Natasha Babbitt wandered across the Washington Mall in a long, silky lavender dress on a foggy January morning, searching for the presidential inauguration. She was looking for the bleachers where the Mormon Tabernacle Choir would perform. She was in it; she was running late, as usual, so she had to hurry. The problem was that a thick, clumpy frost covered the endless expanse of lawn before her, and in her sparkly, silver high heals, she could only move ever so slowly, for every step she took sent her on a short, wobbly ski ride across the uneven turf. It was almost as exasperating as waiting for Bruce to get out of the shower at the Trump Hotel across the street earlier that morning, however far back that was. It seemed like an eternity--both in distance and in time. She laughed as she imagined a giant Darth Vader head appearing in the sky above her. "Long, long ago, in a galaxy far, far away." That's how long it had seemed since they'd left their modest home back in Provo, Utah to be here on this important day.
The fog was so dense that she couldn't tell which way to go, and so she headed towards a glow in the mist. It wasn't a steady light though; it seemed to come in great ember waves and then all but go away. It almost seemed like it could be a fire--an odd thing to see on the Washington Mall. Perhaps they have built a bonfire so people can keep warm, she thought. She pictured everyone standing around, drinking hot chocolate, excitedly anticipating the festivities of the day. She would be able to get directions there.
What she had envisioned was not altogether wrong, although what she found horrified her. As she came closer, it was clear a giant cross burned at the base of the Washington Monument. Around it milled a half a dozen or so members of the KKK. All were in gowns, but several had their hoodies off, relaxed, as relaxed as if they were at a campfire. There was a folding table set up with donuts and hot chocolate. She glanced up at the behemoth burning symbol of her Lord and Savior radiating evil in the billowing orange-tinged waves of fog. She was about to turn away, prepared to run, if need be, high heels or not, when someone gently grabbed her arm.
"Would you like some hot chocolate and cookies?"
"What?"
"Hot chocolate and cookies, Mam. Courtesy of the Riverdale Youth KKK Club."
"What?"
"Cookies, Mam. And Hot Chocolate. I can also give you a pamphlet. It's a new America, and we are the new KKK, kinder, gentler, more main stream, if you know what I mean." He winked when he said, "if you know what I mean."
She was still somewhat dazed. She felt like she'd vomit. She held her composure though. It could be dangerous not to. "No thanks. Would you know where the Mormon Tabernacle Choir is performing?"
"Yes Mam. Right over there."
He pointed away from the cross, away from the heat, away from the donuts and hot chocolate. She couldn't tell what he pointed at--it was all just a misty gray wilderness--but she went anyway. Wherever the Choir was, it certainly was not here.
Off she went in her lavender dress and sparkly silvery shoes, slip-stumbling towards her unseen goal. She pictured a high building behind her and a room full of men laughing as they watched her desperately wander through the foggy wilderness looking for some sort of true light.
In that great tower, Darth Vador was handing out cocktails, chuckling in that unique breathy laugh of his. All the wives of the heads of state adored him. Or at least that's what he believed. He held up his glass, cleared his throat, "I'd like to--deep, muffled breath--give a toast--deep, muffled breath--to our new president--deep, muffled breath--and to a new America. The force is strong today."
A round of applause echoed in Natasha Babbitt's head as she made her way through the mist, gently sobbing, yet pushing on, determined to find her way back to a world that made sense.
And then she tripped. She fell forward, and as she did, she could see water coming towards her. It was that long, narrow reflection pool she had seen so often in photographs, the one between the Washington Monument and the Lincoln memorial. At least she sort of knew where she was now. The only problem was it was in the wrong direction. The fall seemed to take hours. It was as if time stopped. She laughed at this thought. Oh how she and the kids hated when Bruce went on and on about his theory about the shrinking nature of time in the last days. That's when she saw Bruce through the mist and the water. He floated on the other side of that steaming liquid, translucent, thin, but ever so radiant. He spoke to her.
"Dear. I'm dead. I should have listened to you. It is dangerous to suck on Halls Cool Berry Breezers in bed after all. Who would have thought? They're small, slippery and melt; you'd think they'd be safe. Anyway, I'm sorry I didn't listen. I didn't fall asleep though. I was sitting up, like you always told me. Anyway, it's not my time yet. Wake up, you have to save me."
