To Love a Kennedy

Chapter 12

The city was quieter than usual that evening, with a soft mist settling over Central Park. Betsy and John had agreed to meet for another one of their "public strategy sessions," but tonight, neither of them seemed particularly interested in the strategy part. They walked side by side along one of the park's winding paths, the streetlights casting long shadows that danced around them. For once, the usual tension between them felt softer, less charged.

John stuffed his hands into his pockets, his expression thoughtful. Betsy glanced at him, sensing a heaviness in his demeanor that she hadn't seen before. Normally, he would be cracking jokes or making some teasing remark about their situation, but tonight he was different — quieter, more subdued.

"Okay, what's going on?" Betsy finally asked, unable to bear the silence any longer. "You're not your usual annoying self tonight."

John chuckled, though it lacked its usual energy. "Oh, I'm still annoying. Just... a different kind of annoying, I guess."

Betsy smiled faintly. "Seriously, John. What's on your mind?"

John stopped walking and leaned against a nearby railing, his eyes drifting over the park. He hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Do you ever feel like you're... trapped?" he asked, his voice unusually quiet.

Betsy blinked, surprised by the question. "Trapped?" she repeated. "How do you mean?"

John sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Like... no matter what you do, or how hard you try, you're always going to be compared to someone else? Someone who's... bigger than life?"

Betsy studied him for a moment, her curiosity piqued. "Is this about your father?" she asked gently.

John nodded slowly. "Yeah... I guess so," he admitted, his voice almost a whisper. "I mean, how do you live up to that? How do you live up to being the son of a president who's remembered as a hero, a legend?"

Betsy's heart softened. She had never seen John look so... vulnerable. "That must be incredibly difficult," she said softly. "I can't even imagine the pressure."

John gave a small, humorless laugh. "You'd think I'd be used to it by now," he said. "But it's always there, you know? That expectation that I'll somehow be just as great, just as accomplished. And it's not just that... it's everything. The constant comparisons, the scrutiny... It feels like I'm always under a microscope."

Betsy nodded, feeling a pang of empathy. "I guess I never really thought about it like that," she admitted. "To most people, you just seem so... confident. Like nothing fazes you."

John smiled wryly. "That's the trick, isn't it? To make it look easy. But it's not. Not at all." He hesitated, then continued, "And then there's... my dyslexia. My ADHD. People think I'm careless or lazy, but the truth is, it takes so much just to keep up, just to seem... normal."

Betsy's eyes widened slightly. "I can't even begin to imagine," she said softly.

John nodded, his expression growing more earnest. "Yeah. It's something I've struggled with my whole life. I had to work twice as hard in school, just to pass. I failed the bar exam three times before I finally passed it. And every time I did, it was like the world was watching, just waiting for me to fail."

Betsy felt a lump form in her throat. "That must have been so hard," she murmured.

John shrugged, but there was a sadness in his eyes. "It was. It is. And sometimes, I feel like I'm just playing a part, you know? Trying to be what everyone else wants me to be. Trying to live up to this idea of who I'm supposed to be."

Betsy reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "I know that feeling," she said quietly.

John looked at her, surprised. "You do?"