The Parent

Elle looked at herself in the mirror. The barber had done his job. Hair cut to standard: 1 inch from the base of the neck, ½ an inch from the back of the ears, no more than an inch in bulk.

She nodded her head to him in thanks. It's all she could do. She couldn't very well say how much she hated it, or even that she hated him. He was only doing his job, after all. He has no more say in how a person's hair has to look than anyone else.

She wondered if life was better or worse for barbers now. Easier, certainly. Everyone comes in and gets the same cut. But what about creativity or individuality? Every barber's the same now. Just like every hair cut. Just like every person.

The words equal and same are used synonymously. It's better this way, right?

She was given paperwork, yesterday, for a spouse. You're not supposed to say husband or wife anymore. Spouse. The same. Equal.

She had never met him. He was a store clerk. Probably someone who kept his head down, like her. Someone who either liked how everything was now, or was at least sensible enough to keep his thoughts to himself. She hoped for the latter.

She imagined her whole life with this new spouse. They would probably be given permission for one child. If things went well, then two. If things went really well, then three. But only if there were no behavior issues in school. Only if they recited everything exactly as they should and never said anything out of place. The children had to be perfect little citizens if she were to have more than one or two.

She'd always wanted to be a mom, perhaps because she'd lost her own mother so young. Mom. That word isn't allowed anymore, though. Or dad. Parent is the word. Parent is what she would become. Not mom. Never mom. Never terms of endearment. Never love.

It didn't matter that she didn't know this future spouse. Not to the Board, anyway. It didn't matter if she even found him attractive.

She wouldn't. She knew that already.

She could run away. Disappear beyond the borders.

She didn't really know what was out there, though. That scared her more. At least here she knew how to work within the confines of the laws. She knew what was expected of her and what would happen if she failed to meet those expectations. Here was more safe than the unknown. Here was more awful, too.

No, she would marry this spouse. She would have children who said and did all the things they were supposed to. She would make sure no one in her little family did anything different or dangerous.

And, late at night, she would whisper into the ears of her future children, about freedom and change and love. Most of all, love. And when they grew up, they would change everything.