The Kennedys

Chapter Twenty-Three: Mr. President!

Hyannis Port, Massachusetts, 1960

Jackie straightened her husband's tie, looking up at him with soothing affection.

"You'll do great." she said, straightening his tie and some of the creases in his jacket.

She kept her hands on his chest and smiled up at him, he smiled back.

"Really? I'm not so sure."

"Well I am."

"And that's all the reassurance I need."

Jackie smiled and kissed her husband, after seven years of marriage here was something so familiar yet so exciting about kissing him. Sometimes it felt like it had in the beginning, with all of the excitement and uncertainty about the future.

"Now," said Jackie, "remember, look Eisenhower in the face. He may have eight years of experience behind him but you're young with fresh ideas and the country's support."

Jack felt some pain in his back and sat down, "I barely have half of the country's support. The election was one of the closest in history, and Nixon was trailing my back the entire damn time."

"Don't lose confidence." said Jackie, "You're brave and strong and twice the man Nixon could ever be."

Jack smiled, "Maybe to you."

"Of course to me." Jackie went over and knelt down to his level, "And to anyone else who meets you."

"Jack! Jackie! Come on! We need to get going!" Joe yelled from the bottom of the staircase.

"Give them a break, Dad. He was just elected yesterday, he's probably overwhelmed." said Bobby.

"Well, look who's suddenly Mr. Nice Guy." Joe replied.

Bobby rolled his eyes, "I can be Mr. Nice Guy now that this campaign is over."

Jack walked down the stairs, and the family burst into applause.

"Please, please!" said Jack, "I have to go face down Eisenhower!"

"That's my boy!" said Joe, smiling so proudly it was almost blinding.

Joe embraced his son, but whispered into his ear, "We need to talk when you get back."

———————

The White House

Jack walked through the long halls of place that, in a few months, he would call his home. He looked over at President Eisenhower. They had been walking in silence for awhile, and neither really wanted to speak.

"You know," Eisenhower said, "eight years here and I still don't know how to describe the feeling."

"What feeling, sir?"

"The way it feels to be president. It's indescribable, really. There's so much pressure, sometimes it feels as if someones put a thousand bricks on your shoulders, and yet the glory. To look out at a cheering crowd and know that on Election Day they said: 'We want you to be our leader'."