Part 4: The Birthday
"Well, when I woke up that morning, he'd already left. No note, no card, no gift, not even a message passed down by the staff. Nothing. So I waited all day for him to call, and he never did. Later, I waited in the Residence, thinking foolishly that he'd planned a surprise, or at the very least had a good excuse. By nine o'clock, he still hadn't come, or called. So I called up my best friend, Millicent Griffith"
Dr. Hewson raises one eyebrow.
"The Surgeon General"
"Yes. She was newly divorced and very bitter, to say the least. And by that point, I was feeling rather bitter as well. So I slipped into a little black cocktail dress and decided to go out with her. He showed up as I was on my way out the door"
-
Washington, D.C.
March, 2003 The first thing he noticed was her bare back, which was faced to him. Her dress was nearly backless and rather short. She stood before the mirror in the bathroom, perfecting her makeup. She saw his reflection as he leaned into the doorframe behind her.
"Hey," he said, quietly, somehow sensing he was in trouble.
She said nothing; she only put on her lipstick, puckered her lips once or twice, then pushed past him into the bedroom.
"Are you putting on a fashion show for the staff or are you going somewhere"
"Guess," she replied, opening and slamming drawers.
He nodded and with his hands in his pockets, slowly moved toward her.
"Where are you going"
He didn't really want to know the answer, because it didn't matter. Somehow, he had screwed up. And she was going somewhere without him.
"Out," was her terse reply.
"With whom"
"With Millie. Excuse me," she said, pushing past him.
"Okay," Jed began, following her path. "What did I do now"
She whirled around suddenly, and walked over until she was standing directly in front of him. Their eyes locked, fueling the strength of her already intense anger.
"Let me give you a hint"
With that, she began to hum the tune to "Happy Birthday." Then she cocked her head to one side, and with a quick raising of both her eyebrows before brushing past him, she declared war.
-
London, England August, 2003 "How did that make you feel?" Dr. Hewson questions.
"It made me feel like crap, Dr. Hewson. What do you think? It made me unimportant, unloved, unworth, uneverything. Birthdays were always a big deal for Jed and me. Every year he surprised me somehow. Every year, he made sure he did something wonderful and romantic. Same goes with anniversaries. He hadn't forgotten a birthday in thirty-eight years"
She closes her eyes, fighting back tears. He waits until it is clear that she has regained her composure, then proceeds as planned.
"Why do you think he forgot that year"
He watches helplessly at tears begin to well up in her eyes. She takes a deep breath, chasing the tears away, and presses a finger under each of her eyes, removing the eyeliner and mascara that had gathered.
"Well, I thought…I don't know. I felt like he was…losing interest"
Dr. Hewson sits up straight, looking her directly in the eyes, though she avoids his gaze.
"In you"
"Yes," she whispers, her voice conveying how the truth had tormented her.
"Why would he lose interest"
"You might be the first person I've ever directly admitted this to, but let's face it. I'm old"
Dr. Hewson couldn't possibly disagree more. His wife was old. But this woman seated before him most certainly was not. He never saw age as an indicator of old and young. To him, it was all in personality, strength, vigor, vitality, humor, and self-possession.. She certainly was the epitome of each of these things.
"You thought he'd lost interest because you were old"
She laughs and tilts her head to the side a bit, narrowing her eyes in his general direction.
"It wouldn't be the first time a man lost interest in his aging wife"
A fair point, yes, and a sad one, but he suspected it to be false in this particular case.
"A few minutes ago, you said you had a healthy sex life. Don't you think that sex would have been the first casualty of war, so to speak, if he was losing interest in you"
"Not neccesarily," she replies, cool and confident now. "You're a man, Dr. Hewson. You know that if there's nothing else around, you'll take what you can get"
Strange, but he doesn't know whether to be insulted or flattered. Her eyes are burning into him now, certain as ever that her accusation is veritable and indisputable. She is disappointed when he doesn't even attempt to prove her wrong. He remains absolutely neutral.
"Is that the way the self felt to you? Like he was taking what he could get"
"Sometimes. Like I said earlier, there was never very much time. Often, it was rather…slam, bam, thank you, ma'am"
Dr. Hewson wants to laugh at the saying. Not only the saying itself, but the look and tone of her voice when she voiced it. He does not.
"But it wasn't always like that"
"No," she answers, resolutely. "Rarely was sex just…sex for us. Usually it was, I don't know, romantic. A sensual experience. Not just in and out, if you know what I mean"
"And that changed"
"Yes"
"When"
"When he began losing interest in me," Abbey says, as matter-of-factly as her emotions would allow.
"When do you think that started"
"Sometime around my last birthday"
"What else did he do to make you think that?" Dr. Hewson questions.
"Little things. Lots of little things"
"For instance"
"For instance," Abbey says. "The compliments stopped. I know this sounds very Prima Donna-esque, but you're talking to a woman who's used to being complimented by her husband every day, even if it was just in the form of sexual innuendo"
"Sexual innuendo"
"Yes. Innuendo, banter, all of it. It was our trademark. It always made the staff a little antsy, not to mention our children. He liked to tease me when I wore my glasses. Apparently they were a major turn-on for him. That, and when my hair was wet. And when I went into doctor mode, as he called it. He'd say, 'You know, you're very sexy when you're in doctor mode.' I'd act exhasperated or annoyed whenever he did it. But truthfully, it was really…comforting to know I could still stir up those feeling in him after well over thirty years of marriage. That he still wanted me. It was gratifying. But that all stopped shortly after my birthday. I think the last time he told me I was beautiful was on our second Inaugeration Day, less than two months before my birthday"
"Did that make you feel doubtful about your appearance"
Abbey looks at him incredulously, her mouth open slightly, and her eyebrows raised.
"Well, yeah"
"So what did you do"
"I acted like a spoiled, petulant child is what I did," she answers.
"In what way"
"I started…trying to get his attention. You see, I've always been sort of a problem for the staff because I tend to dress…sexier than most First Ladies. More revealing, curve-hugging, that kind of thing. It's just who I am. And Jed used to love that about me. Anyway, gradually my skirts got shorter and my shirts cut lower and tighter"
"Did that get his attention"
"No," Abbey admits, quietly. "It didn't"
"And that surprised you"
"Yes! Before all this started, I couldn't wear a skirt, period, without him pouncing on me"
"So you think he lost interest"
"No. I thought he did, then. Now I know why"
"Why?" Dr. Hewson asks.
"His conscience was starting to get to him. Not telling me about Shareef's assassination. He closed himself off and distanced himself from me"
"How do you know that"
"I know"
Manchester, New Hampshire She holds her purse tightly against her as she entered the room, cautious and reserved. She sits over the the couch, the same one on which she used to twice a week for well over a year. Nothing has changed. Everything is in its original spot, perfectly organized and completely professional. The same can be said for forty-two year old woman waiting for her in her usual chair.
"Well, Elizabeth," Dr. Tyler says, crossing her legs. "Long time, no see"
Elizabeth Bartlet Westin smiles as widely as she can, though that isn't saying much. She moves her purse from her lap and places it beside her on the couch, then crosses her own legs.
"How are you, Dr. Tyler"
"Very well, thank you"
"That's good," Liz replies, shifting her gaze from the older woman.
"It's been nearly five years, Liz. What brings you back to therapy"
"Insanity, I'm sure"
"Liz"
Liz allows Dr. Tyler to steal her attention, and looks her straight in the eyes. Her expression is surprised and incredulous. As if she really didn't know.
"You don't live under a rock, Dr. Tyler. You can't tell me you haven't watched the news, or picked up a newspaper, or glanced at a magazine on the shelf at the supermarket in the last few weeks"
"I would never claim that," Dr. Tyler says, haughtily.
"Then you know exactly why I'm here"
"You're here because of your mother"
"My mother, my father, my sisters…" Elizabeth replies.
"Why your sisters"
"Do they need a reason"
"No. But you have one. Elizabeth, it's been five years since you've been to therapy. With me, at least. When you first came to me, you were confused and overwhelmed. Your father had just been elected President of the United States and only months later, you found out you were pregnant. You had a lot going on in your life. I think therapy did you a lot of good, and I didn't worry about you when you decided you didn't need help anymore. I've been thinking about you for the last few weeks, and wondering how you were dealing with all of this. I'm very pleased that you've decided to come back. But this is not your first time doing this, and I won't have you acting like it. So you can either open up and be completely honest with me, or you can go back to feeling confused and overwhelmed. It's up to you. Now, what do you say"
Liz considers for a moment, avoiding Dr. Tyler's watchful eyes. She needs to be here, she knows. She needs to talk to someone objective, someone outside of the situation. Someone completely unbiased. Granted, baring your soul to another person isn't always the most easy or pleasant of all experiences, but in this case it has to be done if she wants to come out of this sane.
"Today's Doug's birthday. He's thirty-five"
Dr. Tyler is clearly confused by the sudden non sequitor. She stares at her patient with narrowed eyes, trying to will it out of her.
"I'm sorry," Liz says. "I don't know why I said that"
But Dr. Tyler surprises her, and smiles brightly.
"It's Doug's birthday. Doing anything exciting for the big day"
"Well, I forgot his birthday last year. So let's just say I'll be doing everything I can to make it up to him."
Dr. Hewson raises one eyebrow.
"The Surgeon General"
"Yes. She was newly divorced and very bitter, to say the least. And by that point, I was feeling rather bitter as well. So I slipped into a little black cocktail dress and decided to go out with her. He showed up as I was on my way out the door"
-
Washington, D.C.
March, 2003 The first thing he noticed was her bare back, which was faced to him. Her dress was nearly backless and rather short. She stood before the mirror in the bathroom, perfecting her makeup. She saw his reflection as he leaned into the doorframe behind her.
"Hey," he said, quietly, somehow sensing he was in trouble.
She said nothing; she only put on her lipstick, puckered her lips once or twice, then pushed past him into the bedroom.
"Are you putting on a fashion show for the staff or are you going somewhere"
"Guess," she replied, opening and slamming drawers.
He nodded and with his hands in his pockets, slowly moved toward her.
"Where are you going"
He didn't really want to know the answer, because it didn't matter. Somehow, he had screwed up. And she was going somewhere without him.
"Out," was her terse reply.
"With whom"
"With Millie. Excuse me," she said, pushing past him.
"Okay," Jed began, following her path. "What did I do now"
She whirled around suddenly, and walked over until she was standing directly in front of him. Their eyes locked, fueling the strength of her already intense anger.
"Let me give you a hint"
With that, she began to hum the tune to "Happy Birthday." Then she cocked her head to one side, and with a quick raising of both her eyebrows before brushing past him, she declared war.
-
London, England August, 2003 "How did that make you feel?" Dr. Hewson questions.
"It made me feel like crap, Dr. Hewson. What do you think? It made me unimportant, unloved, unworth, uneverything. Birthdays were always a big deal for Jed and me. Every year he surprised me somehow. Every year, he made sure he did something wonderful and romantic. Same goes with anniversaries. He hadn't forgotten a birthday in thirty-eight years"
She closes her eyes, fighting back tears. He waits until it is clear that she has regained her composure, then proceeds as planned.
"Why do you think he forgot that year"
He watches helplessly at tears begin to well up in her eyes. She takes a deep breath, chasing the tears away, and presses a finger under each of her eyes, removing the eyeliner and mascara that had gathered.
"Well, I thought…I don't know. I felt like he was…losing interest"
Dr. Hewson sits up straight, looking her directly in the eyes, though she avoids his gaze.
"In you"
"Yes," she whispers, her voice conveying how the truth had tormented her.
"Why would he lose interest"
"You might be the first person I've ever directly admitted this to, but let's face it. I'm old"
Dr. Hewson couldn't possibly disagree more. His wife was old. But this woman seated before him most certainly was not. He never saw age as an indicator of old and young. To him, it was all in personality, strength, vigor, vitality, humor, and self-possession.. She certainly was the epitome of each of these things.
"You thought he'd lost interest because you were old"
She laughs and tilts her head to the side a bit, narrowing her eyes in his general direction.
"It wouldn't be the first time a man lost interest in his aging wife"
A fair point, yes, and a sad one, but he suspected it to be false in this particular case.
"A few minutes ago, you said you had a healthy sex life. Don't you think that sex would have been the first casualty of war, so to speak, if he was losing interest in you"
"Not neccesarily," she replies, cool and confident now. "You're a man, Dr. Hewson. You know that if there's nothing else around, you'll take what you can get"
Strange, but he doesn't know whether to be insulted or flattered. Her eyes are burning into him now, certain as ever that her accusation is veritable and indisputable. She is disappointed when he doesn't even attempt to prove her wrong. He remains absolutely neutral.
"Is that the way the self felt to you? Like he was taking what he could get"
"Sometimes. Like I said earlier, there was never very much time. Often, it was rather…slam, bam, thank you, ma'am"
Dr. Hewson wants to laugh at the saying. Not only the saying itself, but the look and tone of her voice when she voiced it. He does not.
"But it wasn't always like that"
"No," she answers, resolutely. "Rarely was sex just…sex for us. Usually it was, I don't know, romantic. A sensual experience. Not just in and out, if you know what I mean"
"And that changed"
"Yes"
"When"
"When he began losing interest in me," Abbey says, as matter-of-factly as her emotions would allow.
"When do you think that started"
"Sometime around my last birthday"
"What else did he do to make you think that?" Dr. Hewson questions.
"Little things. Lots of little things"
"For instance"
"For instance," Abbey says. "The compliments stopped. I know this sounds very Prima Donna-esque, but you're talking to a woman who's used to being complimented by her husband every day, even if it was just in the form of sexual innuendo"
"Sexual innuendo"
"Yes. Innuendo, banter, all of it. It was our trademark. It always made the staff a little antsy, not to mention our children. He liked to tease me when I wore my glasses. Apparently they were a major turn-on for him. That, and when my hair was wet. And when I went into doctor mode, as he called it. He'd say, 'You know, you're very sexy when you're in doctor mode.' I'd act exhasperated or annoyed whenever he did it. But truthfully, it was really…comforting to know I could still stir up those feeling in him after well over thirty years of marriage. That he still wanted me. It was gratifying. But that all stopped shortly after my birthday. I think the last time he told me I was beautiful was on our second Inaugeration Day, less than two months before my birthday"
"Did that make you feel doubtful about your appearance"
Abbey looks at him incredulously, her mouth open slightly, and her eyebrows raised.
"Well, yeah"
"So what did you do"
"I acted like a spoiled, petulant child is what I did," she answers.
"In what way"
"I started…trying to get his attention. You see, I've always been sort of a problem for the staff because I tend to dress…sexier than most First Ladies. More revealing, curve-hugging, that kind of thing. It's just who I am. And Jed used to love that about me. Anyway, gradually my skirts got shorter and my shirts cut lower and tighter"
"Did that get his attention"
"No," Abbey admits, quietly. "It didn't"
"And that surprised you"
"Yes! Before all this started, I couldn't wear a skirt, period, without him pouncing on me"
"So you think he lost interest"
"No. I thought he did, then. Now I know why"
"Why?" Dr. Hewson asks.
"His conscience was starting to get to him. Not telling me about Shareef's assassination. He closed himself off and distanced himself from me"
"How do you know that"
"I know"
Manchester, New Hampshire She holds her purse tightly against her as she entered the room, cautious and reserved. She sits over the the couch, the same one on which she used to twice a week for well over a year. Nothing has changed. Everything is in its original spot, perfectly organized and completely professional. The same can be said for forty-two year old woman waiting for her in her usual chair.
"Well, Elizabeth," Dr. Tyler says, crossing her legs. "Long time, no see"
Elizabeth Bartlet Westin smiles as widely as she can, though that isn't saying much. She moves her purse from her lap and places it beside her on the couch, then crosses her own legs.
"How are you, Dr. Tyler"
"Very well, thank you"
"That's good," Liz replies, shifting her gaze from the older woman.
"It's been nearly five years, Liz. What brings you back to therapy"
"Insanity, I'm sure"
"Liz"
Liz allows Dr. Tyler to steal her attention, and looks her straight in the eyes. Her expression is surprised and incredulous. As if she really didn't know.
"You don't live under a rock, Dr. Tyler. You can't tell me you haven't watched the news, or picked up a newspaper, or glanced at a magazine on the shelf at the supermarket in the last few weeks"
"I would never claim that," Dr. Tyler says, haughtily.
"Then you know exactly why I'm here"
"You're here because of your mother"
"My mother, my father, my sisters…" Elizabeth replies.
"Why your sisters"
"Do they need a reason"
"No. But you have one. Elizabeth, it's been five years since you've been to therapy. With me, at least. When you first came to me, you were confused and overwhelmed. Your father had just been elected President of the United States and only months later, you found out you were pregnant. You had a lot going on in your life. I think therapy did you a lot of good, and I didn't worry about you when you decided you didn't need help anymore. I've been thinking about you for the last few weeks, and wondering how you were dealing with all of this. I'm very pleased that you've decided to come back. But this is not your first time doing this, and I won't have you acting like it. So you can either open up and be completely honest with me, or you can go back to feeling confused and overwhelmed. It's up to you. Now, what do you say"
Liz considers for a moment, avoiding Dr. Tyler's watchful eyes. She needs to be here, she knows. She needs to talk to someone objective, someone outside of the situation. Someone completely unbiased. Granted, baring your soul to another person isn't always the most easy or pleasant of all experiences, but in this case it has to be done if she wants to come out of this sane.
"Today's Doug's birthday. He's thirty-five"
Dr. Tyler is clearly confused by the sudden non sequitor. She stares at her patient with narrowed eyes, trying to will it out of her.
"I'm sorry," Liz says. "I don't know why I said that"
But Dr. Tyler surprises her, and smiles brightly.
"It's Doug's birthday. Doing anything exciting for the big day"
"Well, I forgot his birthday last year. So let's just say I'll be doing everything I can to make it up to him."