I can hear her voice on the clear days when she’d ask mewhen, how she’d beg me to do it, to remember my promise. Even past those days, when she became mostly nonverbaland I knew I needed to free her.
Because I’d promised.
I remember the way the bed rattled a little as her leg kicked, how I cried and whispered I loved her, my apologies for waiting so long, begging forgiveness from a god I don’t even believe in until she fell still.
If I had to go back and do it again, I wouldn’t. Not like that, for sure. I would have found a better way to do it sooner forher.
She also begged me while she still was mostly coherent to not listen to anything she said if it sounded…wrong.
But isn’t begging your child to kill you…wrong?
How is itnotwrong?
Unfortunately, she’d asked me to do that while still clear-minded, and guilt ate at me as I watched her growing fear and her tears, with her knowing there was something wrong with her but not always able tounderstand or remember what and why.
Until I’d go visit her and my Momma would be in command of her mind for a few precious moments, with her wit mostly intact, and a loving scolding to me that she was still “there” in the first place.
Another load of guilt heaped on me that I’d pray when I visited her the next day she’d be gone a little again, just enough not to ask me ten or twelve times whenit’d happen.
I suppose I’m lucky I didn’t end up in jail, but none of the staff mentioned it to me if she said that around them, and if anything was going to come out, it certainly would have during my Senate runs, or even my first presidential run.
I don’t know.
I have no answers, only a recommendation that you don’t saddle your child with that kind of burden, no matter what your feelingson the matter.
Kev probably spends three or four nights a week with us in the residence, or close to it. No one’s caught on, Lauren has been amazing at her job, and I consider myself damned lucky. I couldn’t have asked for a better chief of staff if I tried. In public, he’s all business, but when we’re behind closed doors my Sir steps forward and helps keep me calm and focused and makes my jobaloteasier than it otherwise might me. Just five minutes curled up in his arms can lower my heart rate and clear my mind so I can think straight.
Could I have done this job without him? Yes, but the stress levels would have been a thousand times worse, I’m sure. Kev doesn’t “control” me, either. Not the President Samuels part of me. But I can’t leave my work at the office and go home.
Iliveat my freaking office.
I usually take PDBs seven days a week, although Saturdays and Sundays happen closer to noon than first thing in the morning.
What Kevin gives me allows me to balance those stresses in a healthy way without me giving myself an ulcer. And during the times my stress hits a point I’m unable to eat because my body refuses to keep it down—something I’ve been plagued with allmy life—Sir is usually the one able to coax me into eating again sooner than my own body would normally give up and allow me food.
Chris the sadist helps balance Kev to keep him mentally and emotionally healthy, and adds an extra boost to me, too.
Can’t say it’s not working. There have been other administrations that have done a hell of a lot worse with their circumstances and the amount oftime we’ve been in office.
Except I should’ve known it wouldn’t last.
As we enter January of year four of my first term, something happens to jolt all of us to our core and rattle my family to its very foundation.
