Sleeping With the Enemy
By Marcia Meier
I have been sleeping with the enemy for more than two years. Rob is a Republican. But on the morning after the election, he held me close as I sobbed and promised, “It will be okay.”
He promised. But he doesn’t know. And nothing that has happened since that morning has made either of us feel better.
He didn’t vote for the president-elect; having worked with him once, Rob said he’d never vote for a man who had no scruples or conscience. I have accused Rob and his old-school Republican conservatives of abandoning their own principles. Of allowing white men whose only interest is money and power to cede their party to extremists bent on undoing everything we’ve fought for, for more than fifty years. Women’s rights. The right to marry whomever we please. The right for people of color to be free of the tyranny of a police state. (Though we have a way to go on that one.)
Now, we two read the news each morning with incredulity. A Republican and a Democrat united in disbelief. The difference is I see the potential for our country to be forever altered, and not for the better, by a man who is so very obviously unhinged—drunk with power and ego.
Rob sees the possibility of change that might turn out to be good. That people of goodwill and right-thinking will not allow the president-elect and his corrupt cabinet to destroy us. That our constitution and our government can certainly survive four years. How much damage could he do? Rob asks rhetorically.
A lot, I say. More, perhaps, than this country can withstand.
We argue, we debate, we fight, we agree. We make love—it seems the only thing we can do that reminds us of the good. The hope we cling to despite the evidence to the contrary.
It is a time of great uncertainty. When I allow myself to dwell on the events of recent weeks, I weep. I mourn. And Rob is there to hold me and comfort me. Even though I know his optimism will never replace my fears.
I veer from vowing not to read the news to allowing myself to release the grip of terror I feel, to breathing and trusting, to pounding out angry, incoming-administration diatribes calling for resistance and vigilance and marches in the streets. I cheer on Keith Olbermann and obsessively read The New York Times and Washington Post. I listen every day to NPR and cling to every little tidbit that glimmers with hope. And then I realize it is a pipe dream, and I have to consider how I will get through the next four years. Truly, how will we all get through the next four years?
If my sweet Republican lover is right and the president’s power is limited to such an extent that he can’t do any real damage, I wonder, how much damage is okay? A Supreme Court nominee who will shape the next thirty or forty years of jurisprudence, especially with regard to abortion and gay rights? I will be long gone, but the lives of my daughter and her future children will be unalterably affected. I can’t let that go. The reversal of environmental and economic policies that have made our lives and our world better and safer and cleaner? The abolishment of health insurance that for the first time covers most Americans?
So, I write and I call congressional offices and I send letters. And I pray that some of it will somehow matter.
Marcia Meier is an award-winning writer, developmental book editor and writing coach. Her books include Heart on a Fence, (Weeping Willow Books, 2016); Navigating the Rough Waters of Today’s Publishing World, Critical Advice for Writers from Industry Insiders (Quill Driver Books, 2010); and Santa Barbara, Paradise on the Pacific (Longstreet Press, 1996). Her memoir, Face, is forthcoming, as is an anthology, Unmasked, Women Write About Sex and Intimacy After Fifty, co-edited with Kathleen Barry. She is also at work on another book of poetry and photography, titled Ireland, Place Out of Time. Marcia is a member of the Author’s Guild and the Association of Writers and Writing Programs. Visit her website.
Reading recommendation: Zhuangzi Basic Writings by Master Zhuang Zhou.