Steve’s shorts: O Canada…

[Note from Steve: A meaningful and romantic short story for our time…]

O Canada

Copyright 2020, Steven M. Moore

Frank Schultz finished reading the papers. He took a sip of his Earl Grey while he waited for his wife Evelyn to finish.

“Everything seems to be in order,” she said. “Are you ready to sign, Frank?”

He nodded. They smiled at their financial consultant.

“The proceeds from the house sale will be converted to an annuity. Together with your pensions and Social Security checks, you should have no problems.” After they signed, he said, “When are you leaving?”

“We already signed the lease for the Toronto apartment,” Frank said. “And we have our airline tickets. We don’t want to stay another day in this country.”

“I understand,” said the consultant.

***

Son Tim and his family made an appearance at the hotel that evening.

“No second thoughts?” he said, offering drinks to his mother and father.

“I gave it my best, son,” Frank said. “As a soldier in Iraq—never saw any WMDs. As a mayor and congressman fighting against pollution and fossil fuels—like ramming my head against a wall. And now Americans have gone completely insane and re-elected this guy. It’s not the same country. My grandparents came here after fleeing the Nazis. They knew it was time to get out of fascist Germany. I know it’s time to get out of here before the U.S. becomes completely fascist.”

“Nice speech, Dad, but we’re not Nazis.”

“No, but what’s happening now looks like 1930s’ Germany. Good people like you can’t stop it, and this man’s party and supporters might as well wear brown shirts. I’ll say it again: You should come with us. Get out while the getting’s good.”

“I have a good job here.”

“As a slave to a huge and indifferent corporation. And that’s what the workers at Bayer and Mercedes-Benz and other German companies said when Hitler came to power.”

“You’re sounding as extreme as the red-hat people.”

“Nope, I’m the voice of reason crying alone in a toxic wilderness created by fascists. But I know when I’m licked.”

Tim thought a moment. “Well, it’s not that long a drive. We’ll visit.”

“Maybe. He could build a wall there too. But thanks. It would be nice to see the grandchildren once and a while.”

***

Frank put the two heavier suitcases down in the hall and indicated the door.

“Welcome home, Evy. Sorry I can’t carry you across the threshold.”

His wife laughed. “Don’t be silly.” She went right in and put the carry-ons down. “I want to move some of this furniture around before the movers arrive. That will be enough exercise for our backs.”

Frank plopped into a chair instead—his new recliner. “I’ll be a lot happier here.”

She went in back of him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Me too. I always liked Canada. Now we get to live here.”

“Correction: Now we have to live here to maintain our sanity.” He looked up and to his side and smiled as he patted one hand. “Love you, kid.”

“Love you too.”

***

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