Sometime just after the second pitcher of margaritas had been poured and distributed amongst our table, I remember leaning back in my chair and listening to the hum of the hotel restaurant. I was buzzed--not drunk--as I scanned the room, looking around at the moneyed crowd. Men and women in business dress had loosened their ties, hung their suit coats on the backs of their chairs, and having successfully printed business over dinner, ordered glasses of Scotch, or Mezcal to celebrate. Tables of influencers, gorgeous young women in intricate make-up and cocktail dresses, were sitting in silence, photographing their food or each other in intervals. Strange as they were to us, these people were native to this place. If there was any group that didn't belong, it was us. This was not our crowd.
Across the table Bethany held court, opining about the insidiousness of a certain book in the 10th grade curriculum. The other women at our table nodded periodically, practicing "active listening" as our fearless leader continued one of her patented rants about the fall of Western Civilization. I wasn't listening to what she was saying, but I watched her face furrow in pure disgust as she summarized the vile particulars of the book before snapping back into her camera-ready smile.
"I mean, you've read this thing, Jen. Am I right?" she said.
I snapped to attention.
"Oh, yes, absolutely," I offered faintly.
She smiled at me. It felt good to be on a team with her--this confident, beautiful and principled woman. And it was probably very scary to be her enemy.
A woman in a pantsuit approached the table and cleared her throat for attention. Bethany paused and looked up at her.
"I recognized you across the restaurant. Bethany Cartwright? Mothers Opposing Degeneracy? I just wanted to say I think you're all regressive, fascist cunts. Fuck you all."
"Classic tolerant Leftist. See what feminism has done for this grotesque creature, ladies? The vulgarity of her? This is what we're up against. Women (and I use the term loosely) like her won't stop until they've indoctrinated every man, woman and child in this country. It's sick. Anyways, thanks for sharing your feelings. You can go now."
Bethany waved dismissively at the woman. The woman grabbed a half-filled water glass from our table and splashed it in Bethany's face before storming out of the restaurant. All the ladies at the table thrust their napkins to Bethany at once, hoping to be the one to help her dry her face.
"It's fine. I'm fine. It wasn't very much water. Some people don't know how to comport themselves, especially when you cut through their crap and their lies. They have to resort to things like that."
The manager, having seen the commotion, hurried to the table with both hands clasped in contrition.
"Nice clientele you've got here, sir. Very classy," Bethany said.
"Ladies, my sincerest apologies. That was totally unacceptable. The staff has assured me she's not a guest at the hotel--she was just here for dinner. Rest assured that she is no longer welcome on the premises. We'll cover the check tonight. We hope that enjoy the rest of your stay. Our sincere apologies, again."
"That's very decent of you. Thank you for making it right. But I still think maybe that's our cue to leave. We have to be at the statehouse tomorrow morning anyway. Come on, ladies."
Every eye in the restaurant was on us as we gathered our things and left. This was the kind of attention that seemed to follow our group. Bethany reveled in it, but I didn't think I'd every get used to it. It was embarrassing to be the subject of such hatred. We made our way across the lobby and towards the elevators. As we went up, members of our group would get out two by two, peeling off at each floor to their hotel rooms, until finally Bethany and I were alone.
"That was quite a display back there," I said.
"That was nothing. I'm over it. If anything it strengthens my dedication to our mission."
We arrived at the top floor and she gestured for me to exit before her. I thought back to earlier that afternoon when we had check-in. I admit I felt a flicker of pride to be rooming with our intrepid leader.
When we came to our room I flashed the keycard at the sensor and the door clicked open. We entered the hotel room. It was completely dark, except for the lights of the capital city scattering the horizon from the uncovered window. I'd not spent a lot of time in the city (or any city), and the sheer scale of the place was jaw dropping. Bethany reached for the light switch.
"Wait. Do you mind? It's beautiful out there tonight."
"Sure, Jen. For a few minutes."
I sat down on the bed closest to the window and stared down at the city. Bethany took off her earrings and sat next to me.
"What do you see?"
"So many different lives. People we'll never know. Take that car at the red light," I said, pointing to a car in a left turn lane. "Who is that? Where are they going?"
The left turn arrow became green and the car disappeared into the night.
"It's fun to think 'what if.' To think about what could be," Bethany said.
The bed creaked and suddenly I felt her hands on me: one on my collarbone, the other scooping me around my waist. Bethany's lips grazed my neck and I shivered.
"Bethany...what are you doing?"
"Do you think I'm stupid, Jen? I see the way you look at me. You're obsessed."
"But what about...what about degeneracy?"
