Dolls

epilogue

Sybella

"...And don't tell your mother."

I shift the phone to my shoulder so I can listen to his voice as I fold my laundry. Mama must be in the bathroom since they are both shopping in town while I clean up the house.

"I know, Dad," I say with a smile. "We have kept it a secret for this long; a few days will be nothing."

I hear a crinkle, like he is picking up something in plastic. "I know. I just want her to be happy."

I had no doubt he did. Dad—Hayes adapted to all my endearments for him since I refused to use the same name I did for my birth father—loved my mother. The past ten years of my life proved that. He made sure she woke up every day and knew how loved she was. And never let her worry about doing anything other than living the life she wanted.

Mama had rough days. All of us did. But she was so happy.

"She is. And she will love it," I assure him.

Ten years ago, Mama almost died. My father killed himself trying to kill her. And the world as we knew it turned upside down.

Luke became president. They set term limits for the presidential role, established a House beside the Senate, and outlawed Choosing Ceremony. They legalized all work for women, changed education standards, and allowed them to attend university. They are now able to vote, and the age to run for president was raised.

Basically, women are equal in the eyes of the law, and they have done everything to avoid another Luther of House Shies.

Even now, adjustments are still being made. Men who hate women still make noise, but it gets quieter every day. With the Equality Acts in place, by the time I get into the workforce, I think everything will be okay.

I carry the basket of laundry to my closet. "What time will you be home?"

"We have one more shop she wants to go to. We can get dinner on our way back if you want?" He asks.

"Sure. Whatever Mama wants."

"Always." I can hear him light up, like he always does when he sees my mother. "She just got out of the bathroom. See you soon, Bells."

"Bye, Dad. Love you."

"More than my life."

He hangs up. I smile to myself. He and Mama say it to me whenever we say, "I love you." I never heard it from my birth father, so he makes sure I know how much he loves me. It is one of the many reasons I consider him my dad.

Once all of the laundry is put away, I check my phone for any updates from Uncle Cormen. Everything seems to be ready to go for this weekend, but you never know. A storm might show up, a photographer may be sick. But nothing. Good. It will be a perfect day honoring my mother.

For her heroic bravery and beautiful speech fighting for women's rights, President Toby is dedicating a statue to commemorate the tenth anniversary since the battle has been won to Mama. In addition to that, they are beginning a foundation with the goal of furthering the fight for equality—not just in our country, but the entire world.

The Coria Camore-Bauer Foundation.

This weekend is the unveiling, and Mama has no idea. I think she knows something is up,—she always does, no matter what it is—but she is unsure of what it is exactly. Even Aunt Elane is sworn to secrecy, which is difficult for her to do since she and Mama call every day and have weekly wine nights (sometimes mixed with weed, but you didn't hear that from me). But no one has spilled the beans, not even little Adelaide Coria. It makes this weekend even more exciting.