BLACK PRESIDENT-Chapter 93. Cissy gets John to put everything on the table.

CHAPTER NINETY-THREE

Waking suddenly at around 3:30AM, Cissy felt uneasy. The nocturnal sounds of the White House that echoed through the second floor bedroom spooked her. There were the typical old house creaks and groans, as well as sounds caused by movement of Security personnel and, possibly, grounds patrols. John remained fast asleep, so she spared him. Ghosts, maybe? Some had said so. But she thought it probably had to do with the newly installed metal plates in the walls – shields, she’d been told, against future terrorist attacks, rockets and bullets. Planking that came with the rebuilding after the fire of 1812, plus bullet-proof windows, also played a role in the strange, kind of hollow sensation of the old mansion. The ear hardly knew what it did or didn’t hear.

Suddenly, Cissy's thoughts jumped to Fran. Why hadn't she seen it before? She had been sending the man she believed was Jackson over to Fran’s house, to console the bereaved widow. She had been so concerned that Fran, her kids too, were all alone in the world after the death of their husband and father. But she’d been wrong. It was she who’d lost someone, not Fran. All along, they had had John. And she’d sent him over there!

In her semi-awake state, Cissy had to wonder exactly what liberties John, her acting lover and partner, had taken with his own wife. And did Fran know? Did she know about them? Him and her there in the White House? Did Fran know that they were making love?

Cissy made herself sick enough with the abhorrent thoughts to send herself to the bathroom. She ran some water over her hands after brushing her teeth for no good reason. Back in bed, she looked at the shadowy form of her husband. Not her husband- twin, but his replacement, like some sci-fi movie. Trouble was, she had grown to love the man, and also admire his fine, creative mind. She wasn’t about to give him up, even to his own wife, and that scared her.

At least she could find out from John if he was having sex with his wife or not. Now that she saw the irony clearly, it would take a bit to regain some stability around the issue. That unpleasant thought cost her an extra hour of fidgeting around, before finally falling asleep.

Cissy’s mind had been on Fran for half the night and couldn’t help returning to thoughts of her almost immediately upon waking. She wasn’t even sure that John was fully conscious when she made the pronouncement, but that’s where her morning began.

“I want you to keep visiting Fran.”

“What, honey?” was all that came out of John’s mouth. His dreams – the last few he remembered – had to do with tank battles somewhere in a desert.

“Fran? Of course, Whatever you say.”

“You have been seeing her?” Cissy was being blunt, but not yet in a way that betrayed her true motives.

“Yes, like you wanted,” stumbled John, finally getting alert enough to grab a drink of water from the mug on the table. “Her and the kids,” he added.

“Have you been sleeping with her too?”

Oh God. All of John’s emotions suddenly rallied to full alert. Should he lie, or tell the truth? Was he, in that still half-awake state, capable to maneuvering around her question? And would his explanation have to include two difficult facts: (1) his own involvement. And (2) Cissy’s real now-deseased husband Jac kson’s philandering with Fran. But, of course, Fran still believed he was Jackson. Or did she?

“I need to pee. Back in a sec.”

John rose, grabbed his robe and headed over. Just as he closed the door he heard Cissy say something, but it was indistinguishable. He contemplated the crazed complexity of his life. Fortunately he found he did have to go, and that bought him some additional time to ruminate. Should he answer partially? Or dance around what happened when Fran seduced him as Jackson. What was the best course? The expedient one? A way out? Nothing seemed satisfactory. Nothing would free him from getting more entangled. Cissy had too sharp a prosecutor’s mind. She would cut him to ribbons no matter what course he took.

Hands washed and dried, he gave a final glance in the mirror. An attempted wink gave him no added confidence. Exiting, he saw Cissy was still in bed. He walked over, hoping that at any second the business of the day could interrupt. She knew that too, and gave him an order.

“Don’t say anything until you call off the dogs. Tell them you need a private half-hour with your wife – before breakfast.”

“Of course.” With a button-push he got Station One. “Frank, please hold everything until 8:15, OK?”

John hung up and refolded his sheet over the blanket as he centered his back against the backboard. Cissy got right to the point.

“Do you have sex with Fran?”

It was clear to John that anything else but a total confession would destroy his relationship. He braced for her response.

“You mean as the President, who you encouraged to visit, to help your sister-in-law through the terrible sadness of losing her husband?” John waited for the First Lady to answer, to make some comment, a grunt, anything, before he dropped the bomb.

“Yes,” said Cissy, continuing her deadly eye contact. There was no wiggle room for his answer.

“As Jackson – your husband – the answer is Yes.”

Cissy averted her eyes, temporarily frozen in her thoughts. It took a second to comprehend the full meaning of John’s admission. His answer had rendered her speechless, something she’d hardly ever been before. Finally, reluctantly, she went for more answers.

“You’re saying that when you visited as Jackson you made love to Fran?”

Are you Jackson Little? Or his brother, impersonating the President of the United States?”

John evaded the one-word answer would just infuriate Cissy in either case. He’d ease in, from the top, and hope he could survive the fury.

“You implored me to visit Fran, and the kids, because you’re a sensitive person and was worried about how she was faring after the death of her husband–”

Cissy remained quiet and still.

“– so that’s what I did.

“I’ll admit that I was quite scared, for a variety of reasons. That’s why I’d put it off for so long. First of all, I feared that she would see through me.”

(Oh God…I’m getting ready to come completely clean with Cissy! REALLY?).

“The more people who know who I really am, the more chance of the whole thing exploding in my face, with everyone in my immediate family being hauled off to jail as accomplices. Is there any bigger crime than impersonating a U.S. President?” So, YES, I’m not who everyone thInks I am...

Sorry, darling. But I’m really John.”

Cissy blinked a couple of times, but she held a steady gaze, not answering. She knew that she had more-than suspected that switch for awhile.

“Secondly, I wasn’t sure how I’d hold up, emotionally, when confronted with the damage I’d done, against the very people who loved me, trusted me, and needed my full-time love and support. As John Little, I knew I’d let them down.

“I was aware, after Fran’s hospital visit, that the price for trying to complete my brother’s political legacy was maybe too high. I was killing my family, So to visit – actually seeing that on the home front – was a chilling proposition. Still, I followed your urging and ended up ringing her doorbell, as the property swarmed with Secret Service.

“Once inside, getting a peck of a kiss from Fran at the door, things suddenly seemed more normal, if a bit surreal. John Jr. was playing his video games over on the couch. Before I could get into the mind-game of the horrible choices I made, he called me “John” a couple times, without looking up from the tablet. At first it threw me, but then I just figured he needed to somehow believe that I was his dad, even though he knew – had definitely been told – that the President, Jackson, his Uncle – me supposedly – was going to be dropping by.

Cissy nodded ever so slightly.

“Fran then asked me to accompany her to the back rooms, where she said she wanted to show me something.” John made an effort t looking squarely at Cissy. He couldn’t help worrying about her reaction to the next bit.

“OK, I know what’s coming,” said Cissy, “so just get on with it.”

She had begun to purposely lessen her own emotional response, protecting as best she could her present relationship with the storyteller and, most importantly, the Little Presidency. She was determined not to let what she heard next ruin everything she held dear. “Go ahead.”

“Um–” John was still hesitant. “Do you really need to hear more?”

“No,” said Cissy, emphatically.

Then came a completely reluctant YES off her lips. She was always one to have to know the entire truth, in life, no matter the cost. She couldn’t, even then, avoid her damn, self-imposed cross to bear.

“OK.” He paused again, until he couldn’t afford an instant more.

“I honestly did not see it coming. She grabbed me with a ferocious grip, almost instantly stripped me of clothes, and it was like dealing with a force of nature. She was all over me, and before I came out of it – you know the rest.” John had delivered the entire encounter with one breath and he gasped for some air.

Cissy was like a tiger pawing raw meat. She left no time for John to answer as her mind jumped to a bigger question. “Did she know who you were?”

There it was. The whole weight of both their relationships hanging on his next words. He wished there was a way to soft sell, but he couldn’t figure out how.

“No.”

“You’re saying she thought you were Jackson?”

“I…

“As it progressed, after John Jr. had called me by my real name – sometimes he used “John” instead of “Dad” – and her jumping on me like that, I figured I’d been busted. Even during my shower, I thought…I still didn’t know the exact score.”

“You two…sex there in there too – in the shower – didn’t you?”

Cissy had accurately read the faintest of John’s facial expressions. He was instantly brought back to his only real avenue of survival with Cissy – full disclosure without any embellishments or omissions.

“Yes, I’m afraid so.” There was a resigned look in Cissy’s eyes, and he absorbed her emotions that came next

“Then go on!”

Just as John got ready to explain the final fact about Fran’s relationship with Jackson, the phone rang. It was his Secretary of State. There were new reports coming from Iraq, including the slaughter of over twenty Sunni civilians by Shiites. The powder keg had exploded. Still, a hardened look from Cissy put him on alert. He glanced at the clock.

“I’ll see you at 8:30 in the Oval. Best I can do, OK? Thanks.”

“Who did she think you were, then?”

Cissy continued, pressing on even though she knew that there was only one obvious answer. John had no wiggle room left. Her legal mind had him cornered.

“I still didn’t realize it…that she believed me to be…Jackson. I still thought she recognized me as her real husband.”

Cissy remained silent.

“If a woman was as unstable as my dear Fran,” continued John, “as sad and alone as she was without anyone there to be supportive, over days and days, then I suspected that my secret was out. You’d already described her situation to me in detail, saying she seemed to be coming unhinged.”

Cissy kept staring, without a measurable change of expression.

“So I had had sex with my own wife. And it did, strangely enough, make me feel like I’d had an affair behind your back.”

Cissy stayed silent, just watching.

“But I believed she had seen right through me, just waiting for her questions. I felt the jig was up.”

“But did she know you were John.” Cissy’s question dropped the little energy she had left.

“No, she didn’t.

Cissy burst in. “How fucking convoluted! DAMN!” “Is this the worst of it?” Cissy demanded a clear final answer.

“I went over there this last time, with my mind set to end it. I was even prepared to reveal my true identity. But circumstances didn’t allow that. I know–a weak excuse.”

Cissy had finally reached her limit. He saw tears forming in her eyes and felt bad about the way he had underlined the affair. But she had asked for it, hadn’t she?

“I love you, you know–” John hurriedly interjected, “and I hope this fucked up mess won’t hurt us.”

Watching her closely, trying to gauge her emotional state, didn’t help. In any case, her next words were surprising, even shocking for a few different reasons, though not totally out of whack with the woman he’d come to understand…and love.

“You must keep seeing Fran – as Jackson.”

Cissy had somehow determined that the only way to safeguard their Presidency – his and hers – was to keep Fran in the loop, keep her having a relationship with the man that she believed was Jackson. If Cissy needed to share John with another sex partner, then so be it. Her super-logical brain saw no other option.

“You know we are a couple now. You and me. You know I love you, even though we…we’ve been having an affair...of sorts. I have to admit that I suspected you might be John for awhile, but just went ahead anyway. So I’m no angel either. Poor Fran deserves some love too. But Jackson…I really thought I knew him. How could he even find the time for…?” Cissy’s voice trailed off.

“So that’s it? No more, right?” She asked in a way that invited only a “yes” answer. But when John hesitated for the tiniest instant she exploded..

“WHAT? WHAT ELSE IS THERE?

While everything in his psyche wanted to pick a soft description for it, the one Fran has used – being late – John knew not to mince words.

“Pregnant.”

“GO ON! GET OUT OF HERE!” Cissy lost it, her loud exclamation hanging there until she suddenly pulled back her emotions, strangely and unexpectedly calmer. With a quiet directive she ordered, “Wait–”

Reaching over, Cissy planted a solid kiss on the stunned man’s lips, then pulled back. She looked at him quite seriously for a second, before delivering a slower kiss to his cheek. For reasons unfathomable to John, the wife of his dead brother seemed ready to stand with him.

“Go on. Get out. You’ll miss your meeting.”

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