The Pulaskis were very nice people. The boys were Cornhuskers like their sister had been, studying business (John Jr.) and pre-law (Will.) I told them that I had talked to Megan any number of times while Charlie was in the hospital. If you wanted to get a good feel on people, do it while they are under stress. Staying with Charlie while he was racing and in the hospital was stressful, and she passed muster with Marilyn and me. They seemed to have done a good job with all of their children. Megan was going to be a fine addition to the Buckman family.
Then in December, something quite unpleasant occurred. A week before Christmas, Tuesday, December 18th, I was interrupted in the afternoon during a meeting with the Council of Economic Advisers. Frank Stouffer wasn't involved, but he knocked on my door and slipped inside.
"What's up, Frank?", I asked.
He cleared his throat. "Mister President, there's a call for you that I think you should take."
"Can't you tell the secretary to take a message and I'll call them back?"
"Sir, I really think you need to take this, sir."
I gave him a peeved look, and stood up. "This will just be a few minutes, folks." I followed Frank out of the conference room and headed back to the Oval Office. "What's going on, Frank? This better be good."
"Sir, you should take the call."
"Who is it?"
Frank didn't answer, but simply opened the door to my office and ushered me in. He didn't follow, but closed the door behind me. I went to my desk and sat down, and then picked up the phone. "Hello?"
"Carl, it's Suzie."
"Suzie! What's wrong?! Is John alright? The boys?" Had something happened? Suzie sounded relatively calm, but maybe she was in shock!
"They're fine, Carl. They're all just fine. The home just called. Dad just passed away. I wanted to let you know. He died about an hour ago.", she told me.
That stumped me for a second. "Huh."
"I talked to John before I called you. I'm coming home to see to him. John's coming, too.", she told me.
"Okay. Would you like me to send the Gulfstream?"
"Please? It might make things go faster." She paused for a moment. "I'll let you know what the arrangements are. Would you like to come to the funeral?"
I snorted. "Suzie, the man disowned me thirty years ago. You're going to be standing at the graveside a long, long time before I ever show up!"
"Carl...", she started lowly, and then stopped. "I understand. I'll let you know afterwards."
"Thank you, Suzie, and I'm sorry, for your sake, at least." I waited for the click, and then hung up.
Frank must have been standing at the secretary's desk waiting for me to get off the phone, because a few seconds after I hung up, he knocked on the door and let himself in without waiting for me to acknowledge him. I looked over at him blankly. "I'm sorry for your loss, Mister President.", he told me.
"Frank, I lost my father thirty years ago."
"Still ... Should I send the CEA home, sir?"
"Over this? Hell!" I stood from behind my desk and headed towards the door, but for some reason never made it past the couch. I simply sat down and stared at the wall for a moment. "Hell, Frank, cancel the meeting. It's as good a reason to play hooky as I've ever heard of." My mind went blank for a minute or two as I remembered back to previous times. Frank moved towards my desk. The next time I noticed him he was sitting down across from me with a couple of shot glasses and a bottle of Crown Royal I kept in a sideboard. I nodded and he poured a couple of shots. I took one and said, "Skoal!", and then remembered that was my father's favorite toast.
"Skoal!", he replied. We raised our glasses and drained them. I set mine down and he refilled them, but neither of us grabbed for them. "What happened, sir?"
I shrugged. "Old age, probably. I didn't ask and Suzie didn't tell me. I'm sure it was the Alzheimer's'. He's had that since 2000 or so."
"Will you be..." He let it go at that.
I shook my head. "Not hardly. The man made his bed, and now he can sleep in it, alone, as needs be."
"Sir..."
"Suzie is flying down. Let them know to send the G-IV for her. She and her husband will come down to handle that. Why she wants to do that is beyond me. She changed her name and ran halfway across the country to get away from my family."
"Do you know what the arrangements will be?", he asked.
"You're a nosy bastard, Frank, you know that?", I said with a half smile. Then I sighed and picked up my drink. I sipped this one, savoring the warmth of the whiskey hitting my throat. "Probably out in Arcadia. Most of the Buckmans are buried out there. It's one of the reasons Marilyn and I chose plots at a cemetery in Dulaney Valley, so we wouldn't contaminate the family gravesite." I sipped my whiskey. "The family ghosts would probably rise up and throw us out!"
"Will you be putting out a statement?" I gave him a hard look at that. He looked somewhat apologetic, but pressed on. "Will is going to be asking. Somebody is going to learn about this and ask. We need to be prepared."
"No statement."
"Sir?"
"Frank, you heard me. If anybody asks, explain that it is a personal family matter and that neither I nor the White House will be discussing it. If the reporter gets pushy, throw the dummy out."
Frank sighed and nodded, sipping his own whiskey. "I understand. I have to tell you, though, that it's going to be a problem. Politically it looks bad. Ungrateful son, and all that sort of thing."
"Christ!" I finished my glass and poured another, topping Frank's off as well. "I'm the ungrateful son? My father disowns me and doesn't even have the decency to tell me he's doing it! Were you aware that I only discovered it during the legal wrangling after I killed my brother? He disowned me on the orders of my mother, the psycho bitch! Did you know she bought the knife my brother had on him, and loaned him her car to stalk us with?"
"I don't know what to say, Mister President. I just can't imagine it."
"You want to know the crazy thing? For years now I have had armchair psychologists, none of whom have ever actually met me or talked to me or my family, explain my success. I am overcompensating and trying to win my father's approval, and when that fails, I am forced to do something even greater. You want to know the funny part? I've known since I was a kid that my family thought I was a failure. I've known it all my life. The only thing I ever wanted from my father was permission to move out!", I told him. I was just musing loudly at that point. "Frank, were you ever in the Cub Scouts or Boy Scouts?"
"Yes, sir, both."
I nodded. "Remember that first camping trip, how all the little boys were scared or homesick?"
He nodded and smiled. "I was one of them. You get over it, and then it becomes a big adventure."
"Exactly. Still, that first time, you miss home. Home is safety and security and people who love you and take care of you. Here's something to think about. I never got homesick, not even a little. For me, home wasn't any of those things. Home was just a house I lived in."
Frank just sat there and nodded. What could he say to me, after all?
I thought about it, and said, "If we have to say anything, just say that it's a private family matter and the President requests that the Buckman family's privacy be respected. They won't, of course. Just watch. There will be reporters and camera crews at the church and the graveside, hoping to film me attending, and hoping for some fireworks when I meet my long estranged family. When I don't show up, they'll start interviewing everybody. I wonder if my mother will show up. I bet she'll give a great interview! Probably blame everything on me and then have another nervous breakdown!"