Lettre à France

Day 26

She could hear the clock ticking softly in the background as she lay there, desperately staring at her phone, clutching it so tightly in her hands her knuckles were white. 'Please, please, please," she silently begged for the message to arrive, that any message would arrive.
They had agreed that she was going to actually be asleep by the time he walked in the room, because she was going to need sleep for the day ahead, rather than staying up for their final debrief of the day, but she couldn't. She couldn't sleep, not when she still hadn't received that text telling her the kids had made it safely to Poland, not when every time she closed her eyes all she could see was everything that could go wrong, everything that her mind was telling her in the silence, in the absence of any reassurance was going wrong.
She was going to be sick, physically sick. The longer she sat there in the dark, quiet night, the dread pooling in her stomach, the closer she got losing it completely. 'Keep it together, Brigitte,' she scolded herself, knowing she needed to be strong for those kids, for those families.
"Darling, why are you still awake?" He asked, confused when he walked into their bedroom and saw the bedside lamp was on, and that she was staring intently at her black phone screen.
"I can't sleep," she said simply, clearly in her head from the vacant expression she trained in his direction when she gathered the strength to pull herself away from the phone screen for a brief minute, following the location of his voice. "What if something goes wrong? What if they don't make it?"
"They're going to make it, Brigitte," he reassured, stripping down to his underwear and climbing into bed next to her as quickly as possible, pulling her into his arms, and giving her a long comforting kiss. "But, Sweetheart, you need to sleep. You need to be in the best shape you can be when you meet that plane. Because it will be there, with all of those kids, and their parents, and their siblings on it."
"I'm supposed to get a text when they get to Poland, and then another when they leave for here. I can't go to sleep until I know they make it into Poland."
"When are they supposed to be there?" He asked, rubbing comforting circles into her back as he thought through what time it was when he left his office a few minutes ago, what it would be when you factored in the time difference. "I don't know," she admitted quietly.
He sighed, weighing up his options. He could try and force his wife to sleep, knowing that she would only close her eyes until his breathing had evening out. He could also go to sleep knowing she would remain awake. But either way, that would be condemning his wife to then spend who knows how long panicked and alone. He couldn't do that to her. "Alright, then we'll wait."
"No, go to sleep, Darling. I can manage."
"In sickness and in health, for better, for worse. We're in this together," he promised, squeezing her to him tighter.
"I think those vows mean our sickness," she smiled weakly in response to his charm, knowing he was deploying it in his attempt to calm her.
"And you're able to look me in the eye and tell me you aren't worrying yourself sick over this?"
"Touché." She paused to take in a shaky breath. Suddenly her phone lit up:They made it into Poland. Update to follow later when they leave for Paris.
"They made it. Oh thank God, they made it." The relief triggering a flood of tears, the dam finally breaking as all the emotion she had held in for the last several weeks as they planned this rescue mission could be let out, like steam venting from a pressure valve. Paradoxically as she gasped for breath under the force of her tears, she felt like she could finally breathe a little easier. They did it.
"Shh," he whispered, rocking her softly as she sobbed. "It's going to be okay, Brigitte. See? They're on their way."
It took a minute, but she did eventually calm down enough to think about the next steps at hand. "I need to confirm I got that," she sniffled.
"Okay, but then we're going right to sleep, Darling. You have to be exhausted."
She quickly typed out: Thank you, thank you so much, for letting me know. I look forward to the next update.
She rolled over quickly to plug her phone into the charger, to ensure it would have enough to make it through the rest of the journey tomorrow, and switched out the bedside lamp, before taking solace again in his arms and slowly, fitfully falling into an unsteady sleep, the adrenaline still coursing through her veins, the nightmares still haunting her dreams.
She woke up the next morning feeling like she had been hit by a freight train. As she slowly blinked and came to, she noticed a note on the pillow where her husband should be:
B,
Emergency came up, so, so sorry. I am likely out of pocket most of the day. But please keep me updated on your end.
I love you so much, my Darling, and I am so proud of you.
E
She sighed as she rolled towards her phone, hoping there was a message on the progress. She was starting to feel like a teenager, how frequently she was checking her phone. She kept checking at breakfast, during her first meeting of the day (although her staff was extremely understanding about it, she still felt incredibly rude), during her second meeting of the day, when Nemo wanted to be taken out for a walk, until, just before lunch time her phone dinged: The plane is on its way "Tristian!" Brigitte hollered to her chief of staff in the office next door, knowing he would come running. As soon as he popped his head in she informed him, nervous, giddy all at the same time: "they're on their way."
"Let's get a move on," he smiled at her, putting the rest of the plan into motion.
She stood on the tarmac waiting to see the plane arrive, playing with the ear loops on her face mask, worrying them back and forth, back and forth, between her fingers until she saw the plane definitively come to a stop.
She walked to the doctor standing at the foot of the stairs, ready to board the plane, and asked, "can I come with you?"
The doctor laughed, "I thought you were?"
"I don't want to put them at risk, or anything, but I want to make sure they know how welcome they are here," she explained.
"As long as you wear a mask -"
"Oh, absolutely," she interrupted.
"Then, Madame, it's absolutely fine," he reassured just as the door swung open. "After you, Madame," he offered gesturing for her to climb the stairs first.
She held her breath as she climbed the stairs, unsure what exactly to expect, but breaking out into a huge smile when she finally saw them all, safe, in front of her. "Bonjour!" She said as loudly as she could project, realizing quickly, only the first row could hear her. Turning towards one of the flight attendants, she asked, "Can you show me how to use the PA system?"
The flight attendant laughed, showing her what button to press and which end of the phone to speak into before handing the system over to her.
"Bonjour!" She tried again, this time getting the eyeballs of the plane turned towards her. "Good, you can at least hear me. Hi, for those who don't know me, I am Brigitte Macron. On behalf of myself, my husband, and all of my fellow countrymen and women, I want to be the first one to welcome you to France."
She paused to let the flight attendant translate.
"I want you to know, that as long you are here, you have a home here. I would say you are at home, but I know you all want to go back as soon as possible. In the meantime, we are going to take the best care of all of you. After you guys get off here, we are going to help you get to each of the hospitals that are waiting for - and looking forward to meeting - each and every one of you. Families, as a part of the Foundation I chair, there is a program of housing for families for children in hospitals, where we are going to take care of you. We have schooling set up - I promise, we will take care of everything. You all just focus on getting better."
She again paused for translation.
"I promise, we will answer any and every question as you have them. But right now, let's get you all off this plane and where you are going, alright? I'll see you on the tarmac. Welcome to France."
That night she showed her husband pictures from earlier so that he could be apart of the moment too, so that he too could see what they've done.
"You know what you should do?" He suggested, pressing a kiss to her cheek, and slipping his arms around her waist, pulling her into him.
"What?" She asked, turning over her shoulder to look at him.
"Include some of those photos with your next message to Olena. I think it would do her heart good to see it." He pressed one more kiss to her cheek before pulling back. "I'll see you tonight. I really am so very, very proud of you."
With a smile on her face, she drafted her next message, slipping a couple of photographs in at the end.

My dear Olena,
I hope you are able to see the pictures I am sending with this message. I imagine they will do you a world of good, like hugging these children did for me.
I met the plane as soon as it landed, just like I promised. You would be so proud of them, they were so strong. Smiling, laughing, they looked unafraid of anything. There was even one little girl who as soon as her parents set her down on the tarmac just started to make a break for it towards a little cart with baggage on it. Don't worry, we pulled her back, but seeing the excitement on a child's face ...
Representatives of the Croix Rouge were there too. They are making sure right now each little one and their family are making it safely to the right place to resume their treatment. I am going to let them settle in for a few days before I start checking on them, but rest assured, I will provide you all of the updates.
I know I am just a small cog in the wheel here of this operation, I know this was a lot bigger than just me. But, for my very small part, know I will take care of these kids like they are my own.
I have been thinking over the last few days, as I have been in awe of you and your courage how untrue that saying is - some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them - because you, my dear friend, are all three.
Yours,
BM