State Department Thursday 11:24 a.m.
"I'm only asking you to consider speaking to the ambassador." Elizabeth McCord kept her tone even and her body posture relaxed.
"Or?" Ambassador Xiang asked with raised eyebrow. He sat across from her his features flat, giving no indication of any emotion at all.
A carefully controlled response to my every attempt at persuasiveness. Elizabeth considered thoughtfully. Not even the imprisonment of two young girls has cracked his facade.
"No, we aren't threatening anything. I'm simply asking you to consider intervening."
"If these girls are so important to the United States, why don't you step in and intervene?"
"You know, better than anyone, that our relationship with Pakistan is strained at best. You are in a unique position. Pakistan desires to maintain a solid relationship with you. This could be a way for you to communicate your support of women's right to the international community." She offered.
"Yes," He responded wryly. "It is our best interests that is deep in your heart."
"No." She sighed. "I'm thinking of two little girls who will be dead by the end of the week unless someone persuades Pakistan otherwise. You are in a unique position to do that."
"Pakistan does not appreciate the judgment of the western world. They are unlikely to base any decisions on what will please the United States."
"That is why I can't ask." She pointed out. "But you can."
He considered her thoughtfully for a moment before responding. "I will take this request to my government, Madam Secretary, but to be honest, we have more pressing matters than two children who've defied parental authority."
"Thank you." She said rising to shake his hand and fighting every urge to angrily clutch him around his neck. He left and Blake stepped into the office just as she returned to her desk.
"Ma'am you have just enough time for lunch before your budget meeting."
"Yes, thank you, Blake. Would you get Ambassador Kalb on the phone. Has Jay made any headway with Turkey?"
"He's still in a meeting." Blake hesitated. "Shall I get you something from the mess?"
"Hmm. Still meeting. That's a good sign, I guess."
"Perhaps a salad?" Blake continued.
"Later. See if you can get Ambassador Kalb, please."
"Yes, Madam Secretary." Blake ducked his head and turned to go, his shoulders slumped in resignation that he had not persuaded her to eat.
Sighing, she decided to throw him a bone. "Maybe you could find me a yogurt?" She called after him. "But not peach."
"Yes, Ma'am." He smiled brightly. "Definitely not peach!"
***MS***
Georgetown, McCord Residence, 7:23 p.m.
"Have you seen this?" Alison McCord stood in the doorway of the family room where her mother lay stretched out on the couch reading a magazine, her head resting against her husband's chest. Henry McCord glanced up from the book in his hand.
"Have I seen what?" He asked.
"Not you. Mom." She turned to her mother. "Tell me you've seen this and are doing something about. Tell me that's why you've worked late."
"Alison, maybe you could slow down and explain what you are talking about." Henry responded as Elizabeth set aside her magazine and sat up.
"She knows what I mean, don't you?" Alison said.
"I can't talk about work, Ali." Elizabeth's voice was quiet and tense. "You know that."
"Noodle, stop it." Henry's tone was stern; protective.
"I'm not allowed to express my opinion?" Alison asked. "Anoosh is younger than I am, and she's in prison for refusing to marry a forty-six year old man! They threw her in prison because she wants to go to high school!"
"Hey!" Stevie stepped into the kitchen. "What's going on?"
"Hey, honey." Elizabeth smile at her oldest. "There's pasta in the fridge. Dad made it, not me, so it's safe."
"Thanks but I already ate."
"So that's it?" Alison continued. "You won't talk about it?"
"Can't." Henry clarified.
"Uh, oh." Stevie glanced at her sister. "I walk in during a fight?"
"Discussion." Her mother corrected. She pushed herself up from the couch and went to the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water.
"It's not a discussion." Alison said bitterly. "That would require actual conversation."
"That's enough!" Henry said angrily.
"Henry, don't . . ."
"No. She can't just . . ." He sighed and rising crossed to where Alison stood. "Noodle, you can't just storm into the room and launch into her like that. Think. Think really carefully. What kind of a person is she? Would she stand idly by as a horrible injustice is committed?"
"They are going to be executed!" Alison said.
"Those girls in Pakistan! Everyone is talking about it! They are organizing a march on campus. We should go Ali!" Stevie said excitedly. She turned to her parents. "Or maybe we shouldn't. The press would probably show up. Could we?"
"No!" Alison said in frustration. "Mom won't let us! She won't talk about it!"
"I said that's enough. Alison go to your room. We will talk later." He pointed to the stairs as she opened her mouth in protest. "Now."
She at least had the good sense to leave silently. Elizabeth stood leaning against the counter a glass of water still in her hand. But she didn't watch Alison leave the room, she stared absently into the darkness beyond their window.
"I'm sorry," Stevie began. "I didn't think . . ."
"It's fine." Her mother said. "I'm the one who is sorry. You've every right to attend that march. I wish you could. But honey, the press has been on you lately and. . ."
"You don't have to explain it." Stevie said. "I get it. I'm sure you are doing everything you can."
"You sure you aren't hungry?" Her mother asked.
"No." Stevie studied her mother thoughtfully, and then turned to her father. "Let me talk to Ali. She's just . . . she feels things pretty strongly, that's all. She didn't mean to be disrespectful."
She turned and kissing her mother's cheek, went upstairs.
***MS***
"So you are taking her side." Ali said glaring at her older sister. She sat on her bed, hugging a pillow to her chest.
"Right." Stevie said sarcastically, sinking onto the edge of the bed. "I"m defending child-marriages and so is Mom."
"Stevie . . ."
"Mom's job is complicated, Alison. Where do you think she's been? What time did she come home tonight? Come on. Think it through. Did you even see her yesterday?"
"What's the point of having a job like hers, if stupid crap like this can still happen?" Alison asked. "They are going to kill those girls next week!"
"Unless, something happens between now and then." Stevie pointed out. "And you think Mom isn't doing everything she can to change that?"
"I don't understand. How could this even happen? I didn't think this happened anymore!"
"It doesn't. At least not usually in Pakistan and not in the metropolitan areas. But it happened in a small remote village. The entire area is very traditional. That's a good thing, too. Hopefully, with enough international pressure, it will cause Pakistan enough embarrassment that they won't allow the sentence to be carried out." She leaned forward toward her younger sister. "We don't know anything really, except, we know Mom. Ali, you can't get so caught up in everything you forget who she is."
"Yeah," Ali admitted. "Yeah, I guess so. I was kind of a jerk. It's not like I think Mom is . . ." She sighed heavily. "She finally comes home and is trying to relax and I blow up at her. God! I'm a complete idiot, Stevie!"
"Wow, I can't even express how much I want to run with that." Stevie said with a laugh. "But come on, kid. It is easy to get swept up in the whole thing. Those girls seem so ordinary. Have you read Anoosh's blog? She could be any one of our friends!"
"You see the picture of the two of them? I mean Majara is just sticking up for her sister!"
"They said that Majara hid Anoosh for three days, snuck food and water to her - even when her father beat her." Stevie shook her head. "It's hard to believe that we are alive at the same time. It sounds like something from a hundred years ago."
"I know. I'm worried about not having a new pair of boots, and their own father is beating them because they don't want to marry some creepy old guy!"
"I would go to prison for you, Ali." Stevie said suddenly serious. "I mean it."
"Me, too." Ali agreed.
"So would Mom. She would never, ever let that happen to us." Stevie added softly.
"Yeah." Ali agreed.
***MS***
Elizabeth stepped out of the bathroom, clicking off the light. It was just after ten and although, she was completely exhausted from a long and stressful series of days, she was fairly certain she would never get to sleep.
She could feel Henry's eyes on her as she crossed their bedroom and went to her small make-up table. She said nothing to him, but sat down reaching for her lotion. She rubbed the lotion into her fingers, and glanced over at him.
"Go ahead." She told him.
"You said you didn't want to talk about it." He pointed out. "I'm not going to pile on."
"I just think her reaction is understandable, Henry. She's frustrated and confused and angry. I don't mind that she took it out on me."
"I do." He said setting aside his computer and moving to sit on the side of the bed close to her. "You are letting your false sense of guilt, cloud your judgement. You'd never put up with her talking to me like that."
"Oh, God!" She said her shoulders slumped. "I am so tired."
"So sleep." He said compassionately. He threw the covers back. "Come on, Babe. Just sleep."
"How can I sleep? For God's sake, Henry, it could just as easily be Ali and Stevie in that prison! No one will even budge! That whole world! I don't belong there! I'm not a diplomat! They are worried about deals and optics - and all I can think about is that picture of the two of them in their school uniforms! They look like our girls. They look like my babies!"
"Hey," He reached out, and grabbing hold of her hand, pulled her toward the bed. "You are just so tired, Babe. C'mon, get under the covers." She slowly crawled into bed.
"Sleep isn't going to change anything, Henry." She looked up at him with wide blue eyes. He sat down beside her, pulling the covers up around her. "I'm out of options. No one care about those little girls. They are going to die before they turn sixteen, and there's nothing I can do about it."
He said nothing, caressing her face with his hand. There was a light knock at the door, and they heard Ali's voice, soft and anxious. "Mom?" He raised an eyebrow, but she nodded her head, and scooted to a sitting position, as he crossed the room opening the door. Alison stood hesitant, her face down, shame on her face.
"I'm sorry, Mom." She said softly. "I was really unfair." She glanced at her father. "Dad, you were right. I'm sorry." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and kissed her cheek.
"I forgive you, Noodle." He said softly. "Go give Mama a kiss."
She crossed the room and sat down beside her mother. "I'm really sorry, Mom. You must be worn out from so much work and then I had to act like such a jerk."
"Come here," Her mother said, wrapping her arms around her. "I know it's upsetting, baby. It upsets me."
Alison rested against Elizabeth's shoulder. "I don't understand it at all. They are a family. How can her parents force her to marry someone? They must care about her. Can you love someone and still treat them like that? I just don't understand! She's younger than me! I don't understand it at all."
"I don't either." Elizabeth confessed, kissing Ali's forehead.
"If anyone can figure something out, though, you can. You are really good at getting people to change their minds. And I'm sorry for how hard it must be, but I'm glad you are there. I'm glad there is someone who cares about what happens to girls like Anoosh and Marjara."
"Better get to bed honey." Henry said gently, when it was clear that Elizabeth was incapable of any response. "Good night, Noodle."
"Night, Mom." She said kissing her mother's cheek. She rose and turned to kiss her father, but Henry pulled her into a tight hug, kissing her cheek. "I love you, Noodle." He said softly. "Sleep well."
She glanced back at them as she left the room, nearly grown but somehow still too young to understand the way that her quiet faith in her mother, strengthened both her parent's hearts. Henry watched as Elizabeth slid down into the bed, and saying nothing crossed the room, clicking out the light. He climbed into bed beside her, and wrapped his arms around her, his cheek resting against her head.
"She's right." He said softly. "Those girls are fortunate that their is someone who is listening. It matters that you are trying."
"I can't work miracles." She said softly. "I can't change an entire village steeped in ancient traditions."
"I know." He kissed her cheek. "But those girls will know you tried, and Alison and Stevie will know you did everything in your power."
"It won't be enough."
"Close your eyes, and sleep, darlin'" He whispered.
She closed her eyes, trying to somehow forget the picture of the bright smiling faces of two young girls who longed for and deserved a future every bit as much as her own daughters.
***MS***
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Every time I write a story for MS, I have to spend entirely too much time, studying up on international relations. I read this insanely fantastic book, called I Am Nujood, Age 10, Divorced which talked about the practice of child marriages in Yemen. Her heartbreaking story talks about her frustration that once she was forced to marry a man in his fifties, he never let her play with her barbies any more. She also wrote of the terrible things that happened at night, but again and again she mentioned her sorrow at not being able to play with her dolls. It is horrible to even consider. Most countries have officially outlawed such horrible practices, but even the tiniest bit of internet research will reveal small villages or tribes, that do not adhere to official policy. It is chilling to think that on any given day nearly 65 million girls are denied the right to attend school each day and that nearly 200 million children worldwide are prevented from education due to enslavement and poverty.
It would be difficult to imagine Elizabeth McCord being able to stomach such atrocities, and it is yet another reminder that our leaders are humans, and they must bear the weight of all the changes they desire but that they are powerless to make.
Thanks for all the reviews. Hoping that my next chapter or author's notes aren't such a bummer, but then again, I am luxuriating in the freedom to think and create as human - something that is rare and to be treasured!
