Rule Number Two

Rule Number Two: There will always be those who are less fortunate.

Talking to Bethany gave me a lot to think about. It made me wonder how the commoners lived, and the ranks among them. Did those who live in the projects have less dignity than those who didn't? Bethany said it herself, the neighborhood she lives in is nicer and she implied it's away from where the projects are located. What were the dangers out there? I was always trained for kidnapping, assassination, robbery or burglary, but what else is out there? I kept pondering while standing alone in the elevator on my way to the rooftop garden, capitalizing on the only time I'd have alone the entire afternoon and if I'm unlucky enough evening. I continued to frown and crinkled my forehead. Was there anything I could do to help ease the difficulties?

Ding!

"You're going to scare away everyone at the party looking like that," my father's spoke.

I startled into my surroundings. The elevator door opened and I hadn't heard it or even noticed. I looked around trying to orient myself when my dad grabs onto my arm and pulls me out of the metal box.

"It was about to close and go back downstairs Vanessa," he chastised. "What is going on?"

"I was deep in thought," I defended.

I managed to leave the haze of deep thought saw the fresh flowers in the vases around the glass doors to the garden. Elegant party tents were set up and tables were decorated and ready for guests. The waitstaff ready to serve. I saw some guests mingling with others, mostly women with sunhats and gaudy dresses and purses. I smelled the food from the grill and my stomach growled.

"Vanessa, that is not ladylike," Father criticized.

"Lay off it," I snapped. "It's a normal bodily function. I can't help it!"

"Okay, we are going to have a private conversation because you are not going out there to entertain guests with this attitude," he reprimanded and led me down the corridor toward the kitchens. There was a small office beside the kitchen and he ushered me inside, locking the door behind us. "What is going on with you today?"

"I'm just distraught about some things. I'll be fine," I assured. "I already told mother I would dance with any of the men who ask. I know how to behave. Can we just go join the rest before they send a search party for me?"

"What are you distraught about?" he asked kindly, his tone changing drastically from minutes ago. "It's not like you to not tell me your concerns."

I sighed. I knew how he felt about the topic. I'd brought it up before when I was in college and taking sociology courses and community health courses. He didn't care about these things. I sat in one of the upholstered chairs, slumping as I turned my gaze up to the skylight that illuminated the office. I grimaced at the obvious opulence.

"Seriously, is it something to do with the gathering today? Did Bethany say something inappropriate?" he continued. "We can't solve the problem if we don't talk about it."

"Do you think we could donate funds to homeless shelters and soup kitchens?" I asked. "Or other organizations that help the poor with housing and food. Maybe even something to assist children in foster care, or orphanages, or even single parents."

"You're rambling," Dad stopped me. "Look, I find your altruism endearing but we already do enough for the general public. We set aside a budget of hundreds of thousands of dollars that we distribute to causes selected by the Elite council."

"But Dad, a few hundred thousand is barely a drop when we have trillions," I argued. "And the Elite council only puts money where they benefit or can get a return on it. It's not actually going to the people who need it!"

"I understand your frustrations," he empathized. "Believe me, I've had my fair share. But this is how they work up here in the Elite. Right? We have to follow the rules. Do I wish I could give more back to the communities I grew up in that helped shape me to who I am today? Absolutely! But that's not within my authority."

But-"

"We do what we can and we're altruistic enough for most people. Hundreds of thousands may seem inconsequential to us, but to the people out there beyond the Elite class, it's more than they could ever see in a lifetime. Programs could run for years on that amount of money," he continued.

"I want us to do better," I cried "We should be doing better and doing more. Instead, we're here eating finger sandwiches and dainty versions of barbecue specialties, and hosting a bunch of spoiled men-children and their equally vapid mothers!"

"Vanessa!"

I shut my mouth but glared at my father. I could tell from his expression that I crossed a line. He didn't often get his throbbing temple when we talked or argued, but it was there and proudly thumping away. I didn't shrink into the chair though, instead I sat up properly. I wasn't going to back away from this. I've been wanting to do something to help others for years now, and the most I could do was in college when I helped fundraise to fund an upgrade in hospital equipment. I wasn't even allowed to go to the hospital to visit the patients like the rest of my peers. My grandfather prohibited it, said it was filled with diseased commoners and I would fall ill with something incurable. Not for a second did I think he was talking about a disease.

My father closed his eyes, took a deep inhale and slowly breathed out. His calming breaths as he liked to call them. When I saw his face return to normal, no more tension or throbbing temple, I let my own breath of relief. He opened his eyes again and looked at me as kindly as he could, frustration still evident under the surface.

"We're tabling this discussion for now," he said. "I know you want to do great things and help lots of people. I admire that about you, Vanessa. But you cannot continue to criticize how things are run, it's shameful and it shows the rest of the Elite families that we're not doing a proper job with you."

"That's not-

"Just like that, speaking out of turn," he pointed out. "Maybe we can discuss a foundation or some branch of the giving nature that we could head with the approval of the Elite council. It would solely be our funds, my funds, so they have a little less of a say on that. But I want you to take your mind off of it for the rest of the day, enjoy the nice weather, and meet some suitors. I doubt they're all man-children as you eloquently put it."

"Fine," I grumbled.

At least he was taking my concerns somewhat seriously. I did want to do better. I wanted a future where we would stop getting attacked by rebellions of disgraced Elites and where we would stop being criticized for having wealth. Money was power so we could use that power for good!

"Thank you for not dismissing my concerns and saying that there will always be people who are less fortunate and ending the discussion," I said.

It was something that I had gotten used to when I went on my tirades. Whether it was my grandfather, my mother, or some random person who tried to seek my attention during these events. It was always the same line, always the same excuse to defer responsibility.

"I know that's a compliment, but it just goes to show that I'm not an Elite," Dad frowned. "I don't want to sell my soul, but it's hard not quite fitting in."

"Tell me about it," I joked.

If there was one person I could count on to understand how I felt, it would be my dad. Maybe I needed more lower Elite or dare I say, commoner, friends. My grandfather would have a heart attack!