House of Sand

She fixed her eyes straight ahead, "and that--"

I interjected, "that's the Capitol."

"Yup."

"Do you ever get tired of seeing these buildings?" I muttered in awe.

"Not really," she breathed. The architecture and history are quite interesting." She chuckled gently before including, "it's the people inside who are fucked."

I laughed, "doesn't Congress have an approval rating of 18% or something like that?"

"Something like that," Anna concurred. "I even dated one before."

My eyebrows rose in curiosity. "You dated a congressman?" I asked coarsely.

We stopped at a traffic light; Anna slid her sunglasses to the end of her nose and tilted her head down like an old lady scolding a child. Her response was blunt and sharp. "Congresswoman," she corrected, her eyes piercing my soul.

"Oh-- I didn't mean -- I-- I'm sorry," I stumbled over my words as if I were walking with my crutches.

Anna responded softly, though looking away from me, "it's okay."

"Really, I didn't mean to jump to conclusion." My stomach sank to my hips. "Seriously, I didn't mean--"

Her dimples shut me up. "It's fine," she repeated. "You don't have to apologize for every little thing, you know?"

"I know. Sorry." My hand jumped to cover my mouth. I went on, "but I am curious. How does a high school teacher and congresswoman -- you know?" Anna hesitated. I suggested, "or if you don't want to tell me, then that's fine too."

"A Democrat from Texas," she spoke as the light turned green. "A couple of years older than me. We met in a bar and got a hotel room a few times. It didn't work out. Turns out she was really annoying." Anna shrugged with sarcasm, "go figure, right? An annoying politician."

"Oh," I muttered, unable to find adequate words.

Anna explained, "she was in the closet -- most of them are. She lost reelection, so I guess it doesn't matter much anymore."

"What do you mean that most of them are in the closet?"

She simplified, "the people in Congress -- the ones who are gay can't come out. There are a few openly gay representatives, sure. But how many more have to keep it a secret?" She spoke with her hands, "I mean, you spent the past several years in South Carolina, right? I wouldn't be surprised if the senator from South Carolina, Lindsey Graham, is gay. But what are you going to do when coming out will cause you to lose reelection? Or maybe he's not and has just decided to be single his whole life. I'm just talking out of my ass."

"You're right," I acknowledged.

"And you were surprised that I'm gay."

I fumbled in my response, "no-- I-- I just said the wrong thing."

A grin slid across her face, "I'm just giving you a hard time again. You're quite apologetic, New Girl."

"I'm trying to make good impressions," I groveled.

"For what?" Anna exclaimed. She pointed at herself, "certainly not for me, right?"

"Yes, for you. For the school. For everyone. I don't want to be the bizarre new person who looks like an idiot -- who isn't good at her job."

"You don't look like an idiot," Anna ensured, though her words did little to console me. "And you shouldn't try to make an impression. Make an impact."

"Hmm," I nodded.

"But it's a changing world," Anna returned to the previous topic. "Things have changed fast in favor of the LGBTQ+ community."

"That's good," I muttered, attempting to establish that I was not against her. Coming from a small, religious town and family, I felt that such justifications were often necessary.

"It is," she agreed. "Even Obama was opposed to same-sex marriage when he was first elected president. But he said he 'evolved' -- his words, not mine -- and the presidents to follow haven't opposed it either. I don't think there will ever be another president that opposes same-sex marriage. That's what I hope, at least."

We sat in a bizarre silence for a few moments before Anna concluded, "sorry to throw that on your lap. I know you didn't want to hear my tirade. And you probably don't give a damn about my sexuality. I'm not trying to be the person who makes it known."

"No, no, it's okay. I'm always curious. Nothing wrong with bringing it up."

"And we're here," she proclaimed as she seized a parking space.

* * *

After dinner, Anna escorted me back inside my apartment to ensure that I made it in safely. I hobbled to the couch and, though I tried to sit with a little bit of dignity, I free fell backward onto the cushion. I huffed, "thank you for tonight. That was really nice of you."

"Don't mention it," she waved her hand. "And any time you want, give me a call."

"I might just do that," I agreed. "It was nice to get out of the house and keep my mind off of my job."

"What is it you do for a living, Maddie, if you don't mind my asking?"

I motioned toward the chair across the living room. "You can sit if you'd like." She obliged, sitting delicately.

"I teach high school -- or at least I will. It's my first year and I don't start until August."

"What school?" She sat forward, her voice becoming lively.

"Haley High School. I was actually only hired a month ago."

"Wait, what?" Anna exclaimed. Her voice heightened with intensity. Her eyes bugged out like a cartoon. "Haley High School?" She threw her head back in a burst of amusement.

I narrowed my eyes in search of an explanation.

"I teach there too!"

"You do?" I leaned forward like her. "What do you teach?"

"I teach social studies," she answered, and before she could breathe, I yelped, "me too!"

Anna clapped as she continued to laugh. Her skin became flush in her happiness. "That's the weirdest thing that's ever happened to me," Anna said joyfully. "You're the new girl, Maddison King -- now I remember. You're the one we just hired."

I laughed until another spike of pain sent me into an agonizing shock, which sucked every ounce of energy out of my body.

"Don't hurt yourself, dear," Anna advised, now concealing her giggling behind her hand.

"How -- ahh -- how long have you taught there?" I questioned through my clenched teeth.

"I'm starting year ten in August," she confirmed, holding up all of her fingers. "Eleven if you count that I did my student teaching there."

"You like it?"

"Best job in the world," she bragged. She pointed, her voiced raised, "and you're replacing Dipshit Dave."

"Dipshit Dave?" I mumbled, wrinkling my nose. "What?"

Anna waved her hands dismissively. "Never mind, that's what I called him. I'm glad he's gone. From what I've read about you in your application, you seem like you'll be a very good teacher."

"Thanks," I blushed.

"I didn't get a chance to sit in on your interview since I only became department head last week when this academic year ended." She poised herself on the edge of her seat even farther. "But the outgoing department head said that you were fantastic -- that several people applied and you were the best."

My face reddened even more.

"You just became a million times more interesting," Anna claimed. "Not that you weren't interesting before," she clarified, winking.

CHAPTER II - Reign

July

Over the next few weeks, Anna and I became accustomed to one another's company. Between assisting with my shopping, traveling, and cooking, she made living with a temporary disability manageable. But my broken leg was no more than an inconvenience compared to the brewing anxiety within me. In addition to providing companionship in a city in which I had no other friends, she offered advice for our mutual profession.

Finally, the day came to have my cast removed. I asked Anna to take me to the doctor, which she was overly excited to do. She waited in the lobby while I shuffled to a room in the back. The doctor was an older man who should have probably retired years ago. He arrived with a terrifying-looking saw, though he demonstrated the contrary by running the blade against his hand. He drilled through my prison and lifted the hellish weight.

Liberated, I wiggled my leg, twisting it in all directions.

"Now, be careful not to twist too much," the doctor instructed. "I want you to put weight on it, but not strain it."

I gasped and concealed my horror with my hand. "My leg looks terrible," I said, my fingers muffling my voice. I hadn't cleaned, shaven, or bathed my right leg in eight weeks, the evidence of which was obvious enough.

"That'll go away with time," the doctor chuckled. "Happens to everyone."

"I should hope so," I feared, rubbing my filthy leg. "It's still a bit sore too."

He agreed, "your bone is fine and the break has calcified. What you're feeling is a loss of muscle strength. You need to put weight on it and do some exercise, but take it easy."

The doctor escorted me back to the waiting room. When I emerged without the cast, Anna shouted, "hey, looking great," before throwing her arms around me. Her restraint was so tight that I felt myself turning purple.

"Feels weird. I've grown accustomed to the extra weight."

Anna was jittery. "You seem to be walking well."

"Like a charm," I demonstrated by strutting across the tile. "I'll have to start going back to the gym pretty soon. No more sitting and eating and reading all day."

The doctor added, "remember, though, I said don't overdo it."

Anna remarked, "I hope the concert tomorrow isn't overdoing it."

"It shouldn't be," he shook his head. "As long as she's not bouncing up and down or doing crazy maneuvers. What kind of concert are you planning on going to?" He asked cordially.

"Fourth of July celebration," Anna answered. "The big one in Downtown Washington."

"That sounds nice," he smiled. "That's the one with the fireworks and music, right?"

"Yes, sir," Anna affirmed.

"Well, you ladies be safe and have a great holiday."

I whispered to Anna, "can I please go home and take a shower before we go?"

"Of course," Anna chuckled, glancing at her watch. "We've got time."

I walked into my apartment normally for the first time in close to two months. I did a little dance in the living room to celebrate the use of my leg.

"Don't hurt yourself, Maddie," Anna instructed. "I've never gone to this thing alone and I don't want to start now."

"Who've you gone with before?" I wondered, continuing my dance.

"My parents have gone with me ever since I lived in Washington. You know, immigrants are quite patriotic."

I paused and considered what she said. "Your parents are immigrants?"

She nodded silently. "That's so cool!" I exclaimed. "Where are they from?"

"They moved from the USSR a long time ago -- Ukraine.

"I didn't know that. That's awesome."

"Yeah, yeah," she shooed me with her hand. "Go take your shower before we're late."

"Ugh," I grunted. "I was having fun."

After my shower, having had a good scrubbing and close shave, I found Anna sitting in the recliner reading one of my books. Her eyebrows lifted when she saw me standing in the living room, my hair wrapped in a towel. "Poetry?" she asked, raising one eyebrow higher than the other.

"Yeah, I never used to like poetry, but lately I have. It requires less of a commitment than reading a novel or nonfiction. Plus, I've read so many books in the past few weeks it's not even funny."

Anna flipped through the pages until she found one that piqued her interest. She read aloud, "All monarchs I hate, and the thrones they sit on-- Satyr on Charles II." Her dimples sprang to her face. "You know, I keep having dreams about monarchy."

"Monarchy?" I tilted my head.

"I mean--" She paused to giggle. "I'm always dreaming about monarchy in one way or another. Either I am a queen or am in the presence of one."

I covered my mouth with my hand and giggled, "you're a queen? What are you talking about?"

I sat on the couch; she turned to face me. She took delight in her explanation. "Okay, the other night I was the queen of Washington. I don't know how I got to that point, and it doesn't even make sense that this city would ever have a monarch. But I was there and I loved it."

I snickered, "they say dreams reveal your desires or fears."

Anna replied, "well, I keep having the dreams."

"The same dream?" I prodded.

"No," she clarified. "I've been with the king of Saudi Arabia before, the king of Norway, and the queen of England. I've never been to any of those countries before, so that doesn't make sense. And sometimes I'm around fictional monarchs that I've created in my head." She became giddier as she spoke. "One time I was even the pope, which makes absolutely no sense considering I'm gay, a woman, and most certainly not Catholic."

"You were the pope?" I giggled again.

"I was elected pope. The pope himself -- or herself. It makes no sense, I know." She noted, brushing her hair from in front of her eyes, "fears or desires, huh?" She tapped her chin as she thought. "I don't fear power. Maybe I'm power-hungry."

I agreed facetiously, "oh, you're definitely power-hungry." She rolled her eyes in mischief.

I added, "so you're a pro-monarchy person?"

"Not really," she set the book down. "I've always thought it was a silly concept, but we don't have one, so who am I to complain about it?" She pointed at herself, "although, if I'm the queen, that would be awesome."

I leaned down to put on my socks. "And what would you do as queen of Anna's Kingdom?"

She scratched her head astutely. "First, I'd send the army to collect all weapons: guns, knives, explosives, you name it. They can't question me if they can't fight back. Gotta be an absolute monarch, you know? Then I would unleash a fierce tyranny on my subjects, but I'd do it in a way that they wouldn't realize it was tyranny. They'd praise me forever."

I snarled, "so, straight to a dictatorship, yeah?"

"Damn right," she snapped her fingers. "Never said I'd be a good queen."

I pressed, "we don't need another North Korea, Anna."

She contested, "hey, North Korea's great if you're the dictator -- though kinda shitty for everyone else."

I jested, "yeah, yeah, Your Majesty." I pointed with my eyes. "Would you pass me that other sock?"

"Not off to a good start," she sighed. "A queen can't be getting her subjects their socks."

"Shut up and hand me the sock," I purred. "You teach American government and you're secretly a monarchist."

"No, no," she shook her head. "Every human has a tendency to be power-hungry, right? That's why it's a good thing countries have legislatures to check the power of the monarch or executive."

She looked at her watch. "But anyway, we've gotta get going if we want to get there before it starts."

In downtown Washington, we looked over the pool leading to the Lincoln Monument. The blue sky yielded to a purple haze amid the setting sun. The celebration was packed so tightly that I could smell what type of shampoo a person used when I passed by them. Anna grabbed me by the hand and led me in between people like an ant in a burrowed hill. We reached the front of the pavement near the water. "We'll have the best view here," she said, looking upward.

She asked, "your leg's fine, right?"

"It is," I said. "Nothing out of the ordinary yet."

"Awesome," she muttered, checking her watch. "It should begin shortly. I'll be right back."

"Wait, where are you going?" I grabbed onto her hand again.

She chuckled, "I'll be back in a minute. I'm just going over there." She pointed to a non-distinct destination. I felt a jitter across my body holding onto her hand. That was bizarre. I let her loose and she disappeared into the crowd. She returned about five minutes later with a drink in each hand. It was a plastic pint cup with a brownish-orange drink foaming at the top.

"What's this?" I asked, taking the beverage into my hand.

"It's beer, Maddie," she said simply. "It's called Space Dust. It's really good."

I took a sip and raised my brow in approval. I nodded, "it is good."

"It's eight percent, though, so it'll hit a little harder than normal."

The firework show began just as the sun set, blazing above the Lincoln Memorial in the traditional colors of red, white, and blue. The sky was awakened with the brilliant array of chroma and the barrage of bursting rockets. The earth shook with each explosion, supplemented by the ogling of the crowd. The live musical selections ranged between a classical orchestra and a modern rock band.

The finale of the show came as the orchestra played Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture. The ground rattled more fervently with the bursts, and the crowd cheered louder and louder. Anna shouted above the noise, "it always amazes me how they play the 1812 Overture on the fourth of July."

"Why?" I queried loudly, leaning toward her.

"It's a Russian piece written about the war between the Russian Empire and Napoleon's France. It has nothing to do with American independence."

I shrugged, "but it sounds great, right?"

"Of course," she exclaimed among the roar of cannon fire. She screamed as loudly as possible toward the sky, "Боже, царя храни!" She fell into a fit of contagious laughter.

I gleamed at her. She repeated in English, her face illuminated by the now-constant bursts of light, "God save the Empress!"

We walked home beneath the stars. It was a long distance, but I did not mind. My legs needed the workout. Additionally, it provided more time with Anna, who quelled my anxiety, albeit unknowingly. It was nice to have a friend on whom I could rely, and with whom I could have a great time. But I'd be remiss if I ignored that she continuously looked at me in a way that was more than just friendly. Bizarrely, no person had ever looked at me like Anna did. She gazed longingly, and with each passing day, her attraction became more evident. But perhaps more strangely was this rattling fact: I liked it.

Chapter III: Nazis

- August -

I arrived early on the first day of my new job. The hallway was deathly quiet, except for the clanking of my shoes and the thunder of my heart. The stale odor and bare walls of my classroom forced a sense of lifelessness, and the task of breathing a soul into the room was a heavy weight upon my shoulders.

There were no students in the first several days, which were reserved as teacher workdays. Anna immediately found her way to my classroom. She fastened her hands to her hips and she callously studied the walls. She shook her head and smacked her teeth.

"What's wrong?"

"You know," she pointed to a wall, "I have some old posters and stuff if you want to hang up. That can get pricey if you try to buy it all at once."

"I'd appreciate that," I chirped.

She continued, "but you definitely want to do something. These blank walls look like a solitary confinement cell. Hell, a map or two makes a big difference."

A woman's voice said from the hallway, "welcome, Ms. King." It was the principal, a heavy-set, dark-skinned woman. I responded ungainly, "thank you, ma'am. Glad to be here."

"We're glad to have you." She smiled. "If you ever need anything, just send me an email or come by my office." She turned her attention to Anna, "and hello, Ms. Levitsky."

"Good morning, Dr. Clamp," Anna said.

"Have a good day," the principal said before starting down the hallway.

"Thank you."

Anna's shoulders bounced in laughter. "What?" I shrugged my hands.

"Nothing," Anna giggled, concealing her enjoyment behind her hand.

"What?" I repeated, raising the pitch of my voice.

"She's not the queen, Maddie."

"I was just being polite," I defended.

"You stood at attention and bowed when she left."

"I did not," I rejected.

"You did!" Anna maintained. She imitated my stature. "You dipped your head as she walked away and stood with your hands by your side."