The former model stands behind her man. He turns to address her and her face morphs instantly into a joyful smile. As he turns his head back, the smile instantly goes away. For a brief moment showing a frown, anger in her eyes. She once dreamed of being an international star, living in the limelight, having wealth unimagined as a young girl in Yugoslavia before it became Slovenia.
The scene repeats itself several times a day. On the days she is even in the same town as she chose to stay in the Manhattan prison decorated in 24K gold and marble. When summoned she appears in the White House or Mar-a-lago to repeat the pretense.
The effort in the smile is beginning to fade. No longer joyful but patently false. The frown afterwards is becoming etched almost permanently. What is her outlet? To whom can she confide?
Yes she made her deal with the devil yet she thought it would turn out differently. The lavish lifestyle made up for a lot. He thought it absolved him of any transgressions. He had affairs, is taped talking about “grabbing them by the pussy.” He brags about his intelligence but leaves a Twitter trail proving otherwise. He’s boorish, an egomaniac… she dreads his touch.
Her life now is waking up everyday to go to a job she can’t stand. To act loving to a man she detests. She reflects on all the paths not chosen. Certain that all led to a better destination. She speaks several languages and listen’s every day as her husband butchers the single one he knows. She found that having wasn’t nearly the same as wanting. She cries herself to sleep at night. She realizes she has helped create the monster she lives with part-time. She spoke up for him as needed. Affirmed his character. Read every speech she was handed.
She secretly thinks that Impeachment wouldn’t be that bad. Maybe he won’t be re-elected? Maybe he’ll have to resign? She doesn’t know how it ends but it can’t come too soon. Maybe he’ll be humbled, perhaps need her again. Did he ever need her? She cries again. Every public moment she’s surrounded by the media, her handlers, the Secret Service she regards as Donald’s spies. She goes shopping. Buys something she neither needs or wants. Re-enters the luxury prison and lies across her bed. Crying once more.
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