After having met with several secretaries, listened to a briefing about the state of counry and economy, of external affairs and of course, the Space Programm, Alistair was once again shown the 'larger picture'. Being President you only ever see the 'big pictures'. You're allowed an insight to the economy, but only to the big numbers and fields, not however into the individual markets. But even in these 'big pictures' you tend to forget the 'commen thread' between every meeting, everything you do. So sometimes you have to step back and look at the even 'larger' picture.
Alistair had never been a fan of working from afar, he never wanted to be so high up that he'd lose sight of what was really going on below. Words are much less trustworthy after having travelled through dozens of mouths and ears. So he always tried to remain in contact with the individual markets, hence the meetings on one saturday a month with start-up companies or the visits of schools, most which were only documented with a few pictures.
He'd felt good enough to return to work a few days ago; his fever and anxiety had faded by far once he'd realized there was something he could do about Hitler; or at least try. He still felt the gates of Dachau around him once in a while, still saw Officer Hart spitting on the dead body, but he wasn't haunted by the ghosts every second of the day. If just a visit had been so bad, how would it be to spend a large fraction of a life there? And, this is what horrified him most, there was an ever-larger growing possibility that he would, one day, end up there.
But the current affairs distracted him from his noctural life. He was meeting with the, funnily enough, German Bundeskanzlerin Bittinger later. She'd taken a trip to the USA personally to finalize an important agreement between the two countries, one that neither Staatschef had worked on personally. In some cases you just sign the bottom of the paper, even as President. But, to give the appearance that they'd come up with this great agreement they'd decided to meet, and, since Alistair liked to take every chance at practicing German he'd invited her to come a day earlier; why not eat dinner together?
Another crazy and amusing thing about being President; the morning spent with economy, lunch and mid-day with baseball players, and a dinner with a foreign ambassador or even Staatschef. As mentioned before, a life wherein it's easy to lose sight of the 'larger picture'.
Bundeskanzlerin Bittinger was one of the top three Staatschefe that Alistair Bowmore was in contact with. Perhaps it was due to the ever-growing relationship between their countries or maybe also due to the fact that they'd built up a sort of friendship in the past year. Bittinger was a handful of years younger than Alistair; in her mid-forties. She looked younger and could easily pass for mid-thirties and, she was possibly the most attractive german Staatschef in the past hundred years. Long and straight blonde hair, big blue eyes and a smile that could light up a room. She was married to a polish fisherman, something that added to her charm. Some people joked that her sucess was due to her attractiveness but Alistair had always been more taken by her wit then her appearance. He was used to conversing with beautiful women, although he had to admit that her smile was truely unparalleled.
Monica was never jealous of these dinners with foreign leaders. He invited her to join everytime and, after a few uncomftorable dinners, she'd decided it was nothing for her. Usually the spouse of his counterpart was present, but tonight he dined alone with the Bundeskanzlerin.
***
"Where is Igor?" He asked politely over the rim of his wine glass. She smiled and shrugged, but her smile didn't shine through to her eyes. Blue eyes have the habit of resembling marbles when they're lifeless, and hers upon mention of her husband, became strictly that way.
"He didn't want to come." She replied vaguely. "What about Monica? I hear she's pregnant?"
"Yes, she is. A couple months already." He answered with a warm smile. "I'm going to be a father." He was already proud to say it. Whenever he thought of the little one growing inside his wife's tummy he felt a surge of emotion; excitement, happiness, a touch of worry and a whole lot of pride.
"Congratulations." She said. "Have you decided on a name yet?"
"No, we don't know if it'll be a boy or a girl either."
"What are you hoping for?" She asked leaning in further. To most audiences he'd have said he'd be more than happy with either, but there was something so capturing about her face.
"I want both, actually. I've always dreamt of having a son and a daughter, but whoever comes first I don't mind." He admitted. "Although it would be nice to have a son; I want to be young and full of energy when he's a little boy, so that I can teach him how to play ball or go fishing."
"You could do that with a girl too." She replied. He shrugged and nodded.
"Of course I could, and I would, honestly. But," and here he had too laugh, "I'd like to see myself as a little boy again, maybe it would help me see the world through the eyes of someone who understands connections based on how they are in nature and not how we learn they're supposed to work." It was a strange thought but Bittinger knew exactly what he meant.
"Well then I hope it's a boy." She said with a laugh. "Although I assume you'd be able to see the world in an even more beautiful light through the eyes of your baby daughter."
"How so?"
"Because when you look into her face you'll see the face of your wife first, not yours." She smiled lightly as she said it. "And when is the food going to arrive? I don't want to be rude but I'm terribly hungry." They'd started off with a wine and appetizers. Alistair laughed, he took her words the right way, and he called for the chef. "What did you have made for tonight?" She asked.
"Fish stew. Alaskan Halibut."
"Ooh I love that." She answered.
"I know, that's why I chose it."
"How did you know that I love Halibut?" She asked in surprise.
"Google." He admitted. Both Staatschefe laughed. "What's on the menu otherwise, politics or problems?"
"Oh aren't they so interwined by now?" She asked with a sigh. He cocked his head to the left and smiled at her briefly.
"Yes. They are." He agreed.
"Good. Then I'm not the only one." She said. "I'll be honest, I was very happy when you invited me to dinner as well as the finalization of the agreement tomorrow, I've been going through quite a bit lately, and I'm glad to talk."
"What's been going on?" He asked. Everytime they saw each other they became more open, and during that dinner Alistair realized that they really had become more than business partners but also friends.
"I'm going through a divorce." She answered. Her heavy heart shone through her eyes. Alistair nodded his head slowly. He picked up the wine glass and took a long drink. Divorce. Something he feared might become a sad reality in his distant future too.