over and whispers into my ear, “Hey, Clarke.”
“That’s Madam President-Elect to you,” I whisper back. And in just another few minutes, it will be Madam President.
But then he whispers something else, and I can’t stop the small laugh that escapes my lips. I play it off with a wave to the crowd and they cheer in response. Wyatt has just reminded me that all these people think that the first time we kissed was on a horse in my front yard. I told the story in an interview once, and it quickly took on a life of its own. Everyone assumed that that was our beginning, and we let them. But the truth is, I kissed him once before that, on the side of the road, and he didn’t kiss me back. Our love story has never been perfect. Just like me, it’s flawed and complicated. I wouldn’t change a single moment.
I lean over and make it look like I’m telling him something serious. “Well, there are a few people here who know the truth.”
I look two rows behind me and see Ava, Jordan, and Martha. I had to bump a couple of people out of position to get them these seats, but it was well worth pissing off a few members of Congress to have my friends this close. Dakota and her mom are here too. They were also there with me on the Senate floor the day I introduced the health care bill with a speech that made people sit up and take notice of the freshman senator from Ohio.
I was never supposed to have won that race. I was the underdog by about a mile and almost pulled out. But on the day I was thinking of quitting, my campaign manager drove me to the only office space we could afford for my campaign headquarters. It was in the building where Ava, Jordan, Martha, and I had all carved our names when we were seniors. I decided then that I would never quit no matter how hard it got. Those names reminded me that I wasn’t scared of losing and that some of the greatest moments of my life had come from my failures.
Still, there were days that felt impossible and nights when I didn’t think I could keep going. It was during those times that I would sneak around to the side of the building and trace my fingers around the letters of my friends’ names. I always went down the list in alphabetical order. Out of fairness.
Ava Morgan. She’s Dr. Morgan now. She got her PhD in psychology—also from Stanford. She liked the one-on-one work of counseling, and she kept up with her painting, taking her art to a whole new and spectacular level. Ava always thought of herself as the quiet one, but the truth is, the way she expresses herself on the canvas means that her voice is louder than any of ours. A couple of years ago she founded a nonprofit that uses art to help kids work through their trauma.
Jordan Schafer. Jordan did exactly what she always dreamed of doing. She’s a journalist. She covers the political beat at the Washington Post, where she’s destroyed more than a few political careers with her award-winning investigative work. Thankfully she’s promised that she’ll never write anything that will take me down. Unless I do something to deserve it.
Martha Custis. Martha traveled the farthest to be here today. She and her wife have been living overseas ever since Martha’s promotion. Martha knew it was what she wanted from the moment she flew her first combat mission. So in the end, she followed in the footsteps of her great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother’s second husband, George, and became a general in the United States Army.
From the podium, the Senate Majority Leader announces that it’s time for me to take the oath of office. I quickly glance back at my friends. They know that they are on camera, so their expressions change only imperceptibly. But it’s enough for me to notice. They are proud of me. I smile back. I’m proud of them too.
Most people still say that it was that speech on the Senate floor that set me on a path to one day become president. Other people point back earlier, to the class I took during my freshman year at Ohio State University, the one that inspired me to volunteer on my first campaign. Or even earlier than that. Back when I was just a wide-eyed kid who believed she could change the world. There are so many moments that led me to this podium today. But if we’re looking for the exact one that started it all, credit goes to Ava for pretty much nailing it in her Stanford essay. Because the most important moment in my life was a warm day in late summer when I met my best friends. If it wasn’t for those three little girls, I would not be the woman standing here today.
The Senate Majority Leader continues her preamble. The words she says are not new. They’ve been said on cold January mornings many times before. I can see them on the teleprompter. It is my great privilege and distinct honor to introduce the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, who will now administer the oath of office.
Now is when she’s supposed to direct everyone to stand. But earlier in the morning, I asked her to make one small change, which she does.
She looks out to the crowd and says, “Will those who are able, please stand.”
Beside me, Wyatt squeezes my hand twice. Then he lets go. He knows I need it back for the part that comes next.
I take a deep breath, I step forward, and I raise my right hand in the air.