BLACK PRESIDENT- Chapter 83. John Little finally gets the courage to visit his real wife Fran, pretending to be his brother. (How could she not see through his 'disguise?').

https://www.verywellfamily.com/ten-tricks-for-telling-twins-apart-2447102

CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE

For more than three weeks after his historic speech as President Jackson Little, John had avoided paying a visit to real wife Fran. Inadvertently, he had put his own wife and children on the back burner, partly because he had had the speech to write and deliver, but mostly because of the anxiety. He had already slipped up with his own mother. Yes, Rudy had done his best to cover for him, but he could see the look in Sarah’s eyes. That look, and her questioning, seemed like it would ultimately lead to cracking his façade. She seemed determined, somehow, to burrow inside his head and examine all the parts, until he finally admitted who he really was. As the upcoming prospect of “Jackson's visit with his sister-in-law” approached, Sarah seemed in charge of arranging things. His mother felt that he, as uncle, could make a positive impact. John Jr. was becoming exceedingly unresponsive, said Fran, commiserating with her mother-in-law.

“John just doesn’t want to go to school anymore,” Fran explained. “Just keeps playing video games, and argues with me about even the smallest things. I’m afraid I’m going to lose him, too!”

———-

Two days after John’s ‘$5 hidden in a Geographic magazine’ mistake, Sarah gave him a call. She tried to relate Fran’s worries without adding to his official duties, but some things just weren't possible to sugarcoat. And the tiniest part of her brain that believed Jackson might actually be John – John playing Jackson – couldn’t help testing him as they conversed. Her President son’s inflections, pauses, vocal tones and deviations, added something to her subliminal investigation. One end of the scale would be weighed down, made heaver by the subtlest amount, to give a final answer to the question: which of her sons was actually sitting in the Oval Office?

The call begun innocently enough. After the usual two minutes of limbo, on hold with the White House switchboard, she finally heard her son’s voice and returned his salutation.

“Hi son. Hope I’m not interrupting something, but just needed to get a word to you from Fran.”

“Unhuh,” said John, holding his emotions in check as Sarah's counted off his children’s difficulties. “How is she doing?” John tried to keep his guilt contained.

Sarah couldn’t help analyzing the emotion in her son’s voice. Did he seem too defensive when she mentioned Fran? Is this the way Jackson would have answered, if it had really been his brother’s wife they were talking about? Who was she really talking to?

“Fran's not too well, son,” said Sarah. “She’s been mighty upset cause John Jr. isn’t doing too well in school. And there have been arguments. She thinks it’s due to John’s death, and why wouldn’t it be.”

“Yes, that figures.” John knew he was punishing Fran and his kids every day with the Presidential charade. Was it really worth deserting them to “fix” the ills in America?John kept silent, waiting for his mother to finish. He was a little stunned at hearing the truth, learning second-hand about his families difficulties. What could he say?.

“John, you still there? Sarah repeated the name, “John?”

“Yes, right here, Mom.” By this point, John’s defenses were back up. Was his mother testing him or just being forgetful? He immediately parried back. “No mom. I'm not John. You're speaking with Jackson, remember?” There was a silence again. So he heaped new sentences on top, burying the truth as deep and fast as he could.

“Listen mom, I know I’ve put off visiting Fran. But I’m ready to see her and the kids now, if you think that will help. Just haven’t been ready to handle her pain, at least what I imagine it to be. I’ve been recovering from my own wounds and getting readjusted to the Presidential workload. Anyway, I just don’t want to give her false hope that I will be able to handle things that…”

“Son,” interrupted Sarah, “If you can visit her and give her some friendship I think that would mean a lot. And the kids would love to see you, get a big hug from someone who looks like their father.”

She’d finally got it. Either he was John and felt guilty about deserting Fran, or he was Jackson and didn’t have the emotional capability to add to his problems. Either way, he was all she had. So it didn’t really matter which son he was. One child was dead and one was alive. That’s all. She wouldn’t make it any harder for the living one.

“Of course, mom. I’ll get to it in a couple days. So glad you called and reminded me. You know I love Fran too.”

“I know, son. We all do. Got to go now. Talk to you soon. ‘Bye.”

As soon as he hung up, John felt some small measure of relief. It seemed like his mother did know he was John, but that she had somehow accepted it. It felt like she wouldn’t be his grand inquisitor again, like she'd been at the dinner table. At any rate, he hoped she wouldn’t plague him with sly questions, confront him again about his identity. If she did, he’d probably just blurt out the truth and be done with it. Yes, I’m John. Jackson is dead! Satisfied?

***

As the Secret Service ringed the house, other agents at the ready at strategic points on the perimeter, John Little rang the ‘John Little’ doorbell. Fran answered and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, along with a strong embrace.

“So happy you’re visiting, Jackson, I mean Mr. President. The kids are in the TV room. They’re looking forward to their uncle.”

“You’re looking great. Been worried about you...” The words just slipped out of John’s mouth, and he made a mental note to be more careful. He had gotten way too personal in his comment, in his tone, and knew he had slipped back into John for a second. He quickly shook it off by reverting to Presidential security matters. Glancing toward the two agents who had accompanied him, he indicated that he’d have to close the door, leaving them outside. While this had been discussed and agreed upon previously, it still felt a little rude (their faces seemed so close as he shut them out). Now he could refocus on Fran, see the kids – his kids – and depart, hopefully with his “Jackson” disguise still intact.

“Before you see the kids,” said Fran, lowering her voice, “you should know that John Jr. has had problems in school. I’m sure it’s parent-related. He’s lost his father, so what can I expect? So don’t be surprised if he gets over-emotional in some way. On the other hand, Donna hasn’t seemed as affected, at least on the surface. That girl’s made of steel”

John just nodded, in recognition of what he’d previously heard from his mother, and what he knew of his kids’ personalities.

“OK,” said John, hoping he could maintain himself. “I’ll be careful.”

As John followed his wife through the familiar halls toward where the kids were playing, he couldn’t help reflecting on how beautiful his wife appeared, even more radiant than he remembered. It took everything he had not to grab her, spin her around, plant a big kiss on her lips and tell her he loved her. Entering the TV room, John caught Donna’s eye, while John Jr. kept playing his video game, some shoot-em-up in a SciFi land. She jumped up and threw her arms around her uncle. John placed his hand on her blond hair and smoothed it down. As soon as he realized that this was a habit that John entertained with his daughter he stopped and patted instead. At any rate, the warmth Donna generated made him feel loved in a way he’d almost completely forgotten. The bond between father and daughter was unbreakable. While he’d felt loved by Cissy and Jackson’s kids, this was a little different. He could feel the mix of DNA, his and Fran’s human artwork.

“John, honey,” said Fran in her son’s direction. “You’re uncle is visiting. Do you think you can take a little break?”

“Not now,” said John Jr., clicking frantically on his controller. “Got to finish this level...”

“But...” was all Fran got out of her mouth before John cut in. “That’s OK, John. I know how it is. I played Warfare for awhile and couldn’t stop either.”

“Oh, that’s funny, ” exclaimed Fran, “because your brother liked that game too. I guess you twins enjoyed the same things.”

“Well, we both had extremely good taste in women,” said John, smiling in his own wife’s direction. Fran blushed a little, while smiling back.

“Thanks John. Anyway, I’ll leave you to your niece and nephew for a second. Got something in the oven.”

After Fran had turned the corner, John sat down next to Donna and let her snuggle with him. As they sat there, on his sofa, in his rec room, he let Fran’s words ‘Thanks, John’ roll around. Had she just made a mistake like his mother – a slip of the tongue? She had used his real name so matter-of-factly. So naturally. Did she actually know? Or was she talking to her son but looking at him. Was the name-call just an easy error? He had to find out.

About twenty minutes passed.

After Donna went back to her books, John eased over to John Jr. and watched the video game in progress. Spells were being cast, new weapons grabbed, bad guys getting shot or exploded (the earphones his nephew wore kept most of the soundtrack under wraps, but some noise escaped). Suddenly, out of nowhere, John Jr. spoke up.

“Want to try it, Dad?” Without taking his eyes off the screen, John Jr. handed over the controls. John Little grabbed the plastic unit and started playing, half his brain trying to win the game, the other half trying to reconcile what he’d just heard. It was like a parallel universe had just dropped him back into his old household. Nothing was different. Nothing had changed. His wife loved him, his kids were fine, and life was good. What was real?

Almost perfectly timed, Fran returned as the boys completed Level Six. John Jr. explained that the next level was “kick-ass.” The President stood up. Fran looked at him with an astonishing grin. He could feel himself falling in love all over again.

“Can you kids be OK for a while? I want to talk to Jackson alone if I may.” They both looked up. “OK, Mom.” Had they heard her call him Jackson?

She grabbed his hand and walked him down the hall to his office. Once inside, she closed the door, locked it, and did a short pivot, planting her lips fully on his. Before he could think, he was in a full heated embrace with his own wife. Within fifteen minutes they had made wild love on the couch. As soon as the flurry of lovemaking had ended, Fran had gotten herself dressed and approached the door. “Be back soon,” she said, adding, “Take a shower if you like.” Her quick exit gave him the opportunity to sort out his scattered thoughts.

What had happened? His mind was racing at the irrational act. Because he’d been guilty of depriving his wife, and because she had been so aggressively sexual and he’d desperately needed something real himself, he'd become uncontrollably intimate. He, as Jackson Little, had strangely just had an affair with his dead brother’s wife! At least the Secret Service agents weren't privy to the event, like they'd supposedly been for JFK's indiscretions. Thankfully, they’d been told his visit was for two hours, and for him not to be disturbed.

Taking a shower, the water drilling into him from wall fixture, seemed to help. He needed all the comfort and rehabilitation he could summon. Fran and he had made love. Did that mean that she knew his true identity? And if she did know, did Cissy know as well? Recently he and Cissy had had fairly frequent sex in the White House. Now that was an affair. Being there, in a White House bed with Jackson’s widow, was the crime. Not this.

Beyond the shower sounds, John heard the bedroom door open and close, and figured that Fran had re-entered. A few seconds later, the bathroom door also opened. There was his wife, completely naked. She pushed the shower curtain to one side and stepped into the water spray. John grabbed her arm to make sure she didn’t slip. Soon they were in a full embrace, and further lovemaking ensued. Finally, both were satisfied. Silently but happily, Fran toweled off and left the room, giving John some time to dry off at his leisure. peering into the steamy mirror brought something of a shock. He saw his brother. He saw Jackson reflected back.

But he wasn’t Jackson. Covering his face, he rubbed his hair with the towel. Drying off the rest of his lanky frame, he found himself standing on the mat, avoiding the mirror as best as he could. But he couldn't seem to avoid other reflections, like the oddly shaped, elongated piecemeal images of himself that shone from the chrome towel racks. He tried to grab a few moments to think, to prepare himself for what Fran might say next. His sanctuary would be short lived.

How would he handle it when she stated the full truth? When she announced, I know you’re John, would he deny it? Probably not. Wrapping himself in a large towel, he opened the door and saw his wife sitting on the bed. She looked happy. He walked over and grabbed up his underwear, slid it on, and followed with his pants and T-shirt. He was afraid of eye contact, but tried to keep a friendly-but-neutral smile on his face as he buttoned up. Finally, he seated himself on the edge, close to her, and pulled on his socks. Before he could slide on his shoes, she leaned over and kissed his cheek and neck.

“You’ve always been a good lover, sweetheart,” said Fran, adding, “I’ve missed you.” It was now clear to John that his wife knew everything, that the jig was up. And that meant that he was in mortal danger. Aside from Rudy, he didn’t believe anyone else knew for sure. Or did they? If Fran recognized him – through lovemaking – then how could Cissy not know his true identity as well? And his mother! She obviously suspected as much. He felt completely vulnerable.

“Do you think Cissy knows about us?” said Fran, out of the blue.

“What?” John Little was suddenly thrown off-kilter. Why was Fran asking him that? Now that his cover was blown, was she going to examine his infidelity too? Before he could figure out an answer, Fran repeated it again.

“Does she know about us?”

Another strange question. How could Cissy know about their love-making? It had just happened.

“I don’t think so,” said John, almost automatically. It wasn’t logical that Cissy would know anything, anything at all about what had just transpired. Why would Fran be asking such weird stuff?

Moving her hand along his shoulder before nuzzling, Fran added, “I don’t think John ever knew.”

“I’m glad we never hurt him.”

———-

Thus ends the 2nd TRILOGY novel, KENNEDY’S TWINS (2012-2016):<https://www.amazon.com/KENNEDYS-TWINS-Rick-Schmidt/dp/1366192842/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1509391742&sr=8-1&keywords=kennedy%27s+twins+rick+schmidt>).

Up next, 3rd and final book in the series, BLACKMALE (2016-2020):<https://www.amazon.com/dp/B077MSZ4HS>).