The true definition of surreal is sitting there in the Senate the day I had to certify the Electoral College results electing me POTUS.
Yeah, I still can’t believe it, either. I didn’t merely win—I soundly trounced Boone by both Electoral College and popular vote margins large enough that not even the whackiest congressional Q-natic could dispute the results. Every major network called the election for me by midnight, and Boone called me at one a.m. to concede.
Now, as I stand inside the Capitol building a little before noon and await my cue from Secret Service to head outside to face my inevitable fate, I try to process my abject terror that’s not merely of the existential variety.
What, exactly, did I think I was going to prove to myself—or anyone else—by doing this?
All I managed to do was fubar my personal life. Did I think I lacked privacy before?
Haha, you stupid motherfucker.
Ciro and his wife and kids just walked out to take their seats. Stella and my parents are already seated with the other dignitaries, such as previous presidents, the SCOTUS justices, the Gang of Eight, and others, including Leo, who’s seated with Shae and Chris.
He tried to get out of sitting out there but I wanted him there. If he’s not going to be by my side, I want him seated with the rest of the dignitaries, where he belongs.
Inside the Capitol building Jordan stands beside me and lets his hand brush against mine. That’s all the physical contact he’ll risk because we’re surrounded by people and photographers.
He nudges his glasses up his nose. Behind his hand, while it’s blocking the view of his mouth, he whispers just loudly enough only I can hear him.
“Breathe, boy. You’ve got this. I have faith in you.” Then he drops his hand and offers me a smile.
I suck in a shaky breath while twisting my right hand back and forth. Doing so, I can feel the chainmail bracelet on my wrist, safely hidden under the cuff of my shirt sleeve, and it offers me a little comfort. It’s not frigidly cold today but it is breezy and the weather’s supposed to turn rainy, so I’m wearing an overcoat on top of my suit, giving me another level of comfort that my bracelet can’t be spotted.
My day collar. I never take it off, unless Jordan removes it from my wrist.
Jordan wears a bracelet that’s almost an exact match, but it’s on his left wrist.
Matchies. Left leads, right receives.
He wears the one Leo put on him on his right wrist.
When it’s time for us to move again I try to remember my Sir’s words to me, His reminder to breathe.
This should be the easy part, right? I’ve given thousands of speeches over my years in politics. This one’s on a teleprompter and Jordan went over it with a fine-toothed comb. Hell, he wrote a good chunk of it. What portions he didn’t write he heavily edited. And I’ve practiced it several times so I have my tempo down. I know the words, where to pause, where to gesture.
I should enjoy this moment because other than hosting the White House Easter Egg Rolls and handing out candy at Halloween this is literally the easiest thing I will do for the remainder of my time in office. The job only gets more difficult from this point on. Lives will depend on me. Hundreds of millions of lives in this country alone, and that’s not counting what impacts my decisions have on the billions of other inhabitants of this planet who don’t live in the United States.
Many people view me as a hero because of my military service.
Unfortunately, that’s not the image I see when I look in the mirror.
I see an imposter, a coward who got people killed and wounded.
One of the Secret Service agents leans in. “Sir, it’s time.”
Jordan pats me on the shoulder as I take a deep breath and wonder if this visceral terror will ever abate.
Or if I’ll someday look back on this moment and wish I’d never run for office—anyoffice—in the first place.
* * *
I walkwhere I’m led, sit where I’m told. There is a literal sea of humanity out there on the Mall today, standing in the cold to watch me do this.
There are no words to express how humbling that is.
After the initial speeches by the inauguration committee, the national anthem is sung, and the pledge is recited, Ciro gets sworn in first as my VP, per tradition.
Then it’s my turn to stand and take the oath. I say the words, I make the motions.
