Page 128 of Jackie

He looks at me, like he’s about to say something else.

“I need to see Jack again, Bobby, before they take him away. Will you go with me?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll come in time so we can do that?”

“Yes.”

There is the sound of someone walking down the hall outside. We wait until the sound is gone. Then he gets up and leaves.

…

From the doorway of the East Room, I watch as they shift the flag partway down and raise the lid.

I take Bobby’s hand. We walk up and look in.

“Mr. Hill?” I say without turning to look. I know he’s there.

“Yes, Mrs. Kennedy.”

“Will you bring me scissors?”

I put the cuff links into the casket, and the scrimshaw. Bobby puts in his PT 109 tiepin and a silver rosary. I tuck in the letter I wrote, Caroline’s letter, and John’s (Caroline had guided John’s hand). Clint gives me the scissors, then steps back and quietly signals the guards to turn away as I bring the blade against Jack’s cheekbone, above his brow, and cut a lock of hair.

—

In less than an hour, the children and I will walk down the steps of the North Portico. The guards will bring you out to a caisson drawn by gray horses. We will get into a car with Bobby, Lyndon, and Lady Bird, to follow you to the Capitol, down a gauntlet of people along the cold avenue. The crowd will be silent. No cries, no calls, no ringing of your name, just the rhythmic strike of hooves against pavement, sticks against drums. I will whisper to Caroline, “We’re going to say goodbye now, tell Daddy how much we love him and how much we will miss him, always….” She’ll kneel with me, her little face glancing toward mine. “You just kiss like this,” I will whisper as we lean to kiss the flag that covers you, my eyes half-closed more for her sake than anyone else’s, my lips moving in a prayer that feels weightless. Always. How that word lingers. I can just see her small hand reaching like she wants to lift the flag to peek underneath, to touch you one last time.

…

Riding back from the Capitol, Bobby tells me Oswald was shot that morning, coming out of the police station basement garage.

“They were moving him to a jail,” Bobby says. “Some man, a nightclub owner, stepped out of the crowd and fired. Point-blank range.”

“He’ll survive?”

Bobby shakes his head.

I feel a chill then, deep, settle in me. I don’t speak for the rest of the ride.

—

I am aware Jack is gone as soon as I get back to the Residence. His body nowhere near me now.

That afternoon, I step out of the elevator. Onassis is there, waiting, as if materialized out of thin air.

“Thank you for coming,” I say.

“Of course.”

“When did you arrive?”

“An hour ago.”

“You spoke with Lee?”

He nods. “I was in Hamburg when she called. She told me to come, but I waited until I received your note. You were kind to think of me.”

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