The Exodus Strategy

by Barbara Winkes

  “You’re right, we can’t,” Hilary agreed. “What we can do is show the world what is possible. Get everyone we can on board, and make it a worldwide movement. There’ll be sacrifices, but I believe it will be worth it. This is the beginning of a giant deprogramming.”

  “You never talked about religion. Actually, that was a point we only skimmed in the paper. Are you going to seek endorsement from religious leaders?”

  “Personally? Most of them are men who have little understanding about what we are doing in the first place, but we’re open to dialogue. The new Pope gives me at least a little hope here. I don’t know.”

  “We’ll have to have those answers ready,” Kerry reminded her. “I can already tell you the names of congressmen and radio hosts who will accuse us of wanting to destroy religion. They are already trying to block any victory with those ‘religious freedom’ bills. Soon, we’ll be able to choose whether they don’t serve us because we won’t do a pregnancy test, or because we’re lesbians.”

  “I would not be surprised. I’m pretty sure the question of religion will come up in one of those interviews scheduled for tomorrow. If we didn’t have such an early start, I’d ask you if you have anything stronger than that wine we brought—should have known better. Wait. You said ‘we.'”

  “So? You do have our support. You know that.”

  “Okay, I’m not going to push any more, but you will come with us on Tuesday, right?”

  “There’s still Vivien’s hearing.”

  “Yes, and I’m sure one call to that judge will take care of that.”

  “No!” Kerry’s answer was instant and vehement. “If we decide at some point that we might join you, and that’s still an ‘if’, there need to be some rules. No excess of personal favors. We pay our mortgage to you, we work within the structures of Exodus, fine, but that’s it. I’m not saying this because I’m stubbornly proud, but because you have no idea what kind of scrutiny you will face.”

  “There I thought spending most of my adult life in corporate business would prepare me, but okay, I do see your point. Go on.”

  “I don’t want this to fail,” Kerry said, and nothing had ever felt so true. For her and Vivien, Hilary and Marc, and all the nameless women who would come out of the dark into a new life. “We’ve been dreaming of this for a long time. We do it, we have to do it right.”

  * * * *

  Upon their return to the living room, someone turned on the TV. The screen showed Miller, wearing a jovial smile as he answered the female reporter’s question.

  “I think Mr. and Mrs. Greene are sadly misunderstanding the work we have done to protect the women in our state, and we will certainly not stop to do so.”

  “Aren’t you concerned that with the move of Greene Industries, many skilled workers and scientists will leave the state?”

  “Governor King should be more concerned, I suppose, because her state has three times the unemployment rate of ours. What is she going to do with the influx of all those people in the first place? I’m not even talking about the danger of an anarchistic ideology as favored by the Greenes. This is never going to work, and it’s a shame that many people’s lives will be uprooted because of empty promises.”

  “He’s one to talk about ideology,” Lee said with indignant disbelief.

  “I’m not worried,” Miller continued. “I have yet to see people running from home, but of course they won’t, because their jobs and their families are here.” He laughed a bit, eliciting an uneasy smile from the reporter. “Let’s face it, this is the work of extremists, and it will attract people who seek an easy out, those who think everything is all about them all the time. You reap what you sow. That is all, thank you.”

  “Famous last words,” Hilary commented. “I guess we should head home, so tomorrow we hopefully can make more sense than that. You’re right, Lee, but that’s what you have to expect. Those are people who enjoy nothing more than twisting your words around on you.”

  “Oh, I can’t wait,” Lee said.

  Kerry realized Vivien barely reacted to that, and she wondered if something had happened between her and the intern. Lee was…intense, but so far was on board with the ideas of her employer and Exodus. She’d investigate the problem later, although it didn’t nearly have as much priority as finding the jerk who had sent the email. She thought of the scene earlier in the kitchen, before Marc and Hilary arrived, the memory coming with a somewhat inappropriate flash of heat, given the fact that they still had guests.

  When they were finally by themselves again, Vivien didn’t seem inclined to talk about Lee, but headed straight for the bathroom. Kerry started clearing away the dishes, but stopped halfway. There’d be time tomorrow.

  The urgent mood from earlier had vanished, not too mention too much food, drink, and politics to find the energy for anything else. Vivien had fallen asleep an hour or so ago, but Kerry was wide awake, trying to figure out the implication of future decisions. Next week. The following year.

  What if they went to look at houses on Tuesday and found one they loved? Would it be worth the sacrifice, or were they making sacrifices for someone else? It wasn’t just changing location for a new job—everyone who went would be associated with this, and of course it had been Kerry’s name on that college paper too. How much of a spotlight would that throw on them?

  Then again, there were young activists around the world living under much more difficult circumstances, risking their lives to get their message across. Exodus, with the projects funded by Greene Industries, would hopefully empower them too, in money and spirit. Did she have a right to complain? Did she have a right to put herself, her family first?

  As catastrophic as Miller’s election was, for her home, the people around her and in her state, it made something painfully clear: There had to be a change, either way. Either it was the Hate Crime Unit or a house within the safe boundaries of Exodus. Nothing would stay the same.

  Her cell phone was vibrating on the nightstand, and Kerry reached for it quickly before the sound would wake Vivien.

  “You owe me,” the email said. “The information is with the officer who filed the report. You do whatever you have to with it.” There was a name and an address, a neighborhood Kerry drove through everyday on her way to work. Rich kids, sons on the local football team, ultra-conservative parents. This would be fun.

  She pulled the sheets higher, leaning into the warmth of Vivien’s body. For a better world, kids needed to be taught better. They would do their part in that, one way or another.

  Chapter Ten

  Most of the interviews on Sunday morning were with experienced journalists they had worked with before. They were interested in structural facts about the Exodus project, its history.

  “It is based on a college project you worked on with Kerry Rivers. She’s a police officer, is that right?”

  Hilary winced a little. She didn’t think Kerry would appreciate having her name in the press at this stage, but she was probably aware it had to happen sooner or later. Everything seemed to be happening a lot sooner lately.

  “That’s true, but you must remember we’ve been working on this project for years, and it’s come a long way from a college project. Governor Miller was right to say it will impact the lives of many people, but not in the way he thinks. It will be a big step towards a fairer society.”

  “Thank you. Mr. Greene,” the host continued, “your company favors a clear profile when it comes to social issues. In fact, Greene Industries have weighed in on renewable energies, minimum wage, abortion, and even gay marriage, but it wasn’t always that way. I believe this kind of involvement started sometime after your parents took over, is that right? When did they start to take position on these issues?”

  No matter how many speeches Hilary held at shareholder meetings, even the more favorable press would sometimes act if the success of Greene Industries was all Marc’s. She considered herself lucky to be with a man who was aware of those little slips of
the tongue.

  “With Hilary sitting right here, I’d like to point out that we equally design the profile of our company. We get that question a little more often, as it seems.”

  “Our position is different from many of our competitors. People see something they are not used to, and question it,” Hilary added. “We are not the only ones though. Frankly, it’s sad to look at the reasons some give for still dragging their feet, when we know it’s all about wanting to pay the people who work for them the lowest salary possible.” She turned to Marc. “Your parents and mine both favored a different approach, which is appreciated by our employees.”

  “I hear that Albert Lemon left the company over the Exodus project, is that correct?”

  “If it was because of that, we don’t know,” she said, which was still the truth. Guessing wasn’t the same as knowing.

  “Lemon was friends with your grandfather, Adam Greene?”

  “My grandfather wouldn’t have been pleased, if that’s what you’re asking, but please, take a look at the numbers. My grandfather came from a time when some men had great difficulties to even imagine a woman as CEO. That doesn’t necessarily make it right.”

  Hilary started a bit at his change of tone. They had almost no secrets from each other, and with the few ones they kept, little hints were dropped, truths leaking into the conversation everyday. One day, they would both be brave enough. Maybe, that, too, would happen sooner rather than later.

  The subject of Adam Greene came up another time, in another studio. “A lot of changes have been introduced with the last two generations. How do you answer to people who are worried about the erosion of the traditional family?”

  “Well, that depends on how you define the traditional family.” Marc was usually cool and collected on these subjects, because they came up all the time, but Hilary could detect the tiredness in his voice. She could relate. They’d been at it for too long, rehashing the same subjects over and over again. She knew the promotional aspects were important, as was the two of them smiling into the camera and repeating that Exodus would work out—but it was damn tiring, and costing energy she’d like to see invested elsewhere.

  “To us, it means love and commitment, respect for each other, and responsibility. This is, by the way, one of the reasons we support equal marriage and adoption rights for our LGBT employees. In a healthy relationship, two partners stand on equal footing—it’s as easy as that. I know that some are crying about how this damages society. If you believe that inequality is the foundation of a relationship and society, if that’s your traditional family, I’m happy to see it go away.”

  Hilary winced. While she was with him in everything, she thought this statement lent itself to being maliciously twisted. She could already see the headlines going around on Twitter and Facebook: “Marc Greene wants the traditional family to go away.”

  “This is an idea of family that’s rigid and allows no change or criticism. It locks people in, and locks out everything and everyone who questions it. Imagine a domestic violence situation in such a context.”

  “Some might say a rigid idea that allows no criticism is exactly what you are proposing with the Exodus project.”

  “Come on, Peter. It’s not Hotel California, and you know it—and we are counting on responsible journalism to report it for exactly what it is.”

  After the last interview of the day, they nearly stumbled out of the studio, both wired and exhausted after running mostly on coffee and quick snacks. Time was something no amount of money could buy.

  “Should we get Frances and find a quiet place to get something to eat?” Marc asked.

  “Sure. I’d like to stop somewhere first.”

  In the small church, they sat in the last pew, and Marc laid an arm around her. It felt good to stop and breathe. Hilary welcomed this moment of peace, especially in a place where the sign outside said “God Is Love,” and she knew everyone she cared for would be welcome. She pushed aside every question and possible complications, even the ones Kerry had brought up earlier regarding religion. She counted on the kind, decent people that would understand their vision—one day, they would win.

  * * * *

  Kerry seemed antsy which had probably still to do with the email. Vivien spent most of the morning wondering if she should ask, or if the resulting conversation would only put herself on edge more. She wanted whoever did this to be held accountable, but for sure, in Miller-land, their options were already limited, and she didn’t want Kerry to take any career risks on her behalf.

  These days it was hard to tell what was safe, and what presented a risk. This was her work email, and it was available on the internet. Spam, threats, opinions, those were surprisingly blurry lines. She expected a slap on the wrist to be the most consequences that could happen to the sender, but Kerry wouldn’t be satisfied with that. That’s where the complications could come in. Meanwhile, work was piling up on her own desk, work Vivien didn’t even know if she could stand looking at it. No doubt, no matter how bad it was getting here, there were always women in the world who had it much worse, with little hope of anything ever changing.

  While Kerry and Hilary had been shaping their utopia—okay, a few years later than that—Vivien had written a play in her Women’s Studies class, in which some sort of switch had been turned to end all patriarchy, having those who had relied on it for generations, struggle as their power vanished. She hadn’t told Kerry about that play ever, had all forgotten about it, but it had come back to her mind the other night.

  Exodus wasn’t the switch. Across the world, women would still be jailed for whatever transgression they had committed in some ignorant and insecure men’s mind, whether it was abortion, miscarriage, premarital sex, or getting raped.

  You deserve to be raped. The words kept flashing on her mind. An ignorant mind was an ugly mind. Vivien longed for a switch, not another long, complicated struggle, and she almost resented Hilary for creating this incredible tension between hope and resignation, both absolute. They wouldn’t be able to offer shelter to every woman threatened by her husband, family, stalker, or alter the path of every homeless LGBT youth, kicked out by their parents, because they valued ideology over their child.

  Years ago, Vivien had thought that in order to keep your sanity, you’d carve out a niche for yourself, find a place where you could help, and worked really hard—that eventually, good would outweigh evil, if everyone did the same.

  People like radio host Morten Harris who had claimed the Greenes planned to kidnap women and ship them off to their California settlements for mass abortions, certainly didn’t care. Oh, of course he would rant about other countries and religions, but the fate of women here or there was irrelevant to him and his listeners.

  The phone rang, once, twice, three times before Kerry picked it up. A couple of minutes later she returned, a puzzled look on her face.

  “It’s Dana.”

  “Vivien? I’m sorry, I know it’s Sunday, but I need you to come in today. We need to talk about your friends’ project. There are people who are expecting answers from me and I don’t know what to tell them. Are you going?”

  When they had spoken yesterday, the news had barely broken. All kinds of stories had come out since then. Vivien wasn’t surprised that Dana got lots of calls on the weekend, but the request startled her nonetheless. “I can’t, did you forget?”

  It was Dana’s turn to be baffled. “You don’t know yet? Everyone’s back at work. Mr. Ramon’s lawsuit is going forward, and all charges against our people were dropped—with a warning. Which is fine with me, because I need everyone on board. Can I count on you?”

  “Yes…sure.”

  Maybe that would help her break through the apathy that had fallen on her since she’d come to, covered in mud, hurting, only to have a cop tell her to put her hands behind her back. Yes, she needed to get back to work. “I can be there in half an hour.” Hanging up, she couldn’t help but smile, relief flooding her. Being able to go
out and get a coffee, go out and work, make a difference—that made all the difference to Vivien.

  “I guess you’ll get the bail money back after all—wait, is that not a good thing?”

  “It’s great,” Kerry said, embracing her. “I just wonder how they came to this conclusion all of a sudden.” They looked at each other, knowing that the same thought crossed both their minds. “I don’t think so. I told Hilary to stay out of it…”

  “…and the owner of a multi-billion-dollar company will always do what you tell her to do,” Vivien said, amused.

  “I trust that my friend will not go behind my back,” Kerry corrected, her choice of words making Vivien uneasy. Technically, she hadn’t gone behind Kerry’s back. She hadn’t asked Lee to kiss her. She hadn’t told Kerry about it either, the omission weighing on her mind.

  “I’ll see if Dana can tell me more.”

  Kerry followed her in the hallway where Vivien picked up her coat and scarf, put on her boots. Straightening, she became aware of Kerry’s thoughtful look.

  “What?” She hadn’t meant to snap, but that was exactly how it sounded.

  “Let me drive you, please. I don’t want to take a chance.”

  “Why?” Vivien attempted a smile and failed miserably. “They didn’t say ‘you deserve to be blown up by a car bomb.’”

  “That’s not something to joke about.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, because…yesterday, Lee kissed me.” There, it was out. Vivien wasn’t sure if the revelation made either of them feel better.

  “Oh. Okay. Did you kiss her back?”