Part 9: The Letters
London, England
Abbey Bartlet crosses her shapely legs and sits up straight, the absolute picture of grace and class. With her dark hair pulled back and out of the way, it is hard not to focus on her delicate, lovely features. Her fine, porcelain skin serves as a backdrop for her perfectly shaped lips, her ever-adorable nose, and her misty emerald green eyes, which convey such heartfelt emotion that it's impossible not to sympathize with whatever she is confessing. No sin is quite fit for condemnation when she tells of it. A simple quiver of her lips and flutter of her eyelashes and you forgive her for everything and anything she may have done.
At least, from the perspective of Dr. Lawrence Hewson, that is. In the last few weeks, Abigail Bartlet has allowed her deepest, darkest secrets and thoughts to reach his unsuspecting ears. Even during those occasions when the entirety of their conversation revolves around the weather, he feels honored to be in her presence. In a way, it is a very humbling experience for Dr. Hewson. Abbey has shown him that even the most accomplished and admired of women is far from perfect when you look closer at the innermost intricacies of her soul. From her early childhood to being in the center of the political universe, Dr. Hewson sees that nothing she's done has been easy. It hasn't all been bad, granted, but not easy. Never easy.
"Everything changed when my mother died," she confesses, clearly suppressing the intense emotion this statement conjures up inside her. "In some ways, it brought our family closer together. Yet, at the same time, I felt distanced from them. Dad was a wreck. I don't think he could even see straight half the time. I tried my best to just…be t here for him, but it was hard because I knew there was really nothin I could do. And I was at an age where I needed Mom the most. Seventeen and completely lost. But we all needed her. Cliché as this is, she was our rock. God, she was just…incredible. I can't even describe her"
"What was her name?" Dr. Hewson asks.
"Alexandra Jane York Bennett, of the Boston Yorks- one of the richest families in Boston. She wasn't really into all of that though. Shortly after her debutante ball, she ran off with my father. Dad's family was pretty well-off too, but he wasn't part of the Boston elite, so her family didn't approve. She married Dad when she was eighteen, and then he was drafted into the war and shipped off to Europe. She had to take care of himself while he was gone, so she got a job as a math teacher at the local high school. Dad came home a couple of times on leave, but other than that, she rarely saw him during the first few years of their marriage. It was while on leave that she became pregnant with my sister, and, a year later, my brother. Dad really didn't get to know either of them until the war ended"
"What about you"
"I was the celebration baby, or so Mom used to tell me. The war ended in 1945, Dad came home, and I was born nine months later. Mine was the only birth my father was present for. Even when my sister, Michelle, was born in 1950, Dad was out of town on business. Mom used to say that was why Dad and I were so close. Still are," Abbey explains.
"Were you close with your mother as well"
"Oh, yeah. Very much so. I worshiped her. I worshipped both my parents, actually. Dad just always had more of a bond with me than with the other three. While I do share many qualities with my mother, the truth is, I'm just like my dad. That bothered me for awhile after Mom died. I wanted to carry on her legacy, but I didn't feel as thought I could, because I was so much like Dad"
"I see," Dr. Hewson replies. "So, what did you do"
"Call it rebellion, call it temporary insanity, call it what you will. None of that changes the fact that, after my mother died, I lost my mind, among other things. I pulled myself together eventually, but that was the longest year of my life. And if ever there was a period in my life I wished I could take back, that was it. The only period that comes remotely close is my time spent in the White House"
Washington, D.C.
"What did the letters say?" Dr. Moran questions.
Millie looks up, startled.
"What"
"Millie!" Dr. Moran says, laughing. "The letters you were just talking about. From Michael"
"Oh. They said…I don't know. Your average, run-of-the-mill love letters, I guess"
"There's no such thing as an average love letter"
"Read some of Michael's and you'll change your mind," Millie replies, wryly.
"Well, what was the purpose of the letters"
"Since when do love letters have a purpose"
"Generally, they serve a very important purpose- to woo the recepient," Dr. Moran says.
"No," Millie answers. "Michael's were more…pity me love letters"
Dr. Moran raises an uncertain eyebrow.
"Come again"
"The only purpose his letters served was to make me feel guilty about the way our relationship ended. Miserable letters. If you want the condensed version, his letters said, in the simplest of terms, 'death, death, death, guilt, death, guilt, love, guilt, death, love, guilt, guilt, love"
"Though, I assume, more articulate than that"
Mille rolls her eyes.
"Yes, Dr. Moran. Michael wasn't primitive. He was just…depressingly concise"
"How many of those letters did he send you"
"I don't know. A hundred, hundred and fifty," Millie says.
"Did you respond to any of them"
"Just one"
"Which one?" Dr. Moran asks.
"The letter wherein he threatened to end his life if I didn't respond"
"Okay now," Dr. Adams says. "You've been married for two years. Go"
"Two years…" The President whispers, pensively. "We were still in London. Our life was very much the same then as it was at six months of marriage. Our routines were more set in stone, and we had more friends in London than we did previously. The only thing that was different was that Abbey was having a bit of a tough time. Michael, who was still in Vietnam, had been sending her letters that…scared her, to say the least"
"Why did the letters scare her"
"Just the kinds of things he'd tell her. He was always brutally honest with her, describing, in detail, the things he was seeing. Sometimes he would even describe combat in detail. I read the letters too, and I'll admit, they disturbed me a little as well. I wrote to him occasionally, and eventually I asked him to stop writing those things to her. I told him if he needed to vent in detal like that, he could write to me"
"Did he listen?" Dr. Adams inquires.
Jed shakes his head, ruefully.
"Michael Bennett rarely listened to anyone. I was no exception. I knew he wasn't doing it to upset her. Abbey was the one person he trusted and valued above all people. He felt he needed to tell her. I just hated seeing what it did to her. It damn near tore her apart for him to talk like that. She was a wreck a lot of the time, worrying about him"
"How did you handle that"
"I gave her a shoulder to cry on, quite literally. What else could I hve done? I was there for her. I was a good husband," Jed says, matter-of-factly.
"Were you"
"Yes"
"You sound doubtful," Dr. Adams observes.
"Well, sure. I always wonder if I did enough for her. As a husband, I worry about that constantly. As a father too"
"All right. Let's move on"
"Okay"
"How long had you been married when your wife became pregnant with your first child"
"About three and a half years," Jed says.
"Why don't you start from there then"
"Fine. Our routine stayed mostly the same when Abbey was pregnant, but our lifestyle changed a lot"
"How did it change?" Dr. Adams asks.
"Well, for starters, Abbey made me give up smoking for awhile. We both gave up drinking. She stopped eating almost everything she liked and started having cravings for things she'd always hated. She had me running all over creation in the middle of the night for pickles and ice cream, and peppermint tea. Oh, and scotch eggs"
"What are scotch eggs"
"They're a British thing. They're like hard-boiled eggs lined with cold sausage and covered in bread crumbs. It's more appetizing than it sounds, believe me. Abbey couldn't get enough while she was pregnant. Then, the day after Liz was born, she told me she never wanted to see another scotch egg as long as she lived. Of course, that only lasted until five years later, when she was pregnant with Ellie. But by that time, we were living in Boston, so she made me import them from England, which ate up an entire month's salary"
"How else did your lifestyle change"
"Well, did I mention we gave up sex"
"You gave up se…wait a minute! You just said sex"
Jed grins.
"So I did. Whadaya know"
"So you gave up sex?" Dr. Adams says.
"Mmm-hmm. That wasn't the only time either"
"Why did you terminate sexual activity"
"To tell you the truth, I'm not entirely sure"
"At who's suggestion"
"Mine."
At least, from the perspective of Dr. Lawrence Hewson, that is. In the last few weeks, Abigail Bartlet has allowed her deepest, darkest secrets and thoughts to reach his unsuspecting ears. Even during those occasions when the entirety of their conversation revolves around the weather, he feels honored to be in her presence. In a way, it is a very humbling experience for Dr. Hewson. Abbey has shown him that even the most accomplished and admired of women is far from perfect when you look closer at the innermost intricacies of her soul. From her early childhood to being in the center of the political universe, Dr. Hewson sees that nothing she's done has been easy. It hasn't all been bad, granted, but not easy. Never easy.
"Everything changed when my mother died," she confesses, clearly suppressing the intense emotion this statement conjures up inside her. "In some ways, it brought our family closer together. Yet, at the same time, I felt distanced from them. Dad was a wreck. I don't think he could even see straight half the time. I tried my best to just…be t here for him, but it was hard because I knew there was really nothin I could do. And I was at an age where I needed Mom the most. Seventeen and completely lost. But we all needed her. Cliché as this is, she was our rock. God, she was just…incredible. I can't even describe her"
"What was her name?" Dr. Hewson asks.
"Alexandra Jane York Bennett, of the Boston Yorks- one of the richest families in Boston. She wasn't really into all of that though. Shortly after her debutante ball, she ran off with my father. Dad's family was pretty well-off too, but he wasn't part of the Boston elite, so her family didn't approve. She married Dad when she was eighteen, and then he was drafted into the war and shipped off to Europe. She had to take care of himself while he was gone, so she got a job as a math teacher at the local high school. Dad came home a couple of times on leave, but other than that, she rarely saw him during the first few years of their marriage. It was while on leave that she became pregnant with my sister, and, a year later, my brother. Dad really didn't get to know either of them until the war ended"
"What about you"
"I was the celebration baby, or so Mom used to tell me. The war ended in 1945, Dad came home, and I was born nine months later. Mine was the only birth my father was present for. Even when my sister, Michelle, was born in 1950, Dad was out of town on business. Mom used to say that was why Dad and I were so close. Still are," Abbey explains.
"Were you close with your mother as well"
"Oh, yeah. Very much so. I worshiped her. I worshipped both my parents, actually. Dad just always had more of a bond with me than with the other three. While I do share many qualities with my mother, the truth is, I'm just like my dad. That bothered me for awhile after Mom died. I wanted to carry on her legacy, but I didn't feel as thought I could, because I was so much like Dad"
"I see," Dr. Hewson replies. "So, what did you do"
"Call it rebellion, call it temporary insanity, call it what you will. None of that changes the fact that, after my mother died, I lost my mind, among other things. I pulled myself together eventually, but that was the longest year of my life. And if ever there was a period in my life I wished I could take back, that was it. The only period that comes remotely close is my time spent in the White House"
Washington, D.C.
"What did the letters say?" Dr. Moran questions.
Millie looks up, startled.
"What"
"Millie!" Dr. Moran says, laughing. "The letters you were just talking about. From Michael"
"Oh. They said…I don't know. Your average, run-of-the-mill love letters, I guess"
"There's no such thing as an average love letter"
"Read some of Michael's and you'll change your mind," Millie replies, wryly.
"Well, what was the purpose of the letters"
"Since when do love letters have a purpose"
"Generally, they serve a very important purpose- to woo the recepient," Dr. Moran says.
"No," Millie answers. "Michael's were more…pity me love letters"
Dr. Moran raises an uncertain eyebrow.
"Come again"
"The only purpose his letters served was to make me feel guilty about the way our relationship ended. Miserable letters. If you want the condensed version, his letters said, in the simplest of terms, 'death, death, death, guilt, death, guilt, love, guilt, death, love, guilt, guilt, love"
"Though, I assume, more articulate than that"
Mille rolls her eyes.
"Yes, Dr. Moran. Michael wasn't primitive. He was just…depressingly concise"
"How many of those letters did he send you"
"I don't know. A hundred, hundred and fifty," Millie says.
"Did you respond to any of them"
"Just one"
"Which one?" Dr. Moran asks.
"The letter wherein he threatened to end his life if I didn't respond"
"Okay now," Dr. Adams says. "You've been married for two years. Go"
"Two years…" The President whispers, pensively. "We were still in London. Our life was very much the same then as it was at six months of marriage. Our routines were more set in stone, and we had more friends in London than we did previously. The only thing that was different was that Abbey was having a bit of a tough time. Michael, who was still in Vietnam, had been sending her letters that…scared her, to say the least"
"Why did the letters scare her"
"Just the kinds of things he'd tell her. He was always brutally honest with her, describing, in detail, the things he was seeing. Sometimes he would even describe combat in detail. I read the letters too, and I'll admit, they disturbed me a little as well. I wrote to him occasionally, and eventually I asked him to stop writing those things to her. I told him if he needed to vent in detal like that, he could write to me"
"Did he listen?" Dr. Adams inquires.
Jed shakes his head, ruefully.
"Michael Bennett rarely listened to anyone. I was no exception. I knew he wasn't doing it to upset her. Abbey was the one person he trusted and valued above all people. He felt he needed to tell her. I just hated seeing what it did to her. It damn near tore her apart for him to talk like that. She was a wreck a lot of the time, worrying about him"
"How did you handle that"
"I gave her a shoulder to cry on, quite literally. What else could I hve done? I was there for her. I was a good husband," Jed says, matter-of-factly.
"Were you"
"Yes"
"You sound doubtful," Dr. Adams observes.
"Well, sure. I always wonder if I did enough for her. As a husband, I worry about that constantly. As a father too"
"All right. Let's move on"
"Okay"
"How long had you been married when your wife became pregnant with your first child"
"About three and a half years," Jed says.
"Why don't you start from there then"
"Fine. Our routine stayed mostly the same when Abbey was pregnant, but our lifestyle changed a lot"
"How did it change?" Dr. Adams asks.
"Well, for starters, Abbey made me give up smoking for awhile. We both gave up drinking. She stopped eating almost everything she liked and started having cravings for things she'd always hated. She had me running all over creation in the middle of the night for pickles and ice cream, and peppermint tea. Oh, and scotch eggs"
"What are scotch eggs"
"They're a British thing. They're like hard-boiled eggs lined with cold sausage and covered in bread crumbs. It's more appetizing than it sounds, believe me. Abbey couldn't get enough while she was pregnant. Then, the day after Liz was born, she told me she never wanted to see another scotch egg as long as she lived. Of course, that only lasted until five years later, when she was pregnant with Ellie. But by that time, we were living in Boston, so she made me import them from England, which ate up an entire month's salary"
"How else did your lifestyle change"
"Well, did I mention we gave up sex"
"You gave up se…wait a minute! You just said sex"
Jed grins.
"So I did. Whadaya know"
"So you gave up sex?" Dr. Adams says.
"Mmm-hmm. That wasn't the only time either"
"Why did you terminate sexual activity"
"To tell you the truth, I'm not entirely sure"
"At who's suggestion"
"Mine."