Things You Should Know(76)

“We’ll need some,” she says. “Until then use this.” She hands Soledad a bottle of Maalox. “Paint his mirror with it. Use a sponge if there isn’t a brush. Put it on thick, so he can’t see himself. It may take a couple of coats.”

He is alone with Philip. They are in the kitchen, making chocolate chip cookies—slice and bake. The President plays with a hunk of dough, molding it into a dog.

“There are a couple of things I wanted to ask you, if you don’t mind.”

The President nods. “Go ahead, Tom.”

“Who were your heroes?”

“Tarzan and Babe Ruth.”

“Who was the most exciting person you ever met?”

“That would have to be Knute Rockne. I used to play ball with him. One hell of a guy.”

“And in that whole Iran Contra thing, what was the bit about using the chocolate cake as a bribe?”

“Funny you mention it.” He tilts his head, adopting the interview pose of careful consideration. “I was just thinking about her last night.” He pauses. “You know, Bob, America is a country of families, companies, individuals who care about each other. This is another of those unavoidable tragedies, but in the end…It’s them I worry about, the people who are out there.”

“Any regrets?”

“I never walked on the moon. I was a little too old, they gave the part to another fella.” He eats a clump of dough. “Listen,” he says. “When I come to, everything will be fine, we’ll get back on course. We’re strong people, Mike, we’ll get through.”



She is online, catching up. The king of Toda has died and all the first ladies are going to the funeral. She can’t leave him alone. “Now’s not the time,” she e-mails her secretary. “Tell them I have the flu, so no one gets suspicious.”

She checks into the Alzheimer chat rooms.

—Her life must be a living hell. Imagine having everything in the world, all that help, and still you’re on a sinking ship.

—She’s an inspiration, how gracefully they handled it, and that letter he wrote about going off into the sunset.

—Do you think she even sees him? Does he recognize her? What condition is he in? We never hear a word.

They are talking about her. She is tempted to chime in, to defend herself. She wants to say, I am N.R. and you know nothing about my life.

—Think of all the people she got to meet and all the free clothes. She got a good deal. It’s more than enough for one life-time.”

—Got to go, Earl just wet himself. It’s one thing when it’s a twenty-two-pound infant the size of a turkey, it’s another when it’s a two-hundred-forty-pound man the size of a sofa.

She pedals faster. She’s gone about thirty miles, when EZRIDER sends her an instant message.

—Where did you disappear to, EZ wants to know? Hope I didn’t scare you.

—Telephone rang. Long distance.

—Where did we leave off?

—You were taking me for a ride on a Ferris wheel, we were high above it all…

There is a knock at her door. She ignores it. It comes again, harder.

“What the hell is it?”

The door opens. It’s one of the agents. “Sorry to interrupt, but the President has disappeared.”

She continues pedaling.

“We can’t find him. We’ve searched the house, the perimeter, and Mike and Jeff are going up and down the block on foot.” Mike and Jeff, he says—it sounds like Mutt and Jeff. “Should we call the police?”

She logs off, calmly gets off the bike, and punches the panic button on the wall. They all come running.

“Who last saw him, where, and when?”

“We were baking cookies about twenty minutes ago, the last batch just went into the oven, he said he had to go to the bathroom,” Philip says.

“He was in the yard,” one of the agents says, “relieving himself against a tree. That was maybe twenty-five minutes ago.”

“He’s eloped,” Philip says. “It happens all the time, they have the urge to go, and then, as if summoned, they’re gone.”

“How many cars do we have?” she asks.

“The sedan, the van, Soledad’s, and mine,” Philip says.

“Divide into teams. Philip, you go on foot, I’ll go with Soledad, does everyone have a cell phone?”

They quickly get their phones and exchange numbers.

“Those lines aren’t secure,” the agent says.

“No hysterical calls,” she says. “Code name Francine.”

She hurries out to the driveway and into Soledad’s old red Mercury.

“We can’t send you without an agent.”