The President's Wife Is on Prozac

by Jayne Lind

  Hi there T: About myself, can’t tell you too much by this method of communication. No, I didn’t have a happy childhood. Parents divorced when I was a teenager. My dad was very successful in his career, so we had money, but he wasn’t successful in relationships, either with his wives and girlfriends or with his children. And just because he lived with us until he split, doesn’t mean I knew him. It would have been nice if my mum had made up for it, but she didn’t. She’s very self-centred. So I left as soon as I could. There, Miss Therapist, you now know about my childhood. Just teasing. I would like to tell you everything about me but I can’t—not now. Maybe if we ever meet again….. About relationships, so far mine have been short and unmeaningful. So whilst I’m not in a cage, as you are, I don’t have much freedom either. But life is never boring, I can tell you that. J.

  ***

  The next day, Taylor phoned Lillian to ask if she could go to the gym.

  “No, it wouldn’t do today,” she said cryptically. “And there will be no need for you today, too many engagements.”

  Her client was too busy to see her and since the gym was on her floor, it must mean the President was out and about. She was disappointed. What was she going to do with the rest of her day? She felt if she didn’t get out of her personal cage, she would burst. She knew she had to be on call, but there are times when the therapist needs to guard her own mental health. Timidly, she phoned Lillian again.

  “Yes!” she answered, even more abruptly than before.

  “Uh…” Taylor began.

  “Yes, what is it?” Lillian interrupted in a much louder voice than was necessary.

  “Could I go outside the grounds, to a restaurant or something?”

  Lillian sighed audibly. “I’ll see to it. What time do you want to go?”

  Taylor thought for a second and then said, “In fifteen minutes, but could I just walk? Do I have to be driven?”

  “Of course you can go to a restaurant, but no, you can’t walk. Your detail will drive you.”

  Taylor was excited as she dressed to go out, but when she left her room and followed the detail down to the ground level in the lift, she was wary. Lillian told her she couldn’t go to the gym, and now she was using the lift, which was what the President used, rather than the stairway. Well, that’s their job, not mine. She often wondered what she would say if she ever did run into the President. So far she hadn’t been able to come up with a plausible scenario other than that of a shocked look on her face.

  A voice came from the driver’s seat, “Where would you like to go?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know, “she responded. “Could you recommend a good restaurant?”

  “Sure, I know just the place,” said her anonymous guide. It wasn’t long until the car stopped in front of the Café St. Ex. “The food here is great. Enjoy!” he said, as he opened the door for Taylor.

  She stepped outside the car and took in a deep breath. She was free, actually out in the real world, not barricaded in her living quarters. Real people were walking right by her, ignoring her, but at least she was in close proximity to the world, the real world as opposed to the bubble of the House. She asked for a table near the window and was seated at table for two. She wished there was someone, anyone, who could join her. A waiter approached the table and handed her a menu.

  “Hi, how are you today?”

  Taylor smiled at him, “Oh, I’m all right. How are you?”

  He laughed, “I’m okay. My name is Gary and I’ll be your waiter today.

  ”She smiled inwardly at this uniquely American habit of a waiter introducing himself. Oh, well, it depicted the general friendliness of the country. She ordered a chicken dish and settled back to enjoy this outing.

  The restaurant was crowded and noisy. Taylor listened intently to those near enough for their conversations to be heard. She had never liked going to a restaurant alone, would have liked someone to talk to, but luxuriated in overhearing interesting conversations going on around her.

  A large, bulbous nosed man sat at a table facing her, with a voice level to match his size. He was talking about some government project and didn’t seem to be aware of, or care, how loudly he spoke. “This project is never going to fly,” he boomed. “It’s a waste of taxpayer’s money and I’m going to do everything I can to stop it.”

  His companion’s voice didn’t carry as well, but she could tell he didn’t agree. He appeared to be trying to soothe his friend’s vociferousness. “I don’t think it’s that bad, actually,” he said. “I know there are kinks to be worked out, but I think it could be a good program.” The large man didn’t like being disagreed with and Taylor wished he would leave or quiet down so she could hear other conversations, which, to her relief, did happen when she was half way through her meal.

  A rather good looking man, about her age, was next at that table. He sat facing her and when she looked up, he smiled. She smiled back, rather nervously, and continued eating her meal. Did he want to join her? Did he not want to eat alone either? She was tempted to keep looking up from her plate at him, to stop staring out the window, as she was doing most of the time. He kept staring at her in between writing notes on a notepad and every once in awhile, smiled again.

  This was a government town and Taylor supposed that except for service people, everyone worked in some capacity for the government. She wondered if the fact that it was a purely government town affected the policies. There was little or no contact with those who had varieties of jobs.

  The man who seemed so overly friendly had his meal served just as she was finishing hers. She could be daring and go over and ask him if they could chat or have a drink. This was not like her at all. She had never done that, never been that bold. My loneliness must be changing my personality. She lingered over her glass of wine, ordered coffee, and didn’t ask for the bill until much later than she’d planned. Finally, she rose from her chair and glanced at him. He smiled again. She knew she wasn’t reading the signals wrong; he was definitely flirting with her.

  Just then she caught the eye of one of the Suits. She thought there might be someone from the protective service in the restaurant, but she hadn’t noticed anyone until now. He must have been watching the man as well, because he gave a very slight negative nod to his head. Taylor realized this was verboten. She was no longer a free citizen. She couldn’t meet a stranger; she had to go by the rules. So it was with a mixture of sadness and satisfaction that she returned to the House.

  It was still early evening and she wrote to Josh before she went to bed, telling him all about her day. Well... she didn’t tell him everything. The next morning, there was a reply from Josh.

  Hi there T: Glad you had an outing—don’t let dragon lady L. keep you from getting out and enjoying yourself. She’s probably under a lot of pressure and I’m sure she is grateful for your presence there. You sounded like a kid in a candy store with your description of getting to do something simple like eating a meal in a restaurant. Haven’t had much sleep, but then I never do. We train our bodies to sleep for three hour time slots and we also train to stay awake for long periods of times—sometimes it’s necessary on the job. Not complaining, it’s just my way of life and most of the time, I thoroughly enjoy it. Think of James Bond films and know that most of our work isn’t glamorous, like it’s depicted in the films and there definitely aren’t beautiful women around. I’m afraid I move in lower circles of the crime world and the women I come in contact with have had a rough life and are far from being attractive. I hope and am certain that your work there is going well. Keep focused, that’s what I have to do. You are valuable. J.

  You are valuable, what did he mean by that? Valuable to him? Taylor knew she was grasping at any words of encouragement, but also knew it was probably an impersonal comment, especially since it followed a statement about her work. She knew he was working with colleagues, traveling, out and about, as
opposed to her now very limited world, and yet he seemed to genuinely care about how she was doing. Perhaps just because he had a hand in bringing me here, she told herself.

  Chapter Ten

  Taylor wasn’t called for a session until late in the afternoon. As she walked down the stairs to see Beth, her thoughts were on Josh rather than on her client. However she was anxious to find out about Sam’s drinking habits.

  “How are you?” she asked Beth, as she sat down in her usual chair.

  Beth smiled and her eyes twinkled. “You know, I’m really feeling better. Nothing has changed. Sam is still Sam. And I still feel the way I do about this place and about politics. But inside, I feel better.”

  Taylor smiled back at her, glad to hear that her visual assessment was correct. “How? Can you describe the difference?”

  “Well, as you’ve probably noticed, I don’t cry as much or as easily, which is a huge relief. I don’t have to hide out in my room and plead a headache, so my schedule isn’t disrupted. That’s why I couldn’t see you yesterday. There was one engagement after another and while those things are tiring, I was able to carry out my duties like I used to.” Beth smiled again and sighed. “It’s such a relief!”

  “Well, that’s the Prozac—it can be a wonder drug, It doesn’t change your circumstances, but it helps you to cope. Has your concentration improved? And your memory?”

  “Oh, yes,” Beth answered enthusiastically. “It’s like a miracle. My head is clear again. That was such an awful feeling, that feeling of being in a fog all the time and I’m sleeping very well too. I awake feeling refreshed.”

  “Great!” Taylor said with a wide smile. “I’m so happy to hear that, Beth. Has your husband noticed the difference?”

  Beth sighed and responded in a soft voice, “Oh, no, he doesn’t pay that much attention to me anymore.”

  Doesn’t pay much attention—in a way that was good, if she wanted to avoid his temper, but Taylor was curious to know more. “Why do you think that is?”

  Beth shrugged her shoulders, “I think he thinks I’m no longer an asset. He’s accused me in the past of not being a real partner, and actually, there is some truth in that. I’ve never liked politics and the more I learn about it, the more I dislike it.”

  “So do you think he thinks he can do without you as a First Lady?” That could be a way out for her.

  “Oh, no,” Beth answered immediately, “I still have to be here and present a smiley face for the press and I can’t be away too long. It’s not that I really go anywhere anyway, other than to Vermont to see my mother. But the longer we’ve been here, the longer he’s been the President, the more he treats me like one of his staff. Do you know what I mean?”

  “And how does that make you feel, being treated that way?” Taylor asked.

  Beth looked pensive for a moment. “There was a time when that would have crushed me, would have made me very sad, but I think the love I had for Sam has slowly ebbed away.” She gazed out the window as Taylor waited for her to go on. “Do you know that very old song, Killing Me Softly?” she asked.

  “No, but from the title I understand what you’re saying. Is that what the President has done? Killed you softly?”

  Beth nodded and there was a glisten of tears in her eyes. “Yes, that’s exactly what he’s done.”

  “With his temper?” Taylor asked.

  “It’s not just that. It’s the control, the way he’s treated Ben, the huge gap between the kind of man he really is and the face he puts on for the public.”

  “His persona….”

  “Yes,” Beth interrupted, “yes, his public persona since he’s become president is so different than who he really is. I mean he was different in public than in private all along, but since we’ve lived here, it’s become exponentially worse.” A look of sadness came over her face. All the well-being which was obvious at the beginning of the session had vanished.

  “So you’ve lost respect for him.”

  “Yes, totally,” Beth said in a flat voice.

  Taylor waited, hoping she would expound further. When she didn’t, she said, “I think respect is one of the key ingredients for a relationship. If a woman doesn’t respect a man, it’s been my experience, she will eventually stop being in love with him.”

  Beth nodded, “Yes, Taylor, I agree with you. I know Ben has lost all respect for his father, and I think I clung on until we came here,” she said, as she gestured around the room.

  “Is that one reason he says you’re not a partner?”

  She nodded slowly. “Maybe. But it’s probably more that I used to speak up. When he would try to talk to me about things, I would give him my opinion. Until…”

  “Until…” Taylor prompted when the silence prolonged and Beth was once again gazing out the window.

  “Until he began getting so angry at me. He didn’t like what I said, he didn’t value my opinions, so I quit. I just stopped telling him.”

  “You wanted to avoid his anger.”

  “Yes. I began to avoid conflict, to just nod silently when he was talking, to never speak up.”

  “And so you withdrew into yourself until eventually you became depressed.”

  Beth nodded. “Yes, that’s exactly how it happened. But it came on slowly, you know? The depression, I mean. It creeps up on you, doesn’t it? So slowly that you don’t know, you don’t remember how you used to feel, you don’t remember what you used to be like.”

  “That’s right. That’s why so many people don’t realize what’s happening to them. It isn’t that a person is plunged into depression, unless they are bi-polar. Those people do plunge. But for your type of depression, it is just as you’ve described it, a gradual change until actually one’s real personality is submerged.”

  “Yes! Oh, Taylor, I’m so happy you said that. I did begin to wonder if I was going crazy. It was as if my brain had disappeared and I was just a huge bag of emotions. But at least I had someone to turn to; I had access to get some help. Many people don’t.”

  “That’s right. Many people don’t. Even in England, where health care is free, there is always a waiting list for mental health. And here, where so many people don’t have the money to buy health insurance, the problem, I read, is much worse.”

  “Yes it is.”

  “Beth, I’d love to talk to you about this subject, but I need to ask you something. I met with Dr. Bolton.”

  “Oh, good. Isn’t he nice?”

  “Yes, I guess so. We only had a professional conversation and he seems to be very concerned about your husband. It is obvious he takes his job very seriously.”

  “Yes, I get that impression. In fact, your description of him is probably more accurate than mine.” She was silent for a moment. “That’s just what I mean, how one’s impressions are distorted by the way people treat you. He’s always utterly charming with me.”

  “He told me something I wasn’t aware of. He is worried about the amount of alcohol the President consumes.”

  Beth’s eyes grew wide and bright with tears before she answered in almost a whisper, “Yes, it’s a problem. I know I should have told you, but I…well, it’s just all part of the charade that goes on, you know, protecting his image.”

  “That’s all right, Beth. I understand. He wanted me to ask you specifically how much he drinks when he’s in the residence.”

  Beth shrugged. “It depends. I have always gone to bed earlier than he does, so I probably don’t know.” She stood up, walked around the room for a moment and then stood looking out the window. With her back to Taylor and in a very soft voice she asked, “Do you, does Frank think he’s an alcoholic?”

  “Maybe,” Taylor equivocated.

  “We seldom have dinner together. He usually works through dinner downstairs in the Oval Office. But when we do, he always opens a bottle of wine and pours one glass fo
r me. He finishes the bottle, usually during dinner. Sometimes I think he drinks more than he eats. It’s funny, he’s such a fitness fanatic and worries about his weight, yet I know alcohol is fattening. Anyway, then after dinner, he always has a brandy. He has a rather large brandy snifter, and then…”

  And then, Taylor was thinking, it sounded as if she was going to say ‘and then the real drinking begins.’

  Beth turned around and sat back down before she finished the sentence. “Then, it varies. If we want to watch a movie, you know about the movie theater, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I saw it on my tour when I first arrived. It looks very comfortable.”

  She smiled, “Yes, it is, but I often feel foolish sitting down there just with Sam, all those empty seats. It’s one of the many perks of living here, we can see any movie we like, all the latest releases right here.”

  “Does he drink while you’re watching a film?” “Yes come to think of it. He asks whoever is in attendance to bring him a couple of beers. To go with the popcorn, he always says.”

  “And if you stay up here, in the residence, does he continue drinking?”

  “I think so. I’m an early to bed type of person and he is the opposite, so even from the beginning of our marriage, we’ve had that conflict. He’s given up by now, but it used to make him terribly angry for me to go to bed before he wanted to.”

  “So what happened, in the beginning did you do as he wished?

  That dreamy look appeared in Beth’s eyes once again and soft tears came back. “Yes, I tried to. I wanted to please him, you know, like any new bride. I think that was the first time I experienced his anger, soon after we were married, he blew up one evening when I said I really was too tired to stay up.”