Page 49 of #Lovestrong
Declan
Lena hasn't said a word since I picked her up an hour ago. Sitting in the second row of the auditorium, she stares at the empty podium on the stage where, in just under ten minutes, my father will appear to begin his press conference.
She spent the morning at her house, barely texting. Today's a hard day for her and I wish she'd talk to me. It's officially been one year since the shooting at her old high school, and each day over the last week, she grew more quiet, that sad loneliness creeping back into her eyes.
My mom and I stopped at the church after school today and prayed for her. I don't know what to do for Lena except continue to be here, ready if she breaks down. I've wanted to tell her I love her every day since we both said it at her therapist’s office, but I'm too afraid I'll overwhelm her. Instead, I just try to act how I normally do.
My mom joins us and sits on the other side of Lena, reaching over without a word to take Lena's hand. It makes me smile that my mom has taken to Lena so much. I think most guys, regardless of age, worry about finding ‘the one’ and then having their family, especially their mother, dislike her. I'm blessed that my mom seems to love Lena too.
Jackson and Candice slide into the row next to me and he claps me on the shoulder, leaning in to talk close to my ear. "How's she holding up, D?"
I turn my head toward him so she can't hear me. "I don't know. She hasn't said much of anything today."
"I'm okay, Jackson." We both jump and turn toward the sound of her voice. She isn't smiling or even looking at us. I shake my head. I can't get anything past this girl, and I both love and hate that.
"A lot of people here," Candice says, leaning across Jackson. "CNN, Fox, MSNBC. You're dad must be talking about something important."
Rolling my eyes, I scoff. "Yeah, too bad he didn't warn us about what it is."
Just then, my father's assistant steps up behind the podium. "Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats. At this time, Senator Aidan Harp will take the stage to make an announcement. After that, he'll take two questions from each represented news outlet, but that is all. Any follow-up questions can be directed to our office."
We all sit back in our chairs and I put my arm around Lena's shoulders as my father walks onto the stage. Lena reaches over and puts her hand on my leg, and for the first time today, she looks directly into my eyes.
"I love you," she says in a low voice, squeezing my thigh gently.
With my free hand, I cup the side of her face, and kiss her briefly. "I love you too, baby."
"Thank you all for joining me tonight," my father says into the microphone, every eye in the room trained on him. "As many of you know, this year, the Senate will be discussing many important topics that affect the American people. This will range from taxes, to the healthcare crisis, the opioid epidemic, and much more."
He takes a deep breath and shuffles the papers in front of him. Honestly, whatever this is about, my father has never looked so determined. There's something in his eyes that's new, a steeliness I can't really place. Lena moves her hand off my leg and I glance down as she wraps it over my mother's hands.
"As many of you know, I've worked hard for the American people in my fifteen years as a Senator, focusing on mental health and keeping the rights of the American person firmly in place, because for me, some freedoms should never be compromised.
"But today, and I know this may upset some, I announce that on the first day of the session, I will withdraw my petition to loosen gun laws that I submitted to my fellow senators at the end of the last session."
My mouth drops open as a fury of whispers rolls through the room. I glance over at my mother, and her eyes shine with tears, but the look on her face isn't upset or hurt— it's proud. She knew what my father was doing tonight . . . and she never said a word.
"I know I’ve spent the better part of my career lobbying for the Second Amendment and an American's right to own firearms. My position on that hasn't changed. What has changed is my knowledge of what guns are doing in the hands of our youths, and because of that, I’ll work with my fellow senators, both Republican and Democrat, to find ways to make our streets, our towns, and most importantly, our schools safe from gun violence."
A few reporters start shouting questions from the back, but my father holds his hand up, effectively quieting them. Running a hand through his hair, he shifts his weight and places both his hands on either side of the podium.
"I know you're all asking yourselves what happened to make me change my position on this, so let me enlighten you. Many of you have watched my children grow in the public eye. You've covered everything from my children's births to their acceptances into college. A few months ago, my son Declan met an amazing young woman."
My jaw drops as my father's eyes find Lena's. She’s sitting pin-straight in her seat, every muscle in her body tense as she stares right back at him, her lips parted as her chest heaves with the effort it's taking her to breath. I lay my hand on the back of her neck and lean over to kiss her temple. She doesn’t respond or move, but just stares at my father.
"Over the last several months, I have watched her and my son fall into a happiness I never imagined Declan would find at such a young age. I've gotten to know Magdalena Harrison for the strong, intelligent, blessed, and beautiful soul she is. But there's a heartache that came with knowing her, in getting to know this young woman's soul.
"You see, a year ago today, she went to school like every other kid in her small town in Decleburg, Virginia. She went to class, laughed, worked hard, and looked forward to soccer and Homecoming with her boyfriend and best friend and all her other classmates. Then, during her lunch period, the unthinkable happened."
My father stops for a moment and looks up at the ceiling, his lips moving but the words not coming through the speakers. When he looks back at the crowd, he takes a deep breath. "I knew Magdalena wouldn't be comfortable speaking in front of everyone about what she went through, and I don't think my relaying that information will truly make you understand the impact of how this tragedy has changed my views. So instead, I'd like you all to please welcome Decleburg High School Senior Jazmin Naharis to the stage."
"Oh my God," Lena says loudly as a tall, ebony-skinned girl with braids down to her waist walks from behind the curtain and takes my father's place at the podium.