to this. Forget Netflix. It has more twists and turns than a HBO drama.

  “But I’d also like to talk about something else.” David sits even straighter in his chair if such a thing is possible.

  Is he going to resign? I hadn’t believed it, but he looks so serious. He really might do it.

  “Over the last few weeks, the working relationship I’ve had with Veronica has changed into something else,” David says, looking directly into the camera. “What started as a cover story grew into… something more. Something real. I’m deeply, madly in love with her and I can’t pretend to hide it for a moment longer.”

  I stop. The world stops.

  What is he doing? This isn’t what he should be saying. Surely none of his fancy PR people have advised him to go ahead with this plan. He should be denouncing me, surely. Saying that I seduced him into stupidity, maybe, or that I conspired to bring down the nation somehow.