Spirit of the Nation ★ Female America

5. What Hurts, Teaches

January 8, 1999

Four Seasons Hotel

New York City, United States

Later that night, up in my hotel room, I twirled a ballpoint pen between my fingers. A trifold event program lay open on the modern glass desk before me. The Manhattan skyline glittered through the panoramic windows of my suite as the dull roar of midnight traffic echoed from below. My hair was still damp from a long bath.

I set about marking the Nations listed on the program. Those I didn't know well got a single line through their names. Those who I outright disliked got two lines. Next, I marked out the remaining women. I then reviewed my work.

Australia, England, France, Germany.

With a chuckle, I crossed out Australia's name. I reluctantly crossed out England's name. France got two lines, and then a third for good measure. I set my chin on my fist, which was covered by the fluffy sleeve of my white bathrobe. My eyes wandered to the telephone on my desk.

Germany tucked his box of cigarettes back into his breast pocket and sat beside me on the black leather couch. Taking a puff of my cigarette, I sank down a little lower and propped my bare legs on the coffee table. I could see our faint reflections in the floor-length window before us. Though his bowtie was gone and his collar was loose, his posture was not nearly as relaxed as mine.

"You left early," he noted.

I scoffed under my breath. "You missed a show."

"Mm?"

"Nothing, it was stupid," I murmured dismissively. I thought back to the less severe travesty of the evening. "I can't stand France these days."

He gave a neutral hum.

I took a mindless drag and blew it out. "I don't know why you still defer to him."

He gave me a sideways glance. "You know why I must."

"Honestly, no."

He fell silent, and I watched him gaze sightlessly out the window. His eyebrows were drawn down and his mouth formed a hard line. As usual, I had no idea what he was thinking about. My cigarette hovered near my lips as I waited.

"I suppose," he said slowly, "I no longer need your...approval."

I cleared my throat to hide my surprise. 

I sat back to wallow in self-pity. From the very start, Germany and I didn't see eye to eye. Though he had been more...pliable in recent years, his obstinate nature remained. I should've called someone else. France's betrayal replayed in my mind. And England's prioritization of all his acronymized organizations over me.

"God, I hate these parties," I murmured, my eyes absently connecting the dotted lights of the city. "I miss how things used to be. Before the world was so..."

"Globalized?" Germany guessed.

I nodded.

He stretched his legs out on the coffee table next to mine. My eyes darted to the pooled material of my robe now trapped under his leg. I wondered if he noticed too.

"Thanks in no small part to the United States," he began hesitantly, "NATO has done more to unify Europe than anything in my lifetime."

"I wasn't thinking of NATO," I said, shooting him a reassuring glance. "That I understand. Trust me, we will be there when Article Five comes to bear."

"What were you thinking of?"

"The UN. The EU..." I waved my cigarette aimlessly. "The multilateral trade deals, the pointless international pledges, et cetera..."