Don chivalrously opened the for a weary Betty as she climbed into the front passenger seat, mumbling a quiet thank-you to her husband as he closed her door and hopped to the other side. Starting the engine they drove away from the grand reception hall where Ms. Margaret Sterling became Mrs. Brooks Hargrove. All considered the event was a success, even without a proper wedding cake or band to perform at the reception. Over half of the guests declined to appear, staying glued to the news about the Kennedy massacre. The worst had happened last night, an event that no one had dreamed to anticipate: President John F. Kennedy was shot in Dallas Texas.
There had been questions as to whether or not the actual wedding would take place. So many society weddings had been cancelled, but Roger Sterling was not going to be intimidated by the tragedy. He and his ex-wife Mona presented a united front at the event. And while Roger's new wife Jane was hysterical in the kitchen of the hall, the other guests presented their bravest faces and warmest congratulations for the young couple. Roger had assured them, if they could get through today, they could get through anything together; at the moment Margaret and Brooks seemed invincible as they drove off together for a long honeymoon in Europe.
The rest of the guests were not so lucky. There were no vacations coming to them; they were to go about their lives as usual, taking one business day off to recognize the death of President Kennedy. On Tuesday, it would be business as usual, whether they were ready or not.
Betty Draper had never seemed to show a great interest in politics. She enjoyed living in her own little world in Ossining, New York, where she had her dinner parties, horseback-riding, and shopping excursions. For years she believed that she lived the ideal life with her ideal husband; on the outside everything seemed perfect, they were the couple that everyone admired and wanted to emulate. She was beautiful and cultured; he was handsome and wealthy. There really didn't seem to any cracks in the picture perfect family unit.
But Betty Draper had had a very hard year. She had finally chosen to take a stand after years of suspecting infidelity from her charismatic husband. How can he help but cheat she bitterly reasoned to her psychiatrist Dr. Arnold Wayne during one of her many therapy sessions. She had chosen to keep silent rather than try to face life as a divorcée, knowing what those women go through, the stigma that she would face. She saw how unkind she and her fellow neighbors were to divorcée Helen Bishop when she moved onto their street with her two children in tow. Why would they treat me differently she had wondered, knowing that the only true friend she had in the neighborhood was Francine Hanson, another housewife locked in a desperate marriage.
But Bobbie Barrett was different; this one was brought to her attention by her loudmouthed comedian husband Jimmy Barrett. Apparently other people know about his indiscretions she thought with a sarcastic chuckle at another session. She had hoped that her husband would use a little common sense with his little flings, not make them so public. But he didn't seem to care. And it pushed her to the limits. Throwing him out of the house had been an enormous step for her, a woman who couldn't imagine a life without a husband by her side. Yet she threw it all away when she discovered that she was pregnant with baby Gene…and that was what started one of the worst years of her life.
Betty lived in quiet desperation as her Don bounced from attentive husband to wild playboy, and she continued to crack under the pressure. Her world came to a halt when she finally discovered what Don had kept in his locked desk – a whole past life, a life that she was not privy to nor a part of. The truth of the matter was she knew nothing about the man that she married. He treasured his secrets, and he preferred keeping her in the dark because it was more convenient for him.
It was during this terrible year that Betty found an unlikely companion in Henry Francis; a gentleman who worked for the state Governor. He provided her an escape from her private world that was falling apart. She was not expecting to find him at the wedding that night, and was afraid that a possible scene would arise between her current husband and current paramour. But Henry, ever the prudent and wise, respected the distance and did not even acknowledge her, apart from a few stolen glances during the wedding that went undetected by everyone except for her and his daughter Eleanor.
Everything came to a halt when President Kennedy was shot. Betty couldn't understand why her world was crashing around her. She let out a heavy sigh and slumped her body against the door the car.
"Come here," Don suggested, opening his free arm for Betty to scoot into his embrace as he drove down the empty streets. People were not leaving their homes today; they were too focused on their television sets and radios, soaking up all of the information they could find about the Kennedy assassination.
Betty let out another heavy sigh, too tired to move. She didn't want to come tonight; she begged Don to let her stay home, but he would have none of it, telling her that they at least had to come to the reception hall. Maybe they'll cancel, he assured her as they walked out the door earlier that day. The wedding of Roger Sterling's daughter was an event not to be missed by the employees of Sterling Cooper; everyone invited was expected to come, no matter what.
Don pulled her body close to him as they hit a red light, rubbing his arms over her shoulders. He could tell that she was tired and weary. The past two weeks had been traumatic for both of them, but especially her. Don knew that he hadn't done right by her in keeping the truth a secret for so long. But it was so easy to create a new life for himself, he didn't see why his old life mattered anymore; but it mattered to her. She saw it as another betrayal, another deception. Don swore to himself that he would make things right for them, no matter what it took.
"It'll be alright," he promised her.
"Nothing will ever be the same again," she said hoarsely. She looked directly into his eyes. "Nothing."
The rest of the car ride was silent. Don pulled into the driveway and helped Betty out of the car. Coming into the house he thanked their faithful housekeeper Carla for watching Sally and Bobby. Per his request, the children did not watch or listen to the news at all that evening. There are some things that children don't need to see, Don told himself as he helped Betty up the stairs. They stole a look at the sleeping children, so innocent and not fully aware of what was happening around them. Sally knew more than Bobby; she had stayed by her mother's side the other day until her father came home.
Betty walked down the hall and peeked into baby Gene's bedroom. A small smile crossed her mouth as she saw her baby boy asleep. Don rested his hands on her shoulder, gently rubbing them to relieve the tension. Betty turned to Don and leaned her body against his chest in a sign of desperation. She didn't want to turn to him, not after everything she had done, but she needed someone, anyone.
Don guided her to the bedroom and carefully unzipped her gown. She allowed it to carelessly fall to the floor as she searched her bureau for her nightgown. Don quickly undressed, his eyes watching Betty intently. In so many ways she was as fragile as the children, and Don didn't know what to expect from her at any given moment.
He followed her into the bathroom adjacent to the bedroom as they brushed their teeth for the evening. Betty attacked her teeth with such vigor that Don thought she was fighting the war on gum disease all by herself. Walking back to the bedroom Betty crawled under the covers and rested on her side. "It was a sweet ceremony," she said finally. "And I wish them both the best."
Don climbed in next to her and ran his fingers through her blond locks. "I'm glad we went."
Betty looked at her husband, her eyes wide. The way he kissed her in the middle of the dance floor, so uninhibited, so passionate – it rivaled their first kiss. Betty had told Sally that every future kiss with a man would be a shadow of their first kiss, but Don had proven her wrong that night, in an act that was so out of character for a man who was generally so restrained with his actions, especially in public.
She gently traced his expansive chest, inching closer to him.
Don smiled his classic smile as he inched his face closer for a kiss. They hadn't made love to one another since Betty opened the desk drawer, and Don would never admit it to anyone in the world – not even her – but he missed her touch. Running his fingers through her light curls he kissed her mouth, sliding her nightgown off her shoulder.
Betty closed her eyes, savoring his touch. Now would be the time to pull away from him, to stop him before he got any further. But she didn't want to; after everything that had happened, she needed a male touch, a closeness. Don, in spite of all of his flaws, knew just how to make her forget all of her troubles with one simple smile, and she was too weary to say no. Betty was so involved in feeling Don's touch that she missed him mumble a soft 'I love you' before she fell asleep in his arms a short while later.
The Drapers were accustomed to sleeping in on the weekends; Don worked long hours in Manhattan and preferred to spend his Saturday and Sunday mornings relaxed at home if he wasn't at the office or wooing a client. This Sunday was no exception to the general Draper rule. Before attending the wedding the previous night, Sally asked her parents if they were going to go to church the following day to pray for President Kennedy. She had been informed by her mother that he was already dead, and that there was no use in praying for him now. Don stood by Betty's brutally honest statement, preferring the confines of home to the mass assembly at the local church.
The sun from the window woke Don from a peaceful slumber; he frowned to see that the other side of the bed was empty. Touching the sheets, he felt her warmth and knew that she could not have gotten up very long ago.
Don had never received true affection as a child; his view of male and female relationships was defined by the warped goings on of his step-mother Abigail, his father Archibald, and later Uncle Mac. Given his background, it was no wonder that he struggled to show affection in his daily life with his own family.
Stretching out of bed, he put on his favorite bathrobe and went down the stairs to find Betty cooking over the stove. He slowly crept behind her and placed his arms around her tiny waist.
"Don," she stammered, nearly dropping her ladle.
"Were you expecting someone else?" he teased, kissing her on the cheek. Don felt her body tense under his touch and carefully turned her toward him.
"Betts?"
"Everyone slept in, so I made brunch," she said softly, offering Don a plate.
Don shook his head. "I wasn't thinking of food," he chuckled. "You woke up without even saying good morning."
"I didn't want to get a late start," she lamely replied, not wanting to explain her need for him last night.
Don sighed, knowing he wasn't going to get anything out of her. Betty could be just as tight-lipped as her husband when she chose to be. "Where are the kids?"
"Upstairs getting dressed." She offered Don a small smile. "Would you mind feeding them while I shower and get dressed?"
"Sure." Don placed one arm on her shoulder, gently massaging the area. He didn't know quite how to ask her how she was feeling – never the type to ask probing questions to anyone – and given her volatile temper lately, he was not sure what to expect. "Are you…" he asked, searching for words.
"I'm fine," she promised, sensing his uneasiness. "See you in an hour." Betty headed up the stairs as Don placed the ready pancakes on plates for the children. At least I know they're okay, he reminded himself as he called them for breakfast.
An hour later Betty soaped up the dishes in the sink. Carla had mentioned wanting to stay with her family today, and Betty obliged, knowing that she was just as shaken up by Kennedy's death as everyone else in the country. As she finished drying the dishes, her eyes flickered to the television set in the living room. Betty had watched a great deal of TV over the past two days, mesmerized by all of the news surrounding the shooting. She had probably watched more news in the past 48 hours than she had the entire year. She settled into the sofa and glued her eyes to the set, yearning to more about the circumstances related to the incident.
Don placed the dry dishes in the cabinet. He was happy to have a few days off work; none of the regular clients would be coming into the offices until Tuesday, if not later. The streets were bare, most people chose to stay with their families – some even afraid to walk out the front door for fear of being shot at.
Don picked up another plate and reached for the towel when he heard a loud bang from the living room. A violent shriek from Betty prompted him to drop the plate to the floor, falling into several broken pieces. Don ignored the mess, running for Betty.
"What happened?" he asked, looking at the TV screen. He then heard one of the local news reporters announce the shooting and attempted assassination of Lee Harvey Oswald, the very gentleman that shot President Kennedy two days before. Don's blood began to run cold; he turned to Betty.
"What's happening?" she cried as she felt her knees begin to cave under her; she fell backwards and into Don's arms.
"Betty!" Don shouted, gently shaking her; he began to panic when he could not hear her breath.
"Mommy!" Sally cried from the hallway, seeing the entire incident. "Daddy what's wrong with Mommy?" She ran next to her father with Bobby in tow, tears in his eyes.
Don cradled Betty's body in his arms; her eyes were closed and her body seemed numb. Cradling her body, Don turned to his two children. "Go upstairs," he ordered. Bobby and Sally stood in awe, neither one moving. "Now!" Don shouted; he didn't want them to see their mother like this.
A frightened Sally led her brother upstairs to the bedroom that they shared together. Don gently rested Betty's body on the sofa – what she had referred to as the 'fainting couch'. Don couldn't find the humor in the name as he picked up the kitchen phone and dialed the family doctor.
Betty's eyes fluttered open as the light from the bedroom window stung her retina. "Ummmm," she let out a soft moan, struggling to raise her head.
"Birdie." Betty felt the warm touch of a strong hand on hers and turned her eyes to the side.
"Don?" she asked softly.
Don sat up in the armchair and moved onto the foot of the bed. "Oh Betts," he murmured, not knowing what to say.
"What time is it?" she asked softly, still bewildered and confused.
"Three in the morning." Don leaned in and brushed Betty's hair out of her eyes. "I called Dr. Aldrich," he explained. "After you fainted in the living room."
"The last I remember is that Oswald was shot…and then everything went black."
"You fainted," Don explained, reaching for a bottle on the nightstand. "Dr. Aldrich believes it was due to the shock of the shootings…and everything else that's happened in the past few weeks."
Betty winced at the emotional memories.
"You've been through a great deal," Don added. "You're under so much stress; the doctor thinks your body just collapsed.
Betty said nothing, looking for Don to continue.
"You don't know how worried I was about you."
Betty saw the tired rings under her husband's eyes. "You haven't slept?"
"I was waiting for you to wake up. The doctor gave you some medication," he gestured to the bottles, "to help calm your nerves."
Betty nodded her head; she was no stranger to pills and prescriptions. "How are the children?"
"Asleep. I assured them that you were fine, you just needed a little nap."
"I suppose I should thank-you for taking care of me," she said softly.
Don squeezed her hand. "How are you feeling?"
"Tired."
"You haven't eaten anything at all today. Why don't I heat up the dinner?"
Betty silently shook her head no.
Don refused to hear it. "That's part of the reason you collapsed; Betts you need to take care of yourself."
"Since when do you care what I do?" Betty countered, an edge increasing in her voice. "You and your lies is what brought me here."
Don scowled as he lifted Betty's left hand pointed to her ring finger. "We are still married, and I still love you."
Betty said nothing, pulling her arm away and crossing it to her chest. "You're very good with words," she added, "But do you have the actions to match?" she challenged.
"You need to give me a chance." Don threw his hands in the air. "I've done everything I could in the past few weeks to make up for my mistakes."
Betty closed her eyes. "Bring up the dinner," she conceded. Don left the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Could he change his ways, Betty wondered to herself. She knew to give credit where it was due – he had seemingly changed his ways in the past few weeks, made more of an effort for her. But it was hard to look at him the same way after everything she learned about him.
"It isn't much," Don warned. Betty smiled, knowing that her husband's cooking skills were limited at best. She looked at the hot bowl of soup resting on a beige tray and lifted the spoon to her lips.
"Umm," she said as it slid down her throat.
Don took a seat at the edge of the bed. "So how are you feeling?" he asked.
"Confused," she admitted, between swallows. "I feel like the whole world is falling apart around me."
"Things will get better," he promised her, reaffirming what he said at the wedding. "Johnson will become President and the country will move on – it always does."
"I wasn't just thinking about the country," she said softly.
Don reached for her hand. "I don't want to lose what we have."
"What do we have?" Betty asked, looking into his eyes. "You have this whole life that I ever knew about, that I wasn't included in. There are so many secrets."
"So let's start a new life," Don insisted. "A fresh start: you, me, and the kids."
"A new beginning," she said softly.
"Life isn't perfect Betts, but I know that I don't want to spend it with anyone else but you."
Betty's eyes welled up. "What if it doesn't work?"
"What if it does, and you throw away the best thing in the world?" Don countered, brushing away a tear. "Life is all about taking chances, starting over. There is no perfect life." Don lovingly gazed at his wife. "Can you walk away from everything that we have?"
Betty studied Don's frame, watching him anticipate her answer. "No," she stammered, throwing her arms around his neck.
Don held her tight against his chest. "Kennedy's funeral is later today."
"I want to write a condolence letter to Jackie. I can't imagine what she's going through right now."
Don kissed Betty on the forehead and moved the food tray to the floor by her feet. Betty pulled Don closer to her and snuggled in his embrace. She knew that life may never be as perfect as she wanted it to be, but she was surrounded by people that loved her, and that made the harsh world just a little more bearable.