The Thrill Is Gone

Hours later, Paulina lay sprawled across the couch, suffering from a crying induced headache. She had remained at the airport until Harry passed through the security check point, escorted by his security details as well as the airport security personnel that had been offered him. She had stood motionless, watching as he walked away, and all the while she cried, their separation already getting to her. It had been an exhausting experience to see him walk away. Her eyes had been on him the entire time. Her vision might have been blurred by the tears flooding her eyes, but regardless, she watched him intently, determined to see him for as long as she could. She’d never imagined that parting from him would be as challenging as it was. She thought she’d be able to keep control over her emotions long enough to get home, and cry in private, but she’d been sorely mistaken.

The act of saying goodbye to him had left her in distress. She’d believed she could put on the stiff upper lip that the royal family was so well known for, but she couldn’t. She was far too in tune with her emotions, and she had to feel them, they refused to be suppressed. So she cried, she cried in the middle of the airport, and what was worse, was that there were people who had recorded videos on their phones and taken pictures. They were going to publicize her anguish, her tears were going to end up on the internet, and some of them might even turn a profit from it if they were to take their files to the right people. She knew that in a few hours, that tear filled moment she shared with Harry was going to end up splattered across the internet.

From the moment her emotions got the best of her, she knew that she was going to be forced to see pictures of her crying self, and maybe even a low quality video or two, that was a given, but Paulina was determined not to be profitable for the professional photographers outside. She refused to let them take shots of her crying, which would then turn into huge paydays for them, so she stood inside the airport until she calmed down enough to step outside without bursting into tears or trembling. Her eyes were puffy and the vein on her forehead, the one that rested right between her brows, was on full display. That vein only became visible when she cried, it would be a dead giveaway to people, but she hid the physical proof of her crying. She brushed her bangs into her forehead, covering up the vein, and she then put on her dark sunglasses.

Now that she was covered up, she followed Gethin out to the car. He had been charged with getting Paulina home to safety. Harry didn’t want her going back in a cab or on public transportation. He wanted her taken home in comfort, so that if she felt like crying, she could do so in peace. As such, Gethin was to accompany her. He held her close as they moved through the press that swarmed them the moment they stepped outside the airport. It seemed that every major tabloid magazine and webpage had sent out a photographer to snap shots of her crying. And when she emerged, they descended on her, hoping to get quality pictures, hoping to get some sort of statement. They pestered her with questions, asking how she was holding up, if she’d miss her prince, but she remained silent. They weren’t to get a paycheck out of her. She was going to ensure that the time they spent at the airport, would be a waste, and that was exactly what she did. None of the pictures that the professional photographers took were worth more than a few hundred dollars, a far cry from the thousands they’d been looking forward to. She hadn’t cooperated. She’d been calm as Gethin led her to the parking structure where their vehicle was housed.

Throughout the entire drive home, Paulina wept. She’d known all along that saying goodbye to Harry was going to be emotionally exhausting, but she hadn’t been aware of just how utterly devastating it would be to watch him leave. She felt like a part of her had been snatched away, that a piece of her heart had been carved out and launched across the North Atlantic Ocean. That was the depth of her distress, and what made it worse was that it had been her own doing. She’d chosen Harvard. She’d willingly placed the heartache on herself and Harry, and now . . . well, now she had no choice but to deal with it.

And since she didn’t want to deal with it like a responsible adult would, she dealt with it like any other twenty-something-year old college student would; she threw herself on her couch, not caring if there were countless boxes that needed unpacking, and began to sob wildly.

After that, she just sort of lay there, face buried in the soft fabric, waiting to fall asleep, but just as she was starting to drift away, her phone began to ring. With her face still buried in the pillow, she reached out in direction of the coffee table and fumbled around until she picked up her phone.

She didn’t check to see who was calling. She simply cleared her throat, and in her best voice said, “Hello? This is Paulina, speaking.”

“Good afternoon, Miss Balcázar,” spoke a voice that Paulina had never heard before. It was a deep, baritone voice with a thick Boston accent. “I am attorney Thomas Finnegan, and I am calling on behalf of the late Edward Kennedy.”

“You’re what?” she asked, her eyes snapping wide open.

“I’m calling on behalf of the late Edward Kennedy,” repeated Thomas.

“But why?” Paulina blurted out. “Sorry, sorry, I know that probably sounded really rude, but I promise that I didn’t mean it to. I just . . . I just don’t understand why it is that an attorney is calling me on behalf of Senator Kennedy.”

“If you were to allow me a moment, I might be able to explain.” He waited for Paulina to tell him to continue. When she did, he proceeded to say, “As stated prior, I am attorney Thomas Finnegan, the executor of Edward Kennedy’s estate. As such, it is my duty to be in contact with his beneficiaries.”

“Beneficiaries?” she repeated, finding it difficult to believe that words could truly be used in regards to her. “There’s no way in hell that I’m a beneficiary. What is this some kind of joke? Is this someone from the press messing around with me? If it is, you assholes ought to be ashamed of yourselves. Senator Kennedy was a great man, and he deserves better than to be used in your petty attempts to get me to talk to you. Now if that’s all, please go –” she didn’t get to finish telling them to go fuck themselves.

“Miss Balcázar,” he said her name firmly. “That’s enough.”

“You don’t get to tell me –”

Again, he cut her off. “Look, I understand your distrust. Believe me, I do. You’re high profile, people are constantly trying to get in your business, but rest assured that I am indeed Thomas Finnegan, the executor of Edward Kennedy’s estate. Google me, if you have to. You’ll see images of myself standing alongside Edward. I’ve been his personal attorney throughout the last twenty-one years, prior to that, my father held the position.” He paused, waiting to see if she’d comment, but she kept quiet. “Now if you will allow me, there is an important matter which I must discuss with you. Might we discuss the matter at this time?”

“Why are you calling me on a Sunday?” asked Paulina, suddenly realizing what day of the week it was. “If you’re a lawyer, then shouldn’t you only be working Monday through Friday? That’s when most of them work. So . . . so you’re not an actual lawyer. You’re someone from the press, because I know for a fact that I can’t be a beneficiary.”

“According to the most recent version of Edward Kennedy’s will, you are.” Thomas stated, ignoring her ramble. “And since I am to ensure that his final wishes are seen to, I have taken it upon myself to work through the weekend in order to do so. Now can we hold an actual conversation?”

Paulina nodded, then suddenly realized Thomas had no way of seeing her, so she said a very reluctant, “Yes.”

“Very well then.” Thomas glanced down at the copy of Kennedy’s will, scanning over the highlighted part that pertained to Paulina. “As stated prior, I am the executor of Kennedy’s estate. It is my duty to see that his beneficiaries are given what is owed to them. There has already been a reading of the will, in which his family members were in attendance. At that moment, I began the legal process to distribute their inheritance according to his will, but now that I have begun that process, I am getting in contact with nonfamily beneficiaries so that I may bequeath them what is owed. Have I been clear so far, Miss?”

“You have.” Paulina replied, now sitting up.

“As you may well know, these matters are not fully resolved by telephone. It is necessary that you come into my office to sign the necessary legal documentation. At that moment, I will hand over what was bequeathed to you.”

“And might I know what that is?”

“No.” He stated, simply. “That is something you will find out at the meeting. Now, when are you available?”

She pursed her lips, trying to recall her schedule. “I have orientation Monday through Wednesday. I don’t know what the time schedule is for that, but they told us to have those days completely open. And on Thursday, I’m meeting with Professor Warren to find out what my schedule’s going to be like for work. So, I don’t know if it works for you, but it looks like Friday is my best bet for this week.”

“Then Friday it is.” Thomas turned his schedule to check what time he had available for a meeting. “I have an opening at eight in the morning. Would that work for you?”

“I believe so.” She replied. “One question though, where is your office located? I know you probably have a webpage where I can look that up later, but I need to know right now, so I can say whether or not I’ll be able to be there on time, because if your office is in Washington, then I’ll have to make arrangements.”

“There’s no need for you to make arrangements to travel. I will a vehicle to bring you to Boston, where my law firm is based. It will also take you home. I recommend that you be outside by 7:30, at which time it will arrive at Mrs. Donoghue’s home.”

“How do you know where I live?” she asked, uncomfortable that he knew her address.

“I’m the one that drew up your lease, Miss.” Thomas told her. “Now, is eight agreeable to you?”

“Very well then.” He typed in her name into his planner. “I’ll see you Friday, Miss Balcázar.”

The call ended before Paulina could utter her own goodbye, and she was grateful for it. The conversation had left her head hurting even more, the throbbing became so overwhelming that she couldn’t stand to wait it out any longer. She was the kind of person that only took medicine when she absolutely had to. If she was suffering from cramps, she’d get herself a warming pad; if she had a fever, she’d get soak a rag in cold water and place it on her forehead; if she had a headache, she’d wait it out. She preferred to only take medicine if it was absolutely necessary, and the pain emanating from her head made it clear that that was one of those occasions. So in an attempt to combat her headache, she set her phone down on the coffee table, and walked over to the bathroom where she kept her small bottle of Target brand acetaminophen. She grabbed two pills from the container, then walked towards the kitchen where she took a water bottle from the fridge. Quick as she could, she tossed the pills in her mouth and took a long gulp of the cool water.

Twenty minutes later, the pain finally subsided, giving her leave to think over the conversation she’d had with Senator Kennedy’s attorney. Her headache had kept her from fully engaging in it, that is to say, she engaged in the conversation, but had been unable to recall information that was relevant to her. On a previous occasion, Senator Kennedy had in fact mentioned his lawyer. It had been in passing, but he’d spoken to her about Thomas Finnegan, the man whom helped look after his affairs. Had she remembered that, she wouldn’t have accused Thomas of being some asshole from the press, but unfortunately for her, she hadn’t remembered, and she was going to have to apologize for treating him with such distrust. He was, after all, the man who had drawn up her lease agreement, and the man who would give her whatever it was that Senator Kennedy thought she deserved.

Though to be perfectly honest, Paulina didn’t think she deserved anything. Whatever he had was meant for his family members and friends, not her. She wasn’t anyone special to him. Sure, he’d taken an interest in her, but it wasn’t like they frequently spoke on the phone. They kept in touch via e-mail, somewhat regularly, and every once in a while he’d phone her to discuss something or another, but that was the extent of it. She was barely going to be in regular contact with him, that’s why he’d set a lunch up for them, to meet and discuss what she was to do. If he’d left her something after a few months of his being her mentor, then she would’ve understood, but at the present, she didn’t. And she was curious to find out what he’d left her, and even more curious to know why. But as it was, she’d never know why, not unless he’d left her some sort of note.

The week leading up to her meeting passed by quickly. Orientation completely took up her first three days, along with the rest of the incoming freshmen at Harvard Law, she was given tours through the campus, taken to the various libraries, the gyms, the various buildings where lectures were to be given. It was a guided tour with a lot of time for socializing. Those in charge seemed to want everyone to know everyone, and Paulina didn’t want to be bothered with having to meet so many people so early on, but alas, she was the girlfriend of Prince Harry. And everyone there knew exactly who she was. It seemed everyone in the freshman class wanted to get to know her. They’d go up to her during breaks, sit beside her while she ate her lunch, and tried to start conversation as they were given tours.

Despite not wanting to talk to them, Paulina remembered what Senator Kennedy had told her about students from Harvard, some way or another they would go on to make names of themselves, and it was best to have a few close friends to count on later on. So she endeavored to make friends with the ones that seemed to be the most sincere, and after three days of meeting with fellow law students, she ended up making only one friend that she’d gotten a good vibe from; Stephanie Zhang.

Stephanie Zhang was an Oregon native that had almost gone to Stanford. She’d been tempted to go to Stanford since her girlfriend, Avery Rose Tredre, was a member of the San Francisco Symphony. Given that, Stanford would’ve been convenient for them. It was a short drive between San Francisco and Palo Alto, she would’ve able to spend her weekends with her, but in the end, Stephanie settled on the Ivy League because the old name was the more prestigious of the two. Her relationship had taken a beating because of that, Avery had broken up with her for seventeen days, but in the end, they got back together and were determined to work on it.

And when Paulina heard about what Stephanie was going through, she almost hugged her from joy, which would’ve been disastrous considering they were sitting across from each other with a table full of food between them. Paulina couldn’t help but feel elated at the news. Yes, it was unfortunate that Stephanie was in that position, but she was relieved that she’d found someone else who was going through the exact same thing she was. Stephanie was dealing with guilt and remorse and also with excitement over the coming year. All of which Paulina was also dealing with. Paulina was glad that she’d come in contact with Stephanie. There were a lot of similarities between them, they were both fans of The Big Bang Theory and Arrested Development, both had an appreciation for Josh Groban and NSYNC, and one of the fields they were both specializing in was International Human Rights. Paulina was so grateful and taken with Stephanie that for the first time in over a year, she gave her phone number to someone.

At the moment, she didn’t even think that there was a chance Stephanie might sell her number to the press or do something shady. She was just so glad that she’d met someone that she could get on with and have a laugh over politics and television shows, that she wanted to stay in contact with her.

Stephanie, for her part, felt the same. She was glad that she and Paulina were on friendly terms. There was just something about the curly haired young woman that was very endearing. She felt at ease around her, that was why after knowing for only two days, she talked about her relationship status, and when Paulina nodded and said that she was going through the same thing, Stephanie was relieved to hear that someone else was going through the same crap. It was going to be good to have someone that was going through something similar and studied the same subject as her, she’d have a study partner and hopefully a good friend, even if the friendship came with annoying press that would follow them around.

The meeting with Professor Elizabeth Warren went by smoothly. Elizabeth taught in the Law and Business section of Harvard Law, she specialized in Bankruptcy Law, and was often called to Washington to go before committees and to advise Senators and Representatives on the economic ramifications that certain legislation could potentially have. She was a kind looking woman, whom wore glasses and had eyes that seemed to shine with a thirst for knowledge. Although being quite the academic, she was a woman with a big personality. She was outspoken in her opinions, unapologetic. She wasn’t the sort to form an opinion before she had all the facts, but as soon as she did, she stuck to it, because her values were unbreakable.

After five minutes with her, Paulina instantly understood why Senator Kennedy had gone through the trouble of securing Paulina a position as Elizabeth’s research assistant. He wanted to ensure that Paulina would get a truly well-rounded education. Her courses were going to instruct her in Law and Social Change. Paulina would come to be an expert in Immigration and Asylum, as well as in International Human Rights. She would have that resource to draw on later in life, but he also wanted her to be well versed in how business impacts government, in how business bypasses government, and the general workings of the economy, as well as the impact that economic legislation has on the everyday Americans. In order to make that happen, she had to be with Elizabeth, because there was no one better than Elizabeth Warren when it came to the economy. That was why she was constantly going before Senate Committees to give her testimony that was why news channels were constantly calling her for statements, that was why the President of the United States had assigned her to be his special assistant to the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau. Elizabeth Warren was a force to be reckoned with, and from her, Paulina would learn everything she’d ever need to know in regards to the workings of business and the economy, and Paulina was eager to get learning.

When Friday finally came around, Paulina awoke at six to get ready for her meeting with Thomas. Unsure as to what to wear, she decided to just stick with a simple all black outfit. She was, after all, going there because of the death of Senator Kennedy. It didn’t make sense to wear colors. She’s go in black, dress as if she were attending his funeral, and that would be that.

As soon as she finished getting ready and eat a quick breakfast of coffee and a bagel, Paulina walked outside to wait for the vehicle that was to take her to Boston. She’d hoped that no one from the press would’ve been out there so early, but there two photographers standing across the street, and the moment she emerged to the front yard, they started snapping pictures.

As annoyed as she was to see them out there, she couldn’t help but be grateful there were only two. Two, she could manage easily, even if they swarmed her it wouldn’t be much of a bother, but half a dozen or more was when she started getting claustrophobic. She only hoped it would never swell to those numbers, because while she could manage well enough, Meredith had never had to deal with that kind of stress, and Paulina didn’t want to get on bad terms with her landlord.

The town car pulled up at precisely 7:30, and twenty-seven minutes later, Paulina was stepping into the office of Thomas Finnegan. He was a tall man in his early 50’s, with graying hair and a stern look that made him incredibly intimidating.

“Good morning, Miss Balcázar.” He greeted, standing to meet her. “I trust the drive over was to your liking.”

“It was, Sir.” Paulina assured him, taking a seat on the leather chair across his desk. “There was a bit of traffic, but that’s to be expected since most people are on their way to work. I, uh, I wanted to apologize about yelling at you over the phone. It was out of line, but I honestly thought you were a member of the press.”

“There’s no need to apologize. Given your history with the press, it’s understandable to believe that they are invading your privacy.” He retook his seat. “What matters is that we were able to hold our conversation, and that you are now here. Now, would you care for anything to drink? A coffee? Tea, perhaps?”

“No, I’m quite alright, thank you.”

“Very well then. Let’s drive right into this, shall we?”

He waited until she nodded and then proceeded to explain that Senator Kennedy had bequeathed to her a parcel. What was inside, Thomas could not say for he had not seen what Senator Kennedy placed within. He had only been told that the parcel marked with her name was to be given to her after Kennedy’s passing, and after people signed the necessary legal documentation to proceed with the transaction, she was handed over the package.

“Within that package lies that which Edward Kennedy saw fit for you to inherit,” spoke Thomas. “He also wished me to say that if you ever find yourself in need of anything, anything at all, to simply get in contact with me.”

“He said that?” she said in a soft voice, looking up from the heavy package that rested on her lap.

Thomas nodded. “He did. He was fond of you, Miss.”

“And I of him.” She ran her hand along the package, eyes beginning to sting with tears. “He was a good man.”

“That he was.” Thomas agreed. “Do you have any questions, Miss Balcázar?”

“None, Sir.”

“Very well then, I believe our meeting has ended.” He reached across his desk and grabbed a contact card. “Here you are, Miss Balcázar. Remember what I said, if you are ever in need of anything at all, do not hesitate in contacting me. It is what Edward wanted. Now, if you will give me a moment I’ll have Eric see to the package.”

Paulina didn’t have time to protest, the moment Thomas finished speaking, he called Eric and a few minutes later, the young man stepped into the office and carried out the heavy package. Paulina exchanged a handshake with Thomas, and then followed Eric out the door. She told him that she could carry it, it truly wouldn’t be a bother, but Eric had been ordered to carry the package down to the car and that was precisely what he did. He even tried to carry it when they arrived at her home, claiming that it was far too heavy an item for a woman in heels to carry on her own. That comment annoyed Paulina, and just to prove him wrong, she carried the package through the front yard and down the stairs to her basement suite, even if it was a bit of a challenge balancing the weight on the heels.

The moment she entered her home, she set the package down on the dining room table and then proceeded to shimmy out of her coat and take off her heels. It was finally time to find out what he’d bequeathed her.
Carefully, she proceeded to peel the white wrapping from the cardboard box, finding it incredibly annoying that he’d found it necessary to wrap the cardboard box. Didn’t he know that she was going to be eager to find out what was inside? And that his wrapping wasn’t going to be appreciated, but instead viewed as a nuisance? The moment she finished taking off the wrapping, she grabbed her house key from the table and stabbed at the tape, sliding the key the length of the box to make opening it up easier.

“What’s inside?” she mused aloud as she pulled open the flaps.

Her eyes widened in awe when she saw the large wooden chest resting inside the cardboard box. It was a beautiful hand carved walnut chest that boasted intricate designs, but the beauty of the chest wasn’t enough to keep Paulina interested long enough, because something had to be inside it. Senator Kennedy wouldn’t have just bequeathed a chest to her, there was no emotional attachment between her and the chest, so something had to be inside, there just had to.

Sure enough, when she opened the chest, she saw books lying inside. There were about ten of them, old wonderful books that had that smell that she loved so dearly. She was curious to see what books they were, but was unable to read their titles due to there being a white envelope resting on them. The envelope was bare except for her name.

“He wrote me a letter . . .” she whispered in astonishment, tears pricking at her eyes. “He wrote me a fucking letter!” she exclaimed, a bright smile sweeping across her face.

She tore the envelope open, unable to contain her excitement. She had no patience for opening it properly, she just wanted to get the letter in her hand, to devour the words on the page.

Dear Miss Balcázar,

If you are reading this, then the brain cancer has been victorious, which is a pity, for I so hate to lose. Not that there was ever much chance of my being victorious, but the Kennedy in me refused to believe that I could be defeated by a disease. Kennedy’s are killed in action, assassinated, die of unfortunate tragedies, we don’t wither away because of cancer, but alas, it seems that that was to be my fate, and now I’ve been put to rest. Don’t worry, this letter isn’t about an old man complaining about how he wasn’t pleased with his death. I’m grateful to have been able to live as long as I did, to see my children grow and embark on careers of their own, to have been able to look after the children of Jack and Bobby. Life has, generally speaking, been kind to me, and I can say that I am a man of few regrets, though I must admit that one of them, was meeting you so late in life.

I had hoped to be fortunate enough to live a few years more so that I could’ve shown you the ways of American politics, but unfortunately that didn’t happen. I was able to share some of my wisdom with you via the internet, but there was so much left I wanted to teach you, so much left I wanted to do. Perhaps it sounds odd that I regret our loss of time, the way that I do, but please do allow me to explain why it was that I was so drawn to you, Paulina. Do not worry, this is not a declaration of my having been physically attracted to you. I wasn’t. Well, I suppose that in a way I was, though not in the manner men are usually attracted to women. There was an attribute of yours that stood out to me from the first time I saw you. We hadn’t even spoken at the time, but the moment I set eyes on yours, I was taken in. When I looked into them, I could’ve sworn I was looking into Bobby’s. They held that same passion, that intense gaze that was such a fixture on his face whenever he discussed policy. I was intrigued from that moment, and had to meet you. For how many twenty-something year olds could’ve held their ground against the Secretary of State? Not many. Surely, none that I know, but you did, and from that moment I was interested by you. And when we met, I was taken in. I understand that most people take offense at being compared with the deceased, they say that they’re individuals, they’re their own person who wanted to be taken for themselves and not because they remind people of someone else, but the truth is, when I saw you, when I spoke with you and truly got to pick your mind. I couldn’t help but think of Bobby.

Perhaps that may not sound like much to you, but to me that is the single greatest compliment I could ever give. Bobby was an extraordinary man, but more than that he was a great brother that inspired me to do better. He had a way with words that I have never had, a way to charm people in a way that I’ve never been able to. He was the sort of man that could go up to strangers and captivate them with his speaking, that effortless grace that he had even though the he could be fiercely ruthless. When I saw you, when I spoke to you, I could not help but feel that I was once again in my brother’s presence. I’m not sure if you’re aware of it, but there’s a natural charm to you, an endearing quality that makes it so when you engage in conversation with others, they can’t help but be active listeners. There’s a strong presence to you, and I’m not saying that because you’re dating a prince. It’s due to your manner of address, to the way you project yourself and the gaze you hold. When you first spoke to me, I couldn’t help but be in awe of the eloquence with which you expressed yourself. You were graceful on that occasion, by all means a lady, but then when you held that press conference after you broke into your house, you demonstrated how ruthless you could be. You went on the offensive and humiliated that man while remaining poised. That was how Bobby used to negotiate. God, whenever anyone did something to piss him off or screw anyone in the family he over, he’d attack. He’d make it so we had our way. That was why some people hated him so much. He wasn’t afraid of being ruthless, of getting his hands dirty, but even then, he’d remain poised, he’d keep that charm. And I suppose that might have annoyed people. They wanted to hate him for being a ruthless bastard, yet couldn’t help but be taken by his poise and eloquence.

My brother would’ve been a great president. This country would be far different had he not been assassinated, far better than what it is, but unfortunately, that was not meant to be. Bobby was too good for his time. The country wasn’t ready for him. He was a threat to some, and they saw fit to have him killed in order to halt the good he wished to do, the service he wished to provide to this great nation of ours. After his death, I thought I would never again see his equal, but then you came, and you gave me hope. Your optimism was infectious, your passion and eagerness, truly exhilarating. You made me believe again, made me believe that what Bobby dreamt of, still have a chance to one day come to be. And I swore then that I would be a part of your journey. That I would do well by you, pass on the lessons that my brother taught me. I was determined to make a Kennedy out of you. I thought that if I got you ready, that if I somehow managed to live long enough to see you in office, that I would’ve righted a wrong. Was that selfish of me? Perhaps. Perhaps it was wrong to think that I could shape your life after my brother’s, but you . . . you inspired me. You gave me hope for the future, and all I wanted was to ensure that what he wished for the world would someday come to be. Maybe I was arrogant to think I could do that, but I wanted to be there for you in a way that I wasn’t able to be there for him.

I dreamt of a future in which I could see you truly come into your greatness. I wanted to be there when you embarked on your journey, but alas, circumstances have kept me from doing so, but I wish to be a part of your life, even now that my time has ended. I wish that you will do me the honor of accepting the books I have bequeathed to you. They are my most prized possession; they were books that Bobby gave me as presents, and books of his that he left me in his will. For years, I believed the books would end up in a museum, perhaps at our brother’s presidential library, but I know in my heart that these books belong with you. I hope they will serve to motivate you as they did me. Whenever I was running low on hope and the courage to go on, I would open up a book and immerse myself in its language, in the little notes that Bobby had jotted down in the margins. These books are a treasure that I hope you will appreciate.

I have faith in you, Miss Balcázar. Faith that you will do well by your fellow man. Now that this letter is coming to a close, all I can do is quote my brother and hope that you will live by his words. Let us dedicate ourselves to what the Greeks wrote so many years ago; to tame the savageness of man and make gentle the life of this world.



By the time she finished reading the letter, she was full on sobbing. She couldn’t remember having ever received a better compliment. Sure, people had told her she was accomplished and amiable and exceedingly bright, but that was nothing to being compared to Robert F. Kennedy, to being compared to him by his own brother. Bobby was a remarkable man, whom reached out to communities of color and hoped that America would one day celebrate its diversity and be the sort of place where people, regardless of color, sex, religion, would be able to reach their full potential. He had been a friend of Martin Luther King Jr., he had been a friend of Cesar Chavez, he had worked tirelessly to do better by those whom were oppressed, and he was killed because he was a danger to the way things were. He was assassinated after a primary victory in California, and with him, went the hope that anyone would ever see his likeness again. But apparently, Edward thought he’d seen his likeness again. And while Paulina couldn’t exactly take the compliment as fact, she was flattered. Truly, she was. She just couldn’t believe that she was at the level of Robert F. Kennedy. That was blasphemy, but she’d take the compliment, she’d let it brighten her features and make her cry from a mixture of joy and regret.

Overwhelmed by his praise, Paulina did the only thing she could think of, she hopped on her laptop and visited the Zipcar webpage, where she reserved a vehicle for six hours. She wasted no time in slipping on comfortable flats, if she was going to visit Arlington National Cemetery, then she was going to have to be able to walk around comfortably. She’d never been to Arlington before, but she knew she wouldn’t have any trouble finding Senator Kennedy’s grave. He was buried near his brothers, and she knew that finding the John F. Kennedy Eternal Flame would be no trouble, it was one of the most visited graves at the cemetery, and from there she’d find Senator Kennedy’s with little trouble.

The drive over to the cemetery lasted an hour and twenty-seven minutes. The navigation system she used had initially stated that it would take an additional twenty minutes to get there, but Paulina drove quickly. She wasn’t going to waste any time. She had to pay her respects to him. Perhaps to others, inheriting a set of old books wouldn’t have been anything to be grateful for, but those books contained the writing of Bobby and Ted Kennedy. They had underlined passages, jotting down notes, they had put a bit of themselves into the pages, and she was grateful, she was eager to learn from them.

Just before she arrived at the cemetery, she made a stop at a flower shop to buy three bouquets of sunflowers. The first bouquet was set at the grave of President John F. Kennedy, she also uttered a prayer for him. The second was placed on Bobby’s gave, he too was given a prayer, as well as a few tears. The third, and largest of the bouquets, was set on the grave of Senator Edward Moore Kennedy, and she prayed an entire rosary for him, crying all the while.

When she finished praying, she opened her eyes and stared down at the simple white cross and white marble marker that bore his name, as well as his year of birth and death. It was hard to believe that the man she’d sat across during lunch was lying right there, interred in the earth. He’d been such a big figure, even in his advanced age he was vivacious and passionate. His thirst for life was infectious. It just seemed wrong that he was dead, that the world had lost him.

“Good afternoon, Sir,” Paulina spoke to him in a soft voice. “I’d hope that the next time I saw you, we’d be having lunch and discussing policy, but it seems that wasn’t mean to be. Instead we’re here, and I know that I wasn’t a part of your family or anything, but it seems wrong for you to be dead. I get that’s what people do, that’s what we’re all meant to do, but you weren’t supposed to go this soon. I didn’t want you to.” Her voice cracked and she squinted her eyes closed, trying to force away the tears. “I know I never told you this, I was afraid of sounding like some fangirl, but you . . . you were my hero, Sir. After the deaths of your brother’s, you could’ve retired to a private life to avoid having death threats made at you, but you didn’t, you endured the death threats you received throughout your career, and you fought courageously for what you believed in. You inspired me. And from our first meeting, I couldn’t help but be in raptures about being admitted into your acquaintance. People always say not to meet your heroes because they can turn out to be total dicks, but not you, Sir. You were better, more compassionate and attentive, and inspiring than I could’ve ever imagined. And I thank you for having taken an interest in me. I am grateful for the time I was able to know you. I will treasure it always. As I will treasure the books you bequeathed me. I have to tell you that I don’t think I’m worthy of having Bobby’s books. That man – fuck. He was extraordinary. The way you wrote about him, was how I always felt in regards to him, and to read that you see similarities between us, well . . . I don’t know to say except thank you. Thank you for believing in me. I promise that I am going to do my best to do right by your memory, as well as his. I can’t guarantee that I’ll end up in American politics, it’s likely that I end up a duchess, but wherever I go, whatever I do, I will lead the most honorable life I can, and strive to always do good and lessen the lot of others. I promise you that, Sir. I’m gonna make you proud.”