by Paul Cwalina
“Ed,“ I interrupted. “Can I make a suggestion?” Everyone in the room stopped cold and looked at me. I may have committed a major faux pas by interrupting Ed or may have even caused my termination. Ed looked at me and put his hands on his hips.
“This better be good.” he said. He drew the last drag on his cigarette and snuffed it out on the table.
I exhaled hard to beat back my nerves and gird myself for the heat of the spotlight. I knew it wasn’t going to be popular, but I just knew that I was right. “We are going to continue to struggle because we have no brand. There is no Rick Roman brand. Right now, I can say the words McDonald’s, Wal-Mart, and Coca-Cola and every one of you know instantly what they are and what they mean to you,” I said and turned to Valerie and Marcus. “I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know, and I apologize if I’m stepping on anyone’s toes, here, but what is the Rick Roman brand? What are we selling to the voters? What is the cohesive message? The answer is, we don’t have one.”
“Excuse me,” Ed said sternly. “We have ‘The New Hope’ as a tagline on everything.”
“Yes, I know, and we lost Iowa and New Hampshire and we have a razor-thin lead in South Carolina,” I said forcefully, though I was hiding my drying mouth and jumping nerves as I was now directly challenging Ed. “Sorry, Valerie. I don’t mean to criticize your work.”
Valerie was defensive, yet open to hearing me out. “Okay, then what would you do?” she asked.
“Here, look at this,” I responded and reached into my laptop case. I pulled out the original poll numbers I had asked for a few weeks ago, before the Ohio speech. I flipped the stapled papers to page 3 and slid the stack to her. “Look through these numbers from a few weeks ago and, and look at the most recent ones that Ed just gave us. We’re stagnant with every segment of voters—men, every minority, likely voters, on and on. The only movement has been in women aged thirty and above...every segment above 30. They’re the only reason we are up by two in South Carolina. The only change was in those segments and the only thing we did differently was hit the abortion issue and a couple of other women’s issues.”
Valerie studied the numbers for a minute or two, flipping back and forth between reports. “Well, he’s right,” she said to the room. “But...”
“But what?” Ed interjected.
“But what are we suppose to do with that?” she asked almost rhetorically. “Rick’s views on all those issues are no different than the other five candidates.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I quickly said. “It’s the principle of first-to-market. We simply claim the position as women’s advocate by packaging the issues and labeling Rick as their candidate. I guarantee you that the other five campaigns are thinking the same way as you are right now, that there’s no sense in touching the women’s issues because there’s no difference among the candidates. Think about Cheerios. Seriously. Every major packaged foods company has a simple oat cereal that tastes exactly the same as Cheerios, right? Then why does Cheerios account for thirteen percent of the entire cereal market? Because they were first and because General Mills puts almost eighty million dollars of advertising behind that one cereal. That’s exactly why we make this move. It puts us on offense and the other candidates will spend the rest of the primary season on defense and on their heels. Whenever there’s a story or a question about women voters or women’s issues, the press will be coming to us first. Women will think of Rick first. He will be seen as the leader.”
I looked down, and Cindy was writing something on a sticky note and put it in front of me. ‘You are so turning me on right now’ it read. I gave her a sideways glance and a disapproving look.
“I don’t necessarily disagree,” Valerie said. “But we’ve already started down a path...”
“A path leading nowhere. At some point you have to realize you’re on the wrong path and jump off,” I said with growing confidence. “I’m sorry. I really don’t mean to be harsh, but we are fighting tooth and nail for South Carolina and desperately clinging to a tie in Florida. Rick should have won Iowa and New Hampshire! This thing should be almost over. And after Florida, we’re only a month away from Super Tuesday!”
I was getting a little too excited and animated, so I paused and the restarted. “The numbers are telling the story. We only moved those segments a couple of points and now we’re leading in South Carolina. Imagine if we could move them just four or five points. We’d be unstoppable.”
Valerie shook her head. I wasn’t sure if it was a defensive mechanism or if she wasn’t buying it. Before she could respond, though, Marcus chimed in. “You know, Rick’s proposals on taxes and economic policy are actually where we can draw some distinction between him and the rest of the field. Why don’t we figure out some sort of more targeted branding around that? Wouldn’t that make more sense?”
“Oh, come on, man. Taxes and economic policy are a snooze-fest for the average voter. They don’t know capital gains from Captain Crunch. It would take months, even years, to get the average voter to understand economic theory and tax proposals.”
“Look at the Senate bill he sponsored on housing...” Marcus retorted.
“Marcus, you’re killing me. Go around the table here and see if anyone here, on Rick Roman’s campaign staff, even understands that bill and what it means.”
He looked around with a half-smile and knew he’d lost that argument.
“He’s right,” Ed finally offered. “Voters don’t think. They feel.”
Yes! I’ve been saying that since my first campaign for council. That was a big win for me as part of the campaign staff and a major endorsement from Ed. They all hate me now, but I can deal with that.
Ed looked at Valerie and Marcus and continued, “Flesh something out by Wednesday morning.” Valerie and Marcus groaned and they both shot looks at me. “On the bright side,” Ed continued, “that excuses you marketing types from working the phones tomorrow. Be thankful.” They weren’t.
Ed continued the meeting. “All right, Rick’s in Charleston today and tomorrow in Columbia. Tomorrow night he starts his Florida stops. All eyes on South Carolina. Don’t stray far from the office and keep your cell phones with you,” he said and then added emphatically, “And answer your phones!”
As the room started to clear, Cindy put her hand on my leg. “Let’s go to my place for lunch later,” she said seductively.
“Why would I go anywhere with you after what you pulled last night?” I said coldly.
“Why didn’t you tell me you had a little woman back home?”
She stopped me in my tracks. It was a knockout punch and I was flat on my back on the canvas. I just stared at her and asked myself, why didn’t I tell Cindy about Jennifer? That was a troubling question for me and I didn’t like the fact that I didn’t have answer even for myself. After struggling to find a smart reply, I blurted out, “Not the point.”
She smirked. “Lunch at my place then?”
What was it about her scent that was so seductive? Why am I so drawn to this woman when I know nothing good could ever come from it? Then I started to rationalize. Maybe if I just get it over with, she’ll leave me alone. Maybe she just likes collecting notches in her bed post. Let’s just get this over with already...it will go away.
Before I answered her, my conversation with Pastor Zee the day after Chelsea died suddenly popped into my head...consequences even when they’re not immediately evident. A woman is not an a la carte menu....It wasn’t much, but it was enough to get my head straightened out. “No,” I said and removed her hand from my leg. “Get back to work.” I got up and walked to my desk.
Despite the new tension with Cindy, I was flying. The meeting couldn’t have gone better. I was establishing myself as a major player on the staff. When lunch time rolled around I went for a long walk up to Pennsylvania Avenue. The rush of people, the buildings standing like temples, the sight and sound of limousines passing by, it all reeked of power, energy and excitement. There was an en
ergy coursing through every stone, every person, every part of this town. It was palpable in the air, especially for a guy who was on the right side of the power. Want renewable energy? Stick a plug into the air in Washington DC. It would light up half of the country for a month.
The rest of the day was uneventful as I worked on the speeches and Cindy continued her record-setting water drinking habit three ounces at a time.
Heather was right on time to pick me up at four. Even though my adrenaline was still pumping in anticipation of the next day’s election, it was good to be in her calming presence. After we greeted each other, she told me that we had to stop at the grocery store for a few things. I was actually happy to hear that. I needed to supply my room with snacks for the week.
We made our way there and through the aisles with little more than small talk, but even that was strangely comforting. We had gathered everything and pulled into the checkout line behind a young mother with her daughter, who looked to be about four years-old, perched in the child seat of the cart. The girl had Down syndrome. She was wearing big pink eyeglasses, her light brown hair was pulled up into two pigtails and she wore a puffy light purple winter coat.
The girl looked at Heather and me and was shy at first, but then after a reassuring look from her mother excitedly blurted out to us, “I’m helping mommy today!”
“Well, aren’t you a good little girl,” Heather sweetly replied.
The girl looked up at her mom and asked, “I’m a good girl, right mommy?”
The mother replied, “You are a wonderful girl.” She then bent down and put her face against her daughter’s and they rubbed noses. “Okay, mommy is going to go put everything on the counter, okay? I’ll be right here and then you can help me put the bags in the cart.”
“Okay,” the girl excitedly said. Heather and I just looked at each other and smiled while the girl turned to watch her mother. When the woman was done putting everything on the counter, she came back around, lifted the girl out of the seat, and placed her standing up in the cart. The girl couldn’t contain her excitement. She flexed her fingers and clapped her hands together as her legs marched up and down.
The cashier began ringing up and bagging her purchases. “Okay, ready?” the mother said. “Help me count.” She handed the girl the first bag and the girl took it from her mother’s hand and carefully placed it in the cart. “One,” the mother said. “One!” the girl responded. She handed her another bag. “Two,” the mother said and the girl responded again, “Two.”
When they got to the final, eleventh bag, the mother said, “Uh-oh. What comes after ten?” The girl was stumped and just looked at her mother. “You can do it. Remember? What’s after ten?” Heather and I were busting at the seams to help the little girl, but we remained silent and watched.
“Eleven!” she finally said loudly and excitedly.
“Yes! Oh, very good! Give mommy a hug,” the mother said warmly. “Okay, time to get back into the seat. Ready to go home?”
“Let’s go home, Mommy!”
The cashier and the rest of us in line just smiled. I moved in front of Heather and the cart, and began putting our things on the belt.
“Oh, my Lord. Look at you,” Heather said looking at me. “You’re all misty-eyed, you big old softy.”
“What? No, I’m not,” I said, embarrassed. “My eyes are just itchy. Allergies.”
“In winter? Nice try,” Heather said smiling.
I kept emptying the cart and didn’t respond. I didn’t know that woman, but one thing I did know was that there was no mother on the planet who was loved more than that woman.
We got to Heather and Greg’s apartment and got dinner ready. The apartment was old, but clean with classic architectural features and fixtures. I did what I could to help her make pasta primavera, but she ended up just correcting my mistakes. “Since you can’t cook, can you set the table?” Heather joked. “Plates and glasses are up there. Silverware is in that drawer.”
“Are you implying that making sandwiches and ordering pizza doesn’t qualify as cooking?”
“It does not,” she said with a laugh.
I completed my assigned task of setting the table and within a few minutes, Heather was bringing the meal to the table. We picked up our conversation from the car ride home, which had begun to turn to Jennifer.
“So tell me about Jennifer. What is she like?”
“Tough. I mean there is no gray area with her on anything,” I started. “Very intelligent...master’s degree from Princeton...and, well, easy on the eye.”
“In other words, she’s gorgeous,” Heather said smiling. “I know you.”
“Ouch. Am I that shallow?”
She looked away and said through a half-smile, “Let’s move on.”
“Fine. Yes, she’s gorgeous.”
“Well, she’s sounds perfectly horrible. Whatever will you do with her?” Heather let the sarcasm drip and I let it linger.
“Very funny,“ I said. “Do you think it’s just that easy? Everything is just determined for me? I get no say or choice in the matter?”
“You made that choice the night of the bachelor party. Don’t try to put the blame elsewhere,” she replied and then continued. “Do you think it’s easy any other way? Do you think Greg and I are just having non-stop laughs?” She paused before continuing. “Come on, you and Sarah had your ups and downs. And Chelsea...” She stopped herself. “I’m sorry.”
I tried to smile, but couldn’t manage it. “It’s okay.”
“Anyway, you and Jennifer have at least a common interest in the baby.”
“Yeah, she said the same thing.”
“Well, it’s true. Think about it, a unique life that’s part you and part her. I mean, is there anything more powerful than that?”
“I know,” I said, sighing. “But it wasn’t planned. It was an accident. I didn’t want to have a child this way.”
“What difference does that make now? Look, I know it works much better the other way around; get married and then have children. That’s the way it was designed. But your son or daughter that’s growing right now in Jennifer’s womb doesn’t care and will never care. He or she is just waiting to meet you.”
“I suppose,” I said reluctantly.
“And I saw that look in your eye and on your face watching that little girl in the store. You’re going to be a great father.”
“Thanks, but that’s quite a leap from observing a little girl in a store to being a father.”
“True, but it’s an excellent start,” she said softly. Then she continued, “One more thing about Jennifer. I don’t know her, but regardless of how tough you think she is, she is scared right now. You have to trust me on that. I’m a little scared myself, having this huge responsibility for a new life...and my life is stable. I have Greg. We have a life together and plans and all of that. With you spending so much time here, and if you’re investing your heart here, I guarantee she’s going to be feeling alone and scared and unsure of just about everything,” Heather said. Then she put her hand on mine. “Listen to me. She needs you, even if it’s just to be there doing nothing. You can never forget that or take it for granted.” I just stared at her and thought about Jennifer, before turning back to my meal. Why must I always lose something before I can appreciate it?
We finished dinner and I enjoyed some coffee while Heather had some tea. She started to clear the table and said she would drive me to the hotel. I needed the air, though, and told her that I’d walk. She protested and told me it was too far to walk, but I insisted. I thanked her for dinner and the company. We gave each other a friendly hug and said we’d see each other the following morning.