“You don’t really have to do this.”

Hardly looking up from my shoes, I shrugged. “It’s not a matter of...” I trailed off. Smiling weakly, I looked up at Marty Edward, Vice President. “This has never been about what I have to do. This is what I should do.”

“No,” Edward said, sliding the folder over to me. “You shouldn’t do this. Look at the-”

I didn’t need to open the folder to know what he was talking about. No one had to. It was the tone of urgency in his voice, the manner of him and those in the room shifting around, that said it all.

Holding up my hand, I interjected, “I understand that this will not be good for my political standing.”

“No good,” he barked, “this is political suicide!” He ran his long fingers through his thinning blonde hair. “Mr. President,” he managed, taking in steadying breaths, “you should not, cannot, do this.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Unwaveringly, Edward continued, beginning to pace, “Look around the room, Sir, see all those faces around you, looking back at you...”

The men in black, the cabinet, my vice president...

“Those who have come to care for you, who respect what you have done and what you plan to do...”

She stood out in the hall way, her face a blanch as the white marble statues. I tried to meet her gazed, but she turned her head away, refusing to understand.

“You can’t do this to all of us! We’ve done so much.” Edward leaned forward, against the desk, his knuckles turning white. “Stay silent. We don’t have to tell anyone this. There are ways to keep the public from knowing this.”

“No.”

“We’ve done it before, quite successfully,” Edward said ignoring my protests. “In the past whenever we were involved with something we didn’t want the citizens to know, we’d just cover our trails, save our asses, you know what I mean.”

Rising steadily, “I know what you mean and I do not feel the need to do it.”

His voice catching in the back of his throat, “So you mean to tell me that you are willing to sacrifice everything for the sake of having a clear conscience.”

“Correct.”

Crossing his arms and glaring at me, Edward snapped, “When you got involved in politics thirty years ago, you knew that these high morals of yours would cause you trouble down the road. And yet you still accepted the party nomination and were elected. This position you hold means putting the people first, not your own heart!”

“I don’t think that lying to the people is in their best interest,” I began.

Edward cut in, “It’s not so much lying to the people, it’s omitting certain things about your life that you do not have to share with them. You don’t go looking around in their personal lives, so why should they have to know yours?”

“It’s no good, Marty,” I sighed. “People are already talking about it. The rumors are flying.”

“That’s just the thing, they are just rumors! That means that inherently they are not true.”

“This one is... There is no point in denying it.”

“By admitting it you’re making sure that you’ll never be elected again. Not just for president but for anything.”

“Their loss.” I shrugged my shoulders. “If they can’t take the fact that this is what I am... that a president who has served them well is something that they don’t like... Well, I cannot control the people. It is their will.”

“For christssake, the people-”

“The people put me here, the people want me to represent them. But the people do not control who I am.” I came out from behind the protection of my desk and touched Edward’s shoulder lightly. I could feel him tremble under the touch. “I am a person, imperfect. I have my own life, my own mistakes. I may have done things in the past that weren’t my best decision. Well, let that be. You can’t change the past. I might be doing things that aren’t liked by everyone present, but I’ll never be able to please everyone. I’ve accepted that. Have you, Marty?”

He took a step back. “I would prefer it, Mr. President that you not do this. I advise you not to-”

“I respect your advice, Marty, but the decision is mine.” I looked around the room, but focused on the woman out in the hall, the woman who had been my wife for two decades. She was the woman who I wished that I could love. “I hope that you all will forgive me,” I whispered softly, praying that she would turn around and see just how much this hurt me too.

But she didn’t.

There would always be those who would never see.

“It is time,” I breathed, “to tell the people the truth.”

Edward stared blankly at me, unbelieving what I was about to do.

“Let the people know that I was...” I glanced around the room, finding no supporting face, “tell them that I was... that I was involved with that man.”

A/N: Here you go, a story with the true meaning of tragedy: where the protagonist brings his downfall upon himself.
-Anatkh

For May ‘08’s Laugh or Cry challenge.

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