“And it wasn’t what you’re thinking. He was a nice boy. I loved him.”
“You’re still not telling me everything.”
“He was the only one,” I say resolutely, and it’s true. We got out of Astolia before I could be bartered off. “But I’ve got a right to protect myself, haven’t I?”
“You do. Of course, you do.”
I breathe in the cold night air, trying to clear my head. If we can think of one solution—well, more like fever dream—we can come up with another.
I sit next to him on the log bench. “Is there anything else I should know about my legal situation?” When he remains quiet, I try to butter him up with a compliment, to make up for the fact that I screamed for all the world that I never want to have sex with him. “You know a lot about that stuff. It’s really helpful.”
It doesn’t work. He gives a snort and shakes his head.
I sigh. “Sid…”
He turns to look at me, eyes steely with sincerity. “I would do it.”
“What?”
“Marry you. With whatever boundaries you needed. I would do it.”
A claw closes around my heart. The chance for this to be a joke passed a long time ago. “But… why?”
He hesitates for a second, as if he knows that sharing this might send us down a path we can’t escape. But ultimately, he pulls something from his pocket—the letter Carlos brought him earlier this afternoon. “This is why.”
I know even less what to expect than I did with my own letter. The stamp in the corner resembles the one that adorned mine, only this one comes from the Office of Elections.
Dear Mr. Charles,
This letter is to inform you that your application to run in the upcoming general election of Salt Spring Island and her Gulf Island Territories has been approved. Per your request, your name will be eligible for a position on the general council. Constituents will have the opportunity to select your name from a ranked ballot—
The letter goes on, but it’s more detail than I care about. “Holy shit, Sid!”
“Yeah.”
“So you don’t just read court cases for fun. You want to be in government.”
“I really do.”
“But why?” I’m not sure if this is a stupid question or not. Clearly the people in control of the colony wield a lot of power—look at Tom Sullivan—but with all the paperwork, most of the job seems like miserable pencil pushing to me.
“I’ve told you that the boys and I are outsiders, right?”
“Yes.”
He takes another drag on his cigarette. “We weren’t that different from you and April when we got here. The kids were young back then, so Silas, James and I applied to foster them together, but we weren’t technically their guardians when we arrived, and we weren’t citizens, so it was a flatno. Even when we got citizenship, it took forever to get the crew back together. Tom was willing to work with us, but the boys had their own host families and half of them disputed our case. The court decision was that we had to prove we had secure housing and a bunch of other shit before we could take them. So, we worked that border job for years, trying to scrape enough money together to apply for an acreage. But this place? It’s still better thanmost. It survived the end of the world and has the human decency to give people a chance.”
He gestures at the pond, but I’m sure he means more than that. The whole island. A quiet, peaceful place that, for all my protesting, is the safest I’ve felt in years. We’re so removed from the problems on the mainland and larger islands. Barricaded into paradise.
“Last year, we finally got the acreage, and everyone moved in. It’s all we wanted, but I still broke my back for years to get what this place promised me when I first came.”
There’s an undercurrent of anger in his voice, and yet I don’t think he regrets it. He’s fiercely protective, if anything, and it makes me want to lean in closer. I shift so that my body faces his, even though he’s still fixated on some abstract point in the distance. “And that’s why you want to get into government?”
“Yeah. I spent years fighting with red tape and people’s preconceptions. And obviously, I’m not unique.” He uses his cigarette to indicate me. “Salt Spring is the best place I’ve ever lived, but it could be better. Itshouldbe. So now that I’ve been a citizen for long enough, I’m running for office.”
I’ve never heard someone sound so pissed off and so hopeful at the same time. It’s not a combination I know how to parse. “And you think they’ll actually let you join the government?”
“If I get elected, they have to.”
