| |
“Thanks for giving me a few extra days to hand this in.” Kennedy was still breathless from her run to her lit professor’s office.
“Perhaps next semester you might think of reading the syllabus ahead of time so you’ll know what assignments are coming up.” Dr. Penn had a thick British accent, which made her sound even more stern and intimidating than she might have otherwise.
Kennedy held out her paper, finally setting it on the desk when her lit professor didn’t take it out of her hands.
“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
Dr. Penn frowned. “Of course it won’t. This is the last paper of the semester, and you’re not enrolled in any of my classes in the spring.”
Kennedy didn’t know what else to say. If she hurried back to her dorm, she might be able to finish her research paper for her cellular biology class that was due tomorrow. It wouldn’t be the best assignment she’d ever handed in, but at least it wouldn’t count as an incomplete.
When her professor didn’t say anything else, Kennedy prepared to leave.
“Miss Stern?”
She turned around. “Yes?”
“I’m aware you are on friendly terms with the journalist being held in North Korea, and I wanted to let you know that I hope he’s released safe and unharmed.”
Kennedy stared at her professor’s feet. “Thank you.”
“Perhaps focusing more on your assignments instead of worrying about things you cannot control or change will help you find your way through this uncertain time.”
Kennedy wasn’t entirely sure if she was being given a lecture or a pep talk. She repeated her thanks and hurried outside. Winter had tarried in New England this year, as if time were standing still until Ian’s release.
If only.
She glanced at her clock. Kennedy was officially done now with three of her four classes, and if she finished that cell bio paper tonight, she could call it a semester. She’d tried. Even though it had taken nearly daily phone calls from Willow, she’d managed to complete her assignments.
By this time tomorrow, she should be enjoying Christmas break.
Not that there was anything to enjoy with Ian still imprisoned. But at least she had his letters. She tried to imagine how much harder it would be if she hadn’t heard from him at all, if they never even confirmed where he was being held. Somehow she knew it was always best to know the truth. Isn’t that why she promised herself that once she became a doctor, she’d never lie to her patients?
The truth will set you free.
Grandma Lucy’s words still ran through her head months after she and the old woman had started praying together on the phone. Grandma Lucy still wanted Kennedy to fly out to Washington. The candlelight vigil was in three days, and Kennedy hadn’t given her answer, citing her upcoming finals as her reason to hesitate. Really, she’d been hoping for some sort of miracle, that Ian would be released before she had to make a decision.
His case was still garnering national attention, even if the new sites didn’t find his story to be quite as worthy clickbait as it was when updates were first coming in. Kennedy heard from Grandma Lucy regularly about different politicians who promised to look into Ian’s case. One of the biggest roadblocks was that there was no direct relationship between the US and North Korea. Every diplomatic decision had to go through the Swedish embassy who promised to represent Ian’s case as best as they could.
Several US Senators, and even the President himself, had made public statements urging the North Koreans to release Ian, but what good were words? With no incentive, why would anyone in Pyongyang listen to them? It was like a mouse walking up to a tiger and ordering it to share its meal.
Even worse were all the people who would get on Ian’s social media page and say things like sending thoughts and positive wishes your way or praying that you come home soon. Telling someone you would pray for them was all fine and good, but first of all, Ian wouldn’t see their posts until he was already free. Second of all, anybody could say a quick prayer or promise to send positive thoughts, whatever that meant, but how did it help? Why weren’t these people taking the same thirty seconds out of their day to write their senators or email the embassy or find some other way to pressure the right people, people who actually had the clout they needed to get Ian released?
It’s not like the US was powerless. Kennedy was no politics expert, but she knew that if Ian had been a senator’s kid or related to some high-up military general, he would have been home within a few days of his news story first breaking. It wasn’t that the US was helpless to get him out of there. It was just that they didn’t think he was worth the effort it would take. Kennedy knew there were probably political nuances she wasn’t considering, but that didn’t matter. To all the senators and policymakers and embassy workers, Ian was just some random American who happened to get himself in trouble. Most of the public still believed the initial propaganda reports Pyongyang circulated claiming he had illegally crossed their border.
She finally had to get her dad to post a block on some of the worst news websites because the comments were so upsetting.
What did he expect, sneaking into a country that backwards appeared to be the general consensus of the ill-informed American population.
He should have never gone there in the first place. How many times had she cried over comments like that? It was a smokescreen argument if she ever saw one. Instead of asking why a country like North Korea would hold one innocent journalist in solitary confinement or worse, people just remembered the initial headlines and wondered why Ian would have traveled to a country as volatile as North Korea in the first place.
The wind was howling when she reached her dorm, and she hoped that wherever Ian was right now he was warm. She’d grown so tired praying for his release with no apparent impact that instead she was focusing more on his day-to-day comforts. May he have enough food. May he sleep well at night. May he not feel too lonely. May he be healed of whatever complication landed him in the hospital in the first place.
Somehow, it was easier to pray for these simple things than to ask God to send Ian home, which would take a miracle. And as the night continued to darken and the temperature continued to drop, it was getting harder and harder for Kennedy to put her hope in miracles.