When I asked how we’d afford living expenses if we were going to have homes
in both D.C. and Chicago, he’d said, “Well, I’ll write another book and it’ll be a
big book, one that makes money.”
This made me laugh. Barack was the only person I knew who had this kind
of faith, thinking that a book could solve any problem. He was like the little boy
from “Jack and the Beanstalk,” I teased, who trades his family’s livelihood for a
handful of magic beans, believing with his whole heart that they will yield
something, even if no one else does.
On all other fronts, Barack’s logic was dismayingly solid. I watched Valerie’s
face as he spoke, realizing that he was quickly racking up points with her, that he
had an answer for every “but what about?” question we could throw his way. I
knew he was making sense, even as I fought off the urge to tally up all the
additional hours he’d spend away from us now, not to mention the specter of a
move to D.C. Though we’d argued over the drain of his political career on our
family for years now, I did love and trust Barack. He was already a man with two
families, his attention divided between me and the girls and his 200,000 or so
South Side constituents. Would sharing him with the state of Illinois really be all
that different? I couldn’t know one way or another, but I also couldn’t bring
myself to stand in the way of his aspiration, that thing always tugging at him to
try for more.
And so that day, we’d made a deal. Valerie agreed to be the finance chair for
Barack’s Senate campaign. A number of our friends agreed to donate time and
money to the effort. I signed off on all of it, with one important caveat, repeated
out loud so that everyone could hear it: If he lost, he’d move on from politics
altogether and find a different sort of job. If it didn’t work out on Election Day,
this would be the end.
Really and for real, this would be the end.
What came next for Barack, though, was a series of lucky twists. First, Peter
Fitzgerald decided not to run for reelection, clearing the field for challengers and
relative newcomers like my husband. Then, somewhat oddly, both the
Democratic front-runner in the primary and the ensuing Republican nominee
became embroiled in scandals involving their ex-wives. With just a few months
remaining before the election, Barack didn’t even have a Republican opponent.
To be sure, he’d been running an excellent campaign, having learned plenty
from his failed congressional run. He’d beaten out seven primary opponents and
earned more than half the vote to win the nomination. Traveling the state and