2030_ The Real Story of What Happens to America - Albert Brooks [140]
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
The time had come for Matthew Bernstein to make a decision. Would he run again? It was never really a question, but it had to be addressed officially so fund-raising could start in earnest.
Normally, this would be a conversation he would have with his wife, but they were not communicating. Though Betsy was fulfilling her duties as First Lady, she had moved to another bedroom, and for the first time in their marriage she and her husband no longer slept together. This was not unheard of, but usually when presidents and their spouses slept separately they had been doing so before they reached the White House. When they started out sleeping in the same bed and then wound up in separate rooms, well, that caused people to talk.
John Van Dyke assumed they would patch things up, certainly before the President officially decided to run again, but it had not yet happened. They were sitting in the Oval Office late one night when Van Dyke broached the subject. “Matthew”—this was not something he called his boss often, it was always “Mr. President,” but he used the President’s first name when he wanted to get serious—“we have to make a decision. I assume we’re going for another term. We don’t have to announce it officially, but you and I have to be on the same page. You haven’t mentioned it once.” The President didn’t answer. He stared at a painting of George Washington on the far wall. Van Dyke thought he hadn’t heard him. “Mr. President?”
“I heard you. I would like to continue in office.” He paused. “I don’t know if my wife feels the same way.”
Van Dyke felt as if he had been hit with a right hook. What was his boss saying exactly? “I don’t understand. She doesn’t want to be First Lady any longer?”
“I don’t think she wants to be my wife any longer.”
John Van Dyke had dealt with everything imaginable, or so he thought, but was he really going to be the first chief of staff in United States history to deal with a divorce? He sat there trying to find something clever or witty or soothing—anything—to say, but he could think of nothing. Finally he mumbled, “I think a divorce would be hurtful to your reelection.”
The President laughed. “You’re telling me!”
“Does Betsy not enjoy the job of First Lady?”
“Betsy does not enjoy the job of being my wife. If she was married to someone else, she might tolerate being First Lady, but she has made it clear she does not want to do this again.”
“So if you don’t run, would that make her happy?”
“If I didn’t run, the way I see it, I think she might divorce me anyway. She has fallen out of love with me. If she ever was really in love with me in the first place.”
“Well, sir, that’s bad news. I’m sorry you’re going through this. Hopefully you will find a solution, but if worst comes to worst I think we can still work around it. After all, more Americans are divorced than married. Maybe we can be spin it in a way that makes you sound like one of them.”
“One of whom?”
“One of the divorced many.”
“Great. Sounds like a campaign slogan.”
“Mr. President, would it help to talk to someone? A professional?”
“Marriage counseling? Is that your idea?”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“I’m in love with someone else and she knows it, that’s what’s wrong with it.”
Van Dyke was not expecting that answer. He knew of his boss’s affection for Susanna Colbert, but he had never heard the President say the words “I’m in love” until this moment.
“Susanna?”
“Of course. You know that.”
“I know you like her very much. I didn’t know you were officially in love.”
“Officially in love?” The President laughed. “That’s a good one. Maybe another slogan.”
Van Dyke got up from the couch. “I have to think about this. I don’t think it’s insurmountable, but it certainly will depend on how this goes down,