“Uh…” I honestly don’t know what to say.
She grins. “Great!” Before I can stop her, she picks up the phone. “Signal, place a call to…” She looks at me. “Number?”
Dumbfounded, I look up their home number and recite it and their names, and she gives the info to the operator.
When the call connects, she puts it on speaker mode as it’s ringing.
Then my mom answers.
“Hello?”
The Signal operator announces the call. “Hello, this is the White House Operator with a phone call fromAir Force One. President ShaeLynn Samuels to speak with Alfred or Melissa Walsh.”
Mom understandably sounds stunned. “Wh-what?”
“Hello, Mrs. Walsh,” the president says, dropping me an evil wink. “This is President Samuels. How are you this evening?”
“I-I…I’m fine. Is this real?”
“Yes, ma’am, it is. I’m sitting here with Jordan. I had to borrow him from Vice President Woodley today to be my personal assistant for a speaking engagement.”
“You…what?”
The president is full-on Joker grinning at this point, and I can’t help but join her. “Hi, Mom!” I brightly say. “How are you?” Soooo worth it to have this over her head.
“Jordan? Where are you?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the president says. “I thought the operator made that clear. This is President ShaeLynn Samuels, and we’re aboardAir Force Oneright now. Flying back from an event. I’ve always meant to call you and your husband to tell you how invaluable Jordan has been to my administration in every position he’s held. First as our official designer, then working for my husband in the East Wing, and now as Vice President Woodley’s personal assistant.”
“The vice president’s…personalassistant?”
“Yes, didn’t you know? And he’s also instrumental in Elliot’s campaign for POTUS.” She pauses to let that sink in. “Youdidrealize your son’s been working in the White House the past seven years, didn’t you?”
“I… That is, we —”
“I mean, I know you told your son the last time you ever saw him in person that you hoped he’d die rather than be gay, but I have to say, I’mreallyglad that his life’s path led him to our door. My husband and I, and our children, consider Jordan one of our best friends. Absolutely part of our family.”
Tears sting my eyes and I quickly blink them away, because the president is looking me right in the eyes as she says that.
This isn’t just a bullshit fuck-you to my mother—shereallymeans it.
You havenoidea how much that means to me.
“Mrs. Walsh, are you still there?” the president asks.
“Y-yes, ma’am.”
“Excellent. I also know that when Jordan’s initial security clearance was performed, you and your husband gave the FBI agent a bit of a hassle. As one mother to another, I have to say, I’m extremely disappointed in your behavior. We treasure your son in the White House, Mrs. Walsh. But your loss is our gain, and all of that.”
My mom sounds close to tears. “Why are you calling me and saying all of this?”
The president’s tone turns hard and cold, like I’ve heard her speak when dealing with a crisis. “Because your son is likely going to be the personal assistant to the next president of the United States. It would be a shame for you to try to tarnish your son’s reputation by speaking out against him to anyone. Why, we’d have to make sure all the news outlets learned how his grandmother rescued him from your mentally abusive household and took him in, wouldn’t we?”
“What?”
“Mrs. Walsh, I might be president, but I’m also an attorney, and a mother. Let me put you on notice that if you so much asbreathewrong to any journalist about your son, my husband and I will personally hire an attorney so Jordan can go after you both for defamation, and we’ll sue you for every penny we can wring from you.
“If anyone ever asks you about Jordan, you simply tell them you’re proud of him, and you won’t say anything else out of respect for his privacy and yours. Then, you don’t have to say anything that might possibly contradict your precious religious bigotry, and no one ever needs to know the truth about him, which I’m sure you’ve been afraid others would learn. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
