Selected: A Thriller

by J. Allen Wolfrum

  Rose greeted Susan at the front door with a hug. “I’m so proud of you, honey. But I really wish you had worn a suit,” Rose said with a smile.

  Susan smiled back at her. “Thanks, Mom. Is Dad home?”

  “He’s out in the garage. I’m sure he’s expecting you.”

  Susan opened the door to the garage. The radio blared Shania Twain singing “Any Man of Mine.” Earl was measuring a piece of oak for his latest cabinet project. He saw Susan from the corner of his eye. Earl pulled the pencil from behind his ear and marked the piece of wood and yelled over the music, “If I knew the leader of the free world was stopping by, I would have cleaned up a little. Come on in, Madam President.” Earl smiled and turned down the radio.

  Susan walked over to the workbench, wrapped her arms around her father’s shoulders, and gave him a hug. A tear ran down Earl’s cheek. He squeezed Susan tighter and gave her a gentle pat on the back with his right hand.

  “Dad… I just couldn’t… I couldn’t live with myself if I turned it down.”

  “I know, sweetie. You did the right thing.”

  Rose walked into the garage holding the house phone. She looked as giddy as a teenager talking to her first high school crush. “Susan, President Wilkes is on the phone for you.”

  Earl grinned. “And it begins.”

  Susan took the phone from her mother. “This is Susan Turner.”

  The voice on the phone boomed, “This is President Wilkes, congratulations.”

  “President Wilkes, I’m honored. I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”

  “I have to say — I’m as shocked as the rest of the country. I’m glad you took the job.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President.”

  “The White House will be sending a team of six staff members to Coeur d’Alene to help you with the transition. I know it’s a lot to take in, but don’t worry, the team will take care of everything.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President, I can use all the help I can get.”

  “Before I let you get back to the celebration — my staff alerted me this afternoon that several members of the press have copies of your medical records. I don’t know how long it will be before the news goes public,” said President Wilkes.

  Susan took a deep breath and straightened her back. “Good to know. I appreciate the warning.”

  “It’s the least I could do. I’m looking forward to meeting you in person. Take care Susan, and again, congratulations.”

  Susan heard a click as President Wilkes hung up the phone. Susan needed time to come up with a strategy. Defending her reputation in front of the world wasn’t a part of her plan when she left the house this morning.

  “Words of encouragement from the president?” asked Earl.

  Susan sighed. “Yeah, and some insider information. I knew this would happen eventually. But the press got a hold of my medical records.”

  Earl looked Susan in the eye. “Hmpph. Well… you know what you have to do.”

  Susan nodded her head in agreement. The last thing Susan wanted to do was talk about her past in front of the world. She lived with the emotional scars every moment of every day. Talking about it made the pain more difficult to deal with.

  The doorbell rang. Rose answered the door. It was a county sheriff, Jim Simpson. Rose looked past Sheriff Simpson and noted the growing number of news vans and reporters on the street.

  “Good afternoon, Sheriff. What can we do for you?” said Rose.

  “Ma’am. is Susan home? I’d like to talk to her about the press outside on the street. The situation is starting to get out of control.”

  Susan heard the conversation from the garage and walked to the front door to introduced herself, “Hi, Sheriff, Susan Turner. What can I do to help?”

  “Ma’am, the reporters out there are awfully anxious to talk with you. I’m concerned they’re going to start knocking on doors in the neighborhood. The last thing we need is some little old lady waving around a shotgun and yelling at the reporters on her lawn,” said the sheriff.

  “Understood. Do you happen to know if there are any reporters from the local news station?” asked Susan.

  “I believe I saw Brittney Johnston from KXLY and her crew out there,” said the sheriff.

  “Great. Will you do me a favor and walk with me out to the street and help me find her?”

  “No problem,” replied the sheriff.

  Susan followed Sheriff Simpson down the driveway and out to the street. The closer they got to the street the more distinct the shouts became.

  “President Select Turner, what are your goals for your first one hundred days in office?”

  “Have you spoken with Andrew Trumble?”

  “What made you change your mind?”

  Sheriff Simpson put the bullhorn up to his mouth. “President Select Turner has a statement she would like to make. Is Brittney Johnston from KXLY here?” The crowd quieted to whispers. “Brittney Johnston KXLY, right here, Sheriff,” shouted a voice as Brittney emerged from the crowd.

  Susan spoke over the crowd. “I know everyone has questions for me. I’m going to answer them all together this afternoon. Ms. Johnston, can you set up a space for a Q&A session at the station?”

  “I’m sure we can figure it out.”

  “Thank you. I’ll see you all at the KXLY station in two hours,” said Susan.

  The crowd of reporters erupted in questions. Susan walked back up the driveway to the house.

  9

  The staff working at KXLY rushed to modify their local morning news set into a town-hall-style news conference. The desk normally used by the morning news anchors was replaced with a podium. Chairs and microphones for the reporters were placed in front of the set. While the reporters waited for Susan’s arrival, they scrambled for background information on Susan and speculated about her past.

  Susan walked through the front doors of the KXLY station headquarters five minutes early. An exciting news day in Coeur d’Alene was a new restaurant opening or the high school football playoffs. An exclusive press conference with the president select was the most high-profile event they’d ever hosted. The station manager greeted Susan with a warm smile and quickly escorted her to the green room.

  Susan sat alone with her thoughts in the green room. She paced the room nervously with hopes of putting together a coherent story in her mind. Susan struggled with how much information she should give to the press. The last thing she wanted was to bring up painful memories for Greg and Tommy. Susan fought back from a dark place in her life to provide stability for the boys. She feared her past would follow Greg and Tommy for the rest of their lives.

  Brittney Johnston opened the door and interrupted her manic pacing in the green room. She quickly sensed the intensity in the room and nervously announced her presence: “Madam President?”

  Susan quickly turned toward the door. She recognized Brittney and relaxed her posture. “Hi, Brittney, is it time?”

  Brittney explained the situation to Susan. “It’s up to you, but the equipment is ready. We’re using the morning news set—you have a podium in the center of the stage. The press have chairs and microphones set up in front of the podium.”

  “Do you know how many press members are out there?” asked Susan.

  “I’d say about fifty total people including camera and sound crew. Most of the major media outlets focused their attention on Andrew Trumble in Arkansas.”

  Susan couldn’t stand to be alone with her thoughts any longer. “No time like the present. Let’s head out there.”

  Brittney led Susan out of the green room, down the hallway, and onto the local morning news set. Susan walked to the podium. The room went silent and the reporters focused their cameras on her approaching the podium. Susan stepped up to the podium and briefly paused to scan the crowd. She took a deep breath and then surprised the audience by grabbing the microphone out of the stand and walking in front of the podium to address the reporters.

  “Today I m
ade history. I was the first woman ever… to accept the presidential selection in jeans and a flannel shirt.” The entire room including Susan burst into laughter. “If any of you were wondering… Yes, my mother absolutely did yell at me when I got home.” Susan and the crowd laughed again. She paused to let the laughter die down. “On a more serious note, I want to address some of the questions you have for me. My decision this morning was a surprise to many people. I’ll save everyone at home the effort of Googling my name.” Susan paused to catch her breath. “I’ll keep it brief; I have a hard time talking about myself. As I assume you already know, I was born and raised here in Coeur d’Alene. My dad is an army veteran and a retired electrician. My mother is a retired second-grade teacher. I graduated from Coeur d’Alene high school, then went on to college at West Point where I met my husband. After West Point, I spent twelve years in the army as an Apache helicopter pilot. I have two children, Greg and Tommy, both at Coeur d’Alene middle school. Since I left the army, I’ve been working as a helicopter pilot for a logging company.” Susan paused. The reporters listened silently.

  “Just in case you got the wrong idea… I’m not perfect. In the third grade, on the playground at Skyline Elementary, I pulled Jill England’s hair and got suspended for two days. If you’re watching, sorry about that Jill.” Susan and the crowd chuckled. Susan smiled and squeezed the microphone for safety. “Well, that’s the end of my prepared material. Who has questions?”

  The reporters in the crowd all shouted questions at once. Susan responded to the first question she could identify: “When did you decide to accept the nomination?”

  “Great question.” Susan looked down at her watch. “About four hours ago.” The reporters chuckled. Fear of a tougher question to come prompted Susan to expand her answer. “When I found out about the selection, my immediate reaction was to decline. We’ve all seen what the stress did to past presidents. And I have two boys who need the full attention of their mother. This morning I was forced to face the reality of avoiding my duty. I couldn’t tell Greg and Tommy that I declined to serve my country. Declining the presidency and putting that burden on another person’s shoulders would have haunted me for the rest of my life.”

  The crowd erupted with questions again. Susan responded to the question, “How does it feel to be a single mother and president?”

  “Well, I haven’t been sworn in as the president yet. Check back with me after the first six months in office. In response to the single mom part of the question: without my parents to help, I doubt I would have made it this far, and I’m sure I’ll be leaning on them for the next two years as well.”

  The next question from the crowd was, “How do you think your mental condition will impact the decisions you make as president?”

  Susan knew the question was coming, but it still caused her to freeze on stage. While Susan paused, the room filled with a moment of silence, then a hushed whisper of questions. Susan’s suit felt as if it was being compressed around her body like a straightjacket. She cleared her throat and removed the heavy silence from the room.

  “The short answer is — it won’t.” Susan paused and looked out into the audience. “I see a lot of confused looks in the crowd. Clearly that question didn’t come out of the blue. For those of you who haven’t yet received a copy of my medical records, let me get you up to speed. Six years ago I was admitted as an inpatient to the psychiatric ward in a VA hospital.”

  “Oh, my gosh,” a reporter in the front row gasped.

  Susan responded, “ ‘Oh my gosh’ is right. I would use more colorful language to describe that period of my life… but that’s about how I feel when I look back on it now. Toward the end of my career in the army, I was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder and clinical depression. In retrospect, I should have sought treatment long before that point, but I was too proud to ask for help. The stress of being involved in consistent combat operations, being away from my children, and then my husband’s death pushed me to a very dark place. I lost faith in myself to climb out of the darkness.” Susan paused to let her words sink in.

  Susan’s words weighted the air with a somber fog. A follow-up question from the crowd broke the silence. In a humble tone, almost a whisper, a reporter asked, “Are you cured?”

  “Am I cured?” Susan repeated. She paused to contemplate the answer. “For me, I don’t think a cure is the right way to think about it. I firmly believe I can mitigate the impact on my life but the memories never go away. Alongside many others, every day I struggle, every day our past tries to knock us down, and every day we fight back. Some days we win, some days we get knocked down. On the days we get knocked down, we get right back up and continue fighting. Back to your question: Am I cured? No… but I will always have the willpower to press on. I will always get back up.”

  Susan’s response shocked the reporters into whispers among themselves. There were no more immediate follow-up questions. Susan took the opportunity to gracefully end the press conference by thanking the station employees and reporters in attendance. She walked off the stage wondering if she had done irreversible damage to her family, herself, and her country.

  10

  After the press conference, Susan picked up Tommy and Greg from school. She saw the excitement in their faces as they ran toward the car. The boys jumped into the backseat and immediately began to pepper Susan with questions.

  “What happened, Mom?”

  “Yeah, Mom, I thought you were declining the selection.”

  “When are we moving to Washington, DC?”

  The questions came at Susan without a pause for her to respond. The boys wouldn’t have listened to her responses anyway. They were caught up in the excitement of being the center of attention at school. Susan continued to quietly listen to questions from Tommy and Greg in the backseat.

  “Are we really moving to Washington?”

  “I heard the teachers talking at lunch, they said you’re crazy. Mom, are you crazy?”

  Susan pulled into the driveway. “Enough.” Her tone immediately stopped the stream of questions from Greg and Tommy. “Yes. I am going to be president. No. I don’t know if we’re all moving to Washington, DC.” The boys were more relentless than the press. It felt like having two caged lions in the backseat jumping around.

  Greg and Tommy asked legitimate questions. Susan’s presidential inauguration was one month away and logistics were the furthest thing from her mind. But she knew one thing: she wasn’t going anywhere without her boys. Susan’s body froze and she stopped breathing as her mind looped through all the horrible scenarios that might happen to her boys if she left them behind. She inhaled sharply and it broke her out of the negative thought pattern. She reminded herself, “one day at a time.” Her hands turned white from clenching the steering wheel with all her strength.

  Susan walked inside and found Earl and Rose in the living room. Earl sat in the recliner with his feet up and his face buried in a Louis L’Amour cowboy novel. Rose sat on the couch knitting an afghan blanket. Susan sat down on the couch next to her mother; neither Earl nor Rose seemed to notice her arrival. Susan announced, “I’m going to take Greg and Tommy with me to Washington, DC.”

  Earl lowered his glasses and peered at Susan over his book. “Why?”

  “Because I’m their mother and I’m not leaving them.”

  Earl pushed back, “Seems like something you should have thought about before you took the job. Did you ask Greg and Tommy what they thought?”

  Susan’s frustration quickly came to the front of her emotions. “No… I didn’t… they’re eleven years old. They don’t have a say in the decision.”

  Earl remained calm. “I think it’s a mistake. The boys just started the school year. All their friends are here. That much change is going to be traumatic for them.”

  Susan paused to interpret the frown on her father’s face. “Are you pushing back because you think it would be bad for Greg and Tommy? Or because you don’t want to go?
”

  Rose tried to calm the building tension between Susan and Earl. “Your father and I discussed it earlier today. The boys have a nice stable environment here in Coeur D’Alene and they can focus on being children. We don’t want them to be burdened by a new environment. Changing friends at their age can be traumatic. We just want what’s best for the boys.”

  Susan looked toward her father. “Dad, I assume you feel the same?”

  Earl sighed and set his book in his lap. “Honey, we love you and the boys. You know that’ll never change. We want what’s best for the boys. And right now, things are as good as they can be. We think it’s too risky to take them out of an environment where they’re comfortable and happy.”

  Susan nodded her head in agreement. “I understand.”

  Susan got up from the couch and slowly walked into the kitchen. She opened the freezer, hoping to find a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Red Velvet Cake ice cream. No luck. She settled for some frozen Tag Along Girl Scout Cookies. Susan sat down at the table to contemplate the situation over milk and cookies. She split the Tag Along’s into two bites, letting the peanut butter and chocolate melt in her mouth, with a gulp of milk to wash them down. Susan rocked the glass of milk around on the table as she thought about the situation. She wasn’t leaving Greg and Tommy behind. After two cookies, Susan walked back into the living room with a handful of Tag Alongs in her left hand and a half glass of milk in her right hand.

  Susan stood in the living room looking at Earl. She had a mouthful of cookie when he moved his gaze to meet hers. They locked eyes and Susan took a gulp of milk. Susan looked Earl in the eye and shouted, “Greg. Tommy. Come down here, we need to talk.”

  Susan watched Earl squint his eyes in what appeared to be a mixture of annoyance and frustration. She heard two bedroom doors slam shut and the pounding of feet on stairs echoing through the living room. Greg and Tommy bounded into the living room.

  “What’s going on, Mom?” asked Greg.