The Kennedys

Chapter Thirty-Two: Rising Into Love

"Good afternoon, Mr. President," Dr. Jacobson said as he sat his bag down, "How's the back today?"

"A bitch," Jack replied.

"Language," Jackie scolded.

Jack laughed, "Excuse my wife, she's mistaking me for our three-year-old."

"Caroline doesn't curse," Jackie retorted.

Dr. Jacobson smiled, "Now, let's get down to business, shall we?"

He removed the dreaded needle from his bag and and lifted up Jack's shirt, exposing his back, which was still bruised from all of the surgeries and injuries...and that lifetime of pain. Jackie turned away as Dr. Jacobson injected the fluid into her husband's back. She winced just at the thought of it; she hated needles.

But Jack breathed a sigh of relief, and she knew he was relieved of the pain. And that was when Jackie realized: she couldn't pass judgment on Jack when she didn't understand what it was like to feel that unimaginable pain her entire life.

After Dr. Jacobson left, Jack tucked his shirt back in and sat up.

"Feeling better?" Jackie asked, a smile on her face.

"Yes," said Jack, rubbing his back, "Much, much better, and I know you disappr-"

"Stop, stop," said Jackie, quieting her husband. She sat on his lap and put her arms around him. "I'm sorry I judged. I shouldn't have. I don't know what it's like to go through what you go through ever day. The pain must be awful."

Jack nodded, "It is painful, of course." Jack paused, "But when I'm with you, the pain goes away. At least a little bit."

Jackie laughed, "I love you, especially when I remember just how strong you are."

"I am strong," Jack joked, using his manliest voice.

"That strong Kennedy blood," Jackie remarked.

The comment threw Jack off. Whenever somebody mentioned the Kennedys, or anything remotely related to his father, he felt numb inside.

"What's wrong?" asked Jackie, noticing the troubled expression on her husband's face.

"Nothing," replied Jack. He didn't want to burden Jackie with this. He didn't want to tell anyone this, except for Bobby, of course. Other than that, nobody could no. Not even Jackie.

—

Joe stood on the beach, looking out on the horizon. He thought of all the moments he had shared on this beach. With his wife. With his children. That all seemed so long ago.

Rose approached him, she enjoyed the sunshine, she liked it. Summertime was her favorite time of year. Warm, happy, with the promise of children, and now grandchildren, making a pilgrimage home.

"You look deep in thought," said Rose as she reached him, "A renaissance man if I ever saw one."

Joe smiled, "I was just thinking of the children."

"When do we not?" asked Rose, "Our lives are dedicated to them. We are enslaved to them, to take it to an extreme."

Joe nodded, "I know, it's just...ever since Jack took office we haven't been talking as much. He's stopped relying on me. Which is fine, he's coming into his own, but ever since Bay of Pigs I was sure he would start making contact more."

"He's just busy," said Rose, "He is the President of the United States."

"No," replied Joe, "Things have been oddly silent recently. Bobby was due for a call yesterday, but...nothing. Something's wrong."

"Would they have a reason to be angry with you?" asked Rose.

"No," said Joe, chuckling, "I made them. They should be thanking me, I-"

"Joe!" Rose snapped, "You're on the defensive, becoming egotistical. It's your biggest defense tactic."

"Okay," said Joe, "There is one reason. But it couldn't be that, it couldn't."

"Wait, Joe, first of all what is the reason?"

Joe took in a deep breath, trying to collect himself. He didn't know how he could possibly relay this information to Rose without losing her respect. After all of the progress they had made, trust-wise.

"Joe?" asked Rose, suddenly afraid of what she needed to know.

"During the election, Jack was having trouble getting voted in Chicago. I had connections with some...powerful people. They helped him get the votes."

"Joe, who were these powerful people? What connections did they have? Tell me the truth!"

They were mob bosses," said Joe, "They rigged the Chicago votes."

"Oh, Joe." Said Rose, "How could you?"

"I wanted him to win. That dream, that goal, they were mine, too. I needed him to win."

They were silent for awhile, and all they could hear was the crashing of the waves against the shore.

"Do you hate me?" asked Joe, his voice betraying a vulnerability and fear he hadn't known was in him.

Rose was silent for awhile, mulling over what she should say.

"No," she finally said, "I love you. And what you did was wrong, of course. But as your wife, I need to support you, no matter what. Unconditionally."

"You don't have to," said Joe, "I'm a criminal. I don't deserve your pity, or your support."

"No, you don't. But you're getting it anyways."

Joe smiled, "Thank you. I don't deserve you, truly I don't."

Rose rubbed Joe's shoulder, "I love you, I always have. I always will. No matter what."

"No matter what," Joe replied.

They both looked out towards the ocean, with a renewed sense of hope for the future. Some would look at them and see an aging couple, alone, but others would see them as what they were: two people, with history who had worked to build a better future for themselves. Who loved each other unconditionally. No matter what.