Thump. Thump. Thump. The sound of her feet as they hit the ground is the only thing that she hears aside from her own exacerbated breath, as she runs through the brisk morning air. The cemetery is the only place in Washington that puts her at peace; the lonely compilation of has-beens and shadows of the past seem strangely relatable. There was a stillness that she found there that she could not find anywhere else. She did not run the risk of running into any lobbyists, foreign dignitaries, government officials, or even Him. But, more importantly, it was the sole place that triggered the last bit of 19-year-old Claire left inside of her. It was the cemetery that jerked, twisted, and pulled Claire out of her passiveness into reality.
Reminded of the future ahead and motivated by the time that has already passed her by, she feels, once again, dreadfully inspired to do the thing. She hopes that she can finally end things with Him: the one that has strangled every last bit of hope out of her, yet the one, that she believes, has given her more power than she could have ever imagined and therefore, life itself. "I shouldn't leave Him," she reflects, as she runs out of the cemetery. "Ugh, there I go again," she meditates. "I need to quit crediting Him with my existence. I need to stop thinking like Him, as I know that He only sees me as an extension of Himself. Why do I worship my husband, this devil, instead of going to church? Why do I worship Him instead of my own ambitions? After all, it is because of Him that I have never earned anything by myself. I must get out. Today. Yes, today I will break free of His unrelenting grasp."
Half a block to the White House, she begins to speed up until she is almost at a sprint. She knows that He is not there, but she wants to get there as quickly as she can. She wants to be in his chair with a glass of brandy in her hand when he gets home, symbolic of her new, self-made power. Although it is not Hers now, it will soon enough be. She knows that He is nothing without her, although He often proclaims and makes her think otherwise. For, only an insecure man reiterates what he does not believe to be true, convincing himself that his shortcomings are enough.
Thump. Thump. Thump. She gets closer and closer to the only door that she is allowed to pass through this early in the morning. It seems to move closer and closer to her, as if it is obeying her. The world around her quickens up its pace, but this time she is not out of breath. No, this time she is leading the World in its march onward. Thump. Thump. Thump. She reaches the door and flashes her badge at the guards, knowing that there are secret service men behind her and understanding that everyone around her is aware of who she is. "Maybe that was dumb," she thought, "But today is different. They need to remember the last time I walk through this door, or, rather, the last time I walk through this door as His wife."
Thump. Thump. Thump. She continues running until she reaches the spiral staircase. She gathers herself enough to muster up her best presidential poise, as she climbs the staircase with her back upright, her face towards the sky, and a look of prowess that no one had ever seen on her before. She reaches the top and gathers herself once more, only to stay focused on her end goal. She does not hesitate, but instead, marches straight to the Bedroom. She quickly and promptly gathers enough clothes to last her for about a week. "I will have the others sent to me," she resolves. Picking up the straps of her bag, she continues her march. She enters the Oval Office, the Tabernacle. She sets Her bag down on the ground next to Her chair and goes to pour Herself that glass of Brandy, the Bible of the Presidency.
Thump. Thump. Thump. This time it is not Claire's footsteps, but his. She once again gathers Herself and sits down calmly, as this is the moment that She has been waiting for. He walks in with a look of victory on his face, but it immediately fades to a look of dread and defeat; in that moment, She knows that he is no longer Her god. She is finally free. "Hello, Francis," She says. Shaking, Francis replies, "Uh, look Claire. I uh…need to…uh…talk to you." Before he can get another word out Claire jumps out of Her chair and replies, "Me too, Francis. I am leaving you today." Marching past him, dignity in one hand and Her Bible in the other, she silently tells Her Tabernacle that she will return again, but next time, alone.
