I forced more air out of my lungs and watched massive bubbles float back up to the surface. Beyond the pressure building up in my ears, it was nearly serene down here. Gravity felt both light and heavy at the same time. I embraced the pressure and crossed my legs on the bottom of the pool floor. By now, the temperature of the water felt warm. Perfect even. Looking up, the surface of the water looked choppy. Did I really want to come back up? Up there, the symptoms would start back up again. The full weight of gravity. The lightning strikes. The acid. The never-ending hangover. Did I want to go back and face that? At least, down here, I could feel…nothing…forever…
Her back was slightly turned toward me. She couldn’t even meet my gaze. I turned my head in rage and disbelief to look toward the silhouette of the silent therapist. The only sound between all of us was the slight scratch of his pencil against his yellow legal pad. The sun was in full brightness behind his head making it very difficult to make out the features of his face.
I grabbed her arm, and felt the scars underneath her thin sleeves. “Hey!” I railed. “I’m talking to you!?! Do you hear me??? Don’t ignore me! What the heck is your problem! Why?!?”
The home we stepped into was much larger on the inside than it appeared on the outside. Despite its appearance, however, this space was much smaller than what I was expecting for a White House. In fact, it wasn’t even a White House. This was just a house… that took up an entire block nearly… but just a plain brick house in the city, across from a small rundown park. Nothing that would catch your eye, on the outside.
A petite young woman in her mid-twenties ran and greeted us at the door with exuberant joy. “Madame President! You came back just in time!” She looked like she was about to jump up and give me the biggest hug, but stopped herself and offered a high five instead. I high-fived her back, confused about who she was. She wore rich maroon slacks paired with a hand-knit, cream wool sweater. She wore her dark auburn hair in a tight bun and had maroon frames to match.
“Angel! Thank you so much for keeping our lost President safe and bringing her back to us!” Angel shrugged and blushed. One of the secret service men who walked in behind us cleared his throat uncomfortably but continued to look on as if he wasn’t part of the conversation.
“Oh, Frank! I know your team is really the group to thank as we searched for our President!”
“Couldn’t have done it without you, Pneuma. You keep really good tabs on her…” Frank countered, his broad shoulders took much of the entryway. I noticed that only he came inside. I guess the other guys patrolled the outside then?
Pneuma turned to me. “Madame President, welcome back home. Mr. Voltaire is here and in your sitting room. Would you like a few minutes to freshen up?” She gestured to the clothing I was wearing. It wasn’t until now that I realized I was in leggings and a hoodie as well. I guess not the best attire for a President to meet with other Department heads? “I’ll tell the staff to prepare a fresh set of clothes for you.” She pulled out her phone and texted someone.
“And…is Mr. de Muerte joining this meeting as well?” She also openly gestured to his sweats and hoodie. Playful judgment came through her voice. “Ms. Panagos…you have nothing to worry about. I brought a change of clothes with me, just in case.”
“You did?” I turned to Angel, but upon second glance, he was already outfitted in a navy blue suit, white shirt, and a dark blue tie. His black hair was neatly combed back into a man bun.
“Ah…” I said aloud. “Now I can see the animal faces…” pointing to the shaved undersides of his hairstyle. Black line work of an eagle’s face on one side, an ox’s face on the other and a lion’s face on the back peaked through. Very detailed work indeed. “But wait…? How did you change so fast?”
Angel looked at me, “What? You mean you haven’t changed yet? You’re so slow!” He turned to Pneuma and bent down in a fake whisper, “Humans…am I right?” They both broke out in a good laugh.
“Oh my gosh…” I rolled my eyes and sighed in exasperation. “Pneuma, I think I lost my memory again or something… where do I go to get changed?”
Pneuma looked at me with compassion and understanding. “Frank…be a dear and escort Madame President to her room. I’m sure a staff member is waiting to dress her. I’ll wait with Angel down here until she’s ready.” Frank nodded.
“Oh! Madame President,” Pneuma asked. “How many minutes should I ask Mr. Voltaire to wait?”
“Um…I don’t know. How long does it take to get dressed?”
“Not long. Can you do it in 10 minutes?”
“Cool. I’ll be back down in 10 minutes then.”
“Great. And you said you had a bit of memory loss again? Did you need a quick debrief before we go in?”
I sighed and pulled my hand through my locs. “Yeah… a little debrief shouldn’t hurt…”
Frank walked ahead of me to the grand staircase in the center of the foyer. The royal blue runners on the wooden stairs looked freshly cleaned. He offered a hand, but I gestured that I could just use the banister to balance myself. I took my time climbing the stairs, more so to take in the details of the home rather than keeping my balance. Frank didn’t seem to be in a hurry and matched his pace to mine. On the walls leading up the staircase were several oil paintings of past Presidents and lives. But…unlike the Presidents of the United States that I would have quickly recognized, these were of people that I did not know. Largely oil paintings of…were they Middle Eastern, African…or European? I couldn’t place who they were and where they came from. They looked like classic Biblical paintings by Rembrandt or DaVinci, but these were largely portraits and little scenery was visible in them.
Frank saw me craning my head in admiration of them. He briefly smiled but said nothing. When we reached the top of the stairs, the portraits seemed to go on down the hallway. There are so many of them! I thought to myself. A rectangular mirror with gold framing in a similar size to that of the hallway of portraits sat on the wall opposite the balcony railing. A black corded phone rested on top of a gold and marble side table in front of it. I leaned on the table as I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked…haggard? Was that the right word? If anything, I could use a nap. My face was in stark contrast to all of those other figures on the wall. Bold. Determined. Ready to “carpe the diem”…or whatever the phrase was.
“Madame President…” Frank broke through my thoughts and motioned for me to follow him. “This way…” As expected, my room was at the very end of the hallway. Two large French doors opened inward to a suite. The suite appeared to have an entire apartment inside complete with a cozy living room and fireplace, kitchen, two large dressing rooms, a reading nook/office space, a massive bathroom, and, of course, a king-size bed.
Five female staff members greeted me at the door. “Well, geez!” I said aloud. “Why have a house, when I have plenty of space in here? This is great!” All five members chuckled and walked me in further. Frank closed the French doors and stood outside of the room, awaiting further instruction.
Like Frank, all of the staff members were quiet but efficient. Two of them walked me into one of the dressing rooms. While they pulled out a few outfits for me to assess, I looked around. There were a lot… of clothes in here. Just about every piece of clothing imaginable was fit, very neatly in this space. I eyed the set of metal armor on the mannequin in the corner of the room with curiosity and shook my head. This was all just too much. Just as they were pulling out their fifth outfit for my approval, I stopped one of them and said, “Do I look like I know fashion? I don’t. Just pick something you think looks nice and professional for a meeting. I think I need to be down in ten minutes though.” She nodded and conferred quickly with her coworker. Together, they chose gray-pressed pants and a blazer with a wine blouse to wear underneath. Another staff member quickly appeared with a white pearl necklace and pearl earrings, while the final two worked on my hair and makeup.
I stood before the floor-length mirror, my jaw nearly to the ground. In less than 10 minutes, they had transformed me from a very “haggard” somebody in need of a break to a President. My locs were neatly arranged on top of my head like a crown. Makeup looked natural and flawless with a slight tint of matching wine on the lips, cheeks, and eyes. And my glasses seemed to match perfectly. I was incredibly grateful that the dressing crew agreed to let me walk away in flats, understanding my current balancing situation.
“Madame President,” one of them nervously opened up, “I…hope you like it?”
“Like it? I love it! You’re all hired!” they chuckled at the joke. “Alright. I guess…that’s it then?”
“Yes! Just one last thing…” The first attendant walked to a shelf in the back of the dressing room and pulled out two swatches of perfumes.”Which one for today?”
I sniffed the first one. It was soft with slight floral notes and a touch of vanilla. The other smelled closer to a bolder fruity scent…citrus maybe? with some cinnamon and a rose undertone. It smelled “Hmm… I’m feeling a bit bold today. A very slight — and I mean slight — dash of the bolder scent, please.”
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Just Brittany 