What Almost Was But Wasn't

His office was gorgeous. Literal books have been written about its architecture, but what

fascinated me was the fact that it was his. His personal touches were everywhere.

We talked about policy for about ten minutes before he sat down in his chair. THE chair.

Instinctively, I moved toward him. I think my intention was to sit on his lap.

To my dismay, he held up his hand.

“I really don’t want to do bad things with my life. I have the power to, of course. But I

also have the power not to. Cheating on one’s spouse is immoral, and my wife has done nothing

to deserve such cruel treatment. Taking advantage of you would also be immoral, Harmony.

You’re a brilliant young woman with a bright future in politics. I have no right to put a stain on

that career in its infancy, to taint you in a way you could never wash off. Even if it never got out,

we’d both know what I did. I’m in the power seat—therefore, the sin would be far more mine

than yours. I’d have to live with that burden for the rest of my life, and so would you. And let’s

not be naive: It would almost certainly get out. These things always do, sooner or later. And

then? The fallout would be devastating, and not just for the people in this room. You see,

Harmony? The damage would be too massive, in exchange for a momentary thrill of the flesh.

We can’t. I’m sorry. And I’m sorry to have brought you into The Oval Office. It should never be

just the two of us. You shouldn’t be in the physical position you’re in, alone with the boss. That

was me thinking with the wrong head of office. But the president is back in charge of his

faculties, and I’m putting an end to this before it begins. I’m so sorry, Harmony. I’m not

rejecting YOU. I’m rejecting hedonism. I’m rejecting sexual immorality. The imbalance of

temporary pleasure against enduring pain, well...nothing is worth that. Not you. Not me. Not

anyone on God’s Earth.”

It was a good speech, as he was prone to give. I was already crying. I knew he was right.

He stood up and wrapped me in his arms. I sobbed against his chest. For some reason my mind drifted to the vice president, which confused me. Then I realized it was because of the

phrase “one heartbeat away from the presidency.” I was hearing, and feeling, that hallowed

heartbeat. It was strong, and reassuring in its ordinariness. No trite phrase, no poetry, could

capture its visceral feel. I was being embraced by a human man, rather than a legend in a suit.

He whispered against my hair: “There are so many ambitious young men in DC, who can give you their full attention. Their public affection. You deserve that. You aren’t meant to be a dirty secret. Neither are you a mere prize to be collected, a trophy among the knick-knacks on my desk.”

After a few minutes, my crying subsided. I was able to ground myself, as I made eye

contact with a famous oil painting on the wall.

“Thank you for the private tour, Joshua. I promise that’s the last time I’ll call you that.”

He shook his head. “When you’re a senator—or whatever you ultimately are—you can

call me Joshua again. But yes, for now let’s go back to Mr. President. You being an intern, and

me being president, is temporary. It’s all temporary. All of it. Remember that.”

“I’m sorry. I have to ask you a personal question. Or would that be inappropriate?”

He looked at me with a combination of fondness and condescension. Our history teacher

used to give us that look when we were passing notes in class. As if to say, “Really, children?

REALLY? You think I’m that oblivious?” It’s the look a superior bestows upon a subordinate.

Not one they hold in contempt, but one who instills in them feelings of responsibility and

tenderness. And perhaps a bit of amusement, too. I was, after all, very young.

“I think we’re well past inappropriate, Harmony. Ask your question.”

“Are you going to masturbate while thinking about me?”

He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t blink.

“Every night for the rest of this week, then once a week for the rest of my life.”

It was a charming answer. No wonder he’d been elected twice!

He continued. “Now, uh. If you don’t mind. I need to, uh...organize my files.”

My cheeks still flushed for multiple reasons, I exited the office. The president stayed

within, to do what he needed to do. The secret service men didn’t acknowledge me at all.

As I walked down the hallway, I felt shockingly dignified, despite having just been

dumped. Oh, sure, I hadn’t technically been dumped, but my heart didn’t know that. In essence

I’d experienced a breakup, albeit a preemptive one. A perfectly clean pre-breakup, and clean was how I felt. Clean, heartbroken, and dignified.

by Alaina Hammond