Smoke and Mirrors
I light another cigarette as Leo walks away.
I sent him back to the house to rest for a while. He looks like crap.
I didn't actually tell him that though, cause then he would have had to
point out that I look the same way. I
took a good look in the mirror this morning while I was shaving. God, when did I get so old? I hardly recognized the reflection in the
mirror. Maybe deep down, I didn't want
to recognize the man I've become.
I take a long drag and idly wonder how Toby blows those smoke rings. Maybe smoke signals would be a better thing
for me to learn. But smoke signals would
give the impression that I need some help.
And I'm not sure I'm ready to give up the illusion I have of being able
to handle things alone.
I'm not talking political things; I've never handled them alone. I mean the hell that is my personal life at
the moment. I know Abbey's been talking
to the girls about our problems so I've tried to keep from telling my side of
the story. Let Abbey have them on her
side for a while...maybe that wasn't the right term but I know what I mean.
Ordinarily I have Leo to talk to about these things. But right now he's too busy to worry about my
marital problems. Oh sure, he's curious
but he'll never ask about them. None of
them will. And for that I am eternally
grateful.
As the cigarette burns down and comes dangerously close to burning my
fingers, a couple of things occur to me.
First, my two cigarette a day habit has grown into half a pack a day.
Second, Abbey should be arriving any minute and I just can't seem to get my
legs to move in the direction of the house.
And no, they aren't numb from an MS episode.
I realize it is not just my legs going numb my whole body feels that
way. Felt that way ever since I got here
last night.
I am the President of the United States, I've just announced my plans for
re-election, I am actually spending a few days at home, (no matter how long I
live at the White House it will never truly be my home, Manchester is my home),
my best friend was just here and my wife is arriving any minute and I feel....
Nothing.
I don't want to feel this way. I
don't want to fight, with Abbey, with anyone.
I just want to be the best President I can be. I want to lead without all this crap hanging
around my neck like a noose threatening to choke me. I want to be able to "Let Bartlet be
Bartlet"
A few months ago if I felt like this Abbey would be right by my side,
telling me to focus. Now she's not by my
side very often, she's barely talking to me.
And do I blame her for her silence?
Not at all. I mean, I, Josiah
Barlet, her husband of over 30 years went on television and told the American
public I had made a life-altering decision.
But I didn't mention one little detail; I forgot to consult with my
wife.
Yeah, I screwed her, royally.
Am I sorry for that? Sure I am.
Am I going to change my mind? Hell
no.
So for the past month we've been basically been hiding behind smoke and
mirrors. We’ve been ignoring each other
while making sure to have just enough appearances together to keep the staff
and the press corps from getting any more suspicious than they already
are. I'm not sure it is working though.
I know Josh wasn't too thrilled about me getting on the plane alone last
night. I overheard CJ say something to
him about not being able to produce a computer-generated version of Abbey. The very thought of it struck me as somewhat
hysterical and I walked to my study quickly before CJ and Josh heard me
laughing.
Maybe I should have stayed and got them to laugh with me. God knows they need a little laughter in
their lives right about now.
Ron just yelled across the field, Abbey should be here in about half an
hour. Enough time for another cigarette,
the long walk back to the house, a swig of Scope (to cover up the last
cigarette), a quick glance in the mirror and a few deep breaths.
As I exhale slowly I see a perfect smoke ring come out and float over my
head. I watch it float over towards the
pasture until the smoke dissipates into nothing. Kind of like the way I feel at the moment.
But I don't want to feel this way. I
want to be heard.
I want to finally sit down next to Abbey and work this out. I want to be able to walk out onto that
platform on Monday morning and kiss my wife.
Well, I'm sure that will happen anyway, but I want her to want to kiss
me, for real. I don't want to feel like
I'm living some computer-generated version of my life.
I want to lose the smoke and mirrors.
I want to be me, for better or for worse.
THE END
