FOR MY HERO,
FANNIE LOU HAMER
I DON’T LIKE IT WHEN PEOPLE MAKE HYPERBOLIC statements, so I really mean it when I say I’ve been waiting for this day my entire life.
November 3. Election Day. But not just any election day—it’s the first one that I’ll be able to vote in. Finally.
I’m still doing my morning stretches when there’s a knock at my door.
“Come in.” I bring my right knee up to my chest to stretch my lower back. At the foot of my bed, my Maine Coon, Selma, does her own kitty stretches, flexing her furry paws.
“Morning, sweetie.” My mother is standing in the doorway of my bedroom, holding her NURSES CALL THE SHOTS coffee mug. “Just wanted to make sure you didn’t oversleep for the big day.”
“Mom.” I peer around my knee to give her a look. “When was the last time I overslept?”
She takes a sip of coffee, thinking, then shrugs. “Never, I guess. You even showed up two weeks before your due date.”
“Early is on time and on time is late,” I say, pulling up my other knee. “That goes for babies, too.”
Mom shakes her head, but she’s smiling. “Is Alec going with you to the polling place?”
My leg falls back to the bed. “I’m not currently speaking to Alec.” Well, he doesn’t know that—but that doesn’t make it any less true.
“What in the world did Mr. Perfect do to make you so mad?”
I wish she didn’t look so amused. I hate it when adults do that—act like what we’re going through isn’t serious just because we’re younger than them. She knows I hate that, and I can tell she’s trying to swallow her smile, but it’s not working. And it just makes a fresh wave of anger roll through me.
I sit up, lace my fingers together, and bend at the waist, stretching my arms over my head. “He’s not voting.”
That makes the smile drop. “Your Alec?” She pauses. “Isn’t voting?”
“He says it doesn’t make a difference. That the two-party system is antiquated and useless.”
He’s said more than that over the past couple of days, but I truly thought he’d change his mind. We’ve been together for almost two and a half years, since we were sophomores. I know him better than anyone. I also know that he can be stubborn, and that I can usually sway him in the most stubborn of moments. Not this time.
“But he’s been canvassing with you.” Mom frowns, straightening the top of her scrubs.
“And text-banking and visiting senior centers to get people registered,” I add, shifting my stretch to the other side. Selma looks at me and yawns.
Alec was all in—or at least I thought he was. I glance at my phone on the nightstand, thinking of the last text he sent before I went to sleep last night:
I’ve thought about this, and you’re not going to change my mind, Marv. It’s my choice, not yours.
I didn’t respond.
“Well, the polls are open until seven. He still has time to come to his senses.”
I’m not holding my breath. Besides, things have been weird with Alec since we had the big college talk a couple of weeks ago. I’m not sure what’s going on with us, but I need to set it aside for now. I’ve been waiting for this day forever.
Okay, so that was a little hyperbolic. But I have been interested in politics since I was a little girl. My second-grade teacher asked us to write down three things we wanted to be when we grew up. My choices were secretary of state, environmental attorney, and Supreme Court justice. Honestly, I’m pretty impressed with seven-year-old me for already knowing what she wanted.
“I’d better get out of here.” Mom slugs the rest of her coffee, then swiftly crosses the room to give me a kiss. “Have a good day, sweetie. Try not to let Alec’s civic irresponsibility wreck this for you.”
Selma meows, looking right at my mother with her big hazel eyes.
“You have a good day, too, Selma,” Mom says, scratching her soft little head before she leaves.
I finish stretching, untie my satin sleep scarf, and swing my legs over the side of the bed. Mom is right. I can’t let Alec mess up this day for me.
It’s way too important for that.
“CUTTING IT A LITTLE CLOSE THIS MORNING, aren’t you?”
“Forgot I had to get up early today,” I say, leaning in to kiss Ma’s cheek as she cracks eggs into a bowl.
Ma turns around, abandoning the eggs. “Duke Benjamin Crenshaw. Are you joking?”
“Yup,” I say quickly, turning away to pour a glass of OJ so I don’t have to look at her face. “Like I could forget today.”
It’s Election Day, and there are no jokes when it comes to politics in my house. Just nonstop talk about candidates and policies and campaigns. For real, every year feels like election year around here. And I know what Ma is thinking but won’t say to me: What would your brother think? This is no laughing matter.
Julian died two years ago, but his name seems to always be on the tip of my mom’s tongue. Ready to remind me of all the ways I’m not like him. All the ways I’m failing to honor his memory.
My little sis, Ida, stumbles into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes.
I snicker.
“What?” She shoots me a dirty look through her sleepy gaze as she plops down into her seat at the table.
“Wearing your sleep cap to school?”
She touches her head and groans. “It’s too early. Why can’t you go vote and come back for me? Or maybe Dana and her dad can swing by and get me?”
The skillet clatters on the stove.
“Absolutely not!”
Damn. I really don’t want to see Ma’s face now.
I slide a glass of juice in front of Ida and pop some bread in the toaster. Just in case. Ma might revolt and decide not to make us breakfast if we keep this up, and I need something stronger than cereal for today.
“You may be too young to vote, but you can still come along and see what it’s all about,” she says to Ida. “You’re never too young for democracy.”
“I know,” Ida grumbles. I’m impressed she doesn’t remind Ma that we both went with her and Dad to vote in the last presidential election, but I think she knows not to push it.
Ma scrambles her famous cheesy eggs silently for a couple of minutes, then puts two plates in front of us. I bring over the toast and the butter dish. We sit down at the same time.
“Listen,” Ma says with a sigh. She pushes a hand through her short blond hair. “I know you could never forget how important this is, but you have to remember, these candidates are going to shape policies for years. And so many of the issues on the ballot and in their campaigns were important to Julian—gun violence in particular, but there’s also immigration reform, prison reform.…So much is at stake. He would be so disappointed if he knew you weren’t taking this seriously.”
Both Ida and I drop our eyes to our laps. But Ma doesn’t let us off the hook that easily.
“Duke.”
I look up at her.
“He used to go over calendars with you and show you the date you’d be able to vote. He was so excited for you to turn eighteen.” She looks at my sister. “And, Ida, I know you weren’t around when Julian first got involved in our old community, but he came so far and—well, I guess I’ll never stop wondering what he could have accomplished.”