A League of Their Own

Jason’s been a bad boy long enough. The emergence of a child, possibly two children, who did not exist in his life three days ago, has shivered his timbers, blown his mind, sent him quaking from the apartment he used to enter with a different kind of buckling knees.

What has he done? What is he doing here with a woman who’s been hiding her child from him? Who is the kid’s father? He hadn’t even thought of that. The guy could conceivably be angry. Maybe she’s married. That’s messy.

But wait a minute. He, himself, is married. Somehow that doesn’t seem the same. He’s got that under control. Or thinks he has. And he knows the other party. It’s just Brenda. Someone else’s husband would be a complete stranger.

He has now turned into a terrified soul. His desire for the bombshell has left him entirely. She’s the enemy. He’s afraid of her. She has the power to ruin his life. His kids’ lives. Brenda’s life. What if she goes to the press?
Danielle has been transformed from a love object to an object of fear.

All day at work, he looks up every time he hears a noise, every time someone passes in the hall. He’s at the erstwhile receptionist’s desk. On display. Everyone sees him and notices he’s jumpy. They don’t know the details, but they know who is the cause.

He can’t stop thinking about the possibilities. One thing he knows; he would never be a Dad for Tads. He does not want this child to exist. Wipe it off the face of the earth, however you have to do it, God, I’m begging you.

Ah, yes, we see what kind of man Jason is now. Why, he’s a devoted family man. He would never do anything to really hurt them. Not something like this. Not bring into the world a child from another dimension. He would never do that. Please make it so that he didn’t. Please, God.

God’s got a lot of call-waitings, from Jason alone. And he’s got a few from Danielle, who doesn’t like it any better than he does, but knows what she’s got to do.

Repentant, Jason has thrown himself totally into Brenda’s campaign. Made himself a part of it. Tonight he’s going with her to the League of Women Voters open house. Both candidates will be there.

As if we didn’t have enough women already. Times have changed, people. Remember all those movies with thirty-five men and one woman? And none of the men gave much of a damn about the woman? She was there for the ladies in the audience. Today the women are running the show. The men are out drinking, riding motorcycles and, in the case of the upper classes, literally whoring around.

This is like a sorority meeting but it’s open, men are invited, and a few will come. But not to meet women. You should not try to meet women when they’re in feminist mode.

Jason is going because Jason goes everywhere now. He’s his wife’s best friend. He carries her coat. He takes her out to breakfast. He listens to her rehearse her speech. Remember, he thinks she knows nothing – that he escaped from the diner without her seeing him. But, folks, she knows. And she plays everything he does through that knowledge.

If she weren’t so angry, she’d laugh. But all those little favors, the constant attention, the sacrifice on her behalf, the waiting around, the solicitous bringing of coffee (that is, herbal tea), impresses itself on her spirit. She relaxes; things are being taken care of. She’s not alone anymore.

The League meeting is in a semi-official building. There are large couches all around the perimeter of the room, and rental chairs filling the rest of the space.

Jason is tired. He hasn’t been on the campaign trail long, but he’s exhausted from standing around, talking to people, and then going home to his already assumed, and previously, but no longer, neglected, household duties. While Brenda writes her speeches, and the kids are doing their homework, he’s washing the dishes.

The meeting starts at 7:30. He’s got everything done by 7:00 and they take off in the little car, her signature vehicle, though now he drives while she naps or meditates.

They enter the building, and there they part. She’s one of the stars. She goes “backstage”, to a room behind the big one, and he takes a seat on one of the couches against a side wall, where he can watch the audience arriving and also see the platform in front.

The couch is comfortable. He’s sinks into it and falls asleep. He’s jarred awake by a “Whheeezzzjjj” from the microphone. The room is packed. It’s a Ladies Night Out. He’s never seen so many manless women in one place at once time.

Standing up in front of them all, on an elevated platform, is a lady in a tweed suit, with short smooth blond hair, an upright demeanor, and a stern visage. She’s holding a folder in her hand. She is flanked on either side by two podiums for the candidates.

“Ladies,” she says, scanning the crowd. “And gentlemen. Tonight we will meet the two candidates for congress. As you know, the League of Women voters is a non-partisan organization. But we believe the time has come for us to take a stand, on behalf of women and children, and endorse President Obama’s health care plan. We have to stand up to the lies. Lies told by political enemies who want to defeat a Democrat. Lies told by racists who want to defeat a black president. Lies told by insurance companies afraid of losing their profits.

“Among other things, we will ask our candidates tonight to speak up on the topic of health care. Let me introduce them now.”

Jason watches like the traditional wife, as his spouse comes out onto the platform in the black and white hound’s-tooth pantsuit that he ironed for her an hour ago, because there was no time to take it to the cleaner’s. He has gathered all his concerns and pin-pointed them on her appearance, her delivery, her message. He wants her to be perfect. It will erase the gross imperfection he has brought into their lives.

Mercy Alexander enters from the other side, dressed in a long green gown, her hair wrapped around the top of her head with silver chains. She looks cool. Unflappable.

Each candidate briefly states her message – you’ve heard them before. Brenda wants the world to sing in perfect harmony, and Mercy is for freedom above all. You can see why they’re at odds.

The first question: Is this election a referendum on Barack Obama’s presidency?

Brenda is adamant. “It most certainly is not. It’s about education and serving out constituency. It has nothing to do with the President. It’s about preparing our children for the world they’re going to live in. It’s about our future.”

Mercy counters with, “I can see why you’d want to distance yourself from the President, but it certainly is about him. It’s about what he’s doing to our future. This election is a place for people to express their views. The town halls and the tea parties weren’t enough. They have to say ‘we don’t like what you’re doing, and we won’t vote for your guys. Or girls.’”

A giggle of relief. Everyone is uncomfortable when the talk turns to the President. It’s so delicately personal, his relationship with his country.

The abortion issue comes up. It has to. This is an audience of liberal women. It’s one of their major concerns. It’s the friendliest crowd Brenda can find in this Republican district. She has no qualms about saying, “Abortion is between a woman and her doctor. A fetus is part of a woman until it is not, and she must have complete control over it, or it has control over her. My opponent, especially, can see that this is a matter of freedom. Women must have the right to control their own bodies or they most certainly are not free.”

Mercy’s answer is delayed, because someone from the audience is standing. Someone dressed in a white suit, someone whose long blonde hair is curling all over the back of it, which is what Jason sees from his vantage point on the sidelines.

His insides turn to ice. His face gets hot. He’s going to have a heart attack. A stroke.

“Mrs. Shapiro,” the lady in white says. “Suppose a conservative woman is knocked up by a liberal married man? Suppose she decides to have the baby? Do you think it’s her right, even if he doesn’t want her to have his child?”

Mrs. Shapiro turns as white as Danielle’s suit. Then she looks hard at her questioner, and gives the most recent answer she has given to herself. “Yes,” she says, “I do.”

“Thank you.” Danielle sits down.

The meeting went on and on but Jason couldn’t process any of it, and we’re here with him. He spent the rest of the evening staring at a back he once loved, regretting the ruination of his life.

But that was long-range. Closer, was the ride home with Brenda. Would she remember the question? She’d seen Danielle before, in the diner. Did Clyde tell her who she was? Would Clyde rat him out? Maybe. Maybe he really was interested in Brenda. Maybe the two were getting it on together. Maybe she knew everything. Maybe Clyde told her.

No. Clyde wouldn’t do that. Clyde was too much of a gentleman for that. He wouldn’t even speak to Brenda about sex. But Jason doesn’t know how he should act. He doesn’t want to compound his crime by lying now, but he doesn’t want to lose anymore than he already has.

He needn’t have worried. The campaign has hardened Brenda. She’s been meeting people. She knows that nothing is as simple as it seems. There’s always a surprise, the minute you dig in your spoon.

But she’s not going to let Jason off the hook any sooner than she has to. Let him squirm. As they’re walking to the car, she says, “Did you see that woman who asked about the married man? I’ve seen her before. When I was having lunch with Clyde. Beautiful, isn’t she? She’ll have a beautiful baby, but I pity the poor bastard who got her pregnant. He’s going to have two families. I wonder if his wife knows.”