THE POLITICS OF MARRIAGE

"... bedroom politics continue to be more tempestuous than national politics." N. Weber, Harper's Weekly, 23 Aug. 1976.

Author's Note: This story will consist of separate vignette's addressing different episodes of the show. This chapter fills in the gap between Mackenzie and Rod's first two conversations in Rubie Dubidoux and the Brown Bound Express. It begins with Rod's plea that Mac make him an official part of her administration and ends with her ultimate response the following morning. One other thing: Mac's thought concerning women and history is a paraphrase of Laurel Thatcher Ulrich's statement: "Well behaved women seldom make history."

1. MAC'S DECISION

A. The Ultimatum

"You asked me to stay, so I stayed."

"I'm not firing Jim Gardner."

"I'm not asking for his job. Call it whatever you want: Political Director, Senior Advisor, Deputy Chief of Got Your Back. But make me a part of this Administration, Mac–officially. Or this just isn't going to work: professionally, personally."

Mac frowned as she watched her husband retreat into the bathroom. She sat down on their bed and pondered Rod's demand. She hated feeling backed into a corner and his ultimatum put her there. And she hated discord in her personal relationships.

But this confrontation was a long-time coming. Her sudden ascension to the presidency had meant major adjustments for each of them. However, it had been particularly challenging for him. Her job was, at least, well-defined. His role, on the other hand, was something totally new. The White House as an institution was resistant to change. And Rod, as the inaugural First Gentleman, was proving equally resistant to the institution. She just didn't know what to do about it.

And the truth was she didn't want to do anything about it. She didn't have time. The presidency was all-consuming and left her exhausted most of the time. Nothing was simple anymore. Everything was complicated. The demands on her seemed to come from everywhere and everyone. Part of her wanted to scream. But that would require an emotional outburst and Mackenzie Allen did not give in to emotional outbursts.

When Rod reemerged from the bathroom, she asked him flatly, "Are we going to argue again?"

"No," he replied somewhat testily, "I've had my say."

Mac didn't know what to say so she just stared at him. Rod joined her on the bed before speaking further. He looked at her intently as if trying to read the thoughts hidden behind the glare.

Finally, he said, "Look Mackenzie, I want to support you in every way I can. I know you've got the most demanding–most intense–job in the world. I'm very proud of you. But you make it difficult when you shut me out. And... you need to understand that sometime soon decisions are going to have to be made because–no matter how much I love you–I just can't spend potentially the next ten years of my life doing only a job that leaves me uncomfortable and unhappy."

She nodded. But she had no answer for him–and he knew it. So he stood and commented, "Nothing is going to change tonight. So why don't you get ready for bed while I check on the kids, and then if you want we can talk about the gun control bill."

Mac was both relieved and frustrated at this suggestion. On the one hand, she didn't want to fight–particularly when she had no answers. But on the other hand, it aggravated her to no end that he would throw down such an ultimatum and then shut down any further dialogue. Relief ultimately won out though and she got herself ready for bed.

By the time she finished in the bathroom Rod had returned and was turning down their bed. The tension between them was still sizzling. Mackenzie thought to herself that generally there were two ways to deal with such tension: fight or have sex (or perhaps fight and then have sex). But tonight all she wanted was silence and sleep. She wondered if her normal routine for winding-down would work. She hoped so because she desperately needed the sleep.

Rod must have noticed something in her appearance because his look changed and he seemed to relax. He took her hand and walked her to the other side of the bed–her side of the bed.

She was slightly surprised when he unbuttoned her pajama top and gently removed it from her shoulders. However, she was more surprised by his subsequent kiss followed immediately by his command for her to lay face down on the bed. Physically exhausted and emotionally weary, she readily complied. Rod turned off the light and then sat down to the side of where she lay.

Mac's first thought after she lay down was that it was nice to have one place where she wasn't required to take charge. Rod had never been intimidated by her: physically, intellectually or otherwise. Yet at the same time, he was never intimidating to her. He may refuse to walk behind her but he likewise had never insisted on walking in front of her.

Mac blissfully welcomed his kneading hands on her back, her shoulders, her neck. In spite of her earlier agitation with him and his demand, she felt herself begin to relax and her thoughts begin to wander. She had always loved Rod's hands–big and strong yet generally caring and sensitive. So symbolic of the man, she thought. But she still had no answer to their current dilemma. And part of her–unfairly–resented having to spend the energy to come up with one.

Rod had made many sacrifices for her–especially the past ten years as her career had come to dominate and he had taken on more responsibility for the daily routines of their family life. She knew she hadn't been as thoughtful of him as she should be.

Her husband had always been so much better at expressing emotions–love, passion, and even, at times, anger or frustration. She, on the other hand, would typically bury the more problematic emotions behind a wall of pride and detachment. Rod understood this and had never really held it against her. Rather, when he considered it to be necessary, he would break through that wall and force her to deal with the issues.

He had done this tonight... and with the baseball job. She had mishandled that situation but had just been too proud to admit it. He hadn't gone looking for the job; and Horace's comments about being a wuss had wounded him deeply. Because of these incidences, she had recently discovered just how discomfitted he was by his new role. She abandoned that thought. It was a lie. Her knowledge of Rod's growing sense of frustration wasn't new–she just hadn't wanted to deal with it. Mac really couldn't blame him for what he felt. Wouldn't she feel the same way if placed in his position?

Yet instead of being pleased for him when the baseball opportunity presented itself, she had felt threatened and had–using his earlier conversation with Kelly as an excuse–gone on the attack. Which, of course, had caused Rod to respond in kind. Even then, however, he had put aside their differences and offered her the advice which ultimately led to the aversion of a potentially disastrous environmental and constitutional crisis when that oil tanker had sprung a leak off the coast of Florida.

And once Rod decided to take the commissioner job–instead of directly expressing her concerns about the impact his decision would have on their relationship and on their children–and rather than admitting to him that she needed him around–she again retreated behind that familiar fortress of detachment. Looking back on the morning he was to sign the employment contract in New York (the same morning the contents of the Evan Hutchins book leaked out) she had basically wished him a good trip as if he were a mere acquaintance... rather than the most important person in her life. She had never even offered him the simplest words of praise or congratulations.

His unequivocal sacrifice of that dream job in order to protect her aspirations and ambitions had touched her deeply–particularly as he made it without hesitation and despite her coolness. Yet it was only after this act of selflessness that she admitted to him that she didn't want him to be the baseball commissioner; and only then did she acknowledge to him that she needed him in Washington with her. She had asked him to stay and he, again without hesitation, had stayed.

But where did they go from here? What did she want from him? What could he rightfully demand and expect of her? These were the questions that needed answers. The ball was firmly in her court. Her decision would determine his course of action. The one thing Rod had made abundantly clear tonight was that he would not allow her to avoid the issue. However, she just couldn't wrap her mind around the problem any longer. She was too tired and Rod's hands felt too good on her tense muscles.

2. The Choice

The next thing Mac knew it was six a.m. and her alarm was ringing. She turned it off and rolled over. Rod's spot on their bed was empty. She panicked momentarily then relaxed as she realized it was Wednesday. He would be playing basketball. She was glad she wasn't playing against him this morning. She was sure he had a lot of pent up energy. She also knew that he had sharp elbows and that he wasn't afraid to throw one–if he felt it was warranted. For some reason, this thought made her chuckle (probably because last night she, symbolically, had been on the receiving end of one of those elbows). Later, she'd have to ask him about this morning's game in order to discover if anyone had ended up with a blackened eye.

Mac quickly dressed, pulled her hair back, and secured a baseball cap on her head. It was her morning to row. For both of them sport was an outlet. But while Rod generally preferred team sports, she enjoyed individual pursuits such as running or rowing.

Within a short period of time, she was settled in her single skull on the Potomac. The Secret Service hated this particular routine. But she had remained firm. Once she achieved a comfortable rhythm, Mac turned her thoughts back to the previous night. Only this morning her perspective had changed. She realized that Rod's demand was really less of an ultimatum and more of a plea. A plea she had forced him to voice.

He was right. She had asked him not to take the commissioner's job. When she made that request it was with the mutual understanding that he would take a more active role in her presidency. She had told him that they would discuss what his new title should be.

Yet she had forced him–by her silence and stubborn resistence–to beg for the recognition and acknowledgment he had time and again earned. She knew he had been both hurt and confused by her reluctance to publicly include him in her presidency (particularly as they had worked so closely together for so many years.) He was a proud man–and she wouldn't want him any other way! And it had cost him to beg her for recognition. He deserved better–especially from her.

Mackenzie wasn't sure why she had such a difficult time swallowing her pride and admitting–even to him–what she felt and what she needed. She stopped herself. She knew why she buried her feelings. It was because she had always believed that showing emotion was a sign of weakness and of vulnerability–two things that she could not tolerate from herself.

She just didn't know why she still–after almost 20 years of marriage–continued to apply that fallacy to Rod. He was the one person with whom she was emotionally safe. His love and acceptance of her was–and had been almost from the start–unconditional. Hadn't he again proved that to her last night when she had met his heartfelt plea with further detached resistence? He hadn't remained angry at her. Instead he yet again reached out to her and put her needs ahead of his own.

She had always looked to him–and counted on his presence. That had not changed even though she was now the President and he no longer was her chief of staff. The truth was that she needed him, needed his advice. He was smart, and a skilled political strategist. Like herself, he was a lawyer trained to see different sides of every issue. He was the one person who had no personal agenda and whose loyalty to her was absolute. She also knew that he would always give her his honest opinion and that he wouldn't give in to the temptation to tell her only what she wanted to hear. If he weren't her husband he would have been an integral party to her Administration from day one.

If she wanted and needed his advice–his presence–wasn't it only fair to him that she should then openly, and officially, acknowledge and recognize him for what he was: a valued and trusted advisor? Rod was right that they worked best–both professionally and personally–when they worked together.

One reason for her reticence in offering him an official position was that she wanted Jim to remain as her chief of staff. But Rod had removed that obstacle last night when he made it clear to her that he wasn't asking for his old job back. So what of the likely consequences if Rod joined her staff?

Did she really care what people would think about her if she hired her husband? It would be hypocritical, she realized, to suddenly care what people thought about this when she hadn't let those same opinions deter her from assuming the presidency in the first place. When Bridges became incapacitated and then died, she had–as requested–almost resigned. Ultimately, however, with an assist from Rod (and inadvertently from Nathan), she realized that her choice had to be about doing the right thing. Nathan Templeton as President of the United States was most definitely not the right thing! Now, the right thing for her, for her marriage, and she realized, for her presidency was to make Rod an official member of her Administration.

Similarly, was the fact that this had never been successfully done before reason enough to keep her from doing what she knew, in her heart, was right for both of them? If this was the case, then–ironically–she would not be facing this decision because she never would have been in a position to assume the presidency.

Women who behave like women have traditionally behaved, simply do not make history. And political Independents do not become President. Rod had always encouraged her pursuit of the non-traditional path. And with his love and support, she had, in fact, made history–or rather they had made it together (although he currently wasn't terribly comfortable with the more domestic aspects of his foray into history.) Mac knew that the thought of his painting hanging next to that of Nancy Reagan and Jacqueline Kennedy in the Vermeil Room caused Rod considerable distress! And despite his discomfit, she found that thought infinitely amusing.

However, now they could–together–make history yet again. She wasn't worried about the inevitable comparisons to the Clinton's as she knew that this was an entirely different situation. Rod wouldn't be calling press conferences or testifying before congressional committees. They simply would be doing what they had always done: working side by side while trying to do the right thing for themselves, for their family, and for the country. She likely would be president for only two years (although she secretly hoped it would be ten.) But she had been married to Rod for almost twenty years, and God-willing they would be together for at least another forty. So if other people had a hard time accepting this choice then to hell with them!

Suddenly Mackenzie felt better than she had in weeks. Anxious to complete her workout and get back to the Residence, she increased her stroke speed. She hoped that not too many of Rod's basketball mates had ended up bloodied or bruised this morning. If they had, the buck–as Harry Truman was fond of saying–stopped with her. No matter, she thought. She knew her husband's day was about to get a lot better. And this made her smile.