THE SECRET DIARY OF... Barack Obama

MONDAY

Michelle said this morning, ‘‘Where are you going?’’

‘‘Out,’’ I said. The driver took my bags.

She said, ‘‘Can you get some milk?’’ ‘‘Well,’’ I said, ‘‘I guess I can.’’

TUESDAY

Arrived at Auckland airport just after midnight. John was there. ‘‘Mate,’’ he said, and shook my hand. ‘‘Good to see you,’’ I said.

‘‘How was the flight?’’

‘‘Good,’’ I said.

‘‘Wait till you try Air New Zealand,’’ he said. ‘‘I’m on the board.’’

‘‘How’s that going?’’

‘‘Good,’’ he said.

‘‘That’s good to hear,’’ I said.

He took my bags, and opened the door of the limo. ‘‘See you at Kauri Cliffs tomorrow. Think you can beat me this time?’’ he said, with his trademark smile.

‘‘Hey,’’ I laughed, ‘‘I hope I can.’

WEDNESDAY

Beautiful day at an exclusive course with John and his son Mick.

‘‘How’s your career in showbiz?’’ I asked him.

‘‘I’ve kind of quit,’’ Mick said.

‘‘It’s hard. You can have all the talent in the world, but you still need to promote the brand,’’ I said.

‘‘Yeah, I found it pretty hard to get any publicity,’’ he said.

‘‘There you go,’’ I said.

John took my golf bag, and we walked along the green in the sunshine.

‘‘So,’’ he said, ‘‘how’s life after politics treating you?’’

‘‘Pretty fair,’’ I said. ‘‘I mean. Here we are.’’

‘‘Here we are,’’ he said. His phone rang. ‘‘Oh,’’ he said. ‘‘It’s Simon. New

leader of my party. It’d mean a lot to him to have his photo taken talking on his phone to you. Would you mind having a quick word?’’

‘‘Sure,’’ I said, ‘‘I suppose I can.’’

THURSDAY

I met John this morning at another exclusive golf course. He said, ‘‘How was last night?’’

‘‘Good,’’ I said. ‘‘I had dinner with Peter Jackson.’’

‘‘Good guy,’’ he said.

‘‘He said you helped him out once,’’ I said.

‘‘It’s about making things happen, isn’t it?’’ he said.

‘‘That’s what it’s all about,’’ I said. Later I flew to Auckland and met Prime Minister Jacqueline Ardern.

I said, ‘‘I hear you are expecting a baby.’’

She said, ‘‘I am in a few weeks.’’ I said, ‘‘That’s so exciting.’’

Later there was dinner at an exclusive events venue. Simon Neil, the actor, asked me questions onstage. Well, a man has to sing for his supper, which was a choice of gingerglazed salmon with turmeric and coconut broth, or slowcooked beef shortrib with grilled broccolini and crispy shallots, cooked by renowned New Zealand chef, Gordon Peters. I ordered both but couldn’t eat it all. Simon took my doggy bag, and had it taken to my hotel room.

Later I sat at the bar with John. ‘‘Mate,’’ he said. ‘‘End of the day? You were a great president. A great, great president.’’

‘‘So were you,’’ I said.

‘‘Damn straight,’’ he said, and walked to the bathroom.

I saw my reflection in the window. It was ghostly in the black glass. I didn’t like what I saw looking back. It looked more dead than alive. I thought: How

can you live with yourself?

And then John slapped me on the back and ordered one for the road.

FRIDAY

Michelle called when I was at Auckland airport. ‘‘You home soon?’’ she said.

‘‘Pretty soon,’’ I said.

‘‘Good. Can you pick up some milk?’’ The pilot took my bags. I felt very tired.

‘‘You know,’’ I said, ‘‘I don’t know if I can.’’ — The New Zealand Herald