by Meg Napier
Meg held up her hand. “I’m not going anywhere, and you need to finish this. Until it’s done, consider this your office.”
Alice took a deep breath. “All right, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to count mailboxes today at this rate. Who knows when I’ll get in the system?”
“I’ve got hands, legs, pen, and paper. You worry about this, and I’ll go out and do it.” Lord knows I need something to do so I don’t try and fumble my way to kissing you.
“Thanks. I feel like you’ve done so much for me already.”
“It’s really no trouble. Take your time. I’ve got my phone with me if you get through before I get back.”
Meg picked up the pink bandana and tied it around her head again. After checking that she had everything she needed, she opened the door and stepped out into the world.
The Glenwood apartment complex was a series of brick buildings near a train station, with the leasing office occupying a small building next to the road. From what Meg remembered from the day she signed her lease, there were six buildings, each three stories tall. Remembering her canvassing days, she started at the building furthest from her own apartment.
The grey mailboxes, each with a small slit to allow for hand-delivered messages, were housed in an alcove on the first floor, a centralized location that made it convenient for mail drops. The grid pattern made her task easier, and she jotted down the building number and the total of twenty-four mailboxes at this building.
Meg made her way to the next building, sinking into the monotony of the work. The walking, counting, and writing let her mind drift back to the young, hardworking, lost, but spirited woman sitting at her desk, using the computer Meg usually used to draft consultant reports for longshot progressive candidates in all corners of the nation. Their time at the grocery store had solidified Meg’s belief that Alice needed love and a little push to become the confident, self-assured woman she could be. Throughout her life, Meg had met plenty of young people with confidence and energy to power a large city. While each was special, Alice was different.
She didn’t think Alice needed to sand down her edges; Meg liked her edges, her dry wit, and her commitment to others’ comfort. She liked that Alice didn’t write her off as an out-of-touch older woman, though she had come close at their first meeting. She liked that Alice was dedicated to her job and righteous in her conviction to force change, especially since that change was small and focused on the community directly around her.
As she wrote the last number of mailboxes, worry crept into her. Meg publicly projected unshakable confidence the way most people wore their favorite pair of slippers, but she was still human. She wasn’t shy at all when telling a candidate that one of his ideas for a speaking engagement was terrible, but she clammed up when approaching another woman for a chat over drinks.
There really should be courtship classes for lesbians, she thought as she trudged up the stairs back to her apartment.
“I’m back!” she called out, dropping her purse on the table and making her way to the small office.
Alice was sitting in the chair with one leg tucked under her and chewing on a thumbnail. “Awesome. I was finally able to get in and apply for unemployment. Hopefully it doesn’t take too long for them to approve it.”
“Here’s hoping. There are 138 mailboxes in the complex, by the way.”
“Great. While you were out, I also set up a free phone number and a new email address that people can reach out to in case they’re interested in what we’re doing.”
Meg couldn’t help the stupid grin. “That’s a good idea! Thanks for doing that; now our personal phones won’t be bombarded.”
Alice turned away and said, “Luckily, it was simple to set up.”
Meg walked over and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Still, you thought of it and executed. Initiative is a valuable thing; don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.”
After a moment, Alice shrugged her off, cleared her throat, and said, “Well, I’ve applied for unemployment and set up the hotline. Don’t know when Jason will get back to me, so I’ll go ahead and get out of your hair.”
Meg mentally kicked herself for not inviting her to stay a while longer.
Chapter 5
Alice, rudely awakened by the vibrating of her phone, pried her head from her pillow and opened one eye. With blurred vision, she read Jason’s text: “Image done and emailed to you. Let me know if there is anything to change.”
Bleary-eyed memories of Meg rushed to the forefront of her mind: the subtle scent of her floral perfume, the genuine kindness in her smile, the reassuring hand on her shoulder, the suggestion of desire in her gaze. More importantly, Meg was accomplished, confident, and unapologetic in her presentation to the public. To be so together and so warm in a matter of hours was something Alice could only dream of being.
In contrast, Alice was scrappy, surviving, barely hanging on, and only a little feral.
Her stomach grumbled and she slowly lifted herself from the bed and opened the fridge. Plenty of white space greeted her, but the crumpled plastic bag of Golden Delicious apples was promising. She reached for one, closed the door, and strode back to her bed. With that order of business handled, Alice found Jason’s email and opened the attachment.
The image he’d created was astonishing: a thin man stood in front of a locked gate, beyond which were free weights and a lifeguard stand. He held a large key in one hand and presented his empty other hand to a family that could best be described as “downtrodden,” standing with turned-out pockets on the step below him. A small child holding the mother’s hand was crying, but the thin man’s face conveyed no sympathy.
Alice copied the image and texted it to Meg. “My guy sent this to me last night. Thoughts?”
Wait, is she even awake yet? Alice didn’t know what kind of life Meg led, not on the day-to-day. Would it seem overeager or even annoying if she texted so early on a Monday morning? The last thing she wanted to be was a nuisance.
“Simple, elegant, and conveys ‘This isn’t fair.’ What do you think?”
“I like it. I also like how the leasing office is personified by a guy in a basic suit. I’ve met guys who brag about their MBAs who look exactly like this cartoon.”
Meg texted back, “An updated corporate fat cat.”
Alice sent her a laughing emoji. “Instead of three-martini lunches, the new company villain will not shut up about Crossfit.”
“And yet Ayn Rand is still a staple.”
Alice laughed out loud. She could see Meg deliver that in a deadpan tone at a fancy dinner party, then sip a glass of red wine with an unpronounceable name. Instead of licking any droplets, Meg would dab her lips with a stark white napkin and steer the conversation back to whatever important topic she and the other elegant people were discussing. Alice, however, would be too busy thinking about what the wine tasted like when licked directly from Meg’s lips.
Alice shut down that train of thought and cleared her throat. They had the image from Jason, so now it was on to the next step. She typed, “What’s next?”
“Design the flier, translate it into Spanish, print 138 copies, and stuff the mailboxes.”
“Great. Do you have any plans today?”
Alice chewed her bottom lip, immediately second guessing the impulsive question.
“Other than track down a mask or two for when I do need to venture out, I don’t have anything on my plate. We could put the fliers together today, if that works for you.”
Resisting the urge to cheer, Alice responded, “I can be there in an hour.”
“I’ll get the kettle boiling. See you soon!”
Alice sped through her shower so she could take time choosing her clothes. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d given any serious thought to planning her outfit for the day, but this was different. She told herself it wasn’t only because she wanted to impress Meg. Sure, Meg’s acceptance was a significant factor, but there were other reasons, like lovin
g herself and knowing that when she walked into the room, both she and Meg would agree that she looked good.
There was a slight problem in this plan: none of her clothes could be considered “good.”
Alice sifted through her assortment of brewery tee shirts and instantly rejected them. Sadly, a few faded hoodies were all that remained. She sighed heavily, chose one of the grey hoodies, and shoved her legs into black skinny jeans. She then went into the bathroom and checked herself out in the mirror. A traditionally feminine figure having eluded her, Alice made do with her body: thin arms, slight hips, the barest hint of a waist. Her hair, though, could be tamed, and she ran her fingers through the wet strands before pulling out the cheap hairdryer from under her sink.
Taking one last look in the mirror, she decided this was the best she could do. Alice tied the purple bandana around her head and headed over to Meg’s apartment. Before she knocked, the door opened and a mug of tea was presented to her.
“Thought you could use something while we get this done,” Meg said.
Alice thanked her and followed her to the office, where Meg’s desktop was opened to a document that was blank save for Jason’s image. “I’ve blocked out what I think should go where. We don’t want to overwhelm the reader, so we’ll put the image in the top right corner, while the top left corner will be our leading question.”
“You mean like, ‘Tired of such-and-such?’”
“Exactly. And then at the bottom, we’ll have the offer to learn more and the hotline information.”
“Seems pretty simple.”
Meg laughed. Alice was puzzled and once Meg’s laughter subsided, she said, “I didn’t realize I was being funny.”
“Sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you. I was laughing at my expense. You’d be appalled at how many hours are spent developing a three-word slogan.”
“Probably about as much time as Mike takes to name a new beer,” Alice replied.
Meg typed the contact information in the textbox at the bottom of the page while Alice leaned against the doorframe and thought about the purpose of their endeavor. The residents of Glenwood were still expected to pay for the business center, gym, and pool even though they were locked. That wasn’t fair. Any reasonable person would agree, and no one liked not getting what they paid for.
“How about this: ‘Tired of not getting what you pay for?’”
Meg leaned back in her chair and Alice did her best to not check out how well today’s sweater hugged her torso. “And using the present tense reminds them that they’re still going to be paying for it no matter how long this shelter-in-place order persists. You’re not advocating a complete rent strike, just an adjustment of what residents are obligated to pay.”
“Think the leasing office will go for it?”
Meg typed Alice’s question in large, bold font next to the image. “At this stage, your target isn’t the leasing office. We’ve got to convince other people to push the leasing office with us. This is good: no one wants to pay for something they’re not getting.”
“My thoughts exactly!”
Alice then latched on to a small problem.
“Um, what will we do once they call or email us?”
“I’ve been chewing over some solutions. Since we’re in lockdown to prevent community spread, in-person meetings and marches are out of the question. So is withholding rent. Luckily, eviction courts are not hearing cases, but that’s a temporary measure. Risk of eviction is a powerful motivator for someone simply to ‘go along to get along’.”
“What about petitions? Are those taken seriously anymore?”
“With enough signatures, absolutely.”
“OK, then once they reach out to us, we should tell them to sign our petition with their name and apartment number.”
“To be clear, our goal is to stop having to pay the amenity fees, right?”
“Yeah, that about sums it up.”
While they were talking, Meg was opening programs and setting things in motion. She added a second page and copied the work, putting the words through a Spanish translation program.
Alice, admiring Meg’s tirelessness, wondered if the woman ever took a break. Meg continued, “I have a friend in the news. As a bonus, we could give her this scoop the day the petition is delivered. Might push the leasing office over the edge; no one likes bad press.”
Alice suddenly felt small. Meg could be working on something bigger, yet here she was doing the bulk of the groundwork on this small endeavor. Alice hadn’t rubbed elbows with senators or governors, no one with clout. The closest she got to power was pouring beers for contractors.
“Sorry this isn’t that big of a deal,” she muttered.
Without looking up from the computer, Meg replied, “Little known secret of organizing: small things have a better chance of implementing immediate change. Your idea could help people right now as opposed to in the next fiscal year. That’s a big deal. Trust me.”
Alice doubted her sincerity. The leasing office probably wouldn’t do anything except tell them to stop or maybe even threaten them with legal action. She remembered men with briefcases from her childhood and shuddered.
Meg stopped typing and turned around. “Something wrong?”
Alice had tucked her legs close to her and wrapped her arms around her shins, holding her body close. She tried to do her breathing exercises, but her heart rate continued to escalate. She barely managed to whisper, “I don’t want them to use lawyers.”
Meg raised her eyebrows. “You’re afraid of lawyers?”
“You wouldn’t understand. No one would.”
Instead of leaving it alone, Meg got out of the desk chair and sat next to her on the floor. Please don’t ask please don’t ask please don’t—
“Did a lawyer hurt you?” Meg asked quietly. “Do you want to lean on me?”
Alice looked up at her. She couldn’t see either pity or judgment from Meg, only concern. Silently, she angled her torso towards her and rested her head on Meg’s soft shoulder. A wave of comfort and security washed over her as Meg’s arm draped around her body.
“It’s a really long story that maybe I’ll tell you someday. In short, I grew up in a horribly controlling cult that held sway in the community. Even the people in the surrounding areas were under their influence, so it was impossible to get help, and lawyers were as bad as the rest of them.I wanted to get away as far as I could and hopefully be protected by people more powerful than them. The first place I found that was sufficiently far enough was a place for LGBTQ youth in DC. I reached out to them, sent them my entire story, and they said if I could get there, I could stay until I figured out how to get by on my own.”
“That was very brave. You know that, right?”
She didn’t think it was courageous. Her recurring nightmare was back at the bus station, clutching her backpack straps so tightly that she was surprised her knuckles hadn’t permanently turned white. She’d been terrified her father would track her down and have her taken her back before the smelly bus pulled up.
“It was so hard to trust anyone. The only reason I made it to the bus station was because there was a boy who had a massive crush on me. He would come to the café where I worked and flirt while eating the omelets I’d make. I mean, I couldn’t tell him that my dad wouldn’t let him anywhere near me because he wasn’t in the church. I was so afraid he’d tell someone at the café where I’d gone that night.”
“The night you left?”
“It’s not my proudest moment, but I told him I was sneaking out and wanted him to take me for a drive. He picked me up in his truck and right before we passed the bus station, I said I needed a bathroom break. He stopped, I got out, and, well, I never came back. I still wonder what happened to him, but I needed a way out. I’d just turned eighteen.”
“I’m sure if you told him what you told me, he’d understand.”
Alice didn’t say anything; she simply let Meg gently stroke her arm. An immense weight had lifte
d within her. Surprisingly, Meg didn’t try to fill the air with something else to talk about. She simply held her and let her be.
I would have crumbled.
Meg didn’t quite know what Alice needed, but her instinct was to respond as she would to a frightened child. She stroked her fingers along Alice’s toned forearm. While this was clearly the tip of Alice’s iceberg, Meg couldn’t comprehend the turmoil of being raised in such an environment. Still, she refrained from reciting one of her campaign standbys of articulating a lack of understanding coupled with a declaration of sympathy. That worked for strangers, but Alice wasn’t a stranger.
No, Alice needed to hear something personal.
She pressed her forehead to Alice’s and closed her eyes. “I’ve only known you a few days, and I can tell that you’re a fighter, Alice. You’re determined, scrappy, and passionate. Those qualities are hard to come by, trust me. But more than that, once you let someone, even an out-to-pasture person like me, into your life, you’re a caring soul who sees the good in others. I admire you, truly.”
Though it came out awkwardly, Meg meant every syllable. A person, especially a young person, could easily have been crushed by the environment that Alice had endured. Meg hadn’t broken out of her own environment; she merely had ventured to its borders and made it work.
“You’re not out-to-pasture,” Alice whispered.
Meg smiled sheepishly. “You don’t have to butter me up.”
“I’m not.”
Before Meg could respond, she felt the soft brush of lips against hers.
All the tension within her eased, as though her body knew this was right. With minute movements, Meg responded, pressing her lips against Alice’s. There was neither urgency nor desperation, merely exploration. Alice raised a hand to Meg’s cheek and encouraged her to angle her head closer. Meg, out of practice at kissing, slowly opened her mouth and felt Alice smile through the kiss.
“I’ll admit I haven’t done this in a while,” Meg said sheepishly.