Trumped

five // sacrifices to make

Sacrifices to Make

"We need to do something," I say, and for the first time in my life, I'm frightened. I thought it impossible but apparently I do have some form of emotions. Quite possibly they're just temporary.

Hillary shakes her head in agreement, and sighs. "How could you let this happen?"

I frown. How dare she try to pin the blame on me, and make me her scapegoat, when really she is the cause for this disastrous turnout! "Excuse me, Hillary," I tell her, "but I think this is your fault."

She looks shocked. "My fault?"

I say, "I mean, full offense, but... if you hadn't been, well, a democrat, we wouldn't have this problem. Also, of course, you're married and a notorious liar, but really, democrat just ties it together."

Hillary pouts, visibly upset at my taunting. But, honestly, I wasn't to blame at all. She was the one who ignited the fire that is this mess. Although I suppose Geoffrey may have contributed to this situation, though I highly doubt it as Hillary—beautiful as she may be, bless her unfortunate soul—is the sort of person to create drama just because it seems like a good idea. Actually, now I wonder how she's still in the presidential race given her dimwitted tactics for gaining votes...

She purses her lips, obviously realizing just how much damage she's done. "Donald, do you know why I agreed to go out with you?"

I laugh, what is this, some trick question? "Uh, you're joking right? I'm the definition of perfect. I am the sun around which the earth revolves, the stars that give us light. I am the sunrise and the sunset. I am the reason for your being. I saved you–"

She puts her hand up, halting my poetic speech. "Donald, I hate to interrupt the, er, whatever you were saying... but I don't think this is going to work."

I let a silent laugh escape my throat. "What?" I choke on the word, simple as it may be. This woman, the one I've been with for the equivalent to forever—alright, a couple of days—is ending our relationship? If this relationship must come to an end, why am I not the one who is stopping it? Instead of protesting, I state confidently, "You know Newton's Third Law of Motion, I suppose? Things in motion tend to stay in motion and things at rest tend to stay at rest.

"Our romantic journey is still very much in motion, perhaps at full speed, currently. Ending it now will only create more conflict and drama for the tabloids to collect," I tell her. My logic is flawless, so I can't see how she could object to this rock solid statement.

Her eyes are a tad glazed over, and her gaze is steady. I can sense that she is thinking this over, trying—although failing—to find a way to counter this solid reasoning.

There is a lingering silence, but it is finally broken by her soft words. "Donald, you truly have changed my life. Honestly, I can't see any other life without you in it. Aside from our spouses, we certainly have an enviable romance. But, I do think it would be best to, per se, give each other some space.

"Yes, I do very much wish to continue this enthralling relationship, but given the circumstances... do you really think it would be an intelligent idea to move forward with this? Being under such meticulous supervision? If we keep this up, the press would for sure be on our tails." This being the termination of her final sentence, there is only a forlorn look on her ancient face now.

Although I can understand the point she's trying to make, I just wish things didn't have to be like this. If only the press would just back off and mind their own business (unless, of course, if they perhaps wanted to interview me or conjure up a motivational article about me)! "Maybe you should go," I say, my voice lacking the usual notes of pride. I lead her to one of the many exits and allow her to leave without dignity—she lost that a long time ago.