I Wish I Had a Red Dress Read Free Page B

face a bit more aggressively.
    “Well, I don’t know much about women’s lib,” he said, “but I can’t see much point in spending people’s hard-earned money giving sex education to unwed mothers. Isn’t that a little like closin’ the door after the cow’s already out of the barn?”
    Several members of the committee laughed. That’s what I get for saying he could call me Joyce. Give these guys an inch and they’ll take a mile.
    “That’s just a small part of what we do,” I said.
    “But you do it, right?”
    “Yes.”
    The laughter had awakened the dozing reporter for The Capital Daily and her note taking inspired Ezra to pursue the question.
    “And you think that’s the role of government, do you, Joyce?”
    Truth, I reminded myself. Just tell him the truth.
    “Yes, I do,” I said. “I think the role of government is to support and nurture a strong, self-reliant population, regardless of gender. Don’t you?”
    He looked at me and frowned. “I think I’m asking the questions here, Ms. Mitchell, not you. That’s what I think.”
    I felt my face flush. “Excuse me?”
    “In fact,” he said, turning to the chairman. “I have a number of questions that I would like to ask Joyce about her training ground for so-called free women before we vote.”
    “I object to that characterization of our program!” I said.
    “It is not your place to object,” Ezra interrupted me.
    “My place?”
    “I move to table this application until we have time to study it more carefully and determine the full scope of Joyce’s program goals. I’m tired of the taxpayers’ money being wasted when all these girls need is for somebody to teach ’em how to keep their dresses down and just say no! ”
    “Mr. Chairman, I have a right to respond!” I said.
    “If you’re not a member of this committee, you have no rights in this room!” Ezra snapped.
    Enough was enough. I stood up. “Then I don’t belong here,” I said, reaching for my coat.
    “There is a motion to table on the floor!” The chairman was tapping his gavel for order. The reporter was scribbling enthusiastically now, happy for any kind of story at the end of a long, dull day.
    “I second it,” boomed a freshman legislator from Grand Rapids who had a pretty young female constituent watching his lackluster performance admiringly.
    Before I could object any further, they had delayed action on our proposal pending my satisfactory answers to a list of questions that Ezra handed to the committee chairman, who accepted them, took another fast vote and adjourned the meeting for the day.
    For a minute, I was too stunned to move as they all began to file out of the small room. I caught up with the chairman in the hallway, scurrying back to his office.
    “Bob,” I said, too frustrated for formalities. “You know it will take months for us to get back on the agenda if we get turned back now! What happened?”
    He patted my shoulder without slowing down and handed me Ezra’s list. “Don’t take it personal, Joyce,” he said and winked. “It’s an election year, remember?”
    Then I understood. Ezra wanted to use his opposition to us as a way of getting a little free campaign publicity. I looked at the list. The first question was “How many illegitimate babies have your followers brought into the world for somebody else to take care of?”
    There were six or seven more, but that was enough for me. I crumpled the paper in my hand and just stood there for a minute. What now? I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I had said I was a free woman, so what would a free woman do?
    I walked over to the chairman, who had stopped to have a word with Ezra.
    “Excuse me,” I said, tossing the balled-up paper in his direction so he had to fumble to catch it. “I won’t be needing those. I withdraw our application.”
    He looked at me, too surprised to say anything, which was fine with me. I turned to Ezra.
    “Two things,” I said to him. “There are no