Chapter 9
"You should go."
I purposefully walked away without looking back; the scent of her filled my nostrils, connecting, trying to pull me back in but I refused to allow it.
She may have gasped at the words or it may have been the wind, a trick of the mind. I couldn't hear her; I couldn't bear to hear her – not now.
I knew my remark was unexpected, possibly cold yet I wasn't inclined to explain, suddenly my head was spinning; thoughts flooding in and out of my mind. Mellie had been like a targeted category five hurricane, kicking up dust and creating havoc; an uproar of winds delineating the one person in the eye of the storm – me.
The air shifted, thinned; my chest felt tight, constricted and I couldn't breathe easily. I felt claustrophobic by her presence.
On the balcony, the darkening, dusty sky was like a balm. The fog was rolling in bringing cool, crisp air with a bit of chill. I took deep breaths, letting the exhilarating air fill my lungs; enough to suffocate and bury those intense emotions, threatening like the dark cloud in the east.
Merely moments ago the sun was kissing her skin, setting it aglow and her laughter was being carried with every breeze. Ella said something clever to Teddy; their childlike language our source of entertainment all afternoon. That kind of moment had become so rare– a glimpse of unrestrained joy – so unlike the constant pain and hurt that affected all my relationships. It was short-lived and even as I closed my eyes to capture the memory of her laughter, my body tensed because I felt her presence again. She had not left; sighing restlessly I wished she had.
The view was beautiful; I never tired of it. It would be one of the very few things I would miss when I left this place. That was the answer; if I could just focus on the view – the swaying leaves, the descending sun and rising moon – then maybe, maybe the anger and resentment wouldn't be awakened.
I wasn't supposed to regress. I dealt with this months ago; it wasn't supposed rise up like bile in the back of my throat. Just the mention of "the event" caused me to shut down and implode within myself; forcing me to acknowledge that I hadn't let go of being angry at who I was, what I had become and what it caused.
She was still standing there, beaming doe eyes burning holes in my back, waiting for me to turn around and do something, give her some reason, some type of explanation.
And I couldn't see it, I refused to see it – the condemnation, the pity, the disappointment, the sadness, the regret or a mixture of it all would be there waiting for me, clearly resonating on her face. I wanted none of it. I never wanted her to know because I never wanted to explain it to her. I never wanted to see the words floating between, suspended in minutes of time, waiting to hear her response. The silence of unknowing would be deafening and I knew I couldn't to deal with it.
If she would just leave, I could channel my emotions in another direction. Dr. Manhiem's voice was in my ear – exercise, a hobby and writing – anything to deflect the energy into positive pursuits. I had tried all three. I had taken up playing the guitar again; it was more therapeutic than I remembered and I was still pretty good at it.
But writing had been my go-to route, my method of escapism. I was already half-way through my second journal. They may have been my memoirs but in reality, it was a dedication to my son Teddy; each entry a life-lesson that I was grasping and could pass on to him. His memories of this time would be few, if any, and there was so much I needed him to know. My mistakes, my triumphs, my wins and my losses, an honest examination of my life in black ink – in discretion, some details were wisely left out – but the message was clear: Perceived or real, absolute power corrupts men; it turns men upside down, replacing who they were with who they ought not to be and if upon honest self-reflection, you don't like the man you have become then you can either embrace the darkness and let it claim your soul or you can find your light and travel a different, more illuminated path. It was never too late to change.
Olivia had been my light but no more. The tragedy of events forced me to find my own source of light; my own reason to live.
The beer was warm; I had nursed it too long. I needed her to leave. I needed to write. There were lessons to be learned from bitchy, vengeful ex-wives who were determined to humiliate and destroy you.
"Is it true?"
It was said so softly, so delicately, as if she knew the answer, didn't really want to know the answer but – false or truth – she needed to hear the answer directly from me.
I shook my head, not in denial but in declination. I knew what she would do with the disclosure. She would take this upon herself; she would take it on as another burden to carry; another problem to fix; another piece of corrosive damage she caused and needed to repair.
It was the last thing I wanted.
I took a deep breath, hoping for an even tone to my voice, convincing enough for me to hide behind. It helped that I wasn't looking at her. I could speak into the wind. "Olivia, I already have a shrink. I see him regularly. My problems have been discussed and rehashed over and over again. He helps me and that's the arrangement. That's…what I want. It's the only therapy and problem-fixing I need."
Even without seeing her, I could see her. She was shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She was trying to decide whether to stay or go; push or retreat; press forward or run away. For once, I wish she would just run, if only for tonight.
"It's getting late and I'm sure you're tired. You should just go." My second time giving her an out. There was still time; she could walk away. Nothing had been promised; no commitments had been made; no dreams had been fantasized and shared; nothing would be broken and the platonic, distant quasi-friendship we were experimenting with could be maintained.
"Fitz, look at me…..Look at me!"
XXX
It was only after the third time she demanded that I finally complied.
Her lips were quivering but she tried to brace up. Her plea earnest, "Please stop pushing me away….talk to me…please."
Her eyes were so intense, so searching. It was always her eyes; the way they could tear me down and build me back up; strip me bare and piece me back together again.
I steeled against her power over me. "No…I'm not discussing this with you. No, I….."
"You used to be able to tell me anything." She was offended yet she moved closer, away from the threshold. "We….we could talk about everything. Why can't we…."
"Because we aren't those two people anymore."
"Yes we are."
"No we aren't….too much has happened…too much has been changed. We aren't them."
"If we weren't those two people, Fitz, we wouldn't be standing here right now."
In a manner of speaking, she was right. At our core, we were still the same two people that fell in love on a campaign trail. Time, tragedy, chaos, turmoil and suffering had educated us, taught us wisdom and we adapted to change but – experienced and hardened by the cruel reality of our world – we had evolved but we were still who we were.
Yet, I said nothing. The words would not come.
"I know…I know you have already talked about this with your therapist and I'm certain that he helped you. But…I need to know Fitz. I need to know what happened to you while I was gone."
"You've tried to fix me before Olivia and that doesn't work. I'm not one of your clients. I don't have a problem to fix or a situation for you to handle. I am fine." I was stern. I wanted to shut this conversation down, now.
She was frowning; the stand-off had begun. I wasn't going to give in. I could wait her out. Eventually after several minutes of silence, when she knew I wouldn't cave in to her demands, she would give up. She would follow her normal pattern: pick up that designer purse, proclaim desperately, 'I've got to go' and disappear, fading from sight like a mist.
Minutes passed and yet she hadn't moved. Secretly, I was impressed. "Was it...was it because of me, of what I did?"
"There were a lot of things that happened before you left, after you left that we have all had to deal with in one way or another."
I hadn't learned how to separate myself from 'the event'; to speak of it in the third person as if I had been standing outside my body as an eyewitness. I remained connected to it; it still haunted me. To speak of it would send me back; awaken demons that I didn't want to fight – not again, not now.
"I get that you don't trust me Fitz…"
She paused, waiting to see if I had a reply, perhaps a rebuttal, but I didn't. If I were honest, I would have to admit that I didn't trust her. And maybe all this had been a test – a way for me to see what she would do if the situation got uncomfortable, if I pushed her away, would she run. Because the question still remained: One day would she decide this wasn't worth it; it was too hard; the payoff not substantial enough and I would look up and find that once again, she was gone – without a word.
"….and maybe it doesn't happen tonight, but at some point we are going to have to talk about it….There's just so much resentment, anger and guilt between us and it can't stay there. I want…I want a future with you – a real one. Not one built on pretend or tip toeing around the hurt; it's there and we need to deal with it."
"Why?"
Her head tilted in confusion. "Why, what? Why do we need to deal with it?"
"Why do you need to know what happened? Why can't you accept things as they are? You said you wanted to start fresh; a new beginning as friends…What happened in my life while you were gone is not your concern. You don't need to worry about it. It has nothing to do with you." My voice was clipped almost harsh.
Her tone changed to match my own. "So because I wasn't here, I'm not allowed to know what happened."
"It had nothing to do with you," I repeated the lie, knowing that neither of us believed it but not really caring whether it mattered. "You were gone living your life and I lived mine to the best of my ability. The moment you got on that plane you made the decision that you no longer cared what happened with my life and I'm choosing not to fill you in on it."
I simply did not want to share it with her. I didn't want to tell her about the hours I spent sitting in darkness trying to make sense of my life; trying to figure out who I really was and what was my purpose. The days my hands shook so violently that I could barely hold a pen to sign my name. The nights I gave up on trying to close my eyes afraid I would see Jerry's lifeless body staring back at me. Or the constant noise, whispering voices in my head, destructive chatter – Mellie's rape, Defiance, Verna, Teddy, James, Jake, Rowan, Jerry, Karen, Olivia - memories that unhinged me, sent me spiraling out of control between anger, desperation, paranoia and fear. A steady stream of cognitive sound, reminding me of every service performed at 'the pleasure of the President'; all the actions that were like quicksand at my feet, sinking me deeper and deeper into a quagmire of self-loathing. And all I wanted was the voices to stop, for the walls to stop closing in, to sleep in peace for a moment or perhaps forever.
If I shared it with her, she would have everything and I wasn't ready to give her that. I had no delusions; I knew she wasn't yet all in. How could she be when her relationship with Jake had not been completely severed? We didn't need to discuss it; I knew it and I understood. It was her own fears that kept him around. He represented a plan B for her; another card she kept holding in the event that we didn't work out. Her fear of being alone wouldn't quite allow her to let go of him and take the final leap, fully invested in us.
"So my punishment continues," she sarcastically concluded.
"I'm not…"
"Yes you are!...You are Fitz!...You are deliberately excluding me from a part of your life because you are still angry that I left."
"You made your choices and I made mine….If you can't take me as the man I am today then maybe we shouldn't do this." I walked past her back into the residence, a signal that I was done with the conversation. An ultimatum – the words even shocked me as they rolled off my tongue. For most of our relationship, I had been begging and pleading with her to wait for me, stay with me, love me; this shift was more than a little daring and slightly unnerving.
She, however, was far from done with speaking her mind. Ultimatums never sit well with people and she was no exception. Her anger rose several levels as she followed me back inside. "How long are you going to hold this over my head?...I made a decision for me!...For me!...I spent my life taking care of you and this fucking White House; sacrificing my happiness to keep you here. And for once, I needed to do something for me!...And you know what Fitz, I didn't owe you shit…I didn't owe you a reason, an explanation for leaving. I wasn't your wife. The only stake you had in my life was the one I allowed you to be in, the space I let you have!"
"You're right…you are absolutely right. You didn't owe me shit!" I forcefully threw the words back at her although I didn't believe them. In my mind, when you loved someone you owed them something; even if it was just a little part of yourself. If nothing else, we at least owed each other truth, honesty and respect. But apparently she didn't feel the same, so I cynically conceded the point in her favor. "You still don't owe me shit!...So, are we done here because it's late?"
I erected a defense against vulnerability; a mechanism to keep her from getting too close to what happened.
She blinked, insulted by my dismissal. Our anger was getting the best of us – clear evidence that the unresolved would not be miraculously healed no matter how much time had passed.
"Yeah I think we're done here," she shot back as she picked up her purse to walk out. Pausing at the door, she turned, completely spent, her eyes filled with unshed tears, her voice calm, "The love isn't enough, is it? It's not enough to cover over years of pain, heartache and mistrust, is it?"
Love should be enough, shouldn't it? It believed all things, hoped all things and endured all things, right? The tidal wave of emotions had waded, leaving nothing but self-reflection. "I always thought it would be. I thought…I was so damned certain that once we cleared away the obstacles that kept us apart, everything would fall into place. Everything would be…"
"Perfect," she sadly filled in. "But I guess this is a lot more complicated than we thought, isn't it?"
"Yes it is. I never thought it would be but it is. The love should be enough but…I don't know."
Her sigh was one that registered in my ears as defeat, "Yeah, I don't know either…Goodnight Fitz."
XXX
"What are you looking for?"
"I'm just..," Karen paused in her careful surveillance of the residence and pointed glances towards my bedroom door. She was looking for something or maybe someone. She finally turned to me and woefully admitted, "Mom called me last night."
I knew what that meant. Fuck you Mellie,was my first thought as I prayed for the ability to have a calm conversation with my daughter without projecting the rage I had for Mellie into the discussion.
"What did she say?"
"She was crying, hysterical really; going on and on about you humiliating her with other women. She said that you….well that you were sleeping with Olivia and that pretty soon Teddy would be calling her momma. She said that I needed to protect you because you don't know what you're doing with Olivia."
I was clinching my water glass so tight that it nearly shattered in my hand. It was a low blow, even for Mellie. With everything else Karen had to deal with, to put that extra burden on her was unforgivable.
Karen's face was filled with such confusion and worry that I felt my heart constricting. All I wanted Karen to focus on was her therapy, her studies and preparing for the Paris vacation she would be going on soon with her friends. Normal things girls her age should be thinking about. Instead, with one phone call Mellie created another typhoon of problems that would weigh on her mind.
It took a few moments of deep-breathing for me to redirect my attention from my bat-shit crazy ex-wife back to the caring daughter sitting in front of me.
"Were you expecting Olivia to come out of my bedroom?"
"Well I….I didn't know. Mom said she saw her here last night and I…I just didn't know."
"Karen, sweetheart…I am so very sorry that your mother has brought you in the middle of all of this. It's not fair to you and I don't want you to be worried about me. I am fine."
She didn't believe me; Mellie's poisonous words were too potent. "Mom has Andrew and I have Jonathan but you…you don't have anyone and I don't want you to feel alone or sad. I'll be leaving for Paris soon and college in the fall; I won't be here for you and I just…."
Karen had seen too much of my downward spiral and the depression associated with it. No matter how hard I tried to hide it, she saw the change in me and it scared her. I knew her ultimate fear was a reversion that would be worse than before because neither she, nor anyone else would be around to help.
My worse fear was my mistakes and vulnerabilities would hinder her ability to lead a happy, healthy life. It was important to me that she grew up and led a life that didn't require constant worry about the well-being of her father. It would devastate me to know that Karen was not able to become a productive member of society because of the traumatic residue of these White House years.
I could see her struggling to hold back her tears. "Come here sweetheart."
When I held her next to me, her head resting on my shoulder, I candidly explained, "I'm not lonely and I'm not sad. I divorced your mother because our marriage was not good for either of us. It did nothing but make us both miserable all the time. I needed this time to get myself together, to spend with you and Teddy, to be a better Father. And it has been good for me. I am happier now than I have been in a very, very long time.
"I'm sorry your mother said those things to you. But I need you to understand that I would never do anything to hurt you or Teddy or this family. You are my priority."
I could feel her nod against my chest but it wasn't the end of the conversation.
"Are you dating Olivia?"
"No. Olivia and I are friends. I've known her a long time and I care about her deeply."
"Why did mom say I needed to protect you from her?"
Mellie's parenting skills continued to frustrate me. She obviously had no qualms about using Karen as a pawn in her ridiculous games.
"It's complicated but some things happened in the past that caused a lot of pain to both Olivia and me. But Olivia is not trying to hurt me or this family; she cares about all of us."
She was breathing easier, evidently somewhat satisfied with my explanation. I was breathing easier too.
"There was an article post on Twitter calling you one of the most eligible bachelors of the year."
We both laughed at that – to her I was just Dad and to me, well I was just who I was. "That sounds kind of weird."
"Some of my friends and their moms think you're really cute. They keep asking when you're going to start dating….I think Michelle really likes you."
"Karen, I'm not…."
"I know Dad. I'm just saying, I think it's time. I think you should seriously consider it. I feel like you are putting your life on hold, maybe for me or Teddy or what you think Jerry would want. But we want you to be happy Dad…that's what we want."
My baby girl. To see the woman she was becoming was a privilege to behold. A smile of wistfulness and pride formed as I reflected on how chaos and turmoil could produce something so beautiful; it was beyond my comprehension, yet I was extremely thankful. I could suffer through a thousand lifetimes of pain and misery if it meant my children could be spared even a fraction of the tragedy life measured out.
"We'll see…"
Karen sighed. "…Which is usually the response parents give when they are done talking about a subject…You're a great catch Dad. You could have any woman you wanted, choose wisely though. No scandalous affairs, OK?" she censured playfully with a broad smile.
"Speaking of relationships, you and Jonathan…"
The playfulness was gone as Karen groaned and stood from the couch; resuming her previous place across from me. She transitioned between accusatory to desperate. "Jonathan said you had a 30 minute conversation with him in the Oval. Were you trying to scare him away Dad?...Do you know the kind of pressure that comes with dating your Boss' daughter, especially when your Boss is the President of the United States? Do you know how hard it is to get guys to like me for me, not just for the idea of hooking up with the President's daughter? Do you know how hard it is to see all your friends dating and being happy when you're all alone? Jonathan is different from the guys at school. He's…he's not just more mature but he see's me for who I am and I like who I am with him…Dad, please…please don't mess this up for me…Don't scare him away, please."
She had no idea how much I could empathize with her position – desperate to be loved for who you were, not what you were or what you could give. Her heartfelt, earnest plea struck me deeply; I could never dismiss them. Her feelings for Jonathan were not superficial, they were genuine and true. I would have thought she was too young to feel such things but who was I to judge her emotions. Despite Mellie's approval, my concern had always been their age difference; Karen wouldn't be 18 for another month. But my conversation with Jonathan served to allay my fears in a variety of ways.
"Karen, sweetheart, as your Father I will always do whatever is necessary to protect you. I know what you and your mom think but I am not, nor will I ever be, okay with a young lady your age dating someone older. It wasn't my intention to scare Jonathan away and if he scares that easily then maybe he's not the man for you…."
"Dad…" she began to contest.
"Let me finish…My conversation with Jonathan gave me certain assurances that made me comfortable with you both getting to know each other but that is all I will allow." It was true; I could see the qualities in Jonathan that attracted Karen. As of yet, there was nothing in his character that made me question his intentions. A shift in his duties would bring him closer to me and allow me to watch him for any signs that indicated otherwise.
Karen finally smiled, "Really Daddy?"
It never got old – putting a smile on your child's face. From the first time to the many times in between, it always left me with a sense of contentment that maybe I was doing something right.
"Yes….But until you turn 18, there will be limits. And one primary limit is that he will not be coming to the residence without my knowledge or permission. You are still my little girl and he is still a man. So those are the rules."
Her face fell slightly but she maintained her smile. I had no doubts that she would try to figure out a way to work around my rules and this discussion would be revisited again in the future.
XXX
"Turn it off….I need the room."
The monitors were switched off and person after person filed out of the room.
"Sir?" Cyrus questioned whether the demand for privacy included him.
It did. "I need the room Cyrus."
"Yes Sir."
Alone, I sat in the Situation Room watching the dark monitors. The images were gone, nothing remained. But they were clear, imprinted with a branding iron on my brain.
The smell of sweat and fear remained, permeating in the air. The hours spent here hoping for a successful outcome; watching and waiting for a victory that never came.
They were supposed to rescue her. The CIA assured me that they could get her out. But they failed. Well, in actuality they had not failed, I failed. It didn't matter that the mission details were flawed or the one detail they hadn't accounted for left them operating in the blind. It would be my fault; my error.
And as a result, a 21-year-old missionary worker, Jessica Thompson, had been killed, beheaded by a terrorist. The life of a young lady, not many years older than Karen - or Jerry would've been - who had selflessly joined her parents in bringing relief to those less fortunate in a foreign country had been used as a pawn in a plot devised by insane, bloodthirsty terrorists, intent on destroying the United States.
I could barely stomach it; the world as it was now; the choices and decisions, made years – decades and centuries earlier – that led us to this place. With all our advancements, achievements and brilliance, all it took was one act to remind me of how barbaric and uncivilized mankind could be.
I don't know how long I sat there; eventually it was the heat in the room that forced me out.
I wandered through the hallways, not yet ready to stand alone, back on that seal in the Oval. The same seal that symbolized the loneliness I felt; that had brought me to my knees many times before, collapsing under the crushing weight of it all.
"Fitz, are you OK?"
The voice jarred me and I looked around, not even realizing that I had walked to the far east lawn. I hadn't recalled making the conscious decision to come here.
I tried to smile in welcome but it wavered horribly. "Michelle, how did you find me?"
"You didn't come to the Oval so I asked around and…."
She seemed a little nervous approaching as if she had interrupted something and then I remembered, "Oh, I'm sorry, we had a meeting didn't we?...Forgive me, I was detained."
She relaxed a little and came closer. "It's fine, really. Considering everything that is going on, I half expected you to cancel."
My thoughts were still a bit clouded and some of what she said was being tuned out. I wasn't good company to be around and thought to tell her so.
"How are you? You don't have to talk if you don't want to. We could just walk, that is, if you want company. If you want to be alone that's fine too."
Her rambling made me chuckle. "I've never seen you nervous like this."
She smiled in return. "Well I've never been friends with a sitting President before and the reality of your job is hitting me like a ton of bricks."
One thing I appreciated about my conversations with Michelle is that she never tried to psycho-analyze me. I was concerned she didn't know how to switch it off and have a normal friendly conversation and in time, I was happy to be proven wrong.
"Yeah, you and me both…You would think, it being my second term, I could cope with it better but certain things never get any easier."
"What do you normally do? I mean to release the stress or relieve the pressure?"
One eyebrow raised, I answered easily, "Drink."
"Seriously?" Her innocence was refreshing. She had no idea of the man I had been or was. When it came to her, it seemed like I had a clean slate. I liked that.
"Yes, at least before."
She became silent as she looked away, pondering my response and what she would say next.
"It's killing you isn't it?" I teasingly asked.
"What?"
"Not being able to ask me more questions."
She laughed. "It is…I want to know a lot of things about you," she began but quickly quantified, "In a non-therapy sort of way."
That response gave me pause; there was a great deal about me she could never know. How would she feel knowing a murderer, adulterer, a deceitful, treasonous person stood before her?
"I'd be happier learning about you." It was a deflection and welcome distraction; certain to take my mind off things.
"Me? Really?...Well OK, that's a safe enough topic."
The distraction was therapeutic. We walked the grounds and I listened to her speak about her childhood, her parents, her schooling and her decision to become a mental-health doctor. Time went on and I had no inclination to rush her; whatever I had left at the office would wait. To get lost in someone else's normal life, to get caught up in their normal dreams, to see the vision of their normal goals being achieved warmed me; the cold reality of my world was momentarily melting away. It was an escapist pleasure that I allowed myself to entertain.
XXX
By the time we made it back, my mood had significantly lightened. I was thankful to Michelle for not pressuring me to discuss my feelings and being so open to share her life with me. I told her as much as we walked through the glass doors leading inside to the Oval.
"You're welcome Fitz anytime. You know I'm here whenever you need me."
I was about to respond when I realized we were not alone. Cyrus and Olivia had been waiting and neither looked pleased to see me coming in with Michelle by my side.
"Mr. President?" Cyrus began first, looking back and forth between her and I. Those two words carried a lecture of hidden meanings – all condemnatory. I restlessly sighed at the forthcoming chastisement and went to my desk.
Michelle detected the tension in the room and wisely announced, "Thank you Mr. President. I will talk to you later. Mr. Beene, Ms. Pope, have a good day." She quickly exited and I could feel my mood shifting yet again.
"We came to see how you were…It was a tough decision but no one could fault you for what happened. You did what needed to be done."
"I didn't actually need to make a decision. I just hid behind the same rhetoric and policy that was laid down before I got here 'We don't negotiate with terrorists'. And, while I appreciate you trying to comfort me, it is my fault and it will always be my fault. Everything stops with me."
"Sir, there was nothing else that you could have done."
"Yes I understand that but it doesn't make it any easier, does it?...It's OK Cy, it's fine, I'm fine." It was a lie wrapped up in a dismissal and absolvent of any further responsibility on Cyrus and he accepted it. He left the office.
She, however, would be different. She would never accept the cop out. She would dig deeper. I wasn't yet sure which response I appreciated more.
"I'm sorry if you've been waiting here a long time. I didn't expect you to come today."
"I thought…I thought that maybe you could use a friend; someone to talk to. But maybe I was…."
Her insecurity at seeing me with Michelle was coming into play and I didn't like it. "Stop, don't do that. Don't act like that."
She looked away but finally took the seat I offered on the couch, I sat opposite of her.
"How are you, really?" she asked.
"Today has been tough but, like everything else I'll get through it."
"What do you need? What can I do for you?" It sounded like the fixer coming out, although I knew she struggled to keep it at bay.
I shook my head. "Nothing…it's a casualty of the job. I'll call her parents tonight."
"Are you sure you want to?"
"I need to…I have to."
I waited patiently for her to speak again.
"Are you attracted to her?"
"No, not in that way…She's an attractive woman but I'm not interested in a romantic relationship with her."
She nodded in acceptance. "Is she attracted to you?"
I had to think for a moment. "I don't know…I guess so. I mean she has expressed interest in dating but I never took her up on the offer and we remained friends."
It was ironic. I wanted to inquire just as deeply about her and Jake but didn't. Their relationship went deeper and more complex; therefore I wanted her to offer the information to me. I wouldn't force it out of her. I had no problem speaking honestly and giving her the assurances of the true nature of my relationship with Michelle.
She remained focused on brushing some invisible lint off on her pants. "So….in addition to coming to the residence, she's very comfortable with being in the Oval and being with you."
This was new; the roles were reversing. I suppose I could have played it up, capitalize on jealousies and insecurities and work it in my favor. But frankly, I was too old for games. I didn't have the energy and didn't see the point of purposely hurting another person just to give me the upper hand.
"She's a friend, Olivia. Someone I could talk to and be comfortable around. That is all."
"Does she know about me?...Have you told her about us?"
"No, there's nothing to tell. You and I are friends. Besides, no one has asked...Well Karen asked..."
"Karen? What does Karen know? What does she think?"
Her eyes widened and she was near panic. I sought to relieve her anxiety by relaying the gist of my conversation with Karen. It may have calmed her a bit but it seemed to raise a different type of uncomfortableness.
"So Karen thinks I'm going to hurt you and she wants you to start dating." Her voice caught and she cleared her throat to stay her emotions. This was new territory for both of us and it wouldn't be easy muddling through.
"She knows you are not here to hurt me Olivia; that was just Mellie putting toxic thoughts in her head. Don't worry about it."
She wanted to accept my explanation but I knew it was a piece of information that she would store in her mind and mull over repeatedly. No assurances I gave would stop her from doing that; it was her nature.
"Why do I feel so lost in this, Fitz? Why do I feel like things are more complicated now than they were when you were married?"
"Because they are," I explained and her eyes widened, she expected a different response. Holding her gaze I leaned forward and continued, "Listen to me…I had been idealistic and unrealistic about us and how we work in the real world." I could hear Mellie taunting me with the words I refused to accept at the time but I forced the image out of my mind.
"I know that now. I have no doubts that if we do this, it's going to get hard; harder for you than for me. Even if we make it past all our baggage and personal issues and attempt to go at this publicly, it could damage what you have built for yourself. You are an amazing woman, Olivia, and the reputation and business you have built is phenomenal. I would be stupid to think that being with me wouldn't damage your business, affect your clientele, your livelihood. I tried it before and look what happened." We both smirked at the memory and although distant, I knew the wounds had barely had a chance to heal.
"You reminded me that no matter how this plays out, you will be the one taking all the hits. It's you the press is going to come after and not just professionally but personally. I'm barely getting past the drama my divorce caused. The press will certainly dredge it all back up if we go public. I can't guarantee that they won't find a way to lay that at your doorstep too. And it will not take much for them to uncover our past together…Can you truly say you are ready for that? Are we…am I, truly worth all that to you?"
It wasn't an easy question and I didn't expect a quick answer. She looked away but I could see the tears forming in her eyes. It wasn't anything she didn't already know but we had approached the proverbial fork in the road. It was no longer theory or hypothetical; it was fact.
I knew she wanted us to be together but the risk was high and the possibilities – good or bad – were just as exhilarating as they were terrifying. I didn't take offense. I understood the words she didn't say; the details behind the decision to be made.
"I'm halfway through my life and generally I don't know if what I'm doing is right until after I've done it all wrong. But I'm trying...I'm trying to do right by you Olivia."
I held my hand out to her over the table. When she finally looked back at me, she took it. Her hands were so small in my own; delicate fingers, manicured nails. The only ring she wore was the one I gave her years ago; the one she promised she would never remove, no matter what happened between us. When our hands joined, I swore it felt like together we could conquer the world; that we could be invincible – together. But it wasn't enough that I believed it, she had to believe it too. She had to be ready to go all in; no looking back, come what may.
"There will never be another woman that claims my heart like you do Olivia Pope. All of me, every part of me is in love with you and always will be. Whatever happens between us; whoever we become to one another that will never change."
XXX
I was running late and if Abby and Cyrus would stop talking, I could make my appointment with Dr. Manheim.
"Are you both done?"
They continued on as if they hadn't heard me, which I knew they had, but they were two bulldogs intent on making their point.
I put on my jacket and turned to Jonathan, who, in addition to his other duties, began assisting me from time to time. "I'm going to leave them two here to finish their cage match. I've got to go. If they ever come up for air, let them know I had an appointment."
"Yes, Sir…no problem…And Karen said to remind you that she's cooking dinner in the residence tonight and please don't be late."
"I got it," I mumbled before walking away. I knew Karen had another motive with this dinner but I kept my thoughts to myself, willing to let it play out.
After one knock, I entered the office set up for Dr. Manheim since my treatments began, "Sorry I'm late, I had…."
I stopped short when I realized who was in the office with him. Completely confused and slightly annoyed by not being given advance notice, I inquired, "Olivia, I had no idea you knew Dr. Manhiem. What are you doing here?"
"I didn't know him previously but Cyrus was kind enough to introduce us. I hope you don't mind."
It was kind of like the feeling you get when you walk into a room and you know just prior to your entrance, everyone was talking about you; and not necessarily in a good way. That feeling multiplied by a hundred.
Being introduced is one thing but sitting down for a therapy session or an in-depth discussion about me was another thing entirely. "OooooKayyyyy but I still don't understand…"
I remained frozen on the spot. Unsure of what awaited me if I came in any further. Olivia stood and walked toward me. "Fitz I've asked Dr. Manheim to see us both….as a couple. I know you have your own sessions with him and I'm not going to interfere with that but I think we need this too."
Couple? Were we a 'couple' now?
She looked hopeful and optimistic. This was a huge step for her; it wasn't her way to admit she needed help and seek it out in this manner. And to be willing to sit in front of a trained professional seemed so decidedly against her character that it threw me off kilter. I didn't know what to make of it. And, to be honest, I was a bit skeptical.
I didn't know why I wasn't more receptive to the idea, maybe it was still the shock of what was happening or maybe it was because I felt like this was a sort of sanctuary for me and me alone. A place that I selfishly didn't want shared with anyone, not even her. Or maybe I was afraid of the truths that would be uncovered once we both took a seat on that couch and committed to this arrangement.
I looked at Dr. Manheim who was peering at me over the rim of his glasses, in that perceptive way of his, where my every movement, even the number of times I blinked my eyes, was somehow telling him something about me psychologically.
He finally spoke. "Nothing has been decided yet Fitz. Why don't you sit down so we can discuss it?"
(A/N: Hope you enjoyed. It's strange to have multiple stories in your head at once. It kind of makes me feel crazy:) Thanks for reading. Hope you have had a great week. BTW, I didn't see the latest Scandal episode but I have seen some very intense reactions going both ways. The thoughts are very interesting.)
