Opening Up

Hotel Texas

Jackie tosses and turns beneath her covers. Sweat drenches the back of her neck and her body aches. Something didn't feel right.

She sits up and looks over at the empty side of her bed. The cross-stitched, crimson duvet was still neatly tucked in place—Jack had insisted on sleeping alone in the second bedroom of their suite at the Hotel Texas, claiming that his late night phone calls would only keep her up.

"We have a big day tomorrow, Mrs. Kennedy. I need you to be well rested."

But now, something didn't feel right. Something was off. She felt alone. Something about the gaudy decor in her room—abstract paintings in oak frames and golf putt green carpeting—unsettled her deeply. Something about the way the moon light seeped through the cracks of the musty curtains and onto her bed was spurring an ominous feeling to stir within her.

Suddenly she missed her children. Little John had sobbed when his parents boarded Air Force 1 on route to Texas, only soothed by the prospect that he would celebrate his and Caroline's birthdays when they returned. Right now, she felt a strange urge to hold them in her arms—to shield them from something.

She reaches over the night stand and grabs her watch. Holding it close to to her face she squints through the darkness and reads 2:42 a.m. she lays back down with a groan.

As soon as she closed her eyes, an even deeper yearning washed over her. She wanted Jack. She felt a sudden, almost lustful pull to him, but not for just sex, for closeness. She wanted to be held in his arms. He would make everything feel right.

So, desire taking ahold of her, she tiptoed out of bed, across the tiled living area, and into his room.

Jack was fast asleep, made evident but the deep gurgling in the back of his throat. Jackie slipped under his covers quietly. She slid her hand under his thin undershirt and gingerly rubbed his chest. He croaked awake with tender concern as she gave him feathery kisses on his neck and ear.

"Are you alright?" It was unlike her to wake him at such an hour.

"I'm fine." She whispers against his ear and her hand moves down his stomach to his waistband. "I just wanted to be with you."

She moves his head to connect with her lips. With that, she slips out of her night gown and straddles him.

He was taken aback by her command, but obliged, clumsily grabbing at her hips.

Ever since Patrick, he had come to worry about her physical fragility. "Don't hurt yourself." He mumbles, his voice still gruff with sleep.

"I'm fine." She mouths, her head back and her eyes closed. "I'm fine." Her brown hair falls in an untamed cascade along her arched back.

The neon lights outside his window—beaming HOTEL TEXAS—engorge their passion. Every like of her body is sharper, while every movement is slower. Her bare skin is illuminated in a way that made her look as if she was glowing from within—radiating in her own aura. To Jack, she looked like an angel.

Afterwards, husband and wife fall asleep in each other's arms.

...................................................

"Wake up! Wake up!"

Sunlight pours over the bed as Jack, freshly showered in his towel, yanks back the curtains.

Jackie groans as it stings her eyes and buries her head in her pillow.

Jack chuckles. "You got a whole year of this ahead of you, Mrs. Kennedy. '64 is on its way!"

"I know," she sighs."That's why you're gonna get me pregnant as soon as possible so I can opt out." A devilish smile tugs on her lips.

"So that's what last night was about..." He grins. "I knew this 'I'll go anywhere with you' thing was too good to be true."

She blushes and swings her legs off the bed, getting up. As she approaches her husband to hug him, she peers over his shoulder. A crowd has already formers outside of the hotel, and men in cream-colored suits await with flashbulbs and notepads.

"Can't we just stay here?"

Jack chuckles and presses a kiss onto her forehead. "I wish, Kid."

They stay in their embrace for several moments before Jack breaks it. "C'mon," he says giving her a pat on the rear. "Be a good girl and get dressed."

Jackie obliges. A breakfast tray along with her pink wool Chanel suit is laid out on the bed. The daily edition of the Dallas Sun sits folded on her tray. She catches a glimpse of her husband's name.

The headline reads in bold letters: JFK Secretly Supporting Communist Soldiers in Vietnam

Jackie's legs feel weak. "Did you know it was going to be like this here?" She asks warily.

"Like what?"

"Jack."

An expression that Jackie doesn't recognize washes over Jack's face—almost like he's embarrassed. "We're heading into nut country today, Jackie."

"Did you know it was going to be this bad?"

"Well, a few people from the democratic committee warned me not to come."

"Oh Jack!" Jackie feels sick, like she's committed to sky diving with no parachute.

"For Pete sake Jackie, I can't have people hating me based on bull shit! I gotta win them over!"

"But Jack—"

"You've gotta win them over."

He takes her hand and pulls her to him. "Don't worry. As long as you're with me, these Texans will melt." He kisses her lips.

Jackie is silent. She stares blankly ahead, her eyebrows still furrowed in concern.

"C'mon, Kid." He shakes her in his arms.

Still nothing.

"I can't do this without you, Jackie. You know that?" He kisses her lips once more.

This time, she nods hesitantly, still not meeting his gaze.

"Good. Now put on that cute little suit and I'll meet you downstairs."