Page 129 of Jackie

I take his arm, and we walk through the Center Hall.

“I want you to let me know if you need anything,” he says.

“Thank you.”

“Anything.”

“They say it was a silly little communist who did it,” I say. “But I don’t believe that.”

“They will say many things.”

“And now Oswald’s been shot, so we’ll never know for sure.”

“There’s very little we know for sure.”

“That’s true, I suppose.”

“You are a strong woman. Noble and wise and brave. You’ll survive this, as awful as it is.”

I tell him then that I am determined to build something transcendent to outdo this awful thing they did to Jack. I am aware that I use the word they. I don’t correct it. Someone has lied. I’m not quite sure who. Talking to Onassis, I feel more grounded than I’ve felt since it happened. Maybe because he’s a stranger. Not of our world. He knows what it is to be outside.

“How has Johnson been?” he asks. I’m grateful he does not say President Johnson. Onassis will do this, I’ve noticed. Intuit these tiny things that matter.

“He’s been good to me. Though Bobby doesn’t agree.”

“Why?”

“He says Lyndon shouldn’t have forced me to take part in the swearing in. I don’t see it that way. I wasn’t forced. These last few days, Lyndon’s been only generous. ‘Little Lady,’ he said to me yesterday, ‘anything you want in these rooms is yours.’ ”

Onassis laughs. “Always the wonderful mimic.”

“I’ve told Johnson all I want is his promise that the work Jack started will be finished. The civil-rights bill passed and, at least for now, no turnover. Everyone who wants to stay in their jobs should be able to stay.”

“And what about you?” Onassis says. An open-ended question. I am careful as I answer.

“The children and I will live in Georgetown for now, in a loaned house, until I find my own. It is disconcerting watching our life being boxed up, trying to keep track of what will go where.”

He nods. He’s about to ask something else, then his eye is caught, a slight hardness. I turn. Bobby’s walking toward us from the stairs.

“We need you for a few decisions, Jackie,” Bobby says. “We’re in the West Sitting Hall.” He doesn’t say who the we are, but the implication is that Onassis is not.

“Thank you for being here, Ari,” I say.

Onassis holds my hand for a moment, then lets go.

…

That night, Bobby brings me the Mass card with Jack’s picture. At the rotunda, he says, hundreds of thousands are in line to pay their respects. At a certain point they’ll have to turn people away.

When I wake up, he is gone, the sun rising, curtains rinsed in flame. Today is John’s birthday. He’s turning three.

Getting dressed, I tell Provi, “I can’t let John’s birthday get entirely lost in this day.”

As Kenneth is setting the veil to my hair, Pam comes in to remind me I need to be ready by 9:45. The car will be waiting.

I look at my face in the mirror—swollen eyes, swollen cheeks, like I’ve spent the night underwater. I draw the veil down.

—

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