Equality May Be Overrated
Trish
ABOUT 2:00 a.m.
THAT SAME NIGHT
Toby sat, still in stunned silence never having added much to the
drafting process, except to occasionally state, "no" or "that's not
funny," in his usual dry tone. He rhythmically tossed a pink rubber
ball in the air and caught it in his opposite hand. The two male
writers had departed hours earlier but the senior staff stayed to
polish the Press Corps speech. Donna was asleep with her head down
on the table, pillowed on her crossed arms. Josh was absently
rubbing her back, as he reviewed the last and final draft of the
President's speech. Sam and Ainsley sat across the conference room
table from him, slumped in their respective chairs, silently awaiting
his verdict. Finally, Josh looked up, "We found the funny."
"We found the funny!" Sam echoed, beaming.
"Thank God," Donna mumbled without raising her head. Josh increased
the pressure of his hand, massaging her back through the cashmere
twin set. Looking up, she managed sleepily, "Can we go home now?"
"Yes, you can go home, now," Josh answered, as Donna rose from her
chair, "but you better be on time tomorrow."
Turning to glare at her boss, Donna rejoined, "Tomorrow's Saturday."
"So? There's still work to be done. The world doesn't stop and
neither do we. This is the White House, Donna." Josh's tone was far
too chipper and energetic for the late hour.
Before Donna could say anything, Toby interjected, "Shut up Josh."
Sam and Ainsley had been gathering their things and throwing away the
empty Chinese food containers.
"C'mon," Sam offered, "I'll walk you to your car."
"What? Ya'll," it was late and her Southern drawl was more
prominent, "You . . . think because there's no Constitutional
Amendment guaranteeing my equality, that I'm incapable of walking to
my own car . . . by. my. self.?" asked Ainsley emphasizing the last
three syllables.
Looking at her skeptically, as if to ask, you don't really believe
that, do you?, Sam explained, "No. But this is D.C., not the safest
place in the world," pausing briefly to glance at his
watch, "especially at this time of night."
Appreciating the logic of the last argument - - safety - - Ainsley
agreed to allow Sam to walk her to her car. "If you insist." The
soft smile that graced her face let Sam know that his offer was
genuinely welcome.
CUT TO EXTERIOR PARKING LOT
It's Dark, save for a few scattered, dim, street lights.
Ainsley's is one of only a few vehicles in the deserted lot
Approaching her car, Ainsley turned to look at her companion. "Well
you've seen me safely to my car. Without any guns. Without any
prayer. Without . . ."
"Stop."
Ainsley stared at Sam but didn't ask the flippant question in her
eyes. Instead, she inquired, "Why'd you come looking for me tonight?"
"Because I knew you'd be a good," Sam lied.
Exasperated, Ainsley challenged his assumption, "You knew nothing
about my speech writing abilities."
"Sure I did. I've seen you on television."
"Sam, I've been on television twice. The first time I kicked your ass
and the second time was after the State of the Union when you about
strangled me when I said I didn't think one of the President's
policies was constitutional."
"Well, they were both memorable experiences," he countered, smiling
as he thought about her dancing around in a bathrobe. "And you
didn't 'kick my ass'."
Rolling her eyes, Ainsley joked, "Whatever you say. I mean without
the ERA Amendment, I, a woman, couldn't possibly have bested a man,
especially the great Sam Seaborn."
"That's not fair."
"I'm sorry;" she said as sarcastically as one can with a Southern
drawl, "I didn't know we were supposed to play fair."
"Ainsley. . ."
"I thought we established that was my name when you were shouting it
earlier."
"And you ignored me."
"And I ignored you." Seeing the small flash of pain streak across
Sam's face, Ainsley relented, "But only because you were shouting."
"I'm not shouting now."
"No, you're not." Ainsley's voice dropped and took on a husky tone,
that surprised even her.
They stared at each for a few unnaturally long seconds.
"Sam, tell me you didn't walk me out her because you didn't think I
was capable of doing it by myself."
"Of course not! You're one of the most capable women . . . capable
people . . . I know." Sam paused, then added. "Besides, you think
you kicked *my* ass on national television. With an ego like that,
I'm sure you can take care of yourself."
"There, you see. You can admit that women are self sufficient. Now,
why do you think we need to amend the Constitution, The Constitution,
Sam, to achieve something we already have - - equality?"
"Would it make you feel better if I said you were superior?" Sam
asked with a smirk.
"Well, it would at least show me that you have some intelligence and
you learned something during all your time in New Jersey."
"Hey, don't knock Princeton." Sam tried to glower but failed to pull
it off because he knew she was baiting him. "I didn't walk you out
here because I didn't think you couldn't do it . . .weren't capable
of taking care of yourself." With his eyes, he begged her to
understand and not to press him for further verbalization. He wasn't
ready to make a full confession.
She didn't get the message. "So you do understand that a woman can
be capable and competent without necessarily being a feminist?"
"What do you have against feminism?"
"I am not against it; I just don't, by virtue of my gender, wanted to
be forced into it."
"Nobody's forcing you into anything," Sam retorted.
"No, you just compared me to Phyllis Schaffly."
"She wants to set women back hundreds of years."
"I don't!" Ainsley asserted, "and neither does she; She just wants
women to feel empowered - - like they have a choice - - like it's OK
to embrace traditional American values - - like it's OK to be a
mother."
"Whatnow you have something against working women? That's pretty
contradictoryconsidering what you do"
"I just don't want to be labeled a feminist or forced to keep working
simply because I am a woman and a lawyer."
"Trust me. I have never forgotten that you're either," Sam
inadvertently confessed, a brief vision of Ainsley and their children
flashing through his mind. .
"OK then." she offered lamely, not knowing exactly how to respond.
Opening her driver's side rear door Ainsley tossed her briefcase onto
the back seat before opening the front door of her car. Stepping into
that triangle between the open door and the body of the car, Ainsley
looked over at Sam, "Goodnight."
"OK." The octave and the tension level of the discussion suddenly
took a nose dive. Without thinking, acting automatically, Sam leaned
down and planted a quick, chaste kiss on Ainsley's startled
lips. "Goodnight. Have a safe trip. Call me when you get there, so
I know you're alright."
Sam started to turn, when the sound of her voice calling his name
pulled him back to reality. "Sam?" He realized, too late, what he'd
done - - what boundary he'd crossed.
Turning around to face her, he began, "Ainsley, I'm . . . "
Placing her hand on his arm, Ainsley begged, "Please don't say your
sorry. I'm not." She looked up at him with big, pleading eyes that
melted his heart. At her confession and the vulnerability readily
apparent on her face, Sam took a step toward the pretty blonde
Republican lawyer, but didn't trust his voice to speak.
Smiling at his discomfort, Ainsley dispelled his fears. "I think
you're adorable too," she volunteered echoing his words from earlier
in her office. To emphasize the point, she reached up and returned
his quick, chaste kiss. This time, before she could pull fully away,
Sam reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. As she tilted her
head back, their eyes met and this time as they moved toward one
another, they were both expecting the third time their lips met.
This kiss was still soft, but it was a step beyond a simple gesture
of friendship; it was more loving. Although filled with feeling, it
maintained a sweet, innocent hesitancy. They knew they were crossing
a boundary but they both wanted to cross it, slowly.
A few seconds later, they broke the kiss and simply looked into each
other's eyes allowing their hearts a few moments to resume normal
sinus rhythm and stop pounding in their respective ears.
Ainsley recovered first. "I'll call you . . . when I get in . . .
so . . . so you'll know I'm safe."
"Safe. Yeah." Sam nodded while willing his brain to resume
functioning. Stepping back, he bid Ainsley farewell, "G'night."
"Goodnight," Ainsley whispered sliding into her car and shutting the
door, the feel and taste of his soft, warm lips still tingling on
hers. She turned the key and started the engine. Sam watched her
pull out of the parking lot. He was whistling and there was a jaunty
spring to his step as he headed back toward the White House.
HOME |
TITLE |
AUTHOR |
CATEGORY