The Sunlit Silence
After leaving the Oval Office, most former presidents seem to stay in the spotlight for a few years while they make nation-wide, and sometimes worldwide, speaking tours. Then they seem to fade into the woodwork, write a few volumes of memoirs, and only come out to special events.
Jed Bartlet did some of those predictable things. He gave lectures to most of the major universities in the country. He travelled overseas to lecture at his alma mater, the London School of Economics, on the deregulation of the Far East trade barriers. And then he retired back to his Manchester for six months before taking up a special position at the Dartmouth College.
It was there that he continued making contributions to re-shaping the nation. Because of security restrictions, he selected his own students and they were passed through a rigorous screening program. A disproportional number of those students are either faces now familiar to the nation, or the brains behind the recognizable faces.
"Congresswoman Cunningham," the secretary announced as Alex burst into his office, cheeks flushed strawberry red with indignation and her blue eyes shooting sparks.
"I can't believe that he would have the audacity to have said that!" she exclaimed, pacing angrily before his desk. "I've never even met the man before. If it hadn't been for Jed…"
"None of this would ever have happened," Jack finished. "Had it not been for him, none of us would be where we are. I'd be a lawyer in some over-priced office, probably hating every second of what I thought I would love. Sarah would be writing for some little newspaper, dreaming of making it big but never daring to try. Mark would still be looking at some university calendar, trying to figure out what it is he wants to spend the rest of his life doing."
In the moment while she was still speechless with disbelief that he would interrupt her and while she tried to think of a coherent retort, he continued. "If you could manage to calm down enough to tell me what exactly was said by whoever it was that said it for whatever reason they did, I could maybe make some sense of this whole thing."
Alex tossed her hands up in the air in frustration and dropped down into the seat before his desk. She let her head fall forward into her hands and all he could see was the top of her curly hair. She said something in answer, but it was smothered in her arms and he couldn't quite make it out.
Reaching out, he lifted her chin so that he was looking into eyes that were suddenly filled with tears. "I can't hear what you're saying when you're talking to your arms," he joked, trying to bring a smile to her face. When had it become painful for him to see her suffering? "That is, unless you think that they're better conversationalists," he added.
"I said, what about me?"
"You'd be everyone's favourite poli sci prof, Alex. And there's absolutely nothing wrong with that, but this is what you were born for, however much you drag your feet or question us for pushing you. You were meant to do this, to make people think about what they really believe and make them re-evaluate all of the things that they take for granted."
As he looked down into her eyes, he realized the lesson behind his words. It was a lesson that wasn't necessarily meant for her. It was a lesson that made him question what he really thought about this girl he had studied with, this girl he never would have met but for a chance encounter with a past president.
"Now, tell me who it was that made such an inflammatory remark so I can go and beat the crap out of them," Jack continued lightly, still trying to make her laugh.
"You can't do that, Jack," she told him seriously. He was the deputy chief of staff for the House Minority Leader and she was a member of the Minority Leader's caucus. Just because the two of them were friends, she couldn't expect preferential treatment. Besides, he really couldn't go out beating people up for her anyway.
"You're right. It wouldn't look good in the papers. I'll get one of my lackeys to do it." That worked; he could see the beginning of a smile playing around her lips. "Now you've got to tell me who I'm risking one of my lackeys for."
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"Bruno Giannelli."
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Josh repeated the name slowly, grimacing. Jack looked at him with a look of growing concern. Josh hurried to reassure him. "He's not bad, and that's the problem. Unfortunately for everyone, he's good at what he does."
Jack thoughtfully chewed on one of his French fries. It had become a weekly tradition for the two men to eat lunch together on Friday afternoons when they were both in DC. "I'm not sure exactly what he does though. I had one o'clock meeting that showed up early and Alex had to catch a flight back to Providence at two."
"He's the person that you call in when you want to win an election you're all but guaranteed to lose," Josh explained. "But Alex is looking good for the next election; she's incumbent."
Josh shrugged. "I'll ask around. Bruno isn't the most secretive of people. Someone had to have heard something."
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"You'll check around?"
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"Of course I'll keep my eyes out open for you, CJ," Sarah answered. "There's actually a guy I know who's a copy editor. He desperately wants to get some hands-on reporting experience, but his parents owned a newspaper in Bloomington or something. So he has copy experience and Bud, the new personnel guy, has relegated him to copy for the rest of his life."
"The Post equivalent of the Steam-Pipe Distribution Venue?" CJ asked. Over time, that had become code for anything that was below the person assigned to it.
"You could say that. He's a bright kid, has a poli sci degree and everything. I'll tell him that you're interested in someone with editorial experience who'll be willing to start at the bottom and work to the top."
"Sounds good to me. This is my baby and I don't want to turn it over to anyone who hasn't gotten their hands dirty and sweated blood for it. I'll interview him, but I trust your evaluation. I've just got one question before you even talk to the guy…"
"He's a Democrat," Sarah answered, cutting her off. "We've had drinks a couple of times. Jack knows him from somewhere."
"That's my girl," CJ said.
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"I knew I could count on you."
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"Not a problem, Josh. I'm always glad to help out."
Josh laughed a little. "You've mellowed of the years, Chris. You're not afraid that other people are getting more of the President's golf time?"
Chris Wick groaned. "You still remember that?"
"I'm like an elephant; I never forget," Josh declared confidently.
"Josh, you're going to be late for your four o'clock," his secretary reminded him, hovering nervously outside the door to his office.
Josh lowered the phone to talk to her. "I thought my four o'clock cancelled."
"That was yesterday. You've got Jacobs walking through the door any minute now."
"I'm not the youngest Congressman anymore," Chris was saying, oblivious to Josh's little exchange. "Cunningham and Keegan are the ones who have to be worried about who the President is playing golf with."
"Yeah," Josh responded, distracted. "Except this one happens to be a Republican."
"So, you never did tell me who Giannelli was talking to. Quid pro quo, buddy. Which single Congressman is harbouring Presidential ambitions?" Chris paused for a second, waiting for Josh to answer. When there was nothing, he continued, "It'd have to be a young one for Giannelli to tell them they've got to get married for it to be feasible. The older ones are all either committed bachelors or already married."
"Look, I'd love to talk, Chris," Josh said hurriedly. "But unfortunately I'm running late for a meeting. See you later."