HAIL TO THE CHIEF WE HAVE CHOSEN FOR THE NATION

After John F Kennedy's funeral, Jackie took it upon herself to empty his private rooms in the White House. She did not want strangers touching his private things, and as his wife, she felt that this was her duty. She went through the numb motions of putting things aside that she wanted to keep, cherished mementoes, favorite ties, even his old slippers, all of which bought tears to her eyes. Then she turned her attention to his mahogany desk, which she had bought for him for his birthday a few years ago. The drawers did not reveal much in the way of personal items, aside from some speeches he would never now make, that he must have drafted late at night. Despite the grimness of the situation, she managed to smile at the sight of coffee rings on some of the papers. 

Jackie thought the bottom drawer was empty when she shut it, but she heard something rattle. Frowning, she opened it, and heard it again. There was nothing in there she was sure, and so she shut the draw again. The sound was unmistakable. Jackie managed to pull the draw out, to see that a plain metal box had been hidden right at the back. She tried to open it, but found it was locked. Shaking it she heard that there was something in it, but she had not seen the key anywhere. Later that evening, she asked Bobby if he knew anything about it. 

"Why don't you give me the box?" he said reaching to take it out of her hands, "I'm sure I can open it for you". 

"No" Jackie said in her quiet but firm way, "I found this in Jack's private desk. I need to know what is in it. It may be important. You wouldn't know where the key is, would you?"

"I don't know I am afraid" Bobby said. "But I will look for it, and let you know." 

Jackie thanked him and walked off. She did not entirely trust him, there was something odd about the way he reacted, so she kept the box locked in her desk and kept the key of the drawer it was locked in, on her at all times. 

The box and the mysteries that it contained provided a welcome distraction over the next few days. With each passing day, Jackie felt like time was running out. The White House, which she had lovingly restored, was no longer her home. Soon the next President, and his wife would be here. She and her children would have to move, their routine and innocent lives disrupted, and it was not even as if Jack had lost the election. Jack had lost his life. The box kept her mind, not totally off this cruel reality, but it gave her something to focus on, to think about in the moments when she needed something, anything to not ponder on her children's questions, about the Kennedy's draped in black, about the condolence letters she had to respond to. Endless words, endless phrases. 

One evening when she was blankly watching television, an idea came to her. If she could not find the key, and if Bobby was not going to find the key, then she would have to break in to the box. But how? Jackie knew that if Mrs Kennedy was to ask for a knife or even go and get a knife from the kitchens, it would be in the papers that Mrs Kennedy was suicidal, Mrs Kennedy had gone mad, Mrs Kennedy was being kept under surveillance. The press had even reported on her emptying Jack's private office, which had resulted in a flurry of letters from the public, mainly from women trying to comfort her with their own experiences of disposing of a spouses belongings. There was another way, however. She hated to do it, because she hated to waste food, but if she asked for steak then it would come with a useful knife. After the late night meal arrived, she locked the doors to her private apartments, and took the box out of its hiding place and sat down to try and jiggle the lock. It was a stubborn thing, and was not going to give up its secrets easily, but Jackie was a strong woman who had strength in her arms from handling horses ever since she was young, and eventually she won. 

Jackie set the knife down, and opened the lid.

Inside there where what seemed to be a pile of photographs, which had been laid face down so the pictures were hidden from whoever opened the box. With trembling fingers and her heart beating rapidly, Jackie picked up the pictures and turned them over. 

She did not remember if she did a double take, a triple take or even if she at first believed what she was seeing. 

The photographs, black and white, were of Jack having sex with Marilyn Monroe. Marilyn. This poor deluded creature. Dolled up and over made with make up, her sultry face stared out of the pictures. She looked either drugged or drunk. It was hard not to pity her, this poor fly caught and struggling in the Kennedy web. Then there was Jack. Jackie did not have any words for him. She knew that he had never been faithful to her. She had heard the rumors. She was not stupid. Orgies in the pool, how one woman was not enough for him, an endless trail of pay offs, Old Joe's pull and Bobby's connections...but this...this was...she did not have the words. 

Stuffing the pictures back in the box, she sent for Bobby. 

"It's very late, Jackie" he said walking in to her private sitting room, "What has happened?"

"I opened Jack's box" she said simply as she studied his reaction. "I think you knew what was in it..."

"Oh Jackie" he sighed, "I never wanted you to find those pictures..." 

"Pictures" is a generous word!" she blurted out, her anger, her pain, her disgust welling up, "those photographs are disgusting! Jack, Marilyn, you, you are all disgusting!" 

She sank down on to a couch sobbing, her hands over her eyes, her fingers sticking roughly into her hair. She had sometimes wondered in the course of her marriage if Jack had ever truly loved her. She had sometimes wondered whether he had married her to be on his arm. The French Bouvier sophistication to rub off the rough corners of his Boston Irish. Present a face to the world Jackie. Smile Jackie. The handsome senator with his beautiful wife and pretty daughter, Jackie. Marilyn's father might be absent from her life, but she was still someone's daughter. Despite the humiliation of Jack and Marilyn, and Marilyn's drunken and drugged up declarations to the media that Jack was going to marry her, and her callous discarding by the Kennedys when she became a liability, and her sad death, Jackie could not help but think that she was still someone's daughter. What if someone had treated Jack's own like that? A thousand thoughts were running through her mind as she sobbed. 

Bobby came to sit down next to her. He did not reach out to touch her. He just let her cry. 

Her pain, her disgust, her disappointment, it all came in waves. It never made her feel better, but she did eventually stop.

"How could he...I knew there were other women...but this...I never thought he would stoop to this kind of thing..."

"He loved you, Jackie" Bobby offered. 

"He loved me. He loved America. He loved the Presidency. He loved the power it gave him over women. He loved the power it gave him over this poor creature."

Jackie motioned to the pictures. Bobby knew she meant Marilyn. 

"Jackie, you know the existence of those pictures can never ever become public knowledge".

"Are there more?"

"No." 

Bobby had arranged the photographer, the developing, and the pay offs. He knew there were no more. 

"What about film reel?" she hated to ask, she hated the thought, she dreaded the answer, but she had to know.

"If there is, I know nothing about it" Bobby replied. 

"I have been humiliated enough in my marriage" Jackie said numbly, "but I have to protect my children. They must never see or know about this filth."

"Jackie, those pictures need to be destroyed".

"What about the negatives?"

"There are none. I destroyed them". 

Jackie wanted to believe him, but she was scared for her children, and in a way, scared for Jack although she was furious with him for being so foolish as to actually make these pictures in the first place. 

"I am going to burn these" she said, and standing up she took the box, and emptied the contents into the fire which was burning in the grate. As she emptied them in, the flames jumped up to consume them, and in a grotesque way the figures in the picture started to animate as they writhed together one last time. 

Bobby came to stand with Jackie by the fire. She handed the box back to him, "Do what you want with this. I never want to see it again". 

"How long will you burn this fire?" Bobby asked eventually. 

"I will not let it go out for days" Jackie said, "I want every last scrap to be turned to ash. Nothing will remain. I will protect my children, and I will go to any lengths to do it. I will also protect Jack, and his legacy. America will remember him forever as they do now, they do not need to ever know what happened here today."