“No, Mr. Sanchez, it’s you who don’t realize.” President West spins and points to the life-size portrait of Kim hanging in pride of place opposite his desk. She’s ethereal in the picture, her svelte lines draped in violet silk, her face calm and confident. “That woman, she’s not just my wife. The first lady is the reason all of ya’ll are standing here today, living in a free country.”
He eyeballs everyone as he says, “Kim was the one to encourage me to get into politics. She’s the person who believed in me—before anyone else did—before I even believed in myself. She has been my muse, my angel, as I’ve battled my way through international politics and war rooms. She nurses my mind back to health, puts the passion in my body, steadies my emotions.” His voice trembles slightly and his eyes are gentle on Kim’s face. “I couldn’t have accomplished anything without her, which means this country, this world, might be very different if not for her. And she’s never uttered a word of complaint for her missed birthdays. This year, the mother of my children, my goddess, my everything, she’s getting a reward. So, think, people! What do I give to the woman who has it all?”
And like that you all had circled back around again; for the last two hours everyone’s been desperately trying to come up with a suitable birthday gift for First Lady Kim with no luck. Money isn’t an object; both Kanye and Kim have their own personal fortunes, so much so that the president donates his salary straight to an arts school for underprivileged children in Chicago.
“There’s that idea about buying a racehorse,” bleats one of the other entourage members.
Someone else ventures, “Or name a school after her?”
“No, no, no!” The president rubs his chin in frustration; not many people realize he was in a terrible car accident when he was younger; the metal plate in his chin plays up when he’s vexed. You’ve always been sensitive to it. “Buildings can be torn down, animals can die! I want something that stands the test of time—a gift worthy of a queen! She’s as important to this country as Washington or Lincoln, and if I can’t show her that”—he folds forward over his desk, broken—“then I’ve failed her.”
The room has fallen into a sacred silence, but his words echo inside your brain. Washington. Lincoln. The test of time . . .
An idea strikes you. “Oh!” you say out loud without thinking.
Kanye glances up at you sharply. “What is it, Righty?”
Every face in the Oval Office swings in your direction. You swallow thickly, unused to being the center of attention. “Well, I have an idea. But it’s kinda epically insane.”
The leader of the free world grins at you. “Epically insane ideas are the only kind worth a damn.”
RIDING BACKWARD IN HELICOPTERS doesn’t bother you like it used to; your boss rides in choppers more often than cars these days, so if you hadn’t gotten over your fears by now, you’d be out of a job.
Beneath you, the gorgeous Rocky Mountains roll gently in glorious green lines. You still marvel that Kim and Kanye hold all of this land privately. The president purchased it from developers several years ago, and he has decreed any not-for-profit group or family can camp or hike there to their hearts’ content.
You are all bound for the northwest corner, but no one in the chopper knows that except you, President West, and the pilot. Little Nori and Saint are pressed against opposite windows, oohing and aahing as the clouds whiz by, their behavior flawless despite the early hour. The birthday girl snuggles in beside her husband, her face content.
Kim is looking incredible as usual. You’re still always floored by her ability to rock every look she’s required to, whether that’s at a formal political ball in a Parisian palace or a heavily photographed trip to the mountains with her family. Today she’s wearing white fitted jeans and a gorgeous cashmere sweater threaded with pale silver. She chats easily to you over the headphones. “Hey, Righty! How’s Nix doing? You two still strong?”
Your goofy smile gives away how infatuated you are with the love of your life. Kim introduced the two of you at a charity gala; Nix was a rising R&B singer with incredible eyes and a smile that stole your heart. The two of you haven’t spent a night apart since—just one more reason to be grateful to First Lady Kim.
“We’re amazing,” you reply.
“Thirty seconds out,” says the pilot, and you watch Kanye sit upright, nervous.
He turns to his wife, love and passion burning in his eyes. “Baby . . .”
You know he has a big speech prepared because he’s been practicing it in front of the mirror for days. He planned to shower her with beautiful words of gratitude, to tell her exactly how much she means to him, to the country, to the world.
But emotion has caught up with him. Instead of the speech, he kisses her ardently. “Happy birthday, Mrs. President.”
The chopper has begun to descend, and outside the window, Kim’s present awaits. A magnificent waterfall pours from the top of a high cliff, and beside that spectacular water feature, Kim’s face and luscious body have been carved into the mountainside. The artists, who have labored 24-7 for months, have perfectly captured her sculpted cheekbones and arched brows. Cascading vines fall over her temple and shoulders, mimicking her magnificent hair, and the enormous sculpture stares into the sky with an expression of hope and determination. If Mount Rushmore is iconic, this is a wonder of the modern world.
But the most striking aspect is the pose of the carving; it was based on the Paper magazine photoshoot—the one that broke the internet—because it’s a personal favorite of both Kim and Kanye. Kim’s rocky behind protrudes into the stream of the waterfall, where, rather than champagne, the dancing stream of water bounces merrily off her derriere before descending again. It’s just enough to be sassy and unique, and it perfectly encapsulates the First Lady’s vivacious spirit.
Kim gasps, clasping her hands to her mouth, while the children cry, “Mama! Mama, it’s you! Mama, you’re in the mountain!”
“It was Righty’s idea.” Kanye nods in your direction. “I wanted to give you something that would last forever, just like I know our love will.”
“This . . . This is . . .” Kim has begun to cry, her mouth open in a moue that doesn’t mar her beauty. “I can’t believe you did this!”
Kanye touches her face with tenderness. “Everyone who ever comes here will be inspired by you, just like I am. Is it . . . all right?”
Her fierce kiss is his answer. “It’s incredible. But my best gift is being married to you, Mr. President.”
Teary, you look away to give them their privacy. Outside the helicopter, the sun is rising over the mountains, casting the massive sculpture in a vibrant pink glow.
Your heart is filled with hope for a world on the mend, all thanks to President West and First Lady Kim.
Let your fantasies take over!