In a luxurious building 500 miles away

EVA

“Yeah, well it’s important to me. So therefore it should be important to you.”

“But Eva, we can’t-“

“Oh please. What’s wrong with you? I want it to be done, so you should find out how to do it. Isn’t that how this relationship is supposed to work? I’m an author and you’re my agent! You work for me!”

I could hear the weasely little scumbag rubbing his forehead through the telephone, trying desperately to come up with another excuse.

“It’s just-“

“It’s because I’m a woman, isn’t it? If I was a man, somebody like Steve Jobs or Bezos or something, I’m sure you would jump through all the hoops to please me. So tell me Gary… Do you think I’m some easily-pushed-around bimbo, who needs everything mansplained to her? For the final time. Get. To. It. Or I might have to find someone who will.”

Some more awkward gagging.

It wasn’t a bad idea to replace him at some point.

“…okay, Eva. I’ll… I’ll try to make it work somehow.”

“Good. I knew I wasn’t paying you for nothing.”

I hung up the call.

Fucking cretins. Everywhere.

…

Damn. It didn’t used to be this hard.

I wasn’t that long ago that I could just snap my fingers and men would blindly follow my every word.

…Had I lost it?

Yeah, yeah, I know, this line of thinking was completely chauvinistic and emblematic of the toxic culture we lived in… But I couldn’t help it.

Was I …old? And ugly?

I turned my face to the mirror.

…Yeah, who was I kidding. Nobody could resist this body. Gary was just an asshole. Or maybe an incel. You never know.

I opened up a few buttons, letting the girls breathe a bit.

Damn. You still got it going on, Eva.

If I took a photo of myself right now, and posted it on some dirty site… men would jack off to me. Nonstop.

Dreaming of ways to use and **** me.

Those pathetic losers. They could never get close to something like this. Not even in their daydreams.

“Eva, what’s-“

Harold stopped in the doorway. Staring straight into my open bosom like the pervert he always was.

I sighed, and buttoned myself back up.

“Harold. Don’t you ever knock?”

He swallowed. It sounded like his mouth was drying up, staring at me.

How could I actually doubt myself? I’ve been married to him for seven years now, and he still pants after me like some cartoon wolf.

“Eva, I, I thought…. I mean you sounded so distressed, I-“

“I was just dealing with Gary. I’m starting to think that man is actually talentless and lazy. He still can’t land me an interview on NPR.”

“B-but… I thought… You already had one…”

“What? No! That was just some panel they asked my expert opinions on. I want a goddamn hour-long special! What’s so hard to understand about that?”

The man’s stupidity was making my blood boil again.

Not that I was even considering it, but it would be a good while before I let him touch me again. The perverted way he was still staring at me was a huge turn-off for me.

That’s all that men did. Think about sex. Nonstop. All hours of the day.

Pigs.

At least I had total control over him. In the beginning of our marriage he still had tried doing things his way… But once it was obvious who ran the show, and who decided when we had sex… He came around. Like a good little puppy.

“…yes, dear,” he said in his quiet, defeated voice.

“Now go make dinner. I need to set up a conference call with the kids.”

“…yes, dear.”

Harold slinked away, and I booted up the computer.

I was still mad.

I absolutely hated backtalk. Especially from men.

It was everything that was wrong with society. Even someone in my position… I still had to deal with this constant sexism all the time. There wasn’t one moment in my life when I could just sit back and relax, no, everything was still a constant fight.

I looked at the diplomas on my wall.

The amount of work that went into each of them… many people could never even begin to understand. And doing that all while still being a woman… It was an uphill climb, but with both hands tied behind my back.

Okay maybe that was a little excessive. One hand tied behind my back.

I had to do all that to get where I was.

A women’s studies professor at a prestigious university. And a celebrated, successful author.

Who still had time for a family and three kids.

And, let’s be honest, I also looked like a sexy-ass, fierce, supermodel.

Yeah, I was the very picture of a self-actualized woman. Everything I dreamed of achieving… I did. No-one could hold me back.

It just pissed me off when some people failed to see that. Probably the biggest pet peeve I had.

Everybody should just let me control everything.

No joke. The world would be a better place.

I double-clicked on Skype.

Lena’s pretty face appeared almost immediately. She was already flashing her beautiful smile at me.

My youngest one. She had just finished high school with amazing grades and had gotten to a really great university.

Not my university, obviously. I didn’t want any talk of favoritism to saddle her life. I was sure she was going to do massive things, and eventually everyone would search through her history with a fine toothbrush.

Oh yes, she was very politically motivated.

I could only see the highest office in her future.

Everyone loved her. She lit up every room she was in. She could play the piano, sing, debate, count backwards really fast…

It was possible she had more charisma than me.

…Nah, what a stupid thought. Nobody could top me in that. But she came in a close second.

“Hi, mom!” she chirped.

Before I could answer her back, another face appeared on the screen. Just as promptly as Lena’s had.

Emma. The middle one.

The really headstrong one. And perhaps the smartest one.

She had just graduated from her university in Britain, and was already working for a big biochemical firm in the states.

Apparently making a shitload of cash.

She never wanted to reveal the actual sum to me, but I knew these weren’t any normal figures. She shouldn’t have been able to afford that house. Not at her age.

But then again, her brains were not your average.

Her IQ number …scared me.

Hey, what can I say? I have really good genes. As did their fathers.

We were made to succeed in everything we did.

“Hi, mom,” she said in her more laconic style.

“Hi, girls,” I answered them back.

And then we waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Before it was obvious.

“Did Ulla miss the time again?”, Emma grumbled.

Ulla…

My first one.

I was so proud of her.

Once.

She used to get such good grades, and I was really grooming her for the top.

…But she resisted.

She was more interested in… fashion.

Something as pointless as that.

But it could’ve been worse. In her teenage years, she was really heading for the wrong direction. She spent her days listening and idolizing… boybands.

The way she gushed about them… It came clear to me she was about surrender her femininity to some male pigs. She knew nothing of the real world.

So I taught her all about how awful men are. Every single way they oppress us in everything they do.

The real history of the world.

Finally she was getting the message.

She ripped down the posters from her wall… and even turned lesbian.

I honestly thought it would only be a phase, like she needed to show how progressive she was, but then she went and married a damn girl!

I was so proud to be such an understanding mother of an LGBQT-child!

It really racked up my liberal score. I was getting book deals I wasn’t getting before.

But Ulla… she didn’t seem to have the drive that I had.

For a while after graduating, before she met Henrika, she was doing nothing.

Just coasting on my money and name.

So I decided to change the way I mothered my children. Dramatically.

I cut her off completely. No more money. She needed to make it on her own, just like I had. To be that independent woman who could take on the world.

I eventually did the same to Emma, but she handled it way better.

Ulla got into a furious rage. She begged me for cash several times, and even threatened to tell lies about me in public.

But I never gave her an inch.

I told her to make it on her own. To reach where I was without my help.

She had ****.

I assumed she lived in some awful poverty for a year at least. I never asked her. Must’ve been quite the culture shock for her.

Eventually, it did motivate her to try stand up on her own two feet.

She tried writing some books about feminism. To follow in the footsteps of her mother.

The books were awful. Even I couldn’t finish them. And no publisher picked her up.

So she found, I guess, an easier business.

Writing for fashion. Her vain little side interest.

Finally she could make enough money to live.

She met Henrika, they fell in love and then moved into that ridiculously expensive apartment. Either she was trying to prove something, or she didn’t realize she hadn’t made it yet. I’m sure it took every penny she had to pay for that rent.

Foolish child. And now she was late for our Skype meeting. Once again.

“Never mind Ulla. I’ll contact her later. Right now, I want to go over with you about the next week’s event. The schedule, the attire, the speeches…”

“She’ll be there, right? We all have to be there, don’t we?” Emma asked, frustratedly.

“Of course she has to. If “The National Organization for Women” wants to give me an award for my book, I want my whole family there. She’s not getting out of it.”

She’d be there even if I had to drag her.

Whatever she was doing right now, I hoped she was having fun.

Because when I got hold of her… Fun time was over.