Memories of Emily: Comrade Zero Part 2

Seventh Grade

Emily patted my massive shoulders, loosening muscles. The day of the heavyweight title match arrived, and I stoically waited to enter the ring. She worked my muscles. “You got this. You can do it.” Her voice took me back six months. 

Opening the newspaper reported Viktoria Mullova’s defection in Sweden and harrowing escape to the US. A proud feeling filled my heart, knowing the US provided the beacon of hope for the oppressed. Unlike our socialist counterpart, America didn’t measure a person’s worth by a job title or degree but by their humanity. The young violinist, barely a babe, deserved the freedom and protections the same as any natural-born citizen, for if the US did not protect the rights and liberties of everyone, regardless of age, talent, intelligence, race, affluence, sexual preference, and gender, then it protected no one.  

“Emily, the Marxists lost another member. This time a musician.” 

Across the breakfast table, she smeared her bagel with cream cheese. “I saw. If they keep losing people, there won’t be anyone left to oppress.”