33

Russell Senate Office Building
Washington, DC

Senator Hayes’s aide, Matthew Clemens, showed the two representatives from Women Rise into her office. Hayes was familiar with the organization and their chief mission to eliminate acid attacks on southeast Asian women. She had seen photos of what an acid attack could do, melting through flesh and bone, liquefying noses and eyes and mouths, dissolving, fusing, hardening skin and muscle into unbending leather, destroying lives.

She knew that the two representatives who were ushered into her office had been attacked, the first doused with sulfuric acid by a husband who thought her beauty drew unwanted attention, and the second whose boyfriend, whom she’d met on Facebook, melted her face with nitric acid when she ended their relationship.

But none of this could have prepared her to sit across from the women as they unwound their scarves.

Despite possessing a poker face honed across decades of public service, Senator Hayes found herself shaking with anger.

“Thank you for seeing us.”

“Of course,” Senator Hayes said. She did a mental body scan, calming herself. These women didn’t need her fury or her pity. They needed her influence. She looked them in the eye and gave them the only things she could: respect and attention.

They continued their introductions, and then Anchali, whose mouth was so destroyed that she had to hold a handkerchief to it to catch moisture as she spoke, dove in. “It’s not just the acid attacks we would like to speak with you about. They are the most obvious markers of culture that does not protect its women, or allow girls access to a living wage or advanced education. I was one of the lucky ones.” Her voice was lilting and lovely, crisp on the consonants and rolling through the vowels. She had been enrolled in medical school at the time her husband had melted her flesh, she explained. She’d had to take a reprieve from her education, suffering twenty-seven surgeries since the attack.

Khean, the other representative, pulled out facts and reports and photographs that made Senator Hayes want to call her daughter that moment and tell her how much she loved her. Hayes listened, taking notes, waiting to speak until they paused.

“Your bravery is humbling.” She spoke to both women. “Tell me more, and tell me what I can do.”

Their meeting lasted a half an hour. Gina Hayes wished she had more time, but her schedule was full. It always was.

“Ready for your next one?” Matthew said after leading out the Cambodian women. He set a steaming cup of chamomile tea with a squeeze of lemon in front of her.

Gina Hayes was still scribbling notes to herself. She didn’t look up. “What sort of world do we live in where a man would drive a seventeen-year-old girl twenty miles from the nearest hospital, pour battery acid on her, and drive away, Matthew?”

He sighed. “One that needs a change of guard, Gina. And that’s why you and I are here on the first day of November, fighting through paperwork and malarkey so deep, a shovel couldn’t touch it. And while we’re on the topic, your next appointment is with the Speaker of the House. Should I toss a sheet over the furniture before I let him in?”

That drew the tiniest of smiles from Senator Hayes. “Not necessary. But let’s have him wait an extra five minutes, shall we? I don’t recall him ever making one of our meetings on time before I earned the nomination.”

“That’s the spirit,” Matthew said, glancing at his iPad. “As long as you keep it under twenty minutes, you’ll be on schedule for the rest of the day.”

He tapped his screen. “Capitol meetings all day, and then tonight, you’re getting together with representatives from Veterans for Peace. Tomorrow, we return to Iowa for a rally. Actually, you’re out of town every day until the election. Sure you don’t want me to squeeze a second in there for you to sleep or wipe your nose?” He glanced at her, his eyes lasers. “I wouldn’t mind canceling the Alcatraz stop on Monday, for example. You already have California in your pocket. Getting to and from that island is going to be nothing but a hassle.”

“I’m not changing my schedule. A promise is a promise.” She blew on her tea. “I’m ready for the Speaker.”