Page 5 of Twenty-Three Years of Longing

There was a knock at my door, and I looked at the clock. Boy, she’s prompt. I went and opened the door.

“Hello, President O’Connor. Won’t you come in?”

She smiled and entered my room, and I closed the door behind her. “I am sure you’re tired, so I’ll try to make this as quick as possible,” she said.

“No. I’m fine,” I lied. My eyes burned from lack of sleep and if I closed my eyes too long, I knew they would be closed for hours.

“Surprising. I recall having jet lag for days after such a long flight. Guess you travel better than I do. Well, let’s sit and chat. My feet are killing me. It’s been a long day in the office.”

“I could’ve come to your office,” I said, as I noticed she looked as tired as I did. Of course, she runs an entire country. All I did was fly halfway around the world.

“No. Less interruptions here, but thank you,” she smiled weakly.

This wasn’t a suite, just a room with a table and two chairs. Not complaining since I wasn’t paying the bill.

Once seated, I said, “I read all the material you and Mr. Moyer emailed me. It was very detailed.”

“I’m glad. I was worried you might feel...overwhelmed,” she said as though trying to choose her words carefully.

It was a reasonable assumption. Mr. Moyer obviously loved his job. No one would’ve spent so much time preparing such a document if they hadn’t. It only confirmed that I’m going to have big shoes to fill. Not that I had ever met him in person, but after reading what I could find on the internet, he appeared to be such a serious, stern man. Not one smile in any of the photos that were taken. Even though I grew up surrounded by men with dark eyes, there was something I found very intimidating about his.

I only needed to deal with him for training. Surely, I could pretend that he doesn’t scare me for that amount of time.

“No. I am one of those people who enjoy reading, even training manuals,” I admitted.

She chuckled. “Glad one of us does because when I opened his email and saw how many pages were on the attachment, I wasn’t sure I could get through the entire thing.”

“I can’t imagine what else he has left to train me on,” I replied.

“I’m not sure training is the correct word. You are very capable. He will be available for you and will guide you through the first couple of weeks. Answer any questions that arise. I didn’t want you to feel as though you were being just thrown into the position,” she explained. “I also wanted to make sure you didn’t have any questions or concerns that you wanted to address with me.”

This was the time. I needed to tell her.

“Madam President, I’m sure you noticed my last name is not Tabiqian,” I said.

“Yes. Davison is not a name we have here.”

It would’ve been easier if she had asked the questions and I only answered what she wanted to know. Now I needed to decide what to tell her. I dreaded this and was as prepared as I could be.

The facts are the facts. No changing them.

“I was married.” She said nothing and I continued. “I’m divorced.”

“Okay. Is that going to affect your job performance?” she asked.

Taken back, I answered, “No.”

“Then I have no issue with it. All I ask is that it not become the focal point. If someone asks, answer how you feel comfortable.”

That was fair enough. But there was more. “I...I also have a son. He’s nine.”

She looked around the room, and then back to me. “I don’t see a child.”

Nope. And I’m not hiding him in the bathroom either.

“He didn’t travel with me.”

Raising a concerned brow, she asked, “Will he be joining you or are you leaving him back in the United States?”

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