Chapter 8

For several days I worked with the physical therapy people, got accustomed to the concept that pain in my skull was permanent, and learned a little about my physical limitations. Carole was right there with me, learning about my needs, and finding ways to help that didn't make me feel like an invalid.

Doctor Phaisal signed me out and Constance hired a Lincoln Town Car to deliver me home. I went alone, insisting that Carole not come over until later in the evening, so I could find my way around Kevin's home without giving anything away. The car dropped me at the curb in front of a strictly ordinary looking apartment building. That's when I discovered Kevin lived in a fourth floor walk-up.

The stairs about killed me, and I had to stop and rest between flights and once between the third and fourth floor. There was no way I could live in this building.

The apartment was tiny. I could barely fit in the living room, it was so small. The bedroom was just as small, and the bathroom offered no help for a physically challenged tenant. The one thing I craved it had – privacy - and I took advantage of it to dig out my phone to call Colleen.

I found a comfortable spot to sit, but knew this place wasn't a keeper. As soon as I talked to my family in Branson, I was calling a car and checking into the Washington Marriott. Before I could dial, I heard a knock and because the door was not locked, I saw Constance let herself in.

She found me sitting on the loveseat, holding my head in my hands. In a flash she was beside me, offering comfort and wanting to call an ambulance. "I'm fine," I croaked out. "The stairs were more than I anticipated, and this apartment is not going to cut it with my weakness. I've decided to check into the Marriott and find somewhere to live tomorrow, when I feel better."

I saw a look of near panic cross Constance's face and wondered what was wrong. She didn't keep me waiting, but dialed a number and had a hushed, but intense conversation with someone who she seemed to take orders from.

Once she was off the phone, she gave me a frightened smile and said, "Kevin. We should have previewed this apartment and dealt with things before you were released from Washington General. That being said, I just spoke to one of the President's inner core of advisors and asked him for a recommendation. We should hear back with a plan for you within a few minutes."

Constance had an air of troubled, competence about her today. "What's wrong?" I queried, taking hold of her right hand. "You seem burdened, frightened, or troubled, and it can't be about me, so, spit it out. What's wrong?"

She gave me her version of the look and said, "The entire White House is in a fury. The way the news covered the Rose Garden ceremony seems to have set off an internal war, between the President's inner circle and the political guys. I'm afraid that the rest of us are going to be collateral damage by the time the dust settles."

"Don't let these internecine wars get to you," I said. "When you work around congress, and the senate, you see this going on all the time. BUT the people fighting those power wars never worry about anyone lower on the totem pole than themselves, because someone has to actually do the work. So the rest of the staff goes along, doing their job, and waiting to see who wins, and who loses. There will be changes, but the people who start and fight them never intend to do any of the actual work. They need you.

"Don't worry. Believe me when I say it."

We could have talked a lot longer but her phone rang and she stepped away from me to take the call. I didn't eavesdrop, but I heard some things that I pieced together.

"No. He doesn't appear to need the hospital. This place isn't set up for someone who can't climb four flights of stairs, oe needs a handrail in the shower, and accessibility throughout."

"No Sir. Kevin says he planned to call a cab and check into the D.C. Marriott until he finds suitable lodging...

"Yes Sir. I realize the President would have your head if he finds out we didn't make sure his home was safe and properly accessible...

"No sir. I don't have anything more important to do today than deal with this problem, until you are satisfied with the result...

"Yes ... Yes ... No sir ... Yes ... Yes ... Yes ... I will certainly do that, Sir."

She hung up, put her phone away carefully, buying herself time to think about what she was going to tell me, and then said, "That was one of those inner circle guys. He was emphatic about making sure we look after you properly.

"He is calling in a favor from a long-time associate, who has an impressive estate out near the golf club in Chevy Chase. His friend has a wonderful one-story guesthouse out in the back that overlooks the big lake and happens to be empty. We might get it for you within the next few minutes. So, let's sit tight and hope..."

"What does something like that cost to rent?" I might as well be a little practical.

"Kevin, I don't believe you understand the situation. It doesn't cost a cent. If he can get his friend to let us have it, you will move in and the owner will get a huge tax write off, donating it as an in-kind gift to the Dryden campaign. It's how it's done these days."