Madame President - Tara Sue Me Page 0,2

at least pretend to sleep. The real work, as they say, is getting ready to begin. But we also know sleep won’t come tonight. Not after this massive celebration of all we’ve been able to accomplish.

I’m not sure when I’ll sleep again. It’s almost overwhelming to think I’ve made it this far, and yet I know I have even more miles ahead of me. My win was not a landslide. There are a good number of Americans who did not want me as their President, and they will be vocal about it. That’s a large part of why this country is so important to me. Why it’s so important we safeguard our freedoms and not take for granted this beautiful, wonderful, twisted, ridiculous democracy we have.

The untapped potential of American citizens is mind blowing. If you take the diversity we have and mix that with our creativeness and intellect, we should be unstoppable. Unfortunately, there are so many manmade barriers that are in our way and have kept us stagnant—party affiliation, racism, socio-economic disparities, to name just a few. My hope is to create the building blocks for an infrastructure aimed on removing those things we’ve allowed to define us for too long. I know change cannot happen in a day, or even in four years. But leading the country in the right direction is my primary goal. There is a serious problem and it’s time change starts.

My excitement for starting the work is part of why I don’t feel the least bit tired. The other part is because I’m doing my best to shut Jaya down. She’s having too much fun nagging me about how I need a date for the Inaugural Balls.

“I don’t know why,” I respond to her. “I can go with David.” I look to the man at my side for confirmation. He’s my rock, my right-hand man, but at the moment he’s shaking his head. “Why are you saying no?” I ask.

“My dance card is full already,” he says taking Oliver’s hand. “Sorry.”

“Are you kidding me?” I ask.

“I’m not.” David replies. “You won’t have any problems finding someone. And before you try to say differently, yes, you need a date. I don’t care if it’s your cousin or one of those guys Jaya always tries to set you up with, but you need to send a message. Yes, you’re woman and you own it. No, you don’t need a man, but there’s nothing wrong with having one by your side on occasion. And besides, you can’t dance by yourself.”

I’m mulling over his words and attempting to drown out Jaya and David discussing possible dates for me when Oliver turns on a nearby television. I glance at it, expecting to see a replay of my victory speech, but right away I see this is something different.

Navin Hazar and Gabe Day are on the screen discussing something, more than likely me. Oliver raises an eyebrow as if to ask if I want him turn it up. I shake my head and take a few minutes to study Navin unnoticed.

He looks good. Better than good, actually, because frankly he’s always looked above average. They say some things get better over time, and that’s certainly the case with him. I remember when we first met, when I was in my early twenties, how he could captivate a person with his deep dark eyes. That obviously hasn’t changed much in the last twelve years or so.

I’d like to tell Oliver to turn the thing off, but then he’d know it bothered me, as would David and Jaya. Instead, I let it play on, but I can’t stop watching him.

“Is it Gabe Day or Navin Hazar who has your attention?” Oliver says from beside me and I’m shocked he’s not part of David and Jaya’s conversation, but rather studying me.

“Navin Hazar,” I try to say offhandedly. “He reminds me of someone.”

I’m not as close to Oliver as I am to David, mostly because I haven’t known him as long. He came into David’s life four years ago, and the two of them have been married for two years. He helped with my campaign whenever his job as a management consultant in for international finance companies allowed. Regardless, I didn’t think he would be able to notice anything different on me. But then again, I can’t imagine I’m that transparent.

But then again, tonight has been a lot.

It’s surreal. I’m the President Elect.

Oliver nods. “What kind of last name is Hazar?”

“Turkish,” I say