The President's Wife - Kathy Myme Page 0,53

hell is the President’s problem?

“Are you mad at me about Trevor?” I press, searching for answers.

“Well, obviously you shouldn’t have run off like that,” David says, his face betraying nothing. “But no, Miss Waters, I’m not mad. I’m just coming to my senses.”

I stare at him. I look into the eyes of this man, my President. David Shepard. Somebody I had respected. Somebody that I’d even been beginning to fall for, as the heat of last night reminds me every time I think back to it.

The man I thought I’d been getting to know - the man who’d shown me his secret garden, who’d taken care of me despite the messed up situation that we’re in - is nowhere to be found. It’s like I’m looking at a stranger.

“Fine,” I say at last. “Time apart might be a good thing.”

Relief floods through his face. As if he was worrying about my reaction. As if he was almost… afraid of it.

“Good,” David says, turning for the door. “Well, then. You will excuse me. I have that meeting to get to. I have an ambassador to speak to.”

When he leaves, I watch him go. I don’t know who the man in front of me is, but it’s not the David Shepard I know.

“Ma’am?” Jackson is tapping me on the shoulder, having appeared from nowhere. “Are you ready to leave?”

I take a deep breath. “No.”

“No?”

“You’re dismissed for the day, Jackson,” I say, gently but firmly. “I’m going to take a nap.”

“You have an itinerary, ma’am-”

“Jackson, I was attacked last night and I could have died. I think we can stop talking about my schedule for a few hours.”

He looks nervous, like I’ve just threatened to twerk through a line of people on a White House tour. “Let me just check with the President--”

“There’s no need to check,” I say, with more authority than I’m usually comfortable with. “I’m going to head to my room now.”

Without waiting for an answer, I stride out of the room. I do feel a little bit bad. Jackson is just trying to do his job and I’m making it a whole lot harder for him.

But after the President’s attitude this morning? I can’t take a second more of this.

A plan begins to formulate in my mind. It’s probably risky… but at this point, I don’t have a choice.

I have to get out of here.

David

I had made a mistake. I had done the one thing I’d promised I’d never do. I had lost control. And the worst bit of all was how much I’d enjoyed it.

But it won’t happen again. No, I will never slip up again.

My father had a number of problems in his life. Gambling and drinking were the big two, but at the end of the day they were just symptoms. The real problem he had was an inability to say no. He couldn’t help himself, no matter how much he tried. The man lacked control over his life.

My mother and I had coped, barely. We bore the cost of it. The shouting matches, the debt, the drunk driving fine, all ultimately fell on us to deal with. I never chose to resent him for it, but it was hard not to. It is hard not to.

I still remember the night he died. His car had crashed into a tree. The police said it was instantaneous, that he wouldn’t have suffered. They said he was drunk and had lost control. Typical Dad.

At first I was mad at him. How could he do something like this to us? Leaving us alone, with nothing, to fend for ourselves. He had let us down yet again. He’d been caught enough times and was one failed breath test away from prison. The man wasn’t an idiot, he knew the risks. And yet that didn’t stop him.

Over time though, the anger has given way to the realization that the lack of control was just who he was. He truly couldn’t help himself. And though it was too late for me to help him, it wasn’t too late for me to help myself.

I swore I’d never end up like him. I swore I would stay in control of myself, and not lose myself to vice. I swore that I would give his death some sort of meaning, that I’d learn something from it and become a better person.

And so I have. I’ve watched myself and kept myself disciplined. I’ve played the game and now I’ve risen all the way to the top.