“Nothing about scandals,” he buzzed incessantly. “Your aunt who slept on a dirt floor…”
She overheard pieces of conversations from other political advisors and their candidates: “Don’t tell everyone your plan.”
“Which plan?”
“The economic plan. People don’t want details. They want a few good phrases they can replay on the news.”
Robin felt disgusted, knowing how that was true.
Then Peter grabbed her arm and said, “Don’t sound too…you know, loud. When you get fired up, you know. Men can be loud, and nobody cares. But, you know, since you’re a woman, they’ll say you’re loud.”
“Shut up, Peter.” She broke away from him. “Remind me to fire you when this is over.”
He stood with gaping mouth as she walked away.
* * *
Graham Goodwin thanked everyone he could, especially God, for the opportunity to have a debate. His hair was more puffy than ever tonight, with a single silver wave that reached to the heavens. As a former preacher, he was always claiming to be the candidate closest to God. He had wasted forty minutes of the last debate, arguing with Jerry Johnson over who went to church more often.
After Graham thanked everyone enough, the other candidates did the same thing, thanking everyone for having the debate, before they could answer a question—all of them except Robin Sanders, who tried to keep her opening remarks brief. Each one received polite applause, but the loudest question hung silently in the air—everyone waited to hear whether or not Robin Sanders would remain as staunchly against gay rights as she was before all of the rumors.
Lara had told her many times before this debate: “It doesn’t matter if that chick went on TV and said nothing happened. Something was put out there, and it’s hard to close the lid. A question has been put in the people’s mind…”
* * *
Miles McGuffy would moderate this debate, not because he was a newsperson with any political knowledge or credentials whatsoever, but because he’d become a popular personality on two reality shows. He was chosen because the networks felt America would be more comfortable with him than a stuffy newsperson who actually knew what was going on in the country.
Governor Robin Sanders smiled at the cameras after she was introduced. She stood tall behind a podium to the right of Graham Goodwin. She wore a deep navy power suit that looked just patriotic enough with a flag lapel pin and a perfectly smooth white shirt with pointed collar, and last but not least, a red scarf to complete the show of patriotism. She’d argued with Lara about this.
“I might as well wear a flag!” Robin protested.
“Trust me,” Lara said. “With your eyes, it works.” She’d learned a long time ago that she could get Robin to do anything simply by adding “with your eyes.”
Reluctantly, Robin agreed. Tonight she stood, poised and dignified, with a slightly longer bob hairstyle. Everything about her appearance was, of course, a conscious choice, right down to her small gold earrings that weren’t too flashy to be distracting.
Sometimes she fantasized about wearing a baseball cap and a simple white T-shirt and jeans, feeling the softness of cotton for a change. There was such a feeling of freedom in the idea of picking out her own clothes without being controlled. All the silk and fine jewelry in the world didn’t matter if it was part of a costume, even one she’d agreed to wear.
They began with a familiar argument. A tired-looking woman stood up and was handed a microphone. “What are your positions on raising the minimum wage?” she asked. “Mr. Goodwin?”
“In the greatest country on earth, there should be no such thing as the working poor!” Graham Goodwin’s impassioned plea was met with crickets. He was the only candidate in favor of raising the minimum wage. Outraged, his wife clapped forcefully in the second row.
Robin Sanders countered with her old standby talking point: “Trying to impose such a law will obliterate small business owners.” Cheers and applause.
Jerry Johnson wanted a piece of the action. “I wholeheartedly agree with Governor Sanders on this point,” he piped up in his high-pitched drawl. “We need our businesses to succeed, not be drownin’ in a sea of debt.” Jerry’s supporters cheered him on.
Myron Welles, the candidate considered the most out of touch with all of America, smirked and straightened his glasses.
Miles McGuffy: “Mr. Welles, you look like you want to weigh in on this issue.”
“Yes,” Welles began, “I don’t exactly share my opponents’ sentiments. I believe the minimum wage has gotten far too bloated and frankly needs to be lowered.” A stray clap from a wealthy business owner followed.
“Lowered?” Jerry screeched. “You kiddin’ me?”
“My grandpa got by on forty cents an hour,” Welles chirped.
“During the Depression?” Robin Sanders added to a roar of laughter. “You couldn’t be more out of touch.” Turning to the audience: “Archaeologists brought him in tonight because he’s the oldest fossil in existence.” More laughter.
CNN polls lit up with Governor Sanders in the lead.
Welles decided he couldn’t do well attacking her, so he went after Jerry Johnson instead. “Do you know anything about running a business, Coach?” Welles liked to call Johnson “Coach” to ridicule his credentials for serving as president. “I didn’t think so. How do you know what it takes to run a country?” Unfortunately, Welles’ deadpan delivery made him seem like the walking dead, his robotic voice something you’d expect to hear in an airport: “The white zone is for loading and unloading…” Of course this cost him points, and he’d come in last in every debate since the beginning.
Then came the hot-button issue of the night. Forget foreign policy and the economy. This was the thing viewers had really tuned in for: gay marriage and Robin Sanders’ affair or nonaffair with another woman.
Miles McGuffy acknowledged a timid-looking woman in the audience who took the mic almost reluctantly. But when she spoke, there was no holding back. She asked Governor Sanders to explain why she’d come out so vehemently against gay marriage, considering that she herself had been rumored to have had a same-sex affair. The auditorium fell silent.
“I think the American people are wondering,” she said, “if the rumors are true, and has your position changed regarding gay rights?”
Robin looked out at the crowd. She could see their faces filled with anticipation.
“Do you watch television?” she asked. “Because the woman denied it all.” She glanced at her opponents. “Somebody wanted to manufacture a scandal…”
There were roars from the crowd.
She saw Peter cover his eyes. She had said the “S” word! She could tell he was only partly paying attention, though, probably still worried that she was serious about him losing his job.
“I can’t imagine who that would be…” Governor Sanders continued, feigning ignorance but glancing at Graham Goodwin. Some in the audience laughed. Lara looked around from behind the curtain and decided to breathe again.
The next one in the audience to take the microphone was Andrew Bennington. His hair was a little thinner, but he had the same happy face and smiling eyes. He wore a gray suit and looked especially dapper as he took the microphone.
“Hi,” he said in a familiar voice.
He looked as he had on his wedding day, just like the photos she had found on the Internet. When she returned from visiting Carol, she had gone online and looked up his name. He and his partner had worn matching gray suits.
“What is your position on gay marriage?” he asked in the eerily quiet auditorium. “Governor Sanders?”
Robin imagined the burning metal, the melting tires, and finally the tremendous explosion with flames shooting high into the Mississippi night sky. Torches had been thrown at Andrew’s car by a couple of random good ole boys who were provoked by the “Just Married” sign on its bumper. Both Andrew and his husband had burned to death. It had been a last-minute decision, that sign,
suggested by a friend when the two were married in New York. Their friend had no idea the tragedy that would follow as they drove back down south and the horror that would await them just outside Biloxi, Mississippi. Robin wouldn’t know so many things about that night, only the headline she read online: “Newly Wedded Gay Couple Murdered in Mississippi.” It had happened a long time ago, amidst so many antigay hate crimes, that she had never noticed that particular story.
Everything in the auditorium froze as Robin imagined the tragedy unfolding. She heard Andrew’s laugh…the most joyful, exuberant expression of what it meant to be alive.
Governor Sanders blinked, returning to the debate. A second or two had passed, an eternity on television. The governor seemed momentarily off balance, but she quickly regained her composure. Of course the young man asking the question wasn’t Andrew. He bore a strong resemblance to him, though, standing there, waiting for her response.
McGuffy stepped in. “Could you repeat the question please?”
“What is your position on gay marriage?” The young man repeated.
It’s rare for a single moment to define a person’s life as in a movie. But for Robin Sanders, everything she was, and everything she was going to be, converged in that moment under the burning spotlight.
“I can’t,” she said slowly and deliberately, “in good conscience…judge another human being because of whom he loves.”
There was a murmur in the audience that grew to a roar. Robin couldn’t see or hear anything but what sounded like a pride of angry lions getting louder. She heard the echoing voices of Jerry Johnson: “Well, I’m certainly against it and will not support any legislation that…”
The vultures on stage couldn’t wait to start picking over what they assumed was Governor Sanders’ carcass, proclaiming their virulent opposition to gay rights.
After the chaos, McGuffy turned back to Governor Sanders. “This is a departure from your former position on gay rights,” he said. “Could you elaborate?”
Robin held the podium to maintain her steady, calm demeanor. No one would know what she was feeling inside, how desperately she wanted to escape the stage—and the spotlight—tonight. She knew that her biggest supporters, her staff and her father were all having heart attacks tonight. But she pressed on.
“I believe as human beings, we continue to evolve,” she said. “I’d like to think that, since I’m not dead yet, I too can evolve.” Her humor awarded her some chuckles in the audience. “As with every issue, I’ll have to review everything that comes across my desk carefully. I’m sure the American people don’t want some hothead for president.” Again she glanced at her opponents.
Backstage, Lara covered her face. As if Robin’s bizarre, impromptu press conference hadn’t dug a deep enough grave, now she was shoveling piles of manure on top of herself. She wasn’t using any of the rehearsed talking points. It was as if she wanted to lose.
“Your speeches,” Goodwin snapped, “in which you call gays those who commit ‘unnatural acts’…now you’re saying you’ve changed positions?”
She took a sip of water. “I know very few things for certain. I don’t know how big the universe truly is, or when the sun will burn out, how we got here…What I do know is that who we love is not a choice. Love chooses you. Try as you might to run away from it…Love is the most precious of all the gifts we’re given in this life. Instead of fighting, we should embrace it.”
Her opponents were dumbfounded. No one had expected her to change so dramatically. They didn’t even have rehearsed retorts. The response was a silent auditorium and more than a few shocked faces.
She smiled at the audience. “I know it’s not popular to admit that we may have to revisit an issue,” she said. “Or reconsider a viewpoint. There have been presidents who prided themselves on never changing positions, even when they were on a train that was heading toward a brick wall. Personally, I’d like to think I would be a smart president who would see the wall and make a different choice, if necessary.”
Goodwin immediately tried to spin that. “So you mean you’d change positions if it was dangerous for you?”
“If it was not a smart decision, such as in foreign policy.” Her ability to change topics, as well as her charisma, may have been just enough to help her get away with what she said. Certainly no other candidate could have gotten away with it. And only time would tell if the gambit had actually succeeded.
As the debate switched to other subjects, Governor Sanders remained her smart, likeable self. But no one knew whether it would be enough for her to recover after such a bombshell change of positions, especially on a major cornerstone of her campaign.
As Robin left the stage, she carried the cassette tape, so that if Adrienne was watching, she could see it.
Chapter Sixty-Six
Lara met Robin backstage. She did a fake double air kiss on both of her cheeks, a gesture Robin disliked. She’d get close enough so Robin could hear the dangling earrings clanking next to her ear. “Interesting debate,” she said in a voice filled with judgment.
“I don’t care,” Robin said.
“That’s the problem.” Peter ran over before news pundits could envelope her. “You don’t care about all the blood and sweat we’ve put into this campaign! You go off-script whenever you damn well please! You don’t care about the people who care about you!”
“No, Peter,” Robin retorted. “You only care about your own precious neck. By the way, why are you still here?”
He swallowed hard. “It doesn’t matter,” he replied. “There won’t be a job after this debate anyway.” He ripped off his lanyard and threw it on the floor. “Good luck,” he told Lara as he walked away.
Shortly after, autographs and interviews with news pundits would soon take over. A man whom Robin didn’t recognize came over to shake her hand. “I just wanted to say thank you.” Then he left as mysteriously as he arrived. He didn’t have any press badge or other identification. His soft-spoken way and tear-filled eyes suggested he had some emotional connection not only to the gay rights issue, but possibly to Robin herself. Had he been a friend of Andrew’s? Had he been the friend who, caught up in the joyful day of the wedding, had suggested that Andrew and his partner put that sign on the back of their car? Robin would never know.
* * *
It was a long flight back from Tampa. Robin stared out the window, unable to shake the sound of Andrew’s wonderfully infectious, high-pitched laugh. She wondered if he had been watching her tonight. For the first time in a long time, she felt proud of herself. It didn’t matter that Peter was no longer traveling with her. It didn’t matter what silent criticisms Lara had, which she was wisely keeping to herself. It didn’t even matter that Robin’s father didn’t call her as he usually did after her debates. She felt right inside with herself. She felt right about the kind of role model she could be to Kendrick, that it wasn’t too late. There was tremendous peace in that.
* * *
“Don’t worry, Lara,” Robin said. “Everything is going to be fine.”
Lara smiled strangely, as though she was suppressing even more venom than Peter had shown.
“Peter was wrong,” Robin continued. “I do care very much for everyone who has helped me get this far.”
Lara swiveled around to face her. “If I’d known that I was supporting a pilot who thought nothing of ditching in the ocean at any time, I’d have gotten the hell off the plane.”
Robin nodded. “I meant what I said out there. New information has caused me to reconsider that issue.”
“New information? In the form of a hot rock musician?” Lara smirked. “Oh, I saw her. I might even be able to be swayed by that…information.”
Robin turned away, toward the view of the glittering Tampa skyline at night, getting smaller in the window. “You don’t have kids, Lara.”
“Yeah, thank God.”
“I was thinking about my daughter,” Robin said. “What am I teaching her? I want her to live a re
al life, not a rehearsed one.”
There was a long silence. She knew Lara couldn’t understand much beyond poll numbers. Her press secretary would likely consider this the greatest failure of her career, a blot on her résumé that she’d prefer to erase. Staring into the blackness out the window, Robin saw Adrienne in the afternoon Florida sun, waving good-bye in her rearview mirror all those years ago. She relived it all—the two of them laughing over a plate of doughnuts, throwing wet sand at each other, dancing in a small smoky apartment to heavy metal music. Robin was in a rare place for someone like her—where her reality was actually beginning to make sense. A voice inside told her that if things were falling apart right now, maybe they were supposed to.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
One Year Later
Robin dug the tripod in deeper, looking out on a remote stretch of beach in Kauai.
She stared into the lens and wasn’t entirely happy with the shot. She wore a T-shirt and shorts, her hair held back with a baseball cap, keeping it out of her eyes. She checked the lens again. There was a light breeze blowing from the west, tousling that long and flowing, sand-streaked hair…
“It’s fixed!” Carol called, screwing in a broken light.
“Put that out!” Robin yelled as smoke from Carol’s cigarette floated into the shot. She ignored the subsequent cussing from her “crew” and examined the shot again. “I should be doing documentaries like I planned,” she muttered to herself.
“Oh, so now you’re slumming it?” Adrienne teased, coming out of the water toward her. She wrapped her hair to one side, the ringlets on the ends now wet from the spray of ocean waves.
“No.” Robin raised her eyes from the camera lens and smiled up at her. “Your music video is much more important than capturing the voices of minorities in America.”
Adrienne reached for her, circling her arms around her waist. They smiled at each other, beaming at the unspoken amazement they both shared that this day had ever come.
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