Chapter 8
An uneasy feeling has gnawed at her all day. Foreboding? She knows in her gut that something is going to happen and she isn't prepared.
Thinking first it's related to the Westin case, she checks and re-checks everything her team has gathered. She has the banking information and all of the dots are connected, nicely and neatly, with no room for any other reasonable interpretation. She has the Trust in Justin's name, and has tied it to the Justice's attorney. She has the letters and phone records; her case is airtight. If something bad is going to happen, it won't involve this case.
She turns her attention to the White House and re-reads her outline for the section of the State of the Union Address she'll write. She orders and re-orders their list of priorities, returning to her original list after considering other options. She re-thinks her "fireside chat" format for taking his message directly to the American people, but reverts to her original position that it is the best way to force Congress to out of gridlock and in to action. No, their plan for the one hundred day agenda is solid.
So, her mind goes to the only other place with which she has such a deep connection: Fitz. When they had spoken earlier that day, she knew he was hiding something, but didn't press him. Sometimes she can be a downer, always spouting the negative but it's just the way her brain is wired; she considers all options. And when she heard his voice, he sounded so happy and confident, how could she push him? How could she bring him down?
When she received a phone call from her old friend, Melissa, she thought, for a brief moment, it wasn't a coincidence. Melissa assured her she only wanted to catch up with her good friend whom she hadn't seen in far too long. Having few girlfriends of her own, actually, no girlfriends, Olivia always enjoys her company.
Olivia arrives home a little earlier than usual to straighten her already spotless apartment, to make a batch of her special occasion popcorn with truffle butter and tabasco, rare indulgences which happen to be Melissa's favorite. A girls night in is exactly what the doctor ordered to relieve the stress that's been building up.
Olivia and Melissa met quite by accident years before when their paths crossed professionally. They were worthy opponents, representing clients on opposite sides, both of whom proved to be made for each other as they seemed to drink from the same well of crazy. It was the first case Olivia walked away from, though not the first for Melissa, who has a lower tolerance for bull.
It was the strangest thing, as they would both later recall, how they arrived at the shared home of their clients at the same time. How they took each client to separate rooms and confronted them with evidence of their misdeeds, things they'd sworn they had no knowledge of until presented with proof to the contrary. How their voices rose and with words, they tore their clients apart, both uttering the same phrase, "You deserve each other," as they strutted out of the house, holding back twin smiles.
They met on the front porch, armor off, and they laughed at the entire situation. How could anyone keep a straight face after learning creative uses for adult diapers, an endless stream of prostitutes, drug parties and history of bribes? By both clients.
They went out for drinks that night. It was freeing in a way. As women of color who reached the pinnacle of their fields, they wear masks all day long. They have to navigate a world in which they have to be twice as good and in a way, hide aspects of who they are just to fit in. It's hard enough to form friendships, and operating at such high levels, it's practically impossible. As they sat across the table, talking to a fellow over achiever, a fellow brainiac who is usually the smartest person in the room, they knew this blossoming friendship was something special.
Occasionally, their paths cross, both as allies and adversaries. They always end their cases with a glass of wine, a friendly toast, and tales of the love they both dream of having if only they can find the time. Both hold back secrets of loves found and lost and never forgotten.
Olivia checks her watch when she hears a soft rap on her door. "Just a minute," she yells, looking around one more time to make sure everything is in its place.
"Hey!" Melissa yells in her friendly, non-professional tone, bending her 5'7" frame to hug her when Olivia opens the door,.
"Hey." Olivia's greeting is more muted, but she has always been the quiet one compared to Melissa. "Come on in."
Melissa looks around the apartment, immediately noticing the lack of a piano. As her eyes quickly scan the room; there are pictures missing of Olivia and her time on the trail with the President. "Where's your piano?"
"I made some changes. Here, let me take your coat." Melissa gives her coat to Olivia and sits on the sofa. "You know how you get in that mood to just purge?"
"M-hm, but I don't know how someone gets in the mood to just purge a big ass piano." Olivia shrugs. "Purged some pictures too."
"You don't miss a thing."
"I sure don't. So what has you running around, purging the wrong things?"
"Life."
"Tell me about it. We're gonna talk it out tonight." Melissa grabs a handful of popcorn and stuffs her face, as she takes a seat on the sofa. "I don't know what you do to this popcorn, but it's always so good."
"Truffle butter," Olivia answers, sitting in the armchair. "So tell me, how have you been?"
"Busy as hell-"
"You wouldn't have it any other way."
"No, I wouldn't. If I didn't have work, I'd have to get a life."
"And we can't have that."
"Nope. How have you been?"
"Good. Good. Busy. With work."
"The second good was unconvincing, but we'll get back to that. You had me worried for a minute."
Olivia pours them each a glass of wine. "About?" She takes a gulp, knowing it's going to be one of those nights.
"The rumors. I knew you took a hit." Another gulp for Olivia; a perfect poker face. "But I also knew you'd bounce back," Melissa adds. She looks at the clock on a nearby table. "Don't tell me you're not going to watch the television event of the year?"
"What?"
"The President. Any idea what this is about?"
"None."
"Mmm," Melissa watches Olivia's face. What a worthy opponent she would be on the other side of the aisle, if only she'd continued on her path in the legal world. "Do you ever miss it?"
"You'll have to be more specific."
"Practicing law."
"Nope. This is my calling. Now what about you?"
"I've found my calling too, trying to save a bunch of messy ass rich people who don't want to give their spouse a dime."
"You always manage to be on the right side."
"I don't know about that."
The two friends talk and laugh and share. Most importantly, they are themselves, completely relaxed and open...and honest. Olivia, who's keeping her eye on the clock, picks up the remote and turns it to BNC.
She wishes she could talk to him one more time because her gut was screaming at her earlier, but she didn't answer its cry. She let him handle himself this time and the control freak that she is, doesn't feel good about it. She is so focused on him as he enters the East Room, she doesn't feel Melissa's eyes on her, or notice how she slides closer.
It is almost unbelievable how good he looks. Always managing to take her breath away, even when she's mad at him. He's wearing a blue tie, one of the first gifts she purchased for him, that matches his eyes perfectly. His suit, something else she picked up for him on a whim. His pin; she is all over him. Her eyes make their way to his ring finger as he straightens his tie, his secret "hello" to her. It is bare. The lump in her throat becomes bigger to the point where it throbs. "Oh my god," she says to no one in particular.
Unconsciously, she reaches for her cell phone, running through different scenarios. Her hand hovers of the phone, but it does not make contact with the device. She covers her mouth instead; this is it.
"You okay?"
Olivia nods as she turns up the volume.
At this moment, she is simply another voter. This is her President, preparing to speak his truth as he places his notes on the podium and clears his throat.
No matter how many times he does this, he'll never get used to the flashing bulbs and the bright lights blinding him. He's not sure how he's expected to feel, but he's absolutely certain of what he is about to do. He gives his remarks the once over a final time and looks out at the crowd of eyes, all of which are on him.
He takes the papers he brought out with him and carefully folds them, electing to speak from his heart instead.
"Good evening. Four years ago, you took a chance on a novice politician who served one term as Governor of the great state of California. Everyday since, I have worked in the best interest of this country and everyone who calls the United States home. It has been my joy and my privilege, and I am honored to serve as your Commander and Chief.
The majority of my adult life has been spent serving this country, as a member of the United States Armed Forces, as Governor and finally, as President of these United States. In these roles, I have gladly made the sacrifices necessary, whether it was leaving my family for long periods of time to fly dangerous missions, missing out on milestone events for my kids, or being separated from my wife while I campaigned. It has all been for the greater good; all for my higher calling.
For four years, you have stuck by my side as this Administration worked tirelessly to move this nation forward. As a reward, you voted us in for another term, trusting our judgement and our vision for the future. I am asking you to trust me again, this time, on a more personal level.
I come tonight to inform you, I will be filing for divorce from the First Lady. It is not a decision I have made lightly, and I do so in the best interest of my wife, our children and myself. For too long, my wife and I have put on a show for the American people, because polls said you wouldn't accept a divorced president, because it had never been done before, because leaders are supposed to set the example.
So this is me, setting the example. Being a leader doesn't always mean taking the road most traveled. Being a leader is making tough decisions for the greater good. I am your humble servant and you trusted me enough, believed in this Administration enough and valued our judgment, that you gave us another four years. So trust me now, believe in me now and value the judgement that this marriage can no longer exist.
There will be the temptation to ask how this will affect the children and analyze whether this will do lasting damage to them. It's a fair question. What I can tell you is my experience. I lived in a home with parents whose marriage died, yet they refused to officially separate and I bear the scars of that to this day. They didn't teach me how to love my partner, or myself properly. They didn't teach me how to be happy. So, I've spent more than half my life trying to figure it out.
What I have learned is I am a better person, a better man, a better President, when I speak my truth and live my truth. Mellie has been my partner for many years, and I hope she will continue to fulfill the duties of the First Lady, even after our divorce has been finalized. She will finally have the opportunity to emerge from the shadow of my career, to live her truth and take the path she's always wanted to pursue, wherever that path may lead her. Our children, whom I spoke with just a few hours ago to inform them of my decision, support both of their parents through this difficult time.
I want to stress that I was not a perfect husband. Like every marriage, Mellie and I have both made our share of mistakes, and we have learned from them. Our greatest lesson, however, may be that our lives don't have to be perfect; we do not have to be perfect.
The American people are intelligent and sophisticated, forgiving and accepting. What goes on in my personal life, as long as it does not impact my ability to serve as your Commander and Chief, should not be a topic of conversation. Just as Mellie and I are moving forward with her lives separately, this Administration looks forward to moving this nation forward.
In the days and weeks to come, you will likely hear rumors about the reason for the pending divorce, some of which will be true, most of which will be false. I will not address any questions regarding the state of my marriage, nor will this Administration. I will speak only one more time and that is to let you know the divorce has been finalized.
With the upcoming State of the Union Address, I will outline a new vision for America, an ambitious plan for the first 100 days of our second term. That is what is important. That is what will affect the lives of us all as we progress as a nation. That is my focus.
Once again, I thank you for deeming this Administration worthy of a second four years. We will not waver in our commitment to make this a better country for all. God bless you and God bless these United States."
Olivia doesn't realize she's holding her breath. Nor does she feel the hand around hers, or the other on her back, urging her to "just breathe." She wants to yell and scream at him, she wants to hug and kiss him. This is all she's ever wanted and everything she's feared. It takes a few moments for her to gather herself, her mind reeling from his declaration. Slowly she turns to Melissa, "You're representing him, aren't you?"
"I can neither confirm nor deny the identity of my clients."
Olivia's eyes dart around the room, in search of her second cell phone, her mind doing a quick calculation. She can't call him now. She's helpless. "Did he send you here?"
"I can't just come and visit a friend?" Melissa is nearly indignant, putting her hands on her hips for emphasis.
Olivia turns and looks at her, smiling. "Sorry."
Melissa sits back down on the sofa, pouring herself a large glass of wine. "Shall we brainstorm?"
"God yes."
The minutes tick by, and before either of them notices, it's nearing midnight. They've bounced ideas off of each other as equals. They focus on Mellie and the ways of retaliation available to her. They are under no illusions that she will fight fairly, or go quietly, so what they put on the table are ideas to minimize her damage.
Coming clean versus not coming clean. Not once does Olivia consider how the truth will affect her and her business. It's him and his agenda; his legacy. His truth could not have been more inconvenient, yet it could not have been more necessary.
She isn't hurt that he didn't come to her. Her heart is relieved. She no longer has to go against her every instinct to turn him away. He took the step that she was too much of a coward to take.
So, when she hears the knock on the door, and checks the clock, she knows who it is. A smile plays on her lips as Melissa discreetly gathers her belongings. Olivia smooths her hair and straightens her sweater. She wants to be mad at him, but all she feels is relieved. And loved. She opens the door and there he is, leaning against the frame with the smile reserved for only her.
Before he can lean in for a kiss, Melissa sneaks by, winking at him. "Mr. President," she says, squeezing past him.
"Melissa."
Both he and Olivia watch as she disappears behind the elevator doors. He returns his attention to Olivia and takes her hands into his as he eases her backwards into her apartment, closing the door behind him. When they are away from prying eyes, he picks up her and spins her around and around, until they're both dizzy. They laugh and giggle because this is the point they never thought they'd reach, neither brave enough to do what was right for them. Finally, their time has come.