Algernon’s Story

Algernon Bamaisin was raised with traditional values by very traditional, god-fearing parents, who instructed her about her place in the world. She watched her mother tend to the household's needs, raise five children, and love her husband, who was sometimes disconnected, quiet, and cruel. He affirmed himself in his home by devaluing the one he claimed to love, and because he provided for the upkeep of the household, she tolerated him. Algernon learned from a young age that weak men rule with a hard hand using their money to gain power over women. She vowed that she would never be her mother, never allow herself to submit to a man's will simply because he paid her way. Relationships are built on give and take; from the outside, looking in can seem dysfunctional, yet necessary.

Now, Ms. Bamaisin spends many days redirecting unruly children, grading papers, and teaching lessons in small cramped rooms, Listening to the clock on the wall ticking each dragged-out minute of her working day. She looks out into the blank faces of her students and watches; as little Jordan Miche plucks a wet booger from his nose, looks to see if anyone is looking, and quickly slips it into his mouth. "Aah, the future of America," she thinks to herself and breathes a sigh of relief when the bell rings and her working day finally ends. She picks up her purse, puts on her coat, and walks to her car.

Stopping in her tracks, she notices a man dressed in a trench coat, spanking-new shoes, and a hat that covers almost his entire face. He was tucking something into her windshield. Pulling the pin from her hair, she let her heavy red tresses fall to her shoulders, walking briskly towards the man. "Who on earth is that?" She muttered. She walked up to him, and as she was about to give him a piece of her mind, the man stepped back, touching his fingers to the edge of his dark hat, and spoke in a low voice. "Ms. Bamaisin." Then walked away.

She picked up the glimmering black card from the windshield. In the centre was a gold circle and on the back a phone number. A little gobsmacked, she slipped the card into her purse, got into her car, and drove 10 miles out of town to a private lounge bar. She walked past the reception desk to take her place at the corner of the room and pulled her book from her bag. The black card with the gold circle fell onto the table; she stared at it, thought for a moment, then pulled out her phone.