Madam President ✓

34. Dreaming

Tanya
January 21st, 2021
4 am

   I lay in the pasture behind our house, the sun beating down on my face. It doesn't get much better than this- listening to nature with my daughter. The birds on the property provide a nice background noise, one I could meditate to if I were alone.

  Two years ago today my daughter was born. Two years ago, today was the happiest and most terrifying one of my entire life. She almost died, I apparently could have died, and then neither of us would be leaving an imprint on the world. Despite never having a real job and never applying to college, I thought that would be my purpose in life. Now, I take everything day by day and appreciate the little things. Every time I make a delivery person smile with a $500 dollar tip or get the same ones who immediately jump on our orders because they struggle to pay bills and know how the entire house is, it feels good.

  It feels good going to less fortunate areas and asking someone from the window of my car what they want to eat, just as it feels good when I have the opportunity to pay their living expenses for six months while they get back on their feet. My parents were opposed to the latter- stating that if someone wants somewhere to live they should work for it, but being as rich as they are they're out of touch.

  I will not allow it with her. I'll teach her that no matter what, and no matter how shitty of a mother I may be-  helping other people is what keeps our society together. She will know that it's okay to have a different opinion than me, that she is allowed to think for herself no matter how much I'm hoping she doesn't turn out like my parents.

  Breathe in, breathe out.

  Her giggles fill the space beside me. I smile and turn over on my side, rubbing the unnatural green dye on my dress. I can still feel my mother's disapproval as she looks up from hell at me.

  "Are you insane? Do you have any idea how much that thing costs?"

  I will never make my daughter feel like she isn't good enough or that she's too skinny or fat or her teeth aren't white enough or she has too many pimples or her collarbones are too wide(?)- like my mother did. Appearance is something a child should never have to think about.

  I will spoil her like hell but I will also teach her the value of money. If she decides to buy herself a Lambo as a second or third car, I'll walk her through the process so she doesn't get ripped off and I'll also help her get her first house built when she's ready.

  I will not suffocate her. When my mother was alive, someone was always checking on me, asking if they could get me something. Now the maids and housekeepers do their own thing and leave me alone  until I come to find them. Growing up the way I did made me value privacy above all else.

  When I was fifteen I went so far as to disappear for a week so I wouldn't have to deal with simple day to day things. Now that I have a daughter I understand how terrifying that must have been for my mom, but I hope with the way I want to raise her, she won't feel the need to hide things from me.

  I pick her up, the smells from inside beginning to seep through the walls of our house. She's sleepy, but like me I don't think she knows when to take a break. So instead of laying her head on my shoulder or letting herself close her eyes, she becomes more hyper. I carry her in.

  In the kitchen, a woman I hired after my parents deaths is making Katie's birthday cake( double chocolate, of course). I know it won't help in getting her to sleep, but today is special. I can deal with it once.... Because I stupidly gave her nanny the night off.

  So three hours later, way past her bedtime- she's got a personal sized one all to herself while me and the staff take slices out of a larger one.

  At her request, we watch an episode of sponge-bob, but only halfway through she leans into my chest and becomes a goner. The maid, whose watched her a few times, mouths: "Do you want me to take her?"

  I shake my head. Moments like these are few and far between, becoming rarer with each passing day. She seems to grow entire inches in a month- which I know is physically impossible for anybody of any age but when you grew the kid inside of your body, you notice everything.

  The maid leaves, but she reappears just thirty seconds later.

  "Tanya?"

  "What?" I ask.

  "Tanya?"

  "What?"

"Tanya?"

  "WHAT?!!"

  I sit up with a sharp jolt and grogginess begging me to go back to sleep. There's a pain in my neck from sleeping on an Oval Office couch. I don't even want to know what my makeup and hair, leftover from the Presidential address- looks like.

Jesus.

  My pantsuit is ridiculously wrinkled. I almost feel bad for the housekeepers, whose literal jobs are (partially) to do the presidents laundry.

  My head bobs forward, still trying to find the will to stay awake.

  "Madam President are you okay?" Lynn asks.

  "Depends on what you mean by that-" I stand up. "How long was I out?"

  "Three hours."

  I freeze. So much can happen in just one hour. Another country could declare war, launch a nuke without warning, cut diplomatic ties and expel the United state embassy in just half of one.

  But Lynn has something on the tip of her tongue, so I let her continue.

  "Madam President I am sorry to wake you so soon but I am simply following your orders. We know who blew up the capital."