Christ what a year.
Kyle's administration won't be one of those that nobody remembers, that's for sure. Even from the beginning, he was far from a Harrison or a Van Buren. The next six or so hours will be the last before he publicly resigns from office.
We've discussed it for a few days- and for both of our mental stabilities, have decided it's the best thing for us. He started off as a school board official, loving his job. As time went on, he started loving the official duties less and less and started focusing on the good changes he could make. As the governor, he was a pretty decent advocate, but as a Senator, he really got into activism.
And I think it was about time america had a president like him, but he's done the job he came here to do; unite the nation by bringing the country as a whole to a socially liberal point of view. He changed the minds of so many who had never voted for a liberal in their lives- let alone one who was also bisexual and an independent that speaks out against the two party system that controlled and ruined our country for so long.
Now we can finally relax. Our public life will never truly be over, so there's no point in even trying to become private citizens- but at least we'll be able to move at a slower pace now. Wake up and go sleep
together every morning like we used to. Take our sweet time getting ready, and maybe- if we're lucky, be allowed to drive ourselves somewhere. Officially there's a rule that current and former presidents and their spouses are not allowed to drive for the rest of their lives, but out of the public view, that's a different story.
I remember Ella telling me that her dad- who was secret service during the Clinton administration, was in the car with bill when he drove himself. There were rules, of course- like with everything presidents are allowed to do. If it was on a public road, which was rarely allowed, it still had to be in a vehicle in the motorcade. There had to be a minimum of two agents in the car, and one in the front passenger seat in case anything went wrong. The windows- side, back, and front were tinted so that they could see out clearly and nobody could see in.
This will- just like the day I was kidnapped, or the day Marisol was inaugurated as the first female Vice President, or the day the healthcare amendment was added to the constitution, be a historical day, because while Marisol was never technically elected, the people do like her enough- and she'll be the first female president of the United States. It may only be for a few months, but still. She'll also be the second youngest president ever, sandwiched in between Kyle and JFK.
There's a knock at the door. "Come in!" I answer, and in walks one of the interns I plucked off of the long list of possibilities to be my personal assistant. "What is it?"
"David Miller was in the building meeting with the Vice President and asked if he could see you while he's here." She informs me.
He's not exactly at the top of the list of people I want to see, but I can't hate him either. Kyle and I both did..some things while we were broken up. A shiver runs up my body. I don't even want to think about that time period. If I hadn't been so stubborn, it never would've happened in the first place. Looking back on the fight that slowly built up, it was my fault. He and I have agreed not to talk about that one month that happened years ago, because it's such a painful memory for both of us. The mere thought that we almost lost each other because we were both being stupid fucking idiots, though it was mostly me, is painful.
David did absolutely nothing wrong. Neither did Kyle. "Okay- where is he?" I ask the intern.
"He's in the fourth floor sitting room right now." She replies. "Finishing up that meeting."
I close my book, sighing as I make myself get up. Everything feels like it's returned to normal- it'll just be ending a few months earlier than we'd originally planned. The glances of White House employees follow me as I make my way over there. I've been in the residence for most of the past few days, relaxing- which I almost never do. Then there's the matter of the child. We've agreed to foster her, at least for now. I silently hope she finds somebody else that she prefers so she won't have to deal with as much of a public life. She'll always be the third refugee form Ordaia ever and the former Princess, but at least with someone else she might be able to have even a sliver of a normal life.
"David." I say, announcing my presence as I close the door to the sitting room. Per the new safety regulations, at least one secret service agent is positioned in almost every room at all times. As another part of the new regulations, you can only access the bedroom doors that lead to the outside by scanning your fingerprint at the top and bottom of the stairs- which stop just a few hundred yards away from the west wing. The only rooms that hold an exception are in the residence, and only when the president or First Lady tells the agents to leave.
They see and hear it all anyways, so we proceed with our conversation like the agent isn't even there. "Lauren-" he shakes my hand. "How are you doing?"
People have asked me that question probably over a thousand times this year, and at this point- it's just getting annoying. "I'm alive." I say, fake smiling even though my head feels like it's going to explode every time those words leave somebody's mouth.
"Well look I just wanted to apologize for... you know."
"No, I don't know." I shake my head. "You have nothing to apologize for because I kind of... did the same thing so being upset at you for simple existing would make me a hypocrite."
"It's just I... still feel guilty." He sits down. "You two have been married for what- fifteen years?"
"Twenty. Almost twenty one."'I correct him.
"Right and then.. and then that video, no matter how old it is... got plastered all over the internet."
"David." I repeat. "Seriously. Stop apologizing, you have nothing to feel guilty about. We were broken then for almost a month." The words sting as they leave my mouth, but it's the truth.
"But-"
"No. No hard feelings, right?"
He nods, rising. "He doesn't deserve you."
"Excuse me?"
"Oh don't take it the wrong way." He replies. "Nobody does. You're too... you."
"Thanks... I guess?" Well that was odd. I didn't expect to hear from David of all people today. It was sort of random, but knowing the type of person he is- I was expecting something like that eventually. He's always over-apologized during any controversy he's had, even if it was something that was so insignificant it wouldn't have required one at all. Sure, the senate majority leader sleeping with the president was a big deal for a little while, but since you could clearly tell it was old, the fuss died down quickly.
I yelled at Kyle maybe once when I found out- anything more would've made me a hypocrite. It was only a human reaction to seeing something like that, but when I'd calmed down- which only took a few minutes, and started thinking more logically, I couldn't be angry at him.
In the hallway, I lean against a table, needing just a minute. Standing for long periods of time- though it's no longer painful, makes me a bit dizzy. "Ma'm- " An agent rushes to me, thinking I'm about to faint, and I swat them off. "Should I get the dimenhyrdinate?"
"No." I shake my head. "I just need a minute. When the dizziness has subsided on its own, I allow myself to put the weight back on my feet, and a thought occurs:
He's officially putting in his resignation, effective in forty eight hours, tonight. I won't have the leniency or privilege that allows me to do what I'm thinking of doing for much longer, so I might as well get on it. I check my phone- and there's only three hours left until the speech. Now or never. I dial Ella's number.
"Ella- I want to talk to James in person. Just once. Please."
"No. Not happening." She replies immediately. "What's gotten into you?"
"I just... want to say goodbye before he ships off."That part is true, at least. In just a few weeks, James will board a prison plane to take him to Guantanamo Bay, where absolutely no visitors are allowed unless there's an end of life circumstance. I get that these are literal terrorist we're talking about- as in people that have killed multiple other people, but the empathetic part of me still feels bad. Imagine being stuck in a tiny room most of the day- with one hour outside and your only human interaction being from the person that brings you food. From what I know, the guards aren't supposed to speak to them except to give orders and what little news they're allowed to know. Basically, James's life is going to be an absolute boring hell for the rest of forever.
I hear Ella sigh on the other end of the line. " If you go, Remi and Ash will be in the room the entire time and he will be shackled."
"Reasonable enough." I shrug even though she can't see me. Remi and ash are two of the larger, younger, more buff agents on my security team. They're just about the only ones who could take James on, so I understand why Ella specifically said them. She sighs.
"Alright- I'll send the diversive motorcade for you." She hangs up. The diversive motorcade is a line of cars that has the same bulletproof windows and add ons as the official presidential motorcade, but is used when we want to go somewhere without being recognized, as you can't tell them apart from normal cars you'd see on the street. I suppose if you were really smart, you'd be able to figure out there was precious cargo on board simply by the road blocks and way the cars spread out, but most aren't.
My heat thumps as I get into one of the cars and an agent closes the door. I've admitted to myself plenty of times that I am, reasonably- afraid of James now. Anybody with a brain would be, but a part of me is still so attached to the version of him from before that I don't see the individual who literally kidnapped me from the most secure building on earth. An agent mumbles something to the guards at the prisons first gate when we arrive, and they immediately open it for the cars to pass through.
This is the second most secure prison in the country, so there are three more gates to go through, each line of fence electrified with long, sharp barbed wire topping them. Guards crawl over the entire complex, and from what I've read- the guard to prisoner ratio is 19:1. They're not fucking playing.
I'm walked through, secret service around me the entire time, to what looks like it's normally an interrogation room. The floor is metal, as well as the table and chairs- which are built into the floor. James is shackled and guarded, with secret service following me in as well. "They told me you were coming. I didn't believe them." He shakes his head, laughing.
He's starting to lose it because he knows he has nothing left to lose. "James- are they treating you well?"
"Define well." He glares at one of the guards standing next to him.
"I mean are they feeding you a normal amount and not being fucking assholes just for fun?" I ask, annoyed.
"Sure." He sighs. "I just-"
"Good." I interrupt him. "Make sure you take it all in tomorrow on the plane ride, because god knows you'll never get that view again."
"Lauren-"
"I'm not finished yet you son of a bitch." I say. "You may have saved my life when you broke, and you may have saved my life that Inauguration Day, but I do not and never will forgive you and i want you to know that."
"Look at me in the eyes and tell me you wouldn't have done the same thing if it were Kyle." He says, staring me down. "If a terrorist organization captured Kyle and told you he would be tortured brutally every minute of every day if you didn't do exactly what they said, you wouldn't comply?"
I pause for a second. My silence answers for me. "Go on." He continues. "Tell me that you wouldn't have and then tell me you'll never forgive me. I'm waiting."
I sigh- I can't. Because it would be a Goddamn lie.