A New Leader, A New Woman

“We have abolished the outdated institutions. We have banished the sick in power,” the televised rebellion roared with Alessandra Rosario-Lopez leading the charge. “We have a new order to establish. We have new leaders to discover ourselves, without money or corruption to determine our future. After years of oppression, we finally have the freedom to make our own nation!”

“Hell yeah, we wo!” Farrah slurred. No one was with her to smell the tequila on her breath or to hold back her hair come two hours. Just her, drinking for two.

“Once again, we have justice,” the television continued.

“Jussice!” Farrah tried her best.

“We have liberty.”

“Liberby!”

“We have autonomy.”

“Aunonomy!” Farrah raised a shaky glass to the screen.

“You could be one of our next leaders,” Alessandra spoke directly to the camera and pierced straight through Farrah’s blurred soul.

“Me?” Farrah started to cry.

“Apply online at OurNextLeader.Org.”

Our lady of the hour fell off the couch, sacrificed her drink, and scurried on all fours in search of her laptop. Once discovered, this poor thing took a beating. Every single letter punched. Every single word a typo. Nevertheless, like all the fearless women before her, Farrah persisted.

“Stupid Alec,” she served as her own narrator. “I’ll show him. Look at all of this he’s messing outs on. I’m gonna be presiment!” After forty minutes of fighting double vision and with one last punch, her fate was sealed.

***

The light was too bright. The world was too loud. The alcohol and its effects couldn’t distort the empty half of the bed beside her. And yes, it was half empty. Farrah would not accept that half-full malarkey. She was afraid that if she started crying, she’d end up vomiting. She didn’t lay frozen for long.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

She winced at the shrill phone cockadoodledoo-ing. With one eye open, she looked for Alec’s name. She only found an unknown number looking back at her, maybe the strange rebound she needed. Farrah moved a little too quick, paused to settle her stomach again, and then picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hello, I was hoping to speak to Farrah Hohnson.”

Farrah turned down the volume on the spunky, determined woman and whispered, “It’s Johnson. This is her.”

“I’m sorry about the confusion. It’s great to meet you, Farrah.”

“Mhmm.”

“This is Alessandra Rosario-Lopez.”

“What?”

“This is Alessandra Rosario-Lopez.”

“Yeah, I got that. Why are you calling me?”

“I’d like to congratulate you.”

Farrah laughed, then winced. Too early to emote. “For what? Is this that stupid homewrecker prank calling me after fucking my boyfriend last night?” She sighed. “Ex-boyfriend.”

“No, I’m Alessandra Rosario-Lopez, and I’m sorry about your break-up.”

“Thanks, Alessandra Rosario-Lopez, but really why are you calling me?”

“You’ve been selected to be one of our new leaders!”

Farrah excavated the entirety of her brain, rainstacked her memories, but turned up with no recollection of new leaders. Today seemed like a pretty bad day to forget the night before. “I’m sorry, Ms. Rosario-Lopez, but I think you have the wrong person.”

“Am I speaking to Farrah Johnson?”

“Technically, yes.”

“Then, I have the right person.”

“Okay, Alessandra, I gotta be real with you.”

“What’s up?”

“I got very drunk last night and don’t remember a thing, besides learning that I’ve been cheated on for four months and then getting dumped.”

“Again, my condolences.”

“Thank you. Given my choices last night, I have no idea what you’re talking about, and I feel think anything I did last night should be disregarded.”

“Farrah, I understand your concerns but disagree with your proposed disregardment.” She heard her hungover audience scoff. “Let me catch you up. Last night, we overthrew the government and asked the American people to apply online to become a new leader of our new nation. We received your application, liked your attitude, and selected you as a new leader.”

“All of that happened last night?”

“Yes, Farrah. It did.”

“Now, I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job, but I wouldn’t choose a country’s leader based on a likeable attitude. I feel like that decision should be more complicated.”

“But, Farrah, you and I both know that there is no one stronger than a woman who must rebuild herself.”

“Isn’t that a Hannah Gadsby quote?”

“Paraphrased, yes.”

He used to dance with her everyday. In the kitchen, making breakfast. In the bathroom, brushing their teeth. In the scrapbooking aisle of Hobby Lobby. He did this thing whenever he got excited. He would flap his hands. He told her he used to do it all the time as a kid. She thought she was smart. She thought she had an eye for detail. She had spent so many nights and weekends watching crime documentaries. She thought she would never and could never let anything get past her.

“I’m sorry, but I have to decline.”

“Farrah, I have to decline your decline. Not sorry.”

Whenever she was sick, he’d make her pancakes because it was the only thing he knew how to make with confidence. Now, all she had was an extra pillow, a bunch of syrup, and a headache. 

“I really can’t go through with this.”

“Farrah, you have to pick yourself up and keep moving.”

The sunlight leaking into her bedroom was no longer as painful as before. Her nausea had not been reactivated for at least three minutes now. The idea of throwing out the syrup didn’t destroy her. Once when she was younger, she fell off her bike. Just a scrape on the knee, nothing serious, but she cried. For her daughter’s best interest, her mother did nothing. She didn’t look at her, didn’t say anything. Farrah rose from the sidewalk that had just bruised her, remounted the bike that had just betrayed her, and cycled on.

Farrah sighed. “Okay, I’m in.”

“Fantastic! Are you ready to rebuild a nation?”

While hobbling to the kitchen for a glass of water and without tripping over herself, she replied, “Sure.”