Boston, Massachusetts - Early 1942
Joe Sr. sits in the parlor, drinking his scotch. He doesn't know what to do with himself. He feels conflicted about everything, and he gets drunk more often now. Joe Jr. is in the navy training to become a Naval Aviator. Joe Sr. knows that this could be a death sentence not only for his son but for him. The Roosevelt administration didn't trust him anymore and though he wanted to help the war effort, they didn't want anything to do with him. Rose enters and sees the whiskey in his hand. She sighs.
"I wish you would put that down. We've talked about this."
Joe Sr. sighs and represses a burp, "What do you want me to do, Rose? Stop the war in his tracks? Get Joe Jr. back home."
"I've been talking to a priest at church, and he says that you should get help."
Joe Sr. sighs, "Rose—"
"No, Joe.", suddenly her voice gets louder, "Let me speak for one moment." She sighs and lowers her voice, "There is a group for alcoholics that meets every Thursday at the church. They talk about their recovery and their faith."
Joe Sr. scoffs, "So you want me, a former ambassador, to go to church with slobs and talk about a nonexistent alcohol problem?"
"It isn't nonexistent! You drink so much more than you used to. Back in London it was the occasional scotch after dinner and now you have one whenever you're bored!"
"Shut up!" Joe Sr. yells and gets up to leave the room. He passes Rose but she stops him with one sentence.
"I know about the mistresses, too. I've always known. You're a dog, Joe, you don't know right from wrong. You never have."
For a moment, Joe Sr. stays in the room, but leaves soon. The door slams behind him and Rose collapses on a chair, crying.
He hadn't told Rose about the lobotomy. It was supposed to be a surprise, to have Rosemary fixed. Normal. Now normal seemed to be a foreign word when it came to Rosemary. The operation was botched and now she had to be sent away to a convent. Out of the public eye. Forever.
Rose had despised her husband ever since. Just a year ago Rosemary had been capable of getting by. Now she was almost unresponsive. Yes, it wasn't perfect before, sometimes Rosemary would throw tantrums and act strange but it was never this bad. Now with the war waging and their older children away, they had no reason to act happy. Because they weren't, and they hadn't been since London. But this was a new way of life for the Kennedys, one that they had to become accustomed to or fear extinction. After reflecting upon the tragedy of the past few months, Rose finally found the words she had been struggling to find for Jack's letter all morning.
Dearest Jack,
Rest well knowing that your father and I are fine. We have decided that it would be best for dear Rosemary to live at a beautiful convent. She's doing just wonderfully and I am filled with pride at her progress. There will be times when you feel lonely, but when you do, always remember the warm feeling of London memories...
Love, Mama
Nobody had to know about what Joe Sr. had done. His children idolized him and ruining that vision for them would be too cruel. So she put on the mask that everything was well.
Boston, Massachusetts, 1942
Jack sat on the sofa in his father's study nervously. When he was called in here it was never good, and he was sure he knew exactly why he was in trouble. Suddenly, his father walked in, a scowl on his face. He didn't sit, no, he stood in the middle of the room, eyes narrowed. Jack recognized the face, it was the one he got when he was angry and was ready to burst.
"You shameless, vile, wicked, boy." Joe Sr. looked at his son, repulsed. His face was red with fury.
Jack sighed, "What? Dad, I don't understand."
"Don't play that game with me!" Joe Sr. was yelling now, his body shaking with anger. "I know what you've been up to these past few months. With that hussy Inga Arvad!"
Jack jumped off the couch, now he was mad. "Don't call her that!"
"Are you saying it's not justified? Jack, not only is she married, but her husband is pro-Hitler! The government thinks that she may be a German spy!"
"You don't know her!"
"How dare you! In my house!"
Jack tried breathing in, but it didn't help to ease his anger, "I didn't have the affair in your house."
"Don't sass me! What are we to tell your mother? How do you think she'll take this shock?"
Jack's heart sinks, now his father has struck a cord. There is a moment of silence until Jack speaks again, whispering, "Mom doesn't need to know. We kept it quiet, I promise."
"That doesn't change the magnitude of the scandal, Jack! After everything I've done to build this family's reputation up. To secure your future!"
"To secure Joe's future!"
Joe Sr. was taken aback by this, "What?"
"Everything you've ever done was for Joe. Don't act like I'm lying. You love him the most, you always have and you treat me like a piece of shit. What about Bobby? You cast him off as a runt. You let Joe degrade him."
At this point, Joe Sr. tried to calm himself down. He breathed, in and out. He took a sip out of his glass of scotch. The silence dragged on, until Joe Sr. was calm enough to continue the conversation.
"Maybe I encourage Joe Jr. more because he's my first born. Because I can tell he has a bright future. But that doesn't change my love for you or any of your siblings."
Jack laughed, more to himself than to anyone, "You keep telling yourself that, Dad."
Joe Sr.'s face turned blood red again, and without a moment's hesitation, without thinking, he punched his son. Jack fell back onto the sofa. Jack was in a state of shock, but only for a moment. Soon the anger began to rise up within him. He stood back up, fists clenched. He was fuming, his whole body shaking convulsively. Joe Sr. realized what he had just done, and guilt flooded him. He knew that he deserved to be punched back, and surrendered to Jack's fists, his eyes shut, but he didn't feel the blast of pain he had suspected. He opened his eyes and looked up, and saw Jack rubbing his temples.
"You didn't hit me?" Joe Sr. was surprised, his son had a chance to physically degrade him, and he hadn't taken it.
"No. I'm not going to hit my father. I can hope that in that department I can be a better person."
Joe Sr. sighed, "You're not a bad person, Jack. It's normal. Affairs happen. I've had a few in my lifetime."
Jack tried to feign surprise, for his father's sake, but Joe Sr. saw right through it. "Don't act surprised."
"I was just trying to be respectful, that's all."
"How much do you want? To stay away from her?"
Jack sighed, he would've broken it off without a dime earned, but if he had the chance to get something out of it....
"I want off desk duty."
Joe Sr. laughed, "Oh, you're serious?"
"Yes, Dad. I want to be out there fighting. Defending my country. I can't do that from a desk in Washington!"
"Yes, you can! Just in a different way."
Jack rolled his eyes. Joe Sr. sighed, "Even if you wanted to, there's no way we could get you past the physical. Not with your medical history."
"Then fake the papers."
Joe Sr. looked at his son, feigning shock. Jack laughed, "Oh come on, Dad. Don't act like you couldn't pull some strings."
Joe Sr. sighed, "It's so risky, Jack. You aren't a healthy person."
"Don't say that!" Jack yelled, as he had always been insecure about his health, "I used to be a sick person, but I've been doing so well for so long."
"Things could change." said Joe Sr., "Despite our problems, I don't want you to get hurt."
Jack smiled, "Thanks, Dad. But you have to let me risk my life for this. I want to help win this war."
Joe Sr. sighed, "Fine, you have your army papers."
Jack smiled, "Excellent. I'll tell Inga it's over."
Joe Sr. smiled, "Wonderful." Joe Sr. extended his hand, "It was a pleasure doing business with you, son." They shook hands, and Jack left the room. After he left Joe Sr. slumped into a chair, and drank his scotch.
1943, U.S. Navy Headquarters
One navy commander saw the possible assignments laid out on his desk. His friend came over, smiling.
"Oh no, not new assignments?"
The commander laughed, "Yeah."
"Poor son of a bitch." The other commander looked at the papers, "I didn't know PT-109 needed a commander."
"Yeah. Any ideas on who I should pick?"
"Well..." The commander's friend hesitated, which made him curious.
"What? Any ideas?"
"I was just going to say that Jack Kennedy has been getting good reports. I think he deserves the promotion."
The commander laughed, "Jack Kennedy? You have to have heard the rumors about him."
"Of course, that his Dad faked his physical papers, everyone knows that, but his health has been good, and I trust him."
The commander sighed, rubbing his temples, "Alright, Jack Kennedy, meet PT-109."