[californiastrs]

sitting on the dock of the bay w/ jack kennedy

for the first time you could remember, the big clapboard house by the sea was quiet. everything else seemed fine. the omnipresent smell of ocean spray. the endless gaggle of family photos hung on the walls. the creaking stair you usually avoided, but stepped on this morning just to hear something at all.

having the house that was practically pictured in the oxford dictionary under the word "community" all to yourself felt dystopian. and for the first time in the near decade you had been coming to visit the kennedy compound, you felt intrusive.

over a month had passed since joe was lost and leaning on the constant refrain that "joe wouldn't want us to sit around and mope", the world kept spinning. but it didn't feel right. "forced" wasn't quite the word. "unacknowledged" didn't work either. just a dull ache that sat in the bones of the house that felt like it would stay forever.

you'd finally come to stay after suppressing your skepticism about kick's reassurance that it would be "good for everyone" and met questions like "why wouldn't it be normal?"

clouds used to part in kick's path, but ever since losing her billy her smile didn't reach her eyes the way it did.

glancing up at that big wooden clock that was probably older than the country, you realized that the vacant house was the result of rose's insistence that they all make it to the 9 o'clock mass. in the time since joe's death, the family has just been repeating the motions. said motions evidently did not account for houseguests, and nobody came to knock on your door and wake you up. god forbid a girl sleeps in during the weekend.

it felt like no open window could ever change how thick the air was inside that house. everything in hyannis felt touched by joe. it's hard to look at a flagpole in the yard when his laugh as he and jack tried to climb it summers ago still rang in your ears. and the shouts of the ensuing fight when jack's foot slipped off joe's shoulder and into his face. he always did have a short temper.

but was the blue sea joe used to sail in still here? the tide had come and gone just as the sun set the day joe died. that wasn't joe's water. but it was his place– the place he used to spend hours yelling commands in his sailboat. the place he used to swim with his siblings. but the smell of the ocean spray was the same, as was the sight of sailboats rocking in the sound.

the ocean was an anchor for the family. so you were only half surprised to see another escapee of mass sitting on the end of the dock.

walking along the weathered wood, you stopped beside him. there jack sat, watching the tide roll away with a blank stare and twiddling thumbs. he was never one to sit completely still.

"morning," you said, breaking the silence.

he started, then glanced back. "hey, kid." a beat passed before he added "i see i'm not the only one who got out of mass."

kid. you always hated that nickname. kick used it too, but it didn't bother you quite as much as when jack did.

"what, you don't like going?" you asked.

"no. it's not that." he hesitated. "just needed to clear my head this morning"

"bet that went over well with your mother"

he smirked. "i'm sure it would've. if she had noticed, that is"

"that's an impressive feat," you remarked.

"what other reason would i have for enlisting besides learning to sneak around?" he joked, but goodness knows jack kennedy did not need a lesson when it came to sneaking around. the "rumors" were certainly not rumors.

before you could reply, he added, "come have a sit"

he didn't have to ask you twice. but settling down onto the splintered dock beside him, there was no denying the toll the war had had on him. despite him spending labor day laughing with friends and growing annoyed at the brother he so lovingly referred to as "black robert", he wasn't quite the jack you remembered.

he was the first to break the comfortable silence that sat between the two of you.

"they're all crammed into a pew right now finding some scrap of solace in this being part of a divine plan but..." he paused. "i just can't help but think that this wasn't supposed to happen."

"not to joe. not to me."

he didn't face you. not even a glance. he kept staring straight ahead into the ocean in front of him.

there's just something in a sunday.

no words felt sufficient to reply to a confession of a man who just became the oldest child. not wanting him to stop talking, a mere "maybe it wasn't." was all you let out.

he scoffed, "yeah. maybe it wasn't"

a beat passed before he spoke again. "you know," he continued, "joe and i used to take our dates here to see the boats after dances"

you looked at him and saw a smirk growing on his face.

you scoffed, "you are unbelievable"

"what? i'm just reminiscing about good times with my brother!" he raised his hands in mock defense

"yeah, i sure bet they were good"

"oh, they definitely were"

the silence returned but your thoughts were loud.

jack hesitated. "will you give me a hand?"

"hm?"

"to get up. i want to get back in the house before the priest has told everyone to 'go in peace.'" he met your eye with a slight smile

standing up, you grabbed his calloused hand to hoist him up. you noticed the tight grip he had on the dock post, his knuckles almost white.

his face was a bit flushed. "well, kid..." he looked at your face for what might have been the first time this morning, "you're alright after all"

[jfkology]

fuck i love this

[jfkology]

Happy 97th birthday, Jackie!

1929 - 1994 🤍

[jfkology]

if jfk got to live in that ranch down south with inga, would jack have been a cowboy

[melancholicstation]

6am to 6pm in the life of JFK's first lady!reader

tags: @rocker-chick-7 @ultr4v1ol3nt @kimcrystal123 @remotewatch @h-l-v-kennedy-blog @h-l-vlovesvintage @strryhaze @unmarlou @fortheloveofjos @bluelancergirl @strip-weather-forecast @darcyspirits @snowsgames @dulcegal @kennedyism @stargiirl27 @absurdlyvintage @jackiesgirl @bluevelvetsunset @recentremreports

authors note: i am just now realising that this a lot more about bobby than it is jack 😭😭. my bobby bias strikes again I suppose! nevertheless i hope this satisfies the limited amount of people who even still care for my writing! this is not proof read so im crossing my fingers that it's legible. summa: following the birth of her second baby, a 6 pound and 14 ounces baby boy to be exact, the first lady is staying at her brother in laws six-room pied-a-terre on the 14th floor. read below to be a voyeur in her life from the hours of 6am to 6pm

December 16th, New York City (1962)

5:00am:

first lady!reader wakes in a donald judd plywood bed to the click of a mortise lock disengaging and the soft coos of a newborn babe. bobby's has taken fantastically to the role of self appointed night nurse. per jack's request it was decided that the first lady would depart the peoples house and join her brother-in-law at his new york residence to spend the last remnants of her 'maternity leave' before the new year rears it's ugly, tiring head. as custom she feeds the weary eyed boy in her arms. arms that are still slightly ruddy and freckled by the sun from her and jack's baby moon trip to the baja california peninsula.

bobby leaves soon after passing the boy to reader for the sake of his sister-in-laws privacy, but not before subtly presenting a glass (1, 2) of chilled water and a plate of fruit (1) he got an assistant to acquire from the amish market on 45th street but went to a personal effort to cut the provisions up into bit sized chunks while playing catch up on memos.

reader finishes up after about thirty minutes leaving an empty plate and glass, and a very full and happy baby. she calls bobby back in to take the baby who smells like honeysuckle and sandalwood (hermés' cabriole scent). but not before asking whether jack has called, since she knows for a fact he can't sleep past 4:45am. bobby shakes his head solemnly, and then if deciding what to do next, strides the length of the room back towards the bed and kisses reader on the patch of above her right temple.

thereafter, he exits the guest room. she closes her eyes.

7:00am:

reader wakes for the second time of the morning and pads from the guest room to the living room, a room outfitted with the apropos brands: knoll, knoll textiles, vitra, herman miller, and cassina. bobby has left a note on a post-it stating he's "left for a string of meetings, i will join you at 5 -Bob".

i imagine the apartment to look similar to these images in vibe:

checking the time on the clock on the living room wall, she writes a short letter to jack detailing the new milestone their son has reached despite being away from jack for only a matter of days (he can now smile!). while doing so, breakfast is prepared by a private staff member named pete. breakfast consists of a piece of bread (1, 2), a boiled egg, and a pot of black coffee (1, 2, 3, 4).

being three months postpartum reader chooses light, crepe dresses (1, 2, 3, 4, 5), and cotton fabrics (1, 2) that skim the body such as these:

10:00am:

baby wakes up from his nap just as first lady!reader is set to take a relaxing bath. instead of engaging the nanny, she takes her baby into the bath with here. they both have a bounty of fun as evidenced by the floor covered in water, with the only relaxing element remaining being the hurricane lamp (1) softly illuminating the bathroom.

12:00pm:

jack writes back around lunchtime while reader busies herself by taking the baby out to the peter detmold park dressed in anti-pap attire (an hermés silk scarf, akris double faced cashmere coat, and a pair of celine disc glasses):

"That is terrific news about our dear boy, i always knew he would be an overachiever it must be in the blood. i won't be able to write back anymore today as i'm tied up in the office but do not let this discourage you from writing again today, i long for your voice even if only through your terrific handwriting. take refuge in the knowledge that i won't rest until i can come to New York next week and steal you back from Bob. He's had enough fun.

-Love, Your Jack."

1:00pm:

after the traversing 51st street, she enters the UN plaza through the double doors and is met with the emblematic red carpet donning the lobby alongside it's twenty-four hour reception desk, concierge, and doormen (1). the cook whips up a cobb salad (a recipe which came straight from the cooks at the carlyle) in a crystal salad bowl by lobmeyr, alongside a tumbler of warm milk (1, 2).

4:00pm:

she gets one of bobby's assistants stationed at the new york residence to call down to the concierge desk to set up a last minute home appointment with the hairstylist guido palau.

first lady!reader gets her hair washed, trimmed, scalp exfoliated, and well coiffed into any one of these three hairstyles:

she remembers how jack once washed her hair during a vacation to camp david. a stay in which they had relinquished majority of their staff for the week in order to establish a pseudo sense of normalcy. they gone out to a particularly exhilarating yet exhausting soiree at a compound in emmitsburg belonging to a socialite and her oil heir husband. it had been great fun but left the first lady particularly fatigued. so fatigued that jack elected to wash her hair himself, sensing her trepidation at the end of the evening.

first lady!reader returns the favor the next morning, by taking it upon herself to do his shaving routine upon his lap—his most favourite place for her to be of course:

5:00pm:

bobby returns home when he said so, to the minute (a trait he so possesses unlike his brother counterpart). reader and bobby sit side by side in matching billy baldwin club studio chair's (1) alongside tv trays (1) with meals meticulously cooked by the staff. the pair bicker about the socio-political and economic issues of the week, talk about how well jack is doing, how utterly busy at all hours of the day, week, month.

skirting around the enormous steiff elephant (a sweet yet untimely gift from jack's father and mother) in the room is a talent well practiced balancing act for the first lady and the attorney general. they both have devoted their lives to a singular, flawed man who's successes and indiscretions reflect onto them in equal parts. perhaps that's why they get along so well!

perhaps that's why jack, after retiring to the living quarters after a hard days of work, suddenly feels the urge to collect his wife and baby son at an earlier date than expected back where they belong ... right beside him and in the white house.

BONUS! first lady!reader and jack as tweets:

[camelotobsessed]

Bobby swimming

[jfkology]

the b in bobby stands for biceps

[castiwls]

Bobby having that picture front and centre 🥲🥲

Robert Kennedy in New York : the campaign for the senate by Gerald Gardner

[jfkology]

Ahh is anybody a good relationship advice gievr im might go crazt

[jfkology]

This is lowkey the only photo i took at the bar tonight

[jfkology]

going to th bar

[jfkology]

#freak this ashfall

[jfkology]

i love working in museums

[indulginginterests]

"Girls say Jack is still as shy as he's always been, despite the fact that he's one of the nation's most eligible and handsomest bachelors. "I don't know when I can find time for much social life," he said with a smile. "When I do have a free day, which is very rare, I try to get home to see the family. That doesn't leave much time for parties, or girls." However, Jack does take girls out occasionally, but no one in particular. "Guess I just haven't found the right one yet," he said. "I really prefer the homebody type of girl. One who is quiet and would make a fellow a nice, understanding wife and mother for his children. The color of her hair or her height wouldn't make much difference. Just as long as she's a homebody is all that counts. When I find her, even politics will take a back seat then."

[strryhaze]

robert ‘bobby’ f. kennedy sailing in hyannis port. early 1960s.

[jfkology]

holy shit wait

[jfkology]

he's so awkward , my heart longs for you white boy

[jfkology]

lowk using familysearch to look at more jfk documents

[jfkology]

Today i tried one of those dubai chocolates and i think its just like chewing on confetti. Im also allergic to chocolate

[lancer-andlace]

President Kennedy in Hyannis Port - Labor Day Weekend, 1963