It should be noted that this year, 2008, this year when our nation elected the first African-American president and did us proud, Bunny’s sister Dawn did not go to the polls to vote. What with tending to the needs of two children nearing adolescence, it slipped her mind. Nicole, also, did not vote. She was too busy with the harvest. And Bunny? Because she couldn’t bring herself to get out of bed that day, because she could not stop crying, Bunny did not vote, either.
When Albie got in that night, he told her that the line at the polls was wrapped around the block. “I was there for over an hour.” Then he asked, “How was it when you went?”
“Not bad,” she lied. She didn’t have to lie to Albie. He wouldn’t have passed judgment on her. But, as a person prone to sanctimony when it comes to civic responsibilities, Bunny had already placed the great weight of judgment on herself. A heavier burden of guilt, even, than when she furtively ripped up the periodic summons for jury duty, flushing it down the toilet; and therein is the difference between her sisters not voting and Bunny not voting: Bunny was sick with the shame of it.