The President's Doctor

by David Shobin

  “Fuckin’ towelhead,” he muttered under his breath.

  A week after the reelection announcement, the president’s indecisive appearance before the press corps was largely forgotten. On those rare occasions that the president’s health was questioned during daily briefings, the Press Secretary casually reiterated Meredith’s excellent physical condition, adding that the president had passed a thorough physical exam several days before the announcement. Few people gave it more thought, and no one delved into it any further. Except, that is, vice president Anthony Doria.

  Of the many people who were on a first name basis with the president, Doria was perhaps his keenest observer. He’d known Bob Meredith for decades and had spent countless days and evenings with him. He was familiar with the president’s passions, moods, and eccentricities. But beyond time spent in each other’s company, there was the fact that Tony Doria was a shrewd judge of human behavior. He looked at things with a critical eye, perhaps due to his days with Trinity Power, where he’d learned to study the details. And now, when he looked closely at the president, something was not quite right.

  For several days, Doria listened but said nothing. If anyone was concerned about the president, he didn’t bring it up. But Doria continued his low-key observations. By the end of the week, he was convinced something was going on. There was an almost imperceptible tremor in Meredith’s fingers and a nuance of spasticity to his muscles. Outwardly, the president’s speech and manner seemed little changed, although there seemed to be the slightest hesitation in the way the president expressed himself. On Saturday morning, Doria dropped by Forbes’ office.

  Forbes looked up. “Good morning, Mr. Vice President. I didn’t expect you to be in today. Campaigning doesn’t start until next week. Aren’t you taking the weekend off?”

  “I’ve got a few things to catch up on before the whirlwind starts. But I want to run something about Bob past you.”

  Forbes silently raised his eyebrows.

  “What do you think about the way he’s acting lately? On Tuesday, I thought he faltered at the end of his remarks in the pressroom. I know what the Press Secretary said, but I trust my own eyes.”

  Forbes put his pencil down and sat up. “What can I say, Tony?”

  “You can say I’m not imagining it. It’s nice to blow off the press corps, but you’re a sharp guy, Mitch. I know it wasn’t just indecision.”

  “That’s true,” Forbes agreed with a nod. “And you’re not the only one who noticed it. The first lady and I had a heart-to-heart about it.”

  “She’s in a position to notice. What did she want?”

  “She wanted to bring in Dr. Townsend.”

  “Ouch! If you want to keep things quiet, that’s hardly the way to go about it.”

  “That’s exactly what I told her,” Forbes said. “The guy’s a great doctor, but team player he’s not.”

  “So, how did you leave it?”

  “I told her to back off. At this point in the campaign, if the president had a lengthy work-up and was diagnosed with some minor problem, that’d be the end of his second term. And Roxanne could kiss being first lady goodbye.”

  “What did she say to that?”

  “She’s concerned,” Forbes continued. “What wife wouldn’t be? But I told her that if the situation got any worse, we’d call in a good doctor a couple of months down the road. Maybe. She’s no dope, Roxanne. She understood what I was saying. She said she’d go along, but….”

  “You’re not sure.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m already thinking about damage control. But, hey—what’s the worst that could happen? I’ll always be the president’s man, but if the situation really deteriorates, the people would have a damn good alternative. A very qualified man ready to step up to the plate and serve his country.”

  Doria smiled. “Anyone I know?”

  Forbes quietly returned the smile. Then he picked up his pen and resumed work.

  In the limo on the way back from taping Meet the Press, Bob Meredith loosened his tie and slouched back in the seat. Beside him, Rocky placed her hand atop his.

  “You did great, darling. Everyone was impressed.”

  “You think so?” he said. “How’d I sound?”

  “Strong. Determined. But always with that great Meredith charm.”

  “That’s a relief. Because I have to tell you that for the first time in ages, I felt a little rattled in there.”

  “About what?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “He kept pressing me on the damn Golan Heights thing. That, and the Palestinians. Honest to God, I felt like smacking him He just wouldn’t stop. Aren’t there other important things to discuss in an election year?”

  “If you were rattled, you didn’t show it. I thought you handled the questioning really well.”

  “Oh, stop it!” he snapped. “I can’t stand the way you patronize me!”

  What hurt Roxanne wasn’t so much what he said as how he said it. Over the years, Bob had been annoyed at her countless times, but he rarely exploded the way he did now. Yet, as wounded as she felt, she was also worried. Her husband’s memory was suspect, and his recent irritability was going from bad to worse. In the past week alone, he’d continuously shouted at her, something that, two months earlier, she’d have sworn was impossible.

  “I’m sorry if I sounded like that. I certainly didn’t mean to.”

  “Like hell you didn’t! What’s wrong with you, anyway? I’m not some insecure little kid who needs someone to blow smoke up his ass every waking minute! Give it a rest already!”

  He glared at her. There was spittle in the comers of his mouth, and his nostrils flared with anger. Roxanne struggled to find her voice.

  “Bob, please. My hearing’s fine, and you don’t have to shout at me like that. If something’s wrong, maybe we should….”

  His suddenly upraised arm cut her short. In all their years of marriage, she’d never seen him in such a cold fury. His fingers were trembling, and his eyes had the look of a madman. For the first time since she’d known him, Roxanne felt afraid of him.

  His head swiveled forward. “Stop the car!” he shouted to the Secret Service driver.

  As he looked in the rearview mirror, the agent keyed his headphone mike, which had an open channel to the chase car.

  “Sir, we’re almost at the White—”

  “I said stop the Goddamn car! I need some air, for Chrissake!”

  “Yes, sir.” Into the mike, “You heard it, chase. Pulling over now.”

  The motorcade smoothly neared the curb and stopped. The driver waited for the other agents to approach before unlocking the doors. The president leapt out of the vehicle, to the stunned amazement of the passersby across the street. Dave Saunders quickly drew abreast of POTUS, the President of the United States, and took hold of his elbow.

  “Sir, this is not a very good idea.”

  Meredith tugged his arm free. He was shaking with thinly controlled rage. “Gimme a break, Dave. Haven’t you ever needed a breather before?”

  “Yes, sir, I have,” he replied, carefully scanning the surroundings for threats. “But this stop wasn’t on our schedule.”

  The deadpan remark struck the president as humorous, and he broke out laughing. “How do I look to you, Dave?”

  “Sir?”

  “Do I look like I need some hand holding, or ass kissing? How about a little false flattery to cheer me up?”

  “Frankly, Mr. President, you look a little stressed out to me.” He again took the president’s arm. “If you don’t mind, sir, let’s get back into the vehicle.”

  Meredith took a deep breath. “Maybe I am a little stressed. But, Christ—if you had a wife like mine on your case all the time, wouldn’t you be?”

  “The car, sir. Please.”

  “Yeah, okay. Sorry, Dave. Not like me, is it? God, I need a drink.”

  Fifteen minutes later, the agents in the president’s detail were summoned to the
office of the chief of staff. Forbes looked up from behind his desk and waited until the door was closed.

  “Stand at ease, gentlemen. I’ll make this very brief. I’m aware of what happened with the president a little while ago. Let me assure you that what you witnessed was nothing more than reelection jitters. A lot of campaign events have collided at the same time, and that causes some strain. Let’s face it, the man’s only human. His behavior was unusual but temporary. Once he’s blown off some steam, Bob Meredith will be the same president people have known and loved over the years. So, let’s not let this get out of hand, okay?”

  “Sir,” Saunders asked, “I know I may be a little out of line, but I’ve never seen the president act like that before. Is it possible there’s something physically or emotionally wrong with him?”

  “It’s precisely comments like that which could blow things out of proportion. I understand what you’re asking, Dave. I know your concern, and I also appreciate your loyalty. But believe me, there’s nothing happening to the president that couldn’t happen to any of us. Besides, he had a complete checkup last weekend, and it was normal.”

  “Yes, sir, but the way he looked out on the street…. Again, I might be going out on a limb, but wouldn’t it be a good idea to let his doctor know what happened?”

  “We already have. Dr. Townsend will take another look and do whatever’s necessary, which I don’t think will be very much. Gentlemen, I cannot stress enough how important it is that whatever you saw remain with you. Even a hint that something’s happening to the president would derail the presidency and destroy everything Bob Meredith has worked for. So, remember your priorities. Do your job. And let what happened this morning end here.”

  It was one o’clock when the first lady asked the chief of staff to come over to the kitchen. Forbes wasn’t looking forward to this. He knew what Roxanne was going to say, but there was no way he could diplomatically keep her from saying it.

  In the kitchen, Roxanne was nibbling on a toasted bagel and sipping a cup of coffee. She looked haggard. She wasn’t crying, but her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy.

  Haphazard strands escaped her normally well-coifed hair, reaching out like golden tendrils. Her face was deeply lined, pummeled-looking, the appearance of the emotionally defeated. She barely looked up when Forbes approached.

  “Well, Mitch? I know you heard what happened. You still think I should wait before getting him help?”

  “I know it must have been very disturbing….”

  “Actually,” she interrupted, “you don’t know. You weren’t in the car with us, so you have absolutely no way of knowing the utter dread and humiliation I felt. And fear, too.”

  He tried a calming smile. “It was the interviewer, Roxanne. He’s a damned relentless little bird, always pecking away to get under the president’s skin.”

  “Did you know he actually raised his hand to me?” she said icily. “No matter what the provocation, he’s never, ever, done that before. He didn’t hit me, thank God. But he came damn close.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, but look…. Obviously, I underestimated the strain he’s under. I had some preliminary campaign events scheduled this week, but I think we’ll back off a while, let everyone cool off a little.”

  She eyed him incredulously. “Campaign? I can’t believe this! I’m talking about my husband flipping out, and you’re talking about some goddamn political event!”

  Forbes walked closer and bent slightly toward her. Smile unbroken, he spoke very softly. “Madame First Lady, please try to keep your voice down. This is the job your husband hired me to do. He’s the President of the United States, and I will do everything in my power to fulfill his needs and those of the office. That’s not to say I don’t feel for you. But the last thing he needs right now is to let hysteria determine what needs to be done.”

  Stung, she glared at him. “It’s perfectly obvious what needs to be done. I know your priorities, but I’m his wife, and I have mine.”

  “Okay,” he said, calmly lifting his hand, “Maybe we see things a little differently, but we both want what’s best for him, right? I think he’s under a strain, and you think it’s a mental problem—”

  “Don’t put words in my mouth. People flip out for lots of different reasons.”

  “Agreed. That’s something yet to be determined. But one of the things I learned in this job is the importance of timing, and approach. It’s important not to act out of desperation. So, let me talk to him, okay? I need to get a feel on how to go about this.”

  “Fine, talk to him. He’s up in the bedroom into his second or third bourbon by now. And after you’ve gotten your ‘feel,’ whatever the hell that is, I’m calling Dr. Townsend.”

  “Please,” Forbes implored, “try to hold off just a little. Believe me, I’m not going to turn my back on him. But I beg you to look at the big picture. At this point, the most critical thing is damage control.”

  “Damage control,” she slowly said with a mirthless smile. “Suddenly you’re the prince of one-liners. It all comes down to expedience to you, doesn’t it, Mitch?”

  “I’m not trying to be glib. I’m trying to do what’s best for everyone. But I can guarantee you, bringing Dr. Townsend in prematurely is in nobody’s best interest. So, I’m pleading with you, please try to hold off a little longer.”

  She stared at him with a determined, steely gaze. But if Roxanne expected his resolve to lessen, she didn’t know Mitchell Forbes very well. His cast iron will was equal to hers, perhaps even stronger. At length, acknowledging the political animal within her, it was she who relented. Roxanne grudgingly nodded, and left the kitchen.

  That night, Bob Meredith apologized to his wife. He said he didn’t know what had come over him. For some reason, he’d felt this inexplicable fury, and then he’d just exploded. He was sincerely sorry. As he rolled next to her in bed, cuddling up, he said he wanted to make it up to her. Roxanne pulled away. She said she accepted his apology, but right now, she was just too tired.

  Five minutes later, the president was asleep.

  For the next hour, Rocky lay there in the darkness, listening to her husband’s rhythmic breathing, staring up at the ceiling. The entire day had been maddeningly confusing. The most mystifying aspect of her husband’s quixotic moods was their unpredictability. He’d become an emotional chameleon—furious one minute, defensive the next, and then warm and loving. It was behavior far removed from the man she’d known and loved so long. If one characteristic had long defined Bob, it was his emotional steadiness. Although he had his ups and downs, his unruffled personality generally ran straight and smooth.

  Now, Roxanne was perplexed. She was also worried, and more than a little frightened. Forbes had spoken with her husband, but as far as she could tell, nothing had come of it. He hadn’t gotten back to her—as she’d hoped—with a therapeutic plan or strategy. It seemed to be business as usual. She thought Forbes had to be blind not to notice what, to her, was so obvious. Could it be that she was too close? Was it possible that she was so enmeshed in the fabric of Bob’s life that she was overreacting?

  That, she could not tell. Roxanne was astute enough to realize that she needed an outside opinion here, an objective observer. Ideally, that would be Dr. Townsend. It was Jon’s job to evaluate and advise on medical matters. Yet, astute though she was, she was also politically shrewd. After all, she’d only seen one side of Jon Townsend. If there were any chance Forbes’ concerns about the doctor were valid, she’d be taking a great risk.

  But if not Dr. Townsend, then who? As Roxanne’s eyes flitted around the darkened bedroom, dim fingers of city light skirted the heavy window curtains to ply at the room’s shadows. Deep in thought, she lost herself in their playfulness.

  There was one other person she could surely trust.

  The sky had a yellow overcast, as if touched by sulfur. The November air was cool, but a steady northeast breeze raised the humidity and soothed an otherwise angry day. A storm approac
hed. Roxanne and Amanda Doria slowly walked past the rose garden, discretely trailed by Secret Service Agents.

  “I just thought he was a little flustered,” said Doria, flicking her cigarette ashes on the south lawn. She was a closet smoker in an era of anti-tobacco sentiment. “I doubt many people even noticed it.”

  “What about Tony? Did he say anything?”

  “Tony was so busy smiling at the press corps that he wasn’t even looking at Bob. Anyway, it’s been over a week, and he’s still a little dizzy from the reelection announcement. If he did say anything, it wasn’t to me.”

  Both women were casually dressed in jeans and sweaters. Roxanne and Amanda had been socializing for a decade, and among the Administration’s top women, Amanda was Rocky’s only confidante. That morning, when the first lady called and asked to get together, Mrs. Doria came right over from the U.S. Naval Observatory, site of the vice-presidential residence.

  “Maybe it’s not as obvious as I thought,” Rocky said. “But I’m not imagining it.”

  “Did I say that? I never said that. You’re the one who lives with him, not me. But believe me, all men have their moods. I can’t tell you how many times Tony was so pissed he looked like he was going to strangle me, and the next minute, he’s purring like a pussycat.”

  “Mandy, this is beyond moodiness. Bob’s got the jitters, real, physical jitters. He has these annoying little jerks and twitches, and his memory, God…I’m just worried.”

  “I would hope so,” Amanda said, exhaling a plume of smoke. “That’s scary stuff.”

  “So, shouldn’t I tell Bob’s doctor? Why is Mitch making such a big deal out of it?”

  Amanda stepped on her cigarette and stopped walking. She smiled and placed her hand reassuringly on her friend’s wrist. “Tony always says a trusted political adviser is worth his weight in gold. I have no idea whether or not Mitch is right about Dr. Townsend. But I do know that Bob trusts Mitch and has always relied on his political judgment.”