Capítulo 16: Work, Power and Pregnancy
"One last question until I ask you some more personal things, Mr. President," the young reporter said as they neared the end of their interview, "this is actually an interesting question that I stole from a russian interview from the early 2000s. As President of, in your case, the United States, do you have more work or more power?"
President Bowmore laughed. The question surprised him. He was sure he'd be asked something about power, or the misuse of power, but he didn't think it would be put on a scale, weighed with his work. He opened his mouth to answer; of course with the intent of saying 'about the same ammount' when he realized that wasn't really true. He was reminded of Hitler. He had more power than work. Much, much more. And then he got to thinking what power was? Was it the ability to delegate work? To invade a country? To be the superior of an army? To be the representative of a people?
"What did the Russian President answer?" President Bowmore said, forcibly needing to say something - anything, to buy time or to beat around the bush.
"How about I tell you after our interview," she said, smiling at him. She wasn't going to let this question go; and he knew it.
"In my opinion, I think the President does have too much power," he said, making up his mind on how to answer, "I'm not saying the President has anywhere near as much power as a dictator; he or she is, for example elected, the president can be impeached, and he or she is also a subject to law; he or she cannot steal or accept bribes ect. without facing the same consequences as a US citizen would. So yes, the President has power, but it's not endless. I myself have always admired Switzerlands system; with it's seven Bundesräte, having seven men and women who each have a more percisce field; and they come together and make their descisions together. I think this is an, actually, more-democratic and also very fair way to run a country. And in the way Switzerland does it; they each have less work and also less power. One definitely has more work with more power, but I would say, that at least for a short-period of time, yes, the US President has more power than work."
"You're probably the only President who answered that question honestly, Mr. President," Elisabeth Warner-Minogue said with a warmer, and friendlier smile. Alistair Bowmore realized he was shaking. Why had the question riled him up so much? But he deep down he knew why. Even just the short period of time in Nazi Germany had showed him what people did with power; how it had been misused on the night of the 9th November, all the terrible things that were to come..."Now to the personal questions, what is your number one goal as President and what is your number one goal in life?"
***
"Interviews are so draining," Alistair said as he crashed onto the couch in their living room. Monica threw him a look.
"You used to love them, you always said you came back refreshed and motivated. Your words exactly."
"I did..." He agreed, already lost in thought.
"Were the questions harder to answer this time?" Monica asked, sliding onto the couch next to him and putting her arm around her hubby's shoulders.
"Not really no, they just got me thinking..." But he trailed off. "Honey, do we have any wine left?"
"Yeah, we have a bunch."
"Could you get me a glass." He asked without raising his tone at the end of the question. He felt defeated and depressed; and she saw it. She kissed him on the cheek hurried to the kitchen. She got a bottle of red wine and a single glass out of the cabinet. Maybe now would be a good time to tell him?
"Thanks love," he said as she poured the wine and handed him the glass. First after taking a sip did he realize she hadn't got herself one. "Not drinking today?" He asked in surprise. Whenever he had a glass she'd have one too; or the other way around.
"No, not today," she answered and lovingly started to play with his hair. He gave her a surprised look; she hadn't showed this much affection in days. He was afraid she thought he was cheating; or considering it. His tired brain told him to voice his thoughts.
"Honey, if you're doing this because you think I liked that reporter or the history teacher - I don't. I mean they're nice women but I'm not going to-."
"I'm not worried about that, silly." She answered and laughed out loud. Had she not been in such a good mood she might have slapped him for saying that. He shouldn't have to promise he wouldn't cheat; it should go without saying. "You work too much to have a side chick." She laughed again and squeezed his hand. "I just love you."
"I love you too, Monica." He answered. He kissed his wife, and for the first time in over a month their kiss was out of passion and not habit. "But really," he continued after their kiss, "why no wine?"
"When does a woman not smoke and drink?" She asked softly. Alistair's eyes grew big. He'd understood. And the good news temporarily pushed everything else out of his mind.
"You're pregnant?"
"Yes, I am." Monica was delighted to hear the happiness and energy return to his voice. He hugged her close, already careful to not push on her belly.
"That's amazing, baby." He said, kissing her on the top of the head, "I'm so excited."
"So am I," she agreed. Alistair didn't touch the rest of his wine the whole night. The two talked 'baby-stuff', which school, where to find a best nanny; and that they had to know her since childhood, if Monica should cut back on the events largely even after the birth and so on...they laughed a lot, espeicially when they came to the name-picking. Monica wanted a french name, and Alistair refused, saying that his or her american classmates wouldn't be able to pronounce it.
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