Envelopment
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Rihanna Hollis’ husband, was he the Acting First Gentleman? she wondered, held their youngest daughter in his arms. The older one clung to his pants leg.
“Madam President, it’s time.”
Was she really Madam President? Were the Secret Service agents around her loyal servants and protectors, or merely kingmakers, like the ancient Roman Praetorian Guard?
“You know I should be going with you.”
He had said it again.
She had told him to stop saying that. She had told him before they made love for the last time, she had told him afterward, she had told him when they woke up that morning, and she had told him again when she hugged him goodbye.
He needed to be there for the children if anything happened to her.
But he wouldn’t stop saying he should be going up with her.
One time, she had accused him of thinking she couldn’t do it because she was a woman. That he thought it was a man’s job to save the world, not a woman’s. She saw the words hurt him, she saw his eyes moisten, and she knew her words weren’t true. He had been attracted to her strength, her ability, and had supported her one hundred percent in her career, even when she’d been out late or gone for days on government business. He’d been the ideal husband for a politician.
And yet he loved her genuinely. If she walked away from everything, he would still love her. He would never ask her to walk away, he’d be surprised if she did, but he would still love her.
The knowledge of his love for her made stepping into an experimental rocket ship at White Sands Test Facility and blasting off into the unknown even harder.
“You can change your mind,” he said. “Send someone else less important.”
She giggled through her tears. Someone less important.
“Only Nixon could go to China,” she replied. Some things could only be done by the President.
“Ma’am?” someone said.
She put her hand up. She just needed a minute. Tears flowed. She had survived the holocaust, had survived the assault on the UN building with the help of the aliens, and she had kept her family close the entire time. She’d had some primal fear that if she and they separated, they would never see each other again.
And now they were separating.
Tears flowed more freely. At least she didn’t have makeup on. She rushed back to her husband, held him and her children one more time, and everyone cried.
She kissed her babies, kissed her husband in a way that he knew what she thought and how much he meant to her, and she turned to leave. Her daughter’s crying almost broke her will, but she marched away and toward the awaiting rocket, aptly renamed Destiny.
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