Party Lines (3 page)

“The
high road,” said Lindsay. “Something that acknowledges the hard work of women no
matter what they do – be it fulltime moms or wage earners. Something that
reminds them that a candidate who seeks to moms against working women isn’t
interested in either.”

“Hmm.”
Clara considered this as she took a sip of her drink. For a moment she was
quiet. “I like it,” she said, and then spread her and out in front of her as if
smoothing words across an invisible screen. “Women’s work comes in many forms.
But we’re at our strongest when we work together.”

“Yes!”
said Lindsay, moving forward in her chair and punching the air. “Vote for Clara
Faircloth, a woman who appreciates women’s work no matter where it’s done!”

The
two high-fived each other and then Lindsay jumped up to get the pen and
notebook she would need to sketch out this latest political counterpunch.

***

Three
days later, Lindsay faced Ron Sharp across a table again. This time it was on NewsChat
Live, a radio program. Lindsay wished it were television, because her opponent
did not look at all comfortable. The host, Hugh Graham, had just aired Hopkins’
attack ad and was now playing Clara’s.

“Mother.
Housewife. Waitress. Cook. Doctor. Nurse. Truck Driver. Executive.” The voice
was not an actress’ but Clara Faircloth’s. “Some of us women have done one of
these jobs. Those blessed with children have done more than one. But no matter
who you are, how hard you work or who depends on you, one thing is true for
today’s woman. We deserve the respect we’ve earned, both from our families, our
colleagues and from our political systems.”

“Hi.
I’m Clara Faircloth and as we enter another campaign season I’m urging voting
women to band together and focus not on our differences but on our common
strengths, and the power we have to change our futures. This election promises
to give the victor the right to shape policies that will make a real difference
in the lives of women in all walks of life – affordable health care, tax
breaks that favor workers and families – not big business - and a cleaner
environment that will make us all safer. And we can make it happen if we ignore
the rhetoric that divides us. Because while women’s work takes many forms, we’re
strongest when we work together!”

As
the sound from the ad died away, the host looked from Lindsay to Ron and back
again. Hugh Graham was a prominent conservative host, and Lindsay knew that it
was risky coming on his show, especially given that counter-ad had worked
better that she or Clara could have imagined. In just days her poll number had
risen even higher among women, including those who defined themselves as
conservative.

Ron
Sharp was clearly not happy; Lindsay had seen that when he’d walked into the
studio. He’d shaken her hand harder than he’d ever shaken it, and had
physically crowded her as they prepared to take their seats. As always, her
heart had thumped in her chest as her body reacted instinctively to the power
he was emanating. But she ignored the screams of “Yield” and kept her cool.

“When
this is over,” she thought. “I’m going to give myself an Academy Award.”

“Both
of those are pretty powerful ads,” the host was now saying. “Very powerful. And
both elicited quite a bit of reaction. Feminist groups came out right away
against that spot, Mr. Sharp, and some accused your candidate of blatant
sexism.”

It
was
a softball
, and Sharp knew it. So did Lindsay, who
struggled to keep a poker face as her rival let fly with his reply.

“That’s
because Bradford Hopkins stands as a very real threat to the tyranny they’ve
held over women. Women are afraid to stay home these days, to be mothers,
because they’ve been told that it’s not good enough.”

“Excuse
me.” Lindsay knew she shouldn’t interrupt, but could not stop herself. “May I
ask a question?”

Hugh
Graham waved his hand towards her. “Sure. Take him on.” And then he sat back,
obviously pleased to watch the fireworks.

“Mr.
Sharp, just who do you contend is telling women this?”

“Where
do I start?” Sharp laughed. “Betty Friedan?”

“You
mean the dead Betty Friedan?” Lindsay asked. “With respect to Friedan, she’s really
not around to defend herself, let alone speak in what you term ‘these days.’”

Ron
Sharp smirked. “As if every feminist who’s come after her hasn’t been a virtual
parrot of her Marxist, anti-Christian man-hating…”

“Careful,”
Lindsay said. “Not that I care to help your candidate, but you’re coming very
close to painting all women who appreciate the right to vote and compete with
men for a decent wage with the same brush. Really, Mr. Sharp. Does you
candidate fail to see that being a stay-at-home mom, a working mom or –
as many women today are – both is not at all inconsistent with being a
feminist?”

“I…”

“Because
I’d beg to disagree. Women have very diverse takes on issues and I’d have you
know that even not all feminists agree. But one thing women do agree on –
no matter whether or not they embrace the feminist term – is that they
have a right to be respected as individuals and not as a voting bloc there to
be manipulated. Or is it you who disrespects conservative moms with an ad that
assumes they’re the most easily manipulated of all?
 
”

Ron
started to speak but in front of the host, the phone lights began blinking
furiously.

“Well,
we’ve heard from both camps now, so let’s take some calls.”

As
he punched one of the buttons, Ron and Lindsay stared down one another from
across the table. Lindsay’s heart was beating even faster now.

“Hello
caller, you’re on the air with Hugh Graham.”

“Hello
Hugh. Love your show.”

“Thank
you,” the host said.

“I
just want to tell Mr. Sharp that I was going to vote for Bradford Hpkins until
I saw Clara Faircloth’s ad. And just so you know, I’m a
church-going
,
Bible-believing Independent. That ad he ran struck true at first but then when
Clara’s ad came out it made me want to go look at her Web site and I was
surprised to see that she isn’t as left-wing as you guys are trying to make her
out to be.”

Ron
Sharp fidgeted with his tie and then motioned to the host. “Come on, Hugh,” he
said. “This is obviously a plant
..
”

“So
now you’re assuming that any woman who disagrees with that ad is a liar?”
Lindsay rolled her eyes, and the caller on the line gasped in anger.

“I’d
be more than happy to leave my full name with the operator so you can check out
who I am. I was actually doing some grassroots work for Hopkins until this
whole ad flap happened. And I’ll be happy to verify it. Now I’m really glad I’m
not. Mr. Sharp, that’s really insulting by the way.
Really
insulting.
And you and your candidate owe me and every other thinking
woman an apology.”

Hugh
thanked the caller quickly and pushed the button that silenced her. Then he
turned to Ron, obviously upset over the tone and message of the call.

“Well,
she’s rather upset, but perhaps if you’d elaborate people might get an idea of
where Hopkins stands since it appears there’s a rush to put words in his mouth.”

“Yes,”
said Sharp, speaking up quickly before Lindsay could point out that it was
Hopkins’ words that had started the firestorm.

“Bradford
Hopkins’ ad was not meant to speak for women, but to give voice to that silent,
important group of women out there
who
live or long to
live in a more traditional lifestyle. The truth is that women who value career
over family are heading up the opposing party.”

He
shot a mean look at Lindsay. “And heading up Ms. Faircloth’s campaign.”

Lindsay
could not let this go, especially not as a single woman. “So you’re saying that
a woman who is single or who chooses to wait for marriage and children for
whatever personal reasons she may have is a feminist, or is against family
values?”

Before
Ron could answer, the host stepped in. “Maybe he’s saying that those women are
drowning out the good women who are doing the most important work in society by
staying home and taking care of what matters most – the children. In a
day and age where liberalism has taken hold what has it brought us? I think
Hopkins’ candidacy is pointing out that there are more important things than
the freedom of overused daycare and no-fault divorce.”

“Exactly,”
Sharp said. “Of course, as career women without families it’s hard to relate –“

“To
what?” Lindsay, who rarely allowed
herself
to fall
prey to her own anger and frustration, was dangerously close. “To the
importance of strong families? And since my marital status is obviously fair
game now, what of yours.
And Mr. Hopkins?
Aren’t you
both divorced? Rather than preaching to women about their perceived lack of
family values, perhaps you should stop and assess your own.”

She
hadn’t meant for the debate to turn nasty, but suddenly it had. And Ron Sharp,
who wasn’t used to being challenged now faced a rare moment of not knowing what
to say.

The
host, eager to cover, went to the phones and for the next ten minutes callers
offered their opinions on the matter with women – the group both Hopkins
and Faircloth were after – strongly voicing their opposition at being
characterized as uncaring if they worked or didn’t have children. One woman
tearfully admitted to giving up on motherhood after several failed IVF’s.

“I’ve
put myself into my career as a nurse now,” she said. “And it’s brought me
comfort and happiness to help others. Don’t tell me as a caretaker that I
cannot relate to what families need, Mr. Sharp. I see it every day.”

Several
men called in too, most hardened conservatives who eagerly sided with Sharp.
When the show ended half an hour later it was clear that Hopkins’ strategy had
backfired entirely. Once more, the political newcomers had prevailed.

Then
the program ended with a special weather alert warning residents and commuters
to exercise caution amid a series of powerful thunderstorms that were moving
into the area.

Lindsay
could hear the thunder from outside the building when she left the studio
booth, but she imagine the sky was nothing compare to the dark look Ron Sharp
was shooting her as he walked up briskly behind her in the hallway. He looked
even angrier than he had after the interview on Touchpoint, and she clutched
her briefcase tighter as she made for the elevator.

Relief
flooded her when the doors slid open, but dispated when – just as they
were about to close – a large hand wedged itself between them and slid
them open.

Ron
Sharp said nothing as the elavator began to lift but then, when it was between
floors he hit the emergency stop button.

“Just
what do you think you’re doing?” she asked and reached for the control panel,
only to have him block it with her body.

“Having
a private word with you,” he said, crossing his arms. “You want to tell me why
you felt it necessary to pull that amateurish stunt by injecting my personal
life into a debate?”

Lindsay
looked at him, shocked, and when she recovered shook her head in disbelief.

“You
really take the cake,” she said. “I was simply following your lead, but it’s
kind of nice to see you finally admit that it’s amateurish to cloud the real
issues by making other people’s marital status the topic.”

“What
I did was different,” he said. “I was talking about feminists in general.””

“You’re
a liar,” she said coolly. “The voters aren’t stupid. They know the difference
between a general reference and a direct slap at your opponent and the people
who run it. And I stand by my position. How dare you bring into play our
marital status when you couldn’t even hold yours together.”

“You
don’t know anything about my situation,” he said, raising his voice.

“And
you don’t know anything about mine,” she shouted back. “So we’re even. Now get
out of the way.”

Ron
had not meant to grab her hand when she reached for the button on the panel,
and when she’d struck him she’d not meant to do it, either. The tension and
anger were just so high between them at that moment. But it happened, and Ron
Sharp experienced a jolt of surprise at the force of the blow.

“How
dare you!” he said, and grabbed her again, shaking his head. “Another of your
typical amateurish overreactions.”

“Yes,
and I suppose a seasoned campaigner would just love to teach me a lesson,
wouldn’t you?” She was mocking him now, testing him. But she didn’t know why.
And neither did he, but he didn’t care. He’d had enough of this presumptive
upstart. Sure Lindsay Martin may have been besting him on the campaign trail,
but if she thought she could best him in the age-old match between man and
woman she had another think coming.

“That’s
actually a good idea,” he said, and jerked her forward. Before Lindsay could
comprehend what was happening, Ron Sharp had wrapped one long arm around her
waist and was spanking her – hard with his hand.