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He hung up the phone with a sigh.
Disappointed yet not all that terribly surprised.
His gaze lowered on to the picture of his father.
Resigned, not excited, happy, or pleased at the opportunity to see his parents again. It left him saddened.
"I am going to be dead by the end of the night." Wytner said.
The foreign prime minister let him there to his thoughts.
Leaving the one thing that felt whole and the closest thing to fill the void left behind by his parents. The thing that he had always wanted. People who's faces that he wanted to see every day until his heart gave out after he couldn't do his duties as a usher. Dying of a broken heart being replaced by the younger and new. Was it selfish? Yes, it was. Wishing for things to be that way.
He wanted to have shared kinder words. Finished that game with Angie instead of pausing. Angie, Shelia, Bruce, the Georges, the cooks, and everyone else. People who were going to regret their last parting words. Just as he had, knowing now.
Knowing there wasn't a choice to stay. Not able to plant his feet and stay there against the onslaught of a determinator.
He tried with circumstance rooted in plans.
Plans had changed without his input and gracious consent.
His time in the White House severely limited by a decisive choice.
The young woman, Jasmine Haney, getting her dream come to fruition after over eleven or twelve years. Under heartbreaking circumstance to cry loudly over scream for a long time until it was all out. Then recompose herself holding a long face and walk away from that moment with the strength that he knew was inside of her. Understanding now that 'maybe getting what you wanted didn't always come easy and sometimes it involves a loss' that was painful in the most cruel ways possible.
Coming after waiting.
And.
Waiting.
And waiting..
Getting the role over his dead body. A comment that was made earlier full of frustration. Harsh words in hindsight.
She saw being the head usher as the best position.
Was it, though?
The glue that bound the first family to the staff and kept them as a single well blended family unit. The glue that dealt the brunt the fury of staff, the sorrow, the scandal, criminal deceit, bribing, the heartache, the unruly, and so much as a usher. Sweeping it all under the rug or smoothing it out for the sake of the day event.
He had it so good. People he respected and loved and held dear to his heart beneath the professional mask. People who would react with visible emotion for his unexpected sudden departure from the white house through a bright white and glowing angelic carriage. Unaware he left until things went down and needing him but unable to be be personally there for them.
Like the tape in his life was giving out. And fast.
Speeding to the last strip of film that's receiving around the base of the disk.
Time was not on his side and Wynter knew that all he could do was watch it spin out.
Be part of the narrative that was being fun outside the office with a single sense of dread hanging over his head. And it had to be a misconception on the voice of the person on the other end of the phone. He didn't want to believe it was going to be that person.
Wynter didn't want to believe he was going to die tonight when everyone needed him there.
Maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him on the caller's voice. No one knew that his tape was nearing the end. Not even colleagues in the White House apart from the foreign prime minister. People that he had spent over 54 years looking for. It was better late than never, finding and knowing them. His greatest honor to have been given.
People who were going to be solemn at his funeral if they could ... if they could attend if the schedules lined up.
In the end, being the usher was the best role that he dreamed of having in his youth as a mere fantasy. Something he never wanted to give up. Something that scared him of having taken away from his hands. The one thing that made him happy. Despite how tiring it all made him during events. His dream that summoned constant professionalism.
Something that became vividly real the moment A B Wynter was welcomed in his suit. Admiring the front entrance taking it all in and reflecting how different it was yet similar of how it was in the movies and TV shows that showed the entrance. Meticulously well taken care of and loved entrance surrounded by passion and care. Everything the way he had imagined the same once fleeting dream.
His slice of hell as well as it also turned out.
Something that left Wynter scared of facing someone and doing it anyway not knowing what they were going to do.
He would be given some form of award for attending the event if it were some military event that required an usher for some reason.
A role constantly challenging him during stressful events like the attacks and the holiday. The social secretary wanting change in the white house and she wanted it; always now. Always a chaotic rush apart from that. Being part of a large crowd of people that stayed at the same venue for years and looked up to him as the pillar of the community.
He wiped a tear with his sleeve.
He had nothing by else to add to the journal.
Everything he wanted to say to them was in it. And find some closure.
He picked up the books and left with faith that everything would work out long after he left the stage or didn't leave the stage tonight against the backdrop of an uncertainly bloody death hanging over his head.
That bright personality that Jasmine had wasn't going to be snuffed out but merely mellowed and dulled over the sorrow of his tenure ending. He hated the image of the sad image that was planted in his mind. Wanting to comfort her and tell her everything was okay, he was there for her, he never left, he was never going to leave, he wanted not to leave at all, assure her it was all a nightmare..
She was going to be okay without him.
He knew that.