I grabbed my bag and I fled down the steps, finding my trusty friend, Dimitri, already parked out front. I jumped into the back seat, and Dimitri sent a small coffee through the small portal between our seats. “Here you are, my lady.”
“Oh, God. Dimitri, I didn’t have time to make coffee. Thank you.” I breathed in the beautiful aroma and felt my brain waking. “How’s the mood at the White House?” I asked him.
“It’s anxious, of course. Everyone’s waiting for the press release. It was sent to the news this morning.”
“Yes. Yes. Good,” I said, already deep in thought. I sipped the coffee and leaned forward, feeling the blood beating fast in my arms and legs.
I was smart to leave at 7 since traffic was so bad. Finally, we pulled up in front of that White House, the very home I’d been fearful of only 24 hours before. It seemed that so much had changed. “I’ll catch you later, Dimitri,” I called to him, running from the car. I wouldn’t give him time to frisk me; not today. I rushed through the door, feeling my portfolio banging against my leg as I carried it, still holding the coffee cup in my hand.
I flung myself into the West Wing. The campaign workers were still aligned at their computers, as if they hadn’t left the previous evening. Their eyes were bleak, working ever toward a future of continuous phone calls, campaign work, and seemingly gray days. But I understood; I had married my work years and years ago. I didn’t even understand who I was anymore.
“It’s coming!” Jason called from the side, yelling at the campaign workers and I. I knew he meant that the press release was happening, then: that this was the very core that our cause relied on. This needed to go well. I rushed toward the television and pushed people to the side, knowing that it was up to me to save this re-election campaign.
The news anchor stood with a microphone positioned near her face, her eyes bright. The White House stood far behind her, almost looking like a model. It was strange to me that I stood in that very building as I stared at it on the screen.
“The president’s re-election campaign has released a statement regarding the drop in polls,” the woman began, her hair rattling around her slim face with the wind. “It states: ‘The president’s recent decision to enact positive change throughout the country’s education system has been misconstrued by a variety of people—and that is not the American people’s fault. Rather, our decision to make such change should be brought to you every step of the way for your complete comprehension and to ensure absolute transparency. We are working day and night for a better, brighter American future, and we need your involvement.’”
The news anchor went on from there, stating that this was good news for the re-election campaign and for the president’s future. “A president that looks to the needs of America’s future is a president we can trust,” the news anchor finished.
The re-election campaign team cheered all around me. I felt my heart grow in my chest; I felt so assured. I turned toward Jason, who was shaking his head in amazement. “It seems we chose the exact right words,” he said, his eyes wide in his head.
Suddenly, I felt something else: a hand on my shoulder. I spun around and felt my heart drop into my stomach. There, before me, was the President of the United States. He was wearing another one of his dark, brooding suits. And his eyes seemed to tear into me with such expressiveness. He smiled for only a moment. “Thank you for your hard work,” he said. He spun around, then, and disappeared without a trace, around the corner. I wondered what he’d be up to in the Oval Office, all by himself.
I wondered what he thought about in there.
But I shook it off, and began clapping my hands in front of my crew. “Attention, all!” I called to them. “Please. Know that this was the first of many obstacles on our way to re-election. Get back to your computers, and let’s get ready to promote some votes!”
Cheers rallied from all around. The people swept back in their suits, their trim dresses. Faces spun back into comprehensive work mode. I nodded primly toward Jason, as if to say: “That’s how it’s done.” But I knew he already felt a bit too shitty, as it is: after all, he’d been passed over as leader of the re-election team.
But something still lingered in the back of my brain. What was going on with Xavier? Why was his touch on my shoulder so intimate, so outside of our surroundings for some reason? It felt like when he looked at me, we were the only two people in the room.
This, of course, was silly; we were two people in outrageous exposure. We had no business looking at each ot
her in any manner beyond a quick, furtive glance and perhaps a nod. I was his employee, I reminded myself. Nothing more.
I sat at my desk at the helm of the great sea of workers and began analyzing the numbers. I buried myself in the work for a few hours, allowing the sun to ramp up in the sky over the White House.
My phone started ringing, scaring me senseless for a moment. I brought my hand to my heart as I answered it, expecting to render another, short comment to a news source.
“Hello, Miss Martin.”
The words made my whole spine shiver.
“Mr. President,” I said. I tipped my tongue to the top of my mouth after I said it, waiting in such apprehension. I watched a frenzied girl in the sea of people before me as she tapped at her computer keyboard over and over, her eyes anxious and wide.
“I’d like it if you come to my office. I have something to ask you.”
I stood unsteadily from my desk, feeling the world spin around me. I felt so many things when we were together around other people; what would I feel when it was just us? Together in a room, alone? My feelings from the day before had escalated greatly, I knew. Could I handle it?
“I’ll be right there, Mr. President,” I said. I placed the phone down timidly and stepped toward the door, leaving the chaos behind me. I walked down the hallway, toward the Oval Office. I remembered the sheer anxiety I felt before the initial meeting with him. I was so sure I wouldn’t make the position! What anxiety—and all for nothing.
I found Dimitri outside the door. He nodded at me, friendly.
“He called me,” I shrugged, making light of it. “When the boss calls, you know.”
Dimitri nodded, laughing. “Right? A bit scary when the boss is President of the United States. I suppose we’re united on that front now.” He winked at me and let me into the room, opening the door behind him.
I found myself back in the Oval Office with the commanding president before me. He stood from his desk as I stayed, staring blankly forward. “Mr. President,” I addressed him, politely.