Because I’m sitting next to Cal, I can hear every single word she says. But since she’s yelling through the phone, I’m sure Aaron can hear sitting across from us as well. “Have you seen the papers, Callahan?” she screeches.

“What are you talking about?” His eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“The papers! The ones where your wife, Elizabeth, is playing basketball with the poor kids.” My body tenses at the mention of my name, but I’m soon simmering with anger at her blatant disapproval of these kids. She’s such a pretentious bitch. It’s not their fault they’re poor!

“No, Mother, I haven’t. What’s wrong?” He looks over at me accusatorily. I simply shrug, not knowing what else to do or say. I haven’t done anything wrong, but knowing Grace, it’s probably something very trivial.

“You look at those pictures and you tell me. Bringing those mangy kids onto your traveling home! How you ever got fooled into marrying that retched woman is beyond me. It’s clear she wasn’t brought up properly, and now you want to make her first lady?” Her awful comments are followed by a wicked laugh. I sink down into my seat, embarrassment flooding me. It doesn’t matter how many times I hear her say how much she dislikes me, it still stings. My only crime against her is that I was born into a poor family, and to her that means I should be condemned.

“Okay Mother, I’ll look into it.” He disconnects the call and doesn’t acknowledge me. “Do you know what she’s talking about? Have you seen any press from Elizabeth’s visit to the Boys and Girls Club?” Cal asks Aaron.

“It was actually the next thing I was going to show you. Seems she was a hit with the kids and the paper wrote a nice little article about her. She’s exactly what your campaign needs.” He slides the paper over to show Cal where he looks over the article before focusing in on the pictures.

“Elizabeth, why aren’t you wearing shoes?” He turns slowly in his seat to look at me.

“Because I was shooting a basketball and couldn’t get into a good stance in my heels,” I reply slowly, still not seeing what the problem is.

“Do you know how it looks to see the wife of a Fitzgerald—the future first lady—to be parading around barefoot? You’re going to be the laughing stock of my family’s circle of friends now.” His tone never changes. It’s very calm and low, but his eyes show everything. He sees this as an embarrassment. A blemish on the family name. And now he’s pissed about it.

“You can’t be serious. They were off for thirty seconds.” Is he really making a big deal about something so insignificant? I’ll bet the article doesn’t even mention my shoeless feet. “I hardly think it’s that big of a d—” I start but am cut off.

“You know you’re job is this family. You are to present yourself in a way that doesn’t mar the family’s reputation and name. Do you want people to think that you run around shoeless all the time? That I don’t properly provide for you and your basic needs?” I almost snort at that comment since that’s all he does. I’m provided for in all material aspects, but the things that matter—love, companionship, friendship—they’re all missing.

Feeling like a petulant child, my eyes look down to avoid the disapproving stare coming off of Cal. “I’m sorry. I really wasn’t thinking.”

“Yes, well we’ll just make sure I’m at all press functions with you from now on to keep slip ups like these from happening again. Also, why would you let all these kids onto our bus? This is our home and you let them waltz right in.” He slides the article over to me where there’s a picture of the kids climbing on to the bus. Each has a smile on their face, bringing one to my own even now.

“Look at their faces, Cal. They were so happy and excited to do something so simple.” I’m trying to get him to see reason, to see that he’s being completely irrational on both fronts.

“You don’t know these kids. Most of them come from poor, broken families. Any one of them could’ve stolen something. Is that what you want? To be robbed blind by a future thug?” My mouth falls open at his description of these sweet, innocent kids. It’s true that not all of them have had an easy lot in life, but then again neither had I.

“What the cameras didn’t show, sir, is that I gave them all a pat down once they exited the bus. I assure you nothing was stolen,” Alex chimes in. I look over Cal’s shoulder at him, confused by his false statement. Alex was on the bus with me the whole time. He wasn’t patting kids down as they walked off. Cal turns his attention back to me, but my focus is still on Alex. His wink lets me know he’s trying to help bail me out. I fight off the huge smile that threatens to take over my face.

“Well, looks like you’re coming in handy, Mr. Matthews.”

“Like I told you the first day, sir, I’m here to protect all your assets.”

The topic is dropped and Cal moves on to more pressing issues involving the campaign. A sense of gratefulness takes over. Alex saved me from being berated and belittled in front of them. The thought brings a small smile to my face as I wait for us to exit the bus.

“Congressman Fitzgerald, what makes you a good fit to be the next president of the United States?” Cindy White, the reporter asks. I’m standing off camera behind her watching Cal answer the questions.

“I believe in the American people. I believe in their ability to make America great. Our country needs a leader that will fight for them; fight for their jobs, higher wages, their kids’ education, all the things that are important to the people.”

“You brought up kids, and we just saw the spread on your wife, Mrs. Fitzgerald, and her work with the Boys and Girls Club. You don’t have any kids of your own, is that something you see yourself doing in the future? Will there be any Fitzgerald babies running through the White House if you’re elected?” My heart stops. The one question I never wanted anyone to touch on. In fact, I thought these questions were preapproved by Cal’s staff. Why the hell would they let this one through knowing Cal and his family never wants to talk about it?

“Well,” Cal starts in a somber voice. He glances at me and looks down before bringing his attention back up to Cindy. His eyes have taken on a saddened look now, and my curiosity is piqued as to where this is going. “My beautiful wife and I would’ve loved to have kids. Unfortunately, after several tests with fertility doctors,” he stops, looking like he’s composing himself. My eyebrows furrow, waiting for him to finish. “Elizabeth is not able to have children.” He looks like he’s choking back the sorrow—eyes red-rimmed, mouth turned down, swallowing hard—that my failure as a woman has caused. I feel as if the air has been knocked out of me. I stagger back slightly, feeling like I’ve been hit in the face. Without much thought, I numbly turn around and leave the room, desperate to make it back to the bus before I fall apart.

Once I’m out of the room, I practically run down the hallway. The rapid clicking of my heels fills the hallway. “Elizabeth, wait!” I hear Alex shout to me, but I don’t slow down or look back. I need to get to the bus. Alex makes it to my side and I see him look at me from my periphery. I’m not sure what he sees, but whatever it is keeps him from questioning me or asking me to stop. He puts his hand at the small of my back and helps escort me to the safety of the tour bus.

I climb up the steps and try to make it to the bedroom, but stop at the table. I brace both hands on the table and squeeze my eyes shut. “That bastard!” I shout. How dare he say that on live television! I hear the bus door open and close. Looking over to my left, I notice the driver is nowhere to be seen. My outburst is probably responsible for his hasty exit.

“Elizabeth, what’s wrong? Please, talk to me.” I notice he doesn’t make a move to touch me, giving me my space.