by Sally Quinn
“Why do you think all of those political wives whose husbands are screwing everything in sight stay with them and campaign for them when they run? I’ll tell you why. Because it’s the first time in their lives that those women have total power over their husbands. They can destroy them with one sentence. All they have to do is open their mouths. After years of being beaten down and taken advantage of that’s mighty enticing. Well, I don’t want power. I just want to live what little life I have of my own the way I want to live it. And if I have to blackmail you to be able to do that, then so be it. I can start giving press conferences and say exactly what I think on every subject and you can’t stop me. I can walk out on you and you can’t stop me. I’m not going to do either of those things unless I’m pushed to the wall. But if you don’t think I’m capable of it, then you just watch my stuff.”
Rosey stared at her for the longest time. She returned his gaze. Neither of them spoke. Finally he took his glasses off and looked down at his hands in contemplation. After a while he looked up at her again.
“That was quite a speech,” he said. There was no sarcasm in his voice.
She nodded as though that were the recognition she sought.
She took off her terry-cloth robe, flung it on the floor, and climbed into bed nude, her back to him.
“Good night, Rosey,” she said as she turned out her light.
“Good night, sugar…” he said, then paused, a lilt in his voice. “Walk out on me if you have to. But please don’t give a press conference.”
* * *
“Lorraine, I don’t care what you say. I’m tired of ass-kissing.” Sadie was frustrated and angry. She was beginning to hate this dinner party for the new Justice, particularly since he was an old friend of the Greys’. Now Lorraine was telling her she had to start wooing the Washington insiders—the journalists, lawyers, lobbyists, Lorraine’s Georgetown inner sanctum. It was getting close to the election, and though Rosey had no real opposition from the Republicans it would be foolish to take victory for granted.
“Darling, what on earth do you think politics is all about?” Lorraine was exasperated at Sadie’s recalcitrance. “Have you forgotten these people were your friends? They can’t help you, but they can hurt you. I don’t have to tell you all this, Sadie. You know it as well as I do. They love you but they’ve always been suspicious of Rosey. They all talk a lot, and either they are the opinion-makers or they socialize with them. They’re not going to lose Rosey the election. But it’s better to have them on your side. And it’s so easy. All you have to do is invite them to the White House for dinner. That always throws them off guard. It makes them a little less likely to bad-mouth Rosey. It’s money in the bank. Goodwill. Whatever you want to call it.”
“I did that in the Vice President’s house at your suggestion. It didn’t stop them from criticizing Rosey.”
“They’re never going to stop criticizing. That’s what they do for a living. Besides, you don’t know what they would have said and written had you not invited them. The White House is different from the Vice President’s house. Believe me. Once you move in here you start a new slate. You’ve got to invite them again.”
“I just feel it’s hypocritical. They’ll see through it.”
“Of course they’ll see through it. Everybody in Washington always sees right through everything. It’s only the stupid or the unsuccessful who resent or are offended by using or being used. Really, Sadie, I can’t think what has gotten into you. You’ve always loved to play. Don’t tell me you’ve lost your taste for it.”
“Maybe I have. I don’t know. It just seems like it’s not so much fun anymore. You know, you really can’t play when you’re President. We don’t go anywhere anymore. Not only do we not get invited, but when we do try to go anywhere it is such a nightmare it’s not worth it. Look what happened when we went to your house. My God, Lorraine, there were sharpshooters on your roof, and a doctor waiting upstairs in your bedroom in case Rosey keeled over or was shot.”
“It was the most exciting night of my life.”
“Well, not mine. I don’t want to live that way. I’ll tell you, it makes it a lot less attractive to accept a dinner invitation knowing you may get assassinated going or coming. We take our lives in our hands every time we set foot out of this prison.”
“Dear girl, you are down in the dumps, aren’t you?”
“I’m upset about this party, with both our parents and my brother and the kids all there. And then you tell me I have to start inviting the vipers, and I’m just not in the mood to be amused. Sometimes I wish Rosey would lose the election and we could all go back to normal life again.”
“Don’t ever”—Lorraine’s voice was stern—“say that to anyone else but me.”
* * *
“So. I’m sitting at the table with Judge Foster.”
Outland was perched on the pale yellow silk sofa in the yellow oval room. He was looking at Sadie, who was ignoring him. He had had a glass of champagne and was signaling the butler for another. She couldn’t believe that he would embarrass her at the dinner, but she didn’t like the tone of his voice. Rosey had just glanced at her, but it was clear he had decided to divorce himself from the problem. Despite his joke, their little talk had had the desired effect. Sadie supposed that she had actually scared him. He had been unusually deferential to her since then.
The family had gathered in the oval room to await the Judge.
Sadie could not wait until this night was over. She was filled with a sense of dread. Asking all the family had been a mistake. But they were all friendly with Judge Foster, and it had seemed right at the time. Already Miz G had been busily putting her mother down, asking her about her friends in Savannah who were not close friends of Sadie’s parents.
Rosey’s father always managed to affect a British accent when he was around her parents. They almost never were together: weddings, christenings, funerals were about it. When Rosey and Sadie had lived in Richmond and her parents had come to visit she had rarely had G and Miz G over. And then only for the most formal occasions.
Sadie usually managed to contain herself at these quiet confrontations. She couldn’t bear scenes. Tonight, however, she was almost enough on the edge to lash out. She managed to stay quiet, but she couldn’t quite conceal her dislike for the Greys.
Miz G pursed her lips as she observed Sadie. Now that Sadie was First Lady, she was in awe of her and desperate to maintain at least cordial relations. It was a nightmare to kowtow to this cheeky girl from Savannah whom Rosey should never have married in the first place.
G, looking pale, was rubbing his long, pointed fingernails, as he always did when he was nervous. He too was afraid of Sadie now that she was the President’s wife. Sadie’s mother and father took courage from her demeanor. They had always been intimidated by the Greys.
But Outland was adding to the tension, drinking a little too fast and joshing, and finally making a toast to Rosey. “I would like to drink to our President. Here is a perfect example of someone, shall we say, to the manner born, who has reached out to the people, has embraced everyone of all creeds, races, and colors, who is truly an aristocrat. And a true Democrat.”
Why did everything Outland said sound sarcastic?
“Why, thank you, Outland; what a nice compliment. I accept it with pleasure,” said Rosey, raising his glass of Perrier to Outland. He never drank at big dinners. In fact, he had never been very much interested in alcohol since college, and since becoming President he drank almost nothing. Sadie had never drunk more. She didn’t have a problem. It was just that there were too many mornings when she wished she hadn’t had that last glass of wine.
G and Miz G could hardly disguise their unhappiness. They knew Rosey was more liberal than they were, but they couldn’t bear to hear it.
Sadie was about to speak when she heard the butler in the West Hall and turned to see Judge Foster. She rushed to him with her arms outstretched as though she were welcoming him home fro
m war.
“Oh, Judge Foster. I mean Mr. Justice. You don’t know how glad I am to see you!” She gave him a hug and a kiss, much more than she normally would.
“Why, Miss Sadie,” he said, in a thick Southern accent. “I reckon this is the nicest greetin’ a po’ ol’ judge could evah hope for.”
The Justice took his wife’s arm and led her into the oval room.
“Why, honey, look at this,” he said with delight. “It’s the Greys and the McDougalds, and all the chillen. What a surprise. And what a happy family y’all do make.”
* * *
Sadie had put her brother at her table, along with the guest of honor. That way she could keep an eye on him. She was horrified at the way he was drinking, though nobody else seemed to notice. She hadn’t seen him since her trip to Savannah the year before, and he had put on weight. His beautiful eyes were puffy. His stomach strained at his belt, and even his once-slender brown hands were fleshy. There was something soft about him where he had once seemed lean and hard. This person was not the brother she had once adored—and would always love in spite of everything. This person had been writing vitriolic columns about her husband’s Administration which had torn at her and which she had refused to condemn until now. She had meant to talk to him earlier, but he had arrived late and there was so much else going on that there hadn’t been time. The only thing giving Sadie any pleasure was that her brother was taking out after Everett Dubois and his Louisiana connections in a big way. Anything that made Everett look bad was a plus from Sadie’s point of view.
The six round tables were set for ten and were decorated for fall with dried fruits and vegetables interspersed with chrysanthemums. It was pretty, if not particularly imaginative, but Sadie had been too preoccupied to make a real effort for this party. She had left it to Tilda, and because it was a relatively small party and not a state dinner with some foreign leader to offend, she had felt comfortable doing so. The guest list included members of Congress and the Supreme Court and friends of Judge Foster, mostly Southerners. She had given one table to Vice President Osgood, and another to his wife, Blanche.
Rosey had chosen Freddy Osgood as his Vice President out of the House. Osgood was an immensely popular liberal Democrat from New Mexico, and Blanche, with her dyed hair and strapless gown and sling-back high heels, was a character, if nothing else. They had no class and a lot of heart. They were, as one says in politics, the perfect balance for William and Sara Adabelle Grey.
Sadie had placed G next to Blanche and Miz G next to Freddy. It was sure to be a disaster—which pleased her immensely. At her own table, Justice Foster was on Sadie’s right and Abigail Sohier, as a ranking Senator’s wife, was on his other side. He was bound to be pleased. Abigail was bright, clever, decent, and she worked very hard at these evenings. She was the perfect guest.
Sadie thought she had insulated Outland between the attractive young wife of a right-wing Republican who served on the House Judiciary Committee and a woman columnist who wrote for a rather conservative chain of newspapers.
Halfway through dinner Sadie began to relax. Things seemed to be going well. She glanced over at Rosey and he nodded his approval. She had been charming Judge Foster, who was glowing, and now Abigail was working him over while she concentrated on the Chief Justice on her other side, a rather innocuous man who liked to talk about himself. It was toward the end of the main course that she began to notice that Outland’s voice was growing louder. His conversation was directed at the Judge and the Chief Justice, though they were seated opposite him and he was talking to the columnist.
“As far as I can see,” he was pronouncing, “the Supreme Court has been a bastion of liberalism for the past few Administrations. Judge Foster’s appointment is a welcome sign.”
Judge Foster overheard, though he had been pretending to listen to Blanche, who was regaling him with an update on her favorite soap operas. He glanced at Sadie, who wiped her mouth daintily with her napkin—a ploy to pretend that she hadn’t heard. When she looked up, she saw the Chief Justice wince. The fold of skin hanging over his collar had turned noticeably red.
Before she could think of a way to interrupt, Outland addressed the Chief Justice and the table went silent.
“What do you say, Mr. Chief Justice?” he asked. “Do you think the arrival of Judge Foster on the Court will turn the Court in a new direction?”
The Chief Justice looked helpless.
“I’m a journalist and I represent the people, the readers. And I’m sure the people of this country would like to know in what direction the Supreme Court is going. Only the Supreme Court is in a position to put us back on the right track by espousing true American values.”
Sadie sucked in her breath.
“I’m sure Brother Outland here means no disrespect to the Chief Justice,” said Judge Foster, an edge to his gentle Southern voice. “Do you, Outland boy?”
The Judge had spoken so softly that the harsh tone was all the more effective.
Outland looked stunned for a moment, tried to smile, which quickly faded when he finally had the courage to look at Sadie. She nodded to him, and after a pause, he excused himself.
Sadie looked down at her plate for the merest moment, then around the table. She could see that everyone was looking to her to rescue the situation.
“I apologize for my brother,” she said to the Chief Justice, very quietly.
“We all have relatives,” said Abigail Sohier.
Everyone giggled with relief.
Sadie smiled a grateful smile at Abigail, then felt Judge Foster’s hand on hers.
“That boy is in real trouble, honey,” he said quietly to her. “Unless you do something about him soon, he’s bound to hurt somebody real bad. Or hurt himself. He’s in real trouble.”
* * *
Now here he was standing inside her bedroom the next morning. He had knocked perfunctorily, then had shut the door behind him. He stood looking at her. She could smell the stale odor of booze still seeping from his pores from the night before. She said nothing. She could hear him breathing heavily.
“I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to see me again.”
“Good.”
“I know I was inexcusable.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve been under a lot of pressure.”
“Yes.”
“I had too much to drink.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I love you. You’re the only one.”
There were tears on his face, and he was kneeling at her bedside.
“Outland,” she burst out, “you have done everything in your power in the last year to force me to abandon you. You have criticized my husband and therefore hurt me, and our marriage. You have caused me embarrassment, and you have sorely tried my patience and tested my love. It seems to me as if you have been begging me to cut you off. You’re hurting yourself more than me. Why are you doing this? I don’t understand.” She was crying now too. “What have I done to you?”
“I know it’s been hard, but there are things happening in my life that have made me do things that I never would have done before. Things I can’t talk about now. And there are things going on here with people close to your husband that could hurt him. Things you don’t know about. I’m trying to help you.”
“Outland, it’s me, your sister. I know you too well. I’m afraid you just like to snipe, particularly if it gets you attention. And that you have gotten. Unfortunately, there are consequences.”
“What do you mean?”
He looked so sad. It made her sad. But she was angry too.
“I mean that you’re losing me. I have put up with your criticisms in that newspaper for over a year and I have listened to Rosey complain about it and I have never said a word because I didn’t want to question your integrity. As for last night, I don’t know what to say. Why couldn’t you just sit down with me and tell me why you’re angry at me, why do you try to hurt me by putting down my husband, by emba
rrassing my guests?”
She didn’t look at him.
Outland didn’t say a word. He continued to kneel on the floor next to her bed, but she could hear him stifle his sobs.
“Do you remember how we used to go out to the smokehouse when we lived at Horace Hall in Adabelle?” she said. “And remember you used to light candles, and then you would take out Daddy’s revolver. And you would put one bullet in it and then you would spin it around and point it to your head and pull the trigger? I didn’t know until long afterward that you only pretended to put bullets in.”
“Uh-huh,” mumbled Outland. He looked up at her with an eerie expression on his face.
“I used to be so scared, but so in awe of you. I thought you were the bravest, most courageous person I had ever known; but I was really so young then that I didn’t truly understand what you were pretending to do. Well, Outland, you’ve been gambling all your life. And one day your luck’s going to run out.”
* * *
They had made love three times. Her face was raw, her hair tangled; her body was tingling.
“Not bad for an old goat like me.” He flexed his ample muscle at her in a mock gesture of strength. “Wait till the guys back at the office hear about this.”
“You wouldn’t!” she gasped in feigned horror.
“I can’t wait. ‘Hey, Rocky, hey, Charlie. I just had the sweetest piece in all D.C.’ And they’ll say, ‘Oh, yeah? Who?’ And I’ll say, ‘Oh, nobody you know. Just the First Lady.’ And they’ll say, ‘The first lady of what?’ And I’ll say, ‘The First Lady of the land, you asshole.’…”
