I saw surprise distort
Albert's face when he appeared in the doorway that separated his
office from what he called “the big office”. He was holding the
morning mail pouch, which he ordinarily carries to my working office
across the oval room where I sit now.
“Good
morning Albert,” I said. My voice came out unusually light, almost
cheerful. I found myself giving him the smile I usually save for the
public.
“Good
morning, ma'am,” he said, after quickly composing himself. He
added, “You're here early.”
I held the smile and nodded.
“I am. This is an important day and I just felt like getting a
head start.”
“Yes,
ma'am, I left a note on your...other desk that the ambassador has
taken ill and won't be in this morning as scheduled.”
“Oh?
Well, that's just as well. Gives me more time to prepare.” He set
the mail pouch on the corner of the Truman Desk, bowed slightly and
hesitated. I knew he was concerned about my haggard appearance, but
I had no desire to tell him what was wrong and he knew better than to
ask. “Thanks, Albert,” I said, and he bowed again and returned to
his office.
The stress I've been feeling
the previous couple of weeks has been unprecedented, ever since the
second call came in. This call had no video, but I dreaded it as I
had dreaded nothing else. The call came after breakfast as I walked
from our living quarters down to the West Wing. I recognized the
unique ring tone that had heralded the first call, the trumpet
flourishes that introduce Hail to the Chief.
The first call had come on
Inauguration Day as my husband and I were getting ready for bed.
There was a short video and the text message: “Congratulations!
We'll be in touch.”
Bill was in the bathroom.
The video ended before he came out. I didn't tell him, partly because
I didn't wish to spoil the moment and also because I was unable to
save the images. There was no evidence of what I had just seen.
The video was old. Its
colors were faded and marked by scratches and the other signs of
deterioration incurred by film over time. What the video depicted
was a familiar scene, one I had seen many times over the years,
filmed by a man named Abraham Zapruder. The only difference was this
film had been shot from a higher elevation and at a considerable
distance from where Zapruder was standing. This was looking down
from what we know as The Grassy Knoll.
I decided not to tell anyone
about the call, sensing intuitively it was not a prank, that the
video was real and represented a conspiracy so enduring and complex I
knew I couldn't trust anybody with what I'd seen. I served the next
two years with a darkness on my heart. I avoided the Oval Office
except when absolutely necessary, feeling its mockery of the neutered
office it represented. Finally two years later came the moment of
truth.
In an Oval Office ceremony
later today I am to sign the most controversial piece of legislation
of my presidency thus far. It's the health care reform bill we
should have gotten in 2010. It passed Congress by the slimmest of
margins. It could not withstand a veto. The second phone call
informed me a veto was expected. My constituents will disown me if I
do so. I would sooner die.
 |
| Nov. 22, 1963 |
|
