CHAPTER SEVEN

THE ROOSEVELT ROOM, THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON, DC

“I’m beginning to think that Mahoney and Sapp are onto us, Gabriella,” said President Jack Fitzsimmons, the 45th President of the United States.

“Jack, you need to relax. There’s never been any suspicion as to why I’m here. All through the campaign, not once did we sense that we’d been discovered. Besides, you’re the president. Who’s going to speak up against you from your inner circle? It’s not as if I’m in here flashing a thong like Monica. This is quite more serious. I’m only your therapist.” Gabriella Mancini was beginning to feel less like a shrink and more like a babysitter. Managing the emotions and whimsicalities of the President of the United States was beginning to become a larger chore than expected.

Fitz took a deep breath and leaned back in the soft brown leather chair as he shook his head in agreement with his shrink. “I know. I know. I’m just so damn overwhelmed with everything. I’m beginning to wish I called for a recount to see if by some divine chance I really wasn’t meant to do this. Talk about being careful what you wish for. I was told by my predecessor what the pressures would be like once I became aware of all the briefings and intricacies of the office, but six months into it, I’m still feeling like I’m on my first day at the job and there’s a proverbial stain on my collar.” Fitz knew he was veering off into complaint town simply by the look on Gabriella’s face. She took the opportunity to change the subject.

“How’s Emily, Jack? How’s she adjusting?”

“You know her. She lives for change and hustle. She’s always been one step ahead. If she wasn’t such a piercing, nagging interference, I might actually take comfort in her ability to adjust. But she’s been reinforcing my anxieties more than relieving them.” When it came to the dynamic between Jack and his wife Emily, it was clear to Gabriella that Jack not only did not wear the pants, he had no pants. This emperor had no clothes because his wife took them.

The first lady was more than a handful. She was all details and no heart. She was a type A go-getter who lacked any shred of emotional intelligence. As the president continued to vent to Dr. Gabriella Mancini, his shrink since the campaign began, she could not help but replay a multitude of scenes from the old television sitcom Everybody Loves Raymond in her mind. Emily Fitz’s personality was much like Deborah on the show. Emily walked all over Jack when the camera was off and the door was shut. She treated him like a child. Too many times Dr. Mancini had to make valiant efforts to keep a serious countenance while listening to Fitz because inside she was laughing hysterically at the DVR playing inside her mind.

“We spoke last time about the idea of you focusing on your history of strengths, proven skills, and internal locus of control. When you speak like this about the extent to which you’ve allowed others to affect you, it’s clear to me that your focus is off. I know you love Emily, and I know it’s difficult for you to remove emotion from the effect she’s having on you, but you need to.”

Jack interjected, “You’re right Gabriella, I just get beaten down so much by her that it’s hard to brush aside how she makes me feel.”

“The position you’re in doesn’t allow you to be weak in these areas. Ignoring your wife’s behavior and refusing to allow it to effect you negatively doesn’t mean you’re any less devoted to or in love with her. It simply means you’re independently strong and secure. This will obviously apply to many of the relationships you’re beginning to develop with congress, world leaders, and the ever-intensifying relationships with your own staff.” Gabriella was suddenly feeling like she was grossly, and damn near criminally, underpaid.

“When I’m focused on God, and the destiny He’s called me to embrace, I do feel that sense of internal strength that you speak of, but lately those moments are rare. I’ll work to be more cognizant of my tendencies this week. I’ll certainly need such an emotional shield given the pressure cooker I’m in.” Jack Fitzsimmons rarely revealed the fabric of his faith when speaking with Gabriella.

Gabriella was well aware of the brand of Christianity that the President espoused. She knew he was prominently associated with the emerging religious left. She thought of his faith as a combination of Carter-era feel-good Christianity blended with the contemporary sensibility of young Christians who harbored many socially conservative ideals but identified very strongly with the big government, social welfare driven compassion mantra of the “I am my brothers-keeper” doctrine typified by the post Obama age. All of this, she felt, was piggybacked by the uber-positive, gushingly empathetic sentiments of popular mega-preachers like Rick Warren and Joel Olsteen. She knew that Fitz, too, harbored many socially conservative ideals. He was personally not for gay marriage. He personally abhorred abortion. But when it came to policy and action, he clearly sided with his constituents on the left and publicly championed choice and gay rights. Gabriella understood that to Fitz, these issues were matters that largely would be settled beyond his humble judgment and be left to the intimacy between an individual and his or her Creator. At least, she suspected, that is what he rationalized in his own mind to mitigate the conflict that simmered within his heart over these issues.

Moreover, Gabriella observed that Fitz’s core, driving beliefs and agenda aligned primarily with his vision for global equality and global synergy. He viewed borders as nothing but imaginary lines that sinful man had manufactured to create barriers and divisions. He very much was devoted to the “cult of multi-culti” as the right would mock. He intimated to her in sessions that he was actively lobbying and pushing for a global currency. Although he couldn’t say it explicitly, she knew he truly envisioned a world in which all nations co-governed. He confessed to her that the idea of eradicating the sovereignty of the United States would be a tough sell. Because of this, he told her he could never reveal this desire publicly. Instead he detailed his belief that the incremental fusion of international infrastructure and commerce could bring about a virtually borderless and seamless world without any overt relinquishment of sovereignty. He knew that as such a plan progressed, over time, the idea of merging nations into wider continental unions would be naturally and effortlessly achieved. He often explained to her that this was his utmost passion as President.

“I have a meeting with Sapp and Mahoney in five minutes, Gabriella. I hate to cut this short, but duty calls. Time waits for no man.” Bob Sapp was Fitz’s high-strung chief of staff, and Hank Mahoney was Fitz’s vice president, the man who truly kept him from coming apart at the seams. His daily meetings with these two key staff members were the lifeblood of his productivity as a fairly green president.

“Understood. Remember—emotional shield, but not emotional insensitivity. Feed the internal locus of control.”

“Thanks Gabriella. See you next week.”