queen on her own color ♡ JFK

p.6 Mr President

The White House was wrongly named—it wasn't a house, it was a white castle. Grandiose like no other thing Christina had ever seen. Inside, it was just as milky white. Her choice of dress couldn't have matched more accurately. Walking its corridors was like going through a cloud. Not much different from what she'd done the day before in the plane. But this cloud she could reach out and touch. Tangible sky, brought down to the earthly realm.

Each of her steps was light against the fluffy carpets, barely leaving the mark of heels behind. And each glance was rewarded with a feast of refined heritage, effortlessly allowing her to be witness to the passage of the country's history, of the previous inhabitants of that mansion and their everlasting legacy. The kind of legacy that its current inhabitant would leave behind was yet to be seen. Time would tell, as it always did. So far, winds seemed to be blowing full ahead for his ship. A few mishaps had expectedly taken place—the man was not perfect, and he was only one man—but he was doing far better than many before him. To say that not everyone thought so would be an understatement.

Her papa was one of those. He didn't hate President Kennedy, but the mere mention of his name would grant a frown. It was as purely simple as that. He let it be known ever since the former senator announced his candidacy and began his campaign. Lowell thought his policies were not enough. And that he was just like the rest of the politicians; a wealthy blabbermouth. The only difference was that he was a pretty boy with a compelling Irish grin. 'His grin and his hair are the only reasons he won'. Lowell preferred Nixon's bland straightforwardness. That was his preference in a lot of things. It was practically a well established pattern.

"I will just say hi and get out of your hair," Diana told Christina when they were waiting outside the famous office. "This is your moment."

"No, you can't leave me alone with him!" The girl was quick to panic. "I don't know what to say! How is someone like me supposed to talk to the President?"

"He asked you here—he will lead the conversation, don't worry." That was easy to say, but when the agent that had accompanied them all the way there made a single knock on the door, a fretful chill ran down Christina's spine.

"Mr President, Pearl White for you."

A short and suspenseful silence. Then...

"Come in."

That infamous Irish grin was already there to receive them the moment they were allowed in. The whiteness of the walls bounced off on his teeth, intensifying its effect. As far as Christina was concerned, it could let him get away with murder if he wanted it to.

"At last," he remarked with thrill upon the sight of his lost singer. "Welcome."

"Thank you for having me here, Mr President. It's the greatest honor." Walking over to President Kennedy, Christina stepped on soft ground. The pale green carpet following the natural curve of the office subtly insinuated it to be an extension of the lawn outside. She shook the man's amicable hand and then directed his focus to the blonde woman. "This is my mother, Diana Clark."

Diana seemed like a completely different woman in Christina's eyes. The way she was moving and speaking was nothing like her usual self. It was how Christina imagined her family in the South to be like on a constant basis.

"I only stopped by to greet you, Mr President. And to thank you."

"I'm the one who has to be grateful, your daughter's voice was a gift." The corner of his mouth appeared to wink at the brunette. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

That brunette could easily read the first impression written across her mother's delighted face. 'So galant'.

"Likewise, sir. I will leave you with Chris—Pearl... Whatever you feel like calling her." The woman chuckled. "If you'll excuse me."