Roadblock

The day the travel ban went into effect, Joe wasn't angry so much as he was sad.

He'd been angry for weeks, as had they all; but slowly that anger had given way to determination to fight back. Even a bit of pride had worked its way in. No amount of self-admonishment - You're not Luke Skywalker or Victor Lazlo, this isn't a computer game, women are going to die before it's all over - could rid him of that sense of being one of the good guys, even though he really wished it would. He had, of course, been damn careful to keep all that to himself, and at least he had succeeded at that.

All those thoughts - and others like them - roared through his mind once again as he and his passenger approached the state line. Angela stiffened in the passenger seat of the van as the flashing red and blue lights came into view on the horizon. "You're kidding me, they're actually stopping people?" she said, real fear seeping into her voice for the first time since Joe had picked her up at her mother's house.

"It's the very first day," Joe said. "They're probably making a big show of it for the occasion. I wish we'd thought of that." He and Margie and Lisa had thought of plenty of contingencies - but not that particular one.

"Same here," Angela said.

"Well, there's one thing we did think of," Joe said. "There's a trunk in the back, under the bench seat. If you get in now, they'll never know."

"That's not safe!" Angela snapped.

"I'll drive slow," Joe replied. "No choice for the moment, huh?" He gazed longingly at the state line and the safety it offered, just past the roadblock. From there it was only ten miles into Halmerstown - if they made it across.

He'd been impressed with his first-ever passenger's stoic demeanor throughout the hour-long drive from her mother's affluent suburb. All at once that evaporated as Angela burst into tears, though Joe couldn't blame her at all. "Who do they think they are, forcing us into this shit?!" But she did undo her seatbelt and clamber into the back, and she seemed to have her rage under control as Joe heard the lid of the trunk drop.

As he endured the ten minutes of stop-and-start traffic approaching the roadblock, Joe was not so sure he could keep his own disgust similarly under control. From the day he'd joined the underground group posing as a day tour operator, he'd felt equal parts proud to be part of the solution and fearful of what might happen if he were caught. But he hadn't counted on getting to know his passengers, even if it was only for an hour or so.

That hour had been time enough to learn Angela was a college freshman whose devout Catholic parents had done their level best to make sure she never learned about birth control. It had been time enough to learn she wanted to be a doctor - something she had no shot at if she had a toddler to take care of, not to mention that her parents would likely have disowned her so she couldn't have even finished college. It had been time enough to learn the father was a frat boy who'd already moved on to other conquests and hadn't been replying to her emails.

It had not been enough to accept that, courtesy of a broken condom, she now had to hide like a criminal just to get across the state line. Joe felt like crying for her.

But if she could take it, however begrudgingly, he figured he'd damn well better do the same.

"Morning, young man," said the white-haired cop in sunglasses as Joe opened the driver's side window scarcely twenty feet short of the Welcome sign, beyond which the road was in visibly superior shape. "Heading to the People's Republic, are we?"

"Just to pick some tourists up in Halmerstown," Joe said. "For a day trip."

"Gonna show 'em how we live in the real America, are you?" the cop said with an entitled grin. "Good for you. Any passengers in there?"

"I sure hope not!" Joe feigned amusement and looked over his shoulder as if expecting a knife-wielding hitchhiker.

The cop helped himself to a look as well. Joe's heart raced as his unwelcome guest took a lingering look at the trunk, which was marked LIFE JACKETS. "Taking the city slickers to the lakes, are you?" he asked, turning back to Joe.

"Yeah," Joe said. "Gotta make them wear life jackets. Insurance, you know?"

"Stupid government regulations," the cop said. "I'm sorry you have to deal with that." He stepped back from the van and waved Joe through. "Have a nice day."

Joe was sure the relief was visible on his face, and didn't exhale fully until he'd rolled over the state line.

"I should've known how disgusted I was going to feel with the whole thing," he told Margie hours later, back in the Country Town Day Tours office, while Lisa tapped away on her computer behind them. "I guess all these weeks of reminding myself how I really don't know what it's like never really sank in as much as it should have."

Margie detected an exasperated look from Lisa, but opted to ignore it. "I don't see how any of us could have really known what it'd feel like until we were out there on the front lines," she said to Joe instead. "But you did get Ang-"

"Shhhh!" Joe held a finger to his lips. They and the other volunteers had all agreed to a policy of never sharing their passengers' names, so all but the driver could honestly tell the police they didn't know if it came to that.

"Sorry!" Margie touched Joe's arm affectionately. "Thank you. But you did get her to the clinic all right, didn't you?"

"Yes. As soon as we were over the first hill past the state line, I pulled over and helped her out of the trunk, and she was a little dusty but fine. She said to say thank you to us all, too." On that note he turned and looked at Lisa for the first time, but said nothing directly to her."

"Well, yay us - first mission accomplished!" Margie said. "I got two more calls while you were gone." Turning to Lisa, she asked, "Any while I was at lunch, Lisa?"

"One," Lisa told her. "She said she was two weeks late, and I gave her Doctor Price's number. You do have her number, don't you?"

"Joe and I both have it saved, yes," Margie said.

"I don't want him answering the phone," Lisa ordered, and with that she spun on her heel and walked off to the break room.

"That's strange," Margie said as soon as they were alone. "Aren't you and Lisa old friends? Doesn't she know how long you've been involved?"

"Of course," Joe said, betraying no hurt feelings. "Don't worry, I know what's going on with her."

"What is?" Margie asked. "I've never heard her talk about you like that. Or anyone here."

"Are you Facebook friends with Lisa?" Joe asked.

"Yes, but I didn't look at it this morning," Margie replied, now drawing her phone out of her purse. "My sister is majorly anti-choice and I just couldn't cope with what she's probably got to say today." Margie tapped Lisa's name out on Facebook and read her latest update. It was a repost of an earlier comment, which Margie noticed was from the day after the travel ban was passed, some weeks before.

She read it out loud. "I don't care how staunch of an ally you've been or for how long, if you are male, I am not interacting with you today. Oh, Joe, I'm sorry!"

"Don't be," Joe said. "Remember where she's been." He did not need to remind Margie that Lisa had once worked at the last clinic in the country that had done medically-necessary late term abortions. She'd been spat at, doused with red paint, called every name in the book, and had held the hands of women who would have surely died if the current rules had been in place then. Now, of course, other women like them surely would die.

"I still don't think that's fair," Margie said. "I mean, the things my sister has to say about this --"

The swish of the office door shushed Margie as she instinctively turned to see Lisa returning with a cup of coffee. "Sorry I didn't think to offer you one, Margie," she said, taking a seat at the appointment computer and turning the chair at an angle that let her avoid acknowledging Joe in any way.

"I'll get you one if you want," Joe said.

"Yes, please," Margie said with a conciliatory smile, and Joe nodded his acknowledgement as he was off to the break room.

Margie wanted badly to say something to Lisa in the uncomfortable silence that followed. But she couldn't think of anything that would help at all. So the humming of the air-conditioner remained the only sound until Joe returned.

He set the mug down beside Margie. "Two milks and one sugar, right?" he asked.

"Perfect," Margie said. "Thanks!"

"No problem." Joe took his place on the stool behind the counter and turned his computer on. "Any queries I get, shall I forward them to you, Margie?"

Margie knew he was really asking Lisa, and gave her a fair chance to answer. When she didn't, Margie replied, "Yeah, I think that's a good idea for the time being."

Lisa shot Joe a wary look when she was sure he wasn't looking at her. Then at last she broke her silence. "Margie, I'd prefer that you take the counter..."

She was a moment too late, for even as the words were out of her mouth, a middle-aged woman entered the lobby. Joe, despite his vow to himself to put up with Lisa's attitude and not take it personally, decided enough was enough. He slid off the stool and stood up with a smile. "Good morning, ma'am. How can I help you?"

"Have you got day trips to the North Country?" the woman asked. "My husband's parents are up from Florida and I've been telling them for years about the gorgeous views up there."

"Oh, that is beautiful scenery, isn't it?" Joe agreed. "We don't currently have any trips set for there, but Rattner's Tours goes up there a few times a week. Let me give them a call and see if they can help you."

"I'll do it," Margie said. She had the number of every legitimate bus tour operator in town at the ready for cases like this, of which they'd had a few every day since opening weeks before. Masquerading as a tour company was a stroke of genius, but sometimes it worked a little too well at fooling people.

Joe spent the next few minutes making small talk with the woman while Margie called Rattner's and got the details of the next tour of the North Country. Once she hung up, she wrote everything down on a post-it note and went to the counter. "Here you are, ma'am," she said. "Their next bus is tomorrow, and it's got plenty of spaces yet."

"Thank you!" The woman folded the paper and put it in her purse, and was gone.

"You think she had any idea?" Margie asked Joe.

"Didn't look like it," Joe said. "I hate to say it, but every one of those has me wondering if they're a spy. Or worse, carrying a bomb in their purse or something."

"You and me both." Margie passed over in silence that her own paranoia was mostly due to listening to his over the past several weeks. She had a lot of respect for his past activism, volunteering at clinics and the like, and she knew all too well that his concerns were justified. No need to make him feel guilty.

Especially not when Lisa was doing her best to do that anyway, as Margie was reminded when she turned to return to her seat. "Margie, I told you to take the counter," Lisa reminded her, still not acknowledging Joe in any way.

When Margie looked uncertain, Joe stood up. "She's probably right, Margie," he said. "Let's trade places."

"All right," Margie said. "And listen, good job this morning. I hope they're all no worse than that."

"You and me both," Joe said. "Listen, want to come by after work for a drink, to celebrate our first win?"

"I'd love to!" Margie said. They both ignored Lisa's disgusted grunt.

Joe turned around. "Lisa, would you like to come?"

True to her social media vow, she ignored him.

"Did you really expect her to break her vow of silence?" Margie asked hours later, as she settled herself on the couch in Joe's studio apartment and watched him mix a pair of margaritas on the little dining table.

"I'd have been shocked if she hadn't," Joe said. "But once she's speaking to me again, I want to be able to say I took the high road, you know?" He picked up the completed drinks and handed one to Margie.

"I just don't see the sense in treating this like a battle of the sexes when we need all the help we can get," Margie said. "But you've known Lisa for years, haven't you?"

"Since college," Joe confirmed.

"I can just imagine what a bra burner she was then," Margie said with a chuckle.

"That's just it, she wasn't!" Joe said, taking his seat a respectable distance from her on the couch. "She was your average party girl, no time for politics. I think that's why she's gone so militant since then."

"So you and Lisa weren't..."

"Heavens, no!" Joe shook his head. "She's not my type and I doubt if I'm hers. We only even became friends when she started volunteering at that clinic. I think that opened her eyes to a lot of political stuff, and I'd already been involved in voter drives on campus, and in clinic defense as well."

"Got it." Margie nodded and took a long sip of the sweet drink. "So if you don't mind my asking, just what got you so committed to the cause when you're never going to be pregnant yourself?"

"Can't tell you," Joe said, looking at his glass instead of Margie.

"Oh no, Joe, I'm sorry! Yeah, none of my business."

"No, that's fine. The real issue is, it's none of my business." It was Joe's turn to take a long sip, and then he went on. "A friend of mine - a male friend - told me a story in strictest confidence, while he was drunk. He even said he wouldn't tell me if he wasn't drunk, and later on he said he really shouldn't have told me. He was right about that, too, like I said. In any event, I've never told anyone and I never will. But what happened to his ex...let's just say it made me want to do my part to make sure no woman ever has to face this shit alone."

"Wow." Margie was deep in thought, and she could feel her resolve slipping.

"So what's your story?" Joe asked. "If it's not too personal, of course."

"I'm afraid it is," Margie said. "Got pregnant at seventeen, if you want to know the truth of it."

"I'm sorry!" Joe was all business of a sudden.

"It's fine," Margie reassured him. "I was one of the lucky ones, my parents were...well, they were furious with me, but they were understanding. Of course, if I were ten years younger..."

On that point, Margie set her glass down on the end-table, for she could feel the tears welling. Before she knew it she was crying in Joe's arms, and he was apologizing for his question. "Should've known better than to ask about something so personal!"

"It's fine," Margie sniffled. "You're the one always saying it's nothing to be ashamed of, and you're right!" With the nasty memory passing, Margie was finally able to admit to herself that she'd been hoping to get a chance at Joe for quite some time now, and here she was in his embrace - who cared how she got there?

Now that she had her emotions under control again, she felt Joe starting to let go. Without really thinking about it, she tightened her arms around him. "Would it be okay if we stayed like this a little longer?" she asked.

Joe chuckled. "It does feel good, doesn't it?" He squeezed her back. "I haven't held anyone in too long."

"Right, Lisa told me about your ex. So sorry about that!"

"Tis for the better," Joe said with a smile.

"Did she dump you by SMS, was that it?"

"She didn't dump me by SMS, she sent an SMS to my phone that was meant for her other guy." Joe was as surprised as anyone to find he could smile about it now. "Just as well I found out when I did. Obviously I couldn't trust her to be discreet about our work."

"Sounds like you're better off without her anyway," Margie said.

"Took a while to get there, but yeah," Joe said. "At first all I could think of was, the great memories we made right here, and all the while she was sharing that same intimacy with someone else on nights I thought she was at her own place. I mean she probably was there - with him."

"Oh no, Joe, it was when you were living here?"

Joe nodded. "Before I joined you guys, I was working from home. I'd be over there at the dining table checking my work email in the morning while she was getting dressed for work...you can imagine how hard it was to concentrate on my email!" He laughed, and seeing it was okay to do so, Margie did too. "Sorry if that's too much information, but that's the most bittersweet memory. Sort of a striptease in reverse, you know?"

"I can identify," Margie said. "I got engaged senior year and we lived together until I broke off the engagement."

"Oh, I didn't know you were ever..."

"Not something I wear on my sleeve. Anyhow, he was my first really serious boyfriend and I used to love getting dressed and undressed together in our room. It felt so grown-up at an age when we weren't really yet in so many ways!"

"That's sweet," Joe said. "Should I be sorry it didn't work out."

"You should not," Margie said. "Since we're being so open here...mind if I share something even more intimate than what you just did, about the reverse stripteases?"

"I don't mind if you don't mind."

"Right, then," Margie said. "I broke it off because we really never saw eye to eye on much of anything, after two years together I could see that. It broke my heart, but I could see it."

"It took two years to get to that point, did it?"

"Well," Margie grinned. "That's why I asked about oversharing. You see, there was one thing about our relationship that did work, very very well!" She let out an embarrassed laugh.

"I get it," Joe said. "I've had a couple of those as well."

"Yeah," Margie said. "I mean, the sex was out of this world, but I remember thinking even then, how well we got along seemed to be inversely proportional to how many clothes we were wearing."

"That's hard to let go of, isn't it?"

"I still miss it sometimes. But it never would've worked. That was when I made up my mind, next time I want to be friends first and make sure we've got enough in common."

Still cradling Margie, Joe dared rub her back playfully with both hands, and she felt a thrill at his touch. "Are we friends, then?" he dared ask.

Margie laughed. "Feels like more than that right now, doesn't it? I mean, we probably shouldn't when we work together..."

"I know," Joe said. "But wouldn't it be great if that horrible law had at least one positive outcome?"

Margie laughed and pulled back to look Joe in the eye, now also running her hands up and down his back. "Falling in love on the front lines of the war on choice, huh?"

"What better way to flip the bird at the folks who want to criminalize sex?"

Margie threw back her head and laughed. Then she leaned back in as naturally as anything and their lips met.

From the day she'd met Joe, Margie had had him pegged as the kind of guy who took it a little too slow in bed. Now she saw she was right about that. While she soon had Joe pinned on the couch and she hungrily rubbed his chest as they kissed passionately, he kept his own hands on her back for quite some time. It felt good, but soon her breasts were itching for his touch and it evidently wasn't forthcoming.

When at last she felt Joe moving his hands down, her heart leapt with the sense that he was going to pull her top off...but then he just rubbed back upwards, though he did continue to kiss her passionately. Enough was enough. Margie pulled her arms back and lost no time in pulling her top off.

"Oh, Margie..." He gazed at her breasts, still cupped in her sky--blue bra, but made no move to touch them.