With the last of the moving boxes packed, I stand next to my old man and observe the fruits of our labor. We’ve spent the last few months going through the house and sorting items into different piles: sell, donate, keep. Going through Mom’s stuff was cathartic for both of us since almost every item had some kind of story behind it. She was never one for material possessions, so the things she did keep all had meaning.
Dad kept a few of her favorite shirts and her wedding band that he wears on his pinky finger. I chose to keep an old bottle of her perfume. It’s empty, but it still smells like her, which always brings me an indescribable amount of both comfort and sadness. Everything else we’ve either sold or donated.
Unfortunately, the house is still on the market, though I can’t say I blame anyone for their hesitancy. I wouldn’t want to move hereeither with everything the Brotherhood has accomplished, especially considering no one really knows what their end goal is.
Maddie and I ended things amicably when she decided to move to Europe right after graduation, and I deferred my enrollment for next year after the university I was set to attend caved and followed suit with the new national standard of firing all female professors and banning female students from attending. While some men on the teaching staff quit after that announcement, most stayed, which tells me all I need to know about their character. Why the hell would I want to get an education from some pretentious asshole who thinks he’s better than his female peers just because he has a dick between his legs?
While it took some convincing to persuade Dad to leave, we both know it’s the right move. We can feel it in the air like you feel a storm before it rains, the change happening across the country. America used to be celebrated for its diversity and inclusion of people from every corner of the world, but the last decade has created a culture of hatred and prejudice against anyone who’s different. Neither of us wants to get caught in the middle of a fight, thus the move.
We’re not the first to have this idea. Countless people have fled north or south, getting out while they still can. Horror stories of people being stopped and questioned by law enforcement before they even reach the border have been circulating, so the sooner we can leave, the better.
I haven’t spoken to Gabriel since the day of my mom’s funeral, but from what I can tell from his social media accounts, he’s officially joined the Brotherhood’s leadership team. Not that anyone on the outside really knows what that means, but he’s posted pictures of himself meeting several high-up government officials; he was even in the Oval Office with the president and several other Brotherhood members when they repealed the nineteenth amendment. His caption is always the same:Brotherhood above all.
The changes happened quicker than any of us could’ve imagined. It started with a noticeable social shift toward women, men making misogynistic comments toward their coworkers or strangers they met in a bar. Women took to social media of course, unfortunately finding that their experience was somewhat universal. Meanwhile, large corporations and government officials were making changes behind the scenes and doing away with policies that protected women from discrimination based on sex.
Eventually, enough people—mostly men, but some women who proudly believe their husbands and fathers should decide how they live—got on board with the Brotherhood’s sexist ideas, giving them the push they needed to do things like pass the bill that prevents women from joining and serving in the military or law enforcement positions. That, and the repealing of women’s right to vote were the events that woke a lot of people up. But now, it’s too late. Protests and social media rants can’t do anything against a government who’s abandoned half its population to appease the other.
“You comin’ kiddo?” Dad yells from the car, snapping me out of the trance I was in.
“Coming!” I yell back, grabbing my backpack off the floor and slinging it over my shoulder.
With one final look at the house I’ve called home my entire life, I head outside, prepared to do whatever it takes to get my dad out of this country safely.
???
“What do you mean it’sclosed?”
The police officer stands with his arms crossed while his mirrored aviator glasses prevent me from seeing his eyes. “You need a dictionary, boy?”
I resist the urge to ask him if he needs a breath mint. “Respectfully, sir, shouldn’t Border Patrol be the ones deciding who gets in or out?”
He spits his tobacco juice onto the ground. “Go home, boys.”
“We have documentation.” I reach for the papers. “We’ve been granted temporary legal residency.”
“Do I look like I give a shit?Go home.” He turns to walk away.
“Wait!” I call out. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?”
He pauses and turns back around, jerking his chin at me. “I’m listening.”
I dig into my pocket and pull out my wallet, grabbing the wad of cash I brought with me. I hand it to him, waiting patiently as he counts the bills.
“Maverick,” my dad whispers. “What are you doing?”
Officer Asshole pockets the thousand dollars—a good portion of my savings—and then leans down to speak to us again. “Leave.”
“What? But you said—”
“I didn’t say shit,” he sneers, moving his hand and resting it on his holstered pistol. “Now turn around and go home, before I make you.”
“Fucking grifter,” I mumble as I turn the truck around, already brainstorming a way around this dilemma.
“We could try another checkpoint,” my dad suggests.
I shake my head. “They’ve probably got officers at every location from here to the East Coast.”
“Maybe we should just go back home, like he said.”
