~*~*~April Flowers~*~*~
By: Mary
I absolutely cannot believe he did it again. After all we've been
through since April last year, I just cannot believe that he could be
that mean-spirited, that dense, that…insensitive, callous,
that…that…Josh! And when I say "that Josh" I certainly don't mean it
in a good way. And you want to know the worst part? He doesn't get
it! He still doesn't get it! He's waiting for somebody to give him an
award; Mr. Sensitive Boss of the Year or something stupid like that.
Well, I can guaran-damn-tee you that there will be no Boyfriend of
the Year award for him. I can assure you that this is not the way to
get nominated for Boyfriend of the Year.
Up until this week, we were doing just fine. We spend as much time
together as we can. We don't go out too much, but that's okay. We
spend so much time in the public eye during the normal course of the
workweek that neither of us feels like going out in the evenings.
Sure, we go out to dinner, but no more or less than we used to. And
we try to maintain a low profile when we do—no kissing across the
table, but I think that's pretty creepy anyway—and so far, it's been
a non-issue. And, knock on wood; so far, we've not had to deal with
any stalking tabloid reporters outside of either of our apartments,
so we take turns spending time at each other's place.
We really are good together. We've always worked well together and
the change in our relationship has only made us more in-tune with
each other. And with my added responsibilities, we don't spend the
whole day with each other they way we once did, so our work time
together is almost as precious as our time together outside the White
House.
So imagine how surprised I was when the flowers arrived this
afternoon!
Josh had spent the day on the hill and didn't get back until late.
I'd been in meetings all afternoon and had some administrative work
to catch-up with. I figured we'd order some food when Josh got back,
so I was being extremely productive; getting as much done while Josh
was gone—you get the picture.
I must have been in another part of the building when Josh returned
because I didn't even see him until I cruised by Sam's office as I
dropped off some papers in the communications bullpen. I knew he was
back because I had been in his office and seen the suit he'd been
wearing hanging on the hook behind the door. I could only hope that
my boyfriend wasn't walking around the White House in the nude.
Actually the thought of running into my naked boyfriend wandering
around the White House was pretty much a fantasy that I'd been
entertaining for quite some time. However, my boss should not ever be
wandering around the White House in the all together.
But then I remembered how pissed I was about the flowers and decided
that I didn't want to run into…him…regardless of what he was or was
not wearing. So of course, I ran into him as I was finishing this
mental conversation. I could see his denim-clad butt in the doorway
of Toby's office as I entered the bullpen. My first reaction was to
notice that he was wearing my favorite jeans, but then I reminded
myself that I was not happy with the mean man wearing my boyfriend's
jeans. I couldn't just blow him off completely so I opted for
pleasant.
"Hello." That was nice, right? I was trying really hard to not sound
nasty or bitter.
"How you doing?" he asked, chasing me as I flew through the bullpen.
"I'm doing fine," I answered.
"Did you get the flowers?"
He was actually baiting me to gush about them! "Yes, I did."
"Did you like them?"
Could the man be any smugger? And must he bounce around like Tigger
when he's in smug mode?
"They were very pretty," I answered honestly, yet cool.
"Do you know why I sent them?"
Now he was now trying to walk backwards in front of me so he could
see my face. I briefly wished that he would trip so I could speed
away from the scene and get out of this conversation. I didn't want
him to get hurt—I just didn't want to talk about the stupid flowers.
"I know why you think you sent them." I was starting to lose control
of the nasty filter and my voice was getting an edge.
"It's our anniversary," Josh provided.
Like I didn't know why he'd sent me flowers on the same day that he'd
sent similar floral arrangements for the 2 previous years.
"No, it's not," I answered.
"I'm the sort of guy who remembers those things."
I have to hand him that one. He does have a memory like an elephant—
for the wrong date!
"No, you're the sort of guy who sends a woman flowers to be mean.
You're really the only person I've ever met who can do that."
"I'm quite something."
Now he was starting to break through a little. He's being cute and
trying to get me to smile. And he is quite something, but I will not
give in to this! I will stand my ground!
"Yes."
"I sent them to mark an occasion—" he began.
"Are we really going to do this every year?" I interrupted,
exasperated.
"--For I am a man of occasion," he finished, oblivious to my
protests.
"I started working for you in February. This is April and you're an
idiot."
There! I told him.
"Well, you started working for me once in February, and then you
stopped for a while."
Well, duh, Mr. Obvious. Does he honestly think I don't remember that?
"Yes."
"Then you started working for me again in April. That's the one I
choose to celebrate because it's the only one where you started
working for me and it wasn't followed by your not working but rather
going back to your boyfriend. And how in comparison to that and him
you can call me mean, is just another in a long series of examples—"
His voice had started going up toward the end of this speech which is
a sure sign that he's moving into his imperial 'I'm right and the
rest of the world is wrong' mode. I know that tone better than most
people. And I was getting to the end of my rope, so I let loose.
"Oh, shut up! Honest to God, don't you ever get tired of the sound of
your own voice?" My eyes flashed at him as I moved back in to my
workspace.
He was still on his high horse and muttered, "No! No, no, no," as he
stalked away from me.
Wait. He's not supposed to walk away. He's supposed to stay here and
fight with me. He's supposed to argue with me until we get past this.
I don't want him walking away!
"Well, where are you going now?" I step back out into the hallway. My
voice had calmed considerably.
He noticed the change in tone and tempered himself when he answered.
"Sam and I are going to punch up the thing for tomorrow. Hey, we need
funny people."
Is this a peace offering?
"Yeah?" I allowed a small smile to start on my lips.
"Do you know any? See, right there, that was a joke. It's the oldest
joke in the book." Now he was smirking.
Ladies and Gentlemen, Joshua Lyman. Thanks, folks—I'll be here all
week. Don't forget to tip your waitress and bartenders.
"I'll say." So much for the supposed peace offering. Here I thought
we might be moving on, but nooooooo.
He followed me back into my office, pleading his case. "You know
what, Ado Annie, I sent you flowers. I think what you're trying to
say is 'Why thank you Josh, they're beautiful. How thoughtful of you.
Not many bosses are that thoughtful.'"
"Really, because what I think I was trying to say was 'Shove it.'"
I still can't believe he sent the flowers.
"Well, then I guessed wrong."
If he could only figure out how wrong he was! How wrong he'd been for
3 years now! But he was awfully cute, standing there in the dim light
of the nighttime West Wing. I handed him something to sign and asked,
"You want help with the thing?"
"Yes, I do because you are such an hysterically funny person. Did you
notice how I used 'an' there properly?" He was smirking, but he was
teasing. We tease really well. And teasing often leads to—I can't
think about that right now. I'm still pissed!
"Yes, I did." It was like patting a puppy on the head.
"You crack me up." His voice was soft. His eyes were twinkling and
dancing with that spark that ignites a slow burn in my core.
I had to stop that! I had to break him of this habit of sending
flowers for this particular occasion. I do not want to mark this date
ever again.
"You know there are times when, to put it quite simply, I hate your
breathing guts." I said and blew past him. He knew I wasn't serious
about hating him.
He grinned, watching me walk away and called after me, "So the
flowers really did the trick?"
"Oh, yeah." And if he keeps this up, his next trick will be sleeping
alone tonight.
* * * * * * * * * *
Man. I don't know what crawled up her butt and died. She hasn't been
like this since…I can't remember when. I know she's not really mad at
me, but he's not happy about something and I'm not seeing what it is.
I don't like to watch Donna walk away from me. Typically that's a bad
thing, since I want her to be with me.
With me. Donna is with me. Actually, Donna and I are together. And
it's really amazing. And it hasn't been a thing for anybody. The
press, even the Republican Right has been on their best behavior.
We're not hiding. We're not doing it on the steps of the Lincoln
Memorial (another prudent tip from the president), but we're not
sneaking around in disguise, either.
In fact, from the outside, very little appears to have changed. We
still work well together. We still do our best to annoy the hell out
of each other just for the fun of it, which usually annoys the hell
out of those around us, which is an added benefit if you ask me. The
only difference is that at the end of the day, we now end up at the
same place—either hers or mine—and continue the banter and the
teasing. But when we're alone like that, it's less pointed and much
more charged, if you know what I mean. And the ultimate difference,
and to me, the biggest reward, is that Donna is the last person I see
before I fall asleep and the first person I see when I wake up.
Waking up with her will never fail to bring a smile to my face. We
fit together perfectly in every way possible.
Every morning I can't believe it's real; that I've been allowed to
touch this angel. Every morning she pulls me close and tells me how
much she loves me. And every morning I vow to do whatever I must to
insure that this never changes—that we will always love each other.
And right now, I know that she still loves me, but for some unknown
reason, she's really pissed about something. I need to figure out
what that is and see what I need to do to fix it.
* * * * * * * * *
I finished the distribution I had been working on when Josh verbally
accosted me, then made my way to the Roosevelt room where the group
had gathered. Josh was in there and I gave him the evil eye as I
walked in and sat down. He had printed several copies of the speech
for everyone to have.
Larry and Ed were getting dinner from the multitude of Chinese food
containers on the table. I sat down and started reading the speech.
While talking to Larry and Ed about how badly the speech was missing
"the funny," Josh stabbed a set of chopsticks into a carton. He
leaned across the large table and placed the carton of Chicken with
Spring Vegetables in front of me. I glanced up surprised and caught
Josh smiling shyly and looking at me out of the corner of his eye.
Okay, that made points. After this long, he does know what kind of
carryout foods I like. He also knew that I'd go through and pick out
all the mushrooms and save them for him. Even though I was still not
happy with him, I would do that. No need to punish his stomach.
Sam and Ainsley walked into the room. To no one's surprise, Ainsley
headed immediately for the food. She was pouring Kung Pao chicken
onto a plate when she innocently asked, "Donna, who gave you the
beautiful flowers?"
Josh wasted no time telling her, "I did. Me. Those are from me."
"What's the occasion?" Ainsley had no idea what she was stepping into
here.
"Nothing," I said, firmly.
"Our anniversary," Josh added.
"Our not anniversary," I corrected him—AGAIN.
"Donna doesn't like to talk about it," Josh explained to Ainsley.
I met his eyes across the table and said, "I really don't."
Poor Ainsley still had no idea what was going on, but said, "Okay."
Without looking up, Sam began to explain the situation to Ainsley and
Larry and Ed. I was shooting daggers at him with my eyes the whole
time. Josh ran a frustrated hand through his hair as he walked around
the table, headed for the chair next to mine. Sam was completely
oblivious to all of this and prattled on. "A few years ago, Donna's
boyfriend broke up with her, so she started working for Josh. But
then the boyfriend told her to come back and she did, and then they
broke up and she came back to work—" he finally looked up at me. He
probably felt the holes I was trying to bore into his skull with my
eyes. "I thought you didn't want to talk about it. I'm a spokesman—
it's in my blood," was his apology.
Ainsley looked a little shocked. As Josh dropped into the chair next
to me, she looked at him and said, "Well, they're nice flowers."
Josh wisely said nothing and nodded his appreciation at the
republican as we went back to work on the speech.
* * * * * * * * * *
What the hell was Sam trying to do to me? Does he just lose the
ability to think when Ainsley is in the room? Okay, unfair question
because I tend to lose a few IQ points when I'm wrapped up in Donna.
Not that I'm incapable of doing my job, but sometimes I get lost just
gazing at her platinum hair, alabaster skin and those clear blue
eyes. I try to limit those times to when we're alone so people don't
think I've been struck dumb, but it doesn't always work.
I had already told Sam that Donna was upset about the flowers--again.
I told him about the conversation we'd had just a little while ago,
and yet he launched into the story. I knew that stopping him wouldn't
work, so instead I walked away. Unfortunately, I could still hear
him, as could everybody else. Larry and Ed probably remember Donna's
reaction from past years. For Ainsley, this was all new and she was
listening raptly as Sam lectured on, no doubt decreasing my chances
of falling asleep with the love of my life with each word out of his
mouth.
I thought I had made back some points when I handed Donna her
favorite Chinese entrée. She had looked at me with a little less
hostility then she had earlier. I'm sure those points were erased
even though I wasn't the one talking.
* * * * * * * * *
20 minutes later
Josh had gone to look for Toby. He got back just in time to hear the
best part of Sam and Ainsley's ERA argument. I was actually enjoying
it. I think Ainsley had some valid points and it was entertaining
watching Sam and Ainsley fight. I wonder if there might be something
more in their subtext. Sam always talked about the subtext Josh and I
had—have—and I think he's in a similar situation with the blonde
republican lawyer. Of course, since he's involved, chances are he
doesn't notice it. Look how long it took Josh and I to notice ours at
the same time and do something about it.
I could tell that Josh was ready to move things along. It was late
and the likelihood of us finding the funny was diminishing as the
hour increased. I know I wanted to go home. I'm sure everybody else
wanted to get this done as soon possible as well.
Josh interrupted the Bickersons and proposed a bad joke about the
president being able to get into the Bloomberg party because he was
going with the 82nd Airborne. It seriously missed the funny, so I
came back with, "And then the president says 'Wow, I haven't heard a
room this quiet since we lost the signal to Galileo.'"
Josh hit right back with, "Or, 'Wow, I haven't seen my staff update
their resumes this quickly since the last time I tanked at the
correspondent's dinner.'"
He leaned over the table and was yelling at the end of the line. It
was annoying me. I had to say something, even though I knew it was
going to sound like a girlfriend-y thing to say, but I couldn't let
it pass. "Josh…"
"Yeah?"
"When you yell you make it harder for people to find the funny." I
was right. It did sound girlfriend-y. Oh well.
Quietly he asked, "Hey, who gave you those flowers on your desk?"
Bait me all you want, Jeans Boy. Two can play at this game. "A mean
man who can't read a calendar."
Josh and Sam went to confer privately in the corner. While they were
over there, Larry and Ed came up with the best idea I'd heard yet. It
had something to do with a John Wayne impersonation and a sock
puppet, but I thought the president could pull it off. Man, I needed
some sleep and soon.
Next Sam decided we needed to add some self-deprecation. Ed suggested
some jokes about the staff. Ainsley thought we should start with Sam,
who assured her that there was little funny to be said about him. I
was still mad at him for explaining our not-anniversary story
earlier, and, I admit, feeling a little spiteful. That's why I didn't
even try to stifle the next thing that flew into my head.
"How about this? Knock, knock. Who's there? Sam and his prostitute
friend."
Ainsley giggled. I'm sure she saw the picture when it was in the
paper. Heck, she probably even wrote an editorial about it blasting
the morals of the Bartlet administration. That should get him where
he lives.
"See, I think that was a bit of misdirected anger there," Sam
deflected.
"I'm okay with that." Flashback warning. This was getting seriously
close to how I used to interact with my brother, Tom.
Sam was not to be defeated. "Well, in that case. Ainsley, you know
why I got you flowers in April instead of February? 'Cause you
ditched me the first time around to go back to the guy who ditched
you the first time around only to have him ditch you the second time
around."
I had walked back around the table and was standing next to Josh's
slumped body. As Sam finished his little fun, I smacked the back of
Josh's head.
"Ow! What the hell? That was him!" I guess I did hit him pretty hard.
"He was being you," I explained.
"Out of fairness, I think everybody should have a turn."
I wasn't sure if he meant that everybody should have a turn to "be
Josh" or that everybody should have a turn at being smacked by me.
The thought of more than one Josh scared me. One was enough to
handle. But the way I was feeling, I would gladly have every man in
the room line up to be Josh-smacked in the head. That might make me
feel better.
Josh continued, "Sam, is there anything we can pull, anything funny
that we can recycle?"
"Yeah. Pull something I wrote from October called 'Government-wide
Accountability for Merit System Principles'," Sam replied with a
small smile.
I couldn't tell if he was kidding or not. Sometimes Sam thought he
was pretty funny when he really wasn't.
"That one was a barnburner, was it?" Josh asked. He sighed loudly and
got up to leave the room.
As he disappeared down the hall, I looked at Sam across the table and
asked, "Do you have any idea how much grief I took from him when I
came back?"
"How much?" Sam appeared to be concerned now.
"None. I walked in the door, he said, 'Thank God, there's a pile of
stuff on the desk.' This is his way. He's just going to snark me
every April, the prince of passive/aggressive behavior." It was like
he didn't even notice I was gone—like it didn't affect him at all.
"What does 'snark' mean?"
"I don't know, but he's doing it," I defended.
Sam and Ainsley left for the mess to get coffee. Sam convinced
Ainsley that there was a pastry chef who stayed until dawn, so she
might be able to find some cheesecake. Sometimes I was concerned with
how gullible she appeared to be. Then I realized that maybe she just
wanted to go with Sam. I have to admit that I have done that more
than once with Josh. When I wasn't furious with him.
* * * * * * * * * * *
What the hell was going on? Why was Donna still so annoyed at me? I
had never known a woman to get so upset about getting flowers. In my
experience, that had usually been a good thing. It had repaired
whatever wrong I had perpetrated and typically caused the woman to
throw herself into my arms, thanking me profusely for how thoughtful
I had been.
This was the third year that I had sent Donna flowers to commemorate
the day that she came back to me—to work for me. I did it because it
was the first of many "best days" for me with Donna in my life.
She had come to Manchester and chosen me to work for. I thought she
was a nut case when I first found her in my office, answering my
phone, but I decided to give her a chance. In no time, we fell into
the rhythm that would become "us." We worked well together from the
beginning. So I was totally shocked when she came to me one day and
told me that she was going back to Wisconsin.
The fact that she was leaving was a direct hit to my ego and my
defense mechanism was to move immediately into attack mode. I quickly
figured out that she was going back to him. I told her that he hadn't
changed—he had just convinced her that she was lonely and far from
home. I told her that she was making a huge mistake. I told her that
we were going to elect a president and she was going back to a
cheating, lying boyfriend who would only continue to use her and hurt
her.
She had sat in my office and cried silently while I raged on. When I
stopped, she got up and walked out of my office to pack her things.
While she did that, I sat down and wrote a letter of recommendation
for her. She hadn't asked for it, but it was my way of apologizing
for what I'd just done to her. To actually apologize would have meant
to admit things that I couldn't admit--things that took me another 3
years to admit to myself, much less to her.
When I saw her return to her desk from saying goodbye to everyone, I
stepped out of my office. I handed her the letter on Bartlet for
America stationary. She looked down at it and then up at me,
confusion marring her already sad face.
"It's a letter of recommendation. I assume you'll be looking for
another job at some point. I wanted you to know that I did find you
valuable. This is to help you convince someone else to give you a
chance." I was getting close to losing it. Her eyes were welling up
with tears and I didn't think I could deal with watching her cry
again.
I turned to walk back into my office and stopped when she softly
said, "Josh…"
I couldn't turn around and look at her. I was struggling to keep my
voice from showing my emotions, but I managed to say, "Donna, if you
change your mind, I want you to know you can always come back here."
She sniffed and said, "Thank you, Josh." And then she left.
The next 6 weeks were hell. Nobody had time to interview for a new
assistant, so I went through a bunch of short-term volunteers and
sometimes used Margaret when Leo saw my frustration about to reach
maximum overload. And everyday I waited for Donna to walk back into
campaign headquarters. When I was out on the trail, I'd find a way to
ask somebody in the office if there was anything happening in or
around my office, but still no Donna.
The first week in April, we had gotten in late from a campaign trip
before the Kansas primary. I wanted to stop by the office and see
what was what so I wasn't surprised when I got there the next
morning.
Sitting in the middle of my desk was the letter of recommendation
that I had given Donna. I looked at it for a minute before the
meaning sunk in. I immediately looked at the desk outside my office
and saw a box sitting on the floor near it. I lifted the lid and saw
the pottery vase that Donna kept pens and pencils in sitting on top.
She was back! She must have come in late that day.
I sat down at my desk, dazed, trying to comprehend what this meant.
Why had she come back? What had happened? Did he cheat on her again?
I'm sure he did. If I ever met Dr. Freeride, believe me, I was going
to give this guy a piece of my mind.
And what was I going to say to her when she came in the office.
Should I tell her I missed her? I did, but would that be
inappropriate? Should I tell her I'm glad she's back? I was. I just
hoped that she'd stay this time. Should I ask her what happened—why
she had come back? Did I really want to know the details? If I knew
the details, what would I do with that information?
I finally realized how tired I really was and decided to go back to
the hotel. I'd see what I felt like saying in the morning.
I was back at my desk before 7 a.m. the next morning. Around 7:30
a.m., I looked up to see Donnatella Moss standing in my doorway. She
was smiling shyly and said, "Josh?"
And what did I say? I had lain awake in bed the night before thinking
more about what I was going to say and what did I choose to finally
say to the best thing that had ever happened to me? I said, "Thank
God, there's a pile of stuff on the desk."
She stood there for a second, looking a little stunned. Then she went
to her desk and unpacked the box. By noon, it was like she'd never
left. She seemed a little sad, but I had already determined that I
wasn't the right person to help her through her boyfriend problems,
so I avoided the topic altogether.
Tonight, standing in my office in the West Wing, looking for the
speech Sam was talking about, it struck me what a coward I had been.
Looking back I realized what it was that I'd missed out on by being
such an idiot. And I realized how lucky I was to have finally
rectified that situation. Now I just hoped that I hadn't done
something equally stupid to muck it up again.
* * * * * * * *
With Josh off looking for the speech and the Sam & Ainsley show on a
search for caffeine and sugar, Larry, Ed and I continued the quest
for the funny. We hadn't come up with anything worth keeping by the
time Sam and Ainsley returned with a tray of coffee cups.
Sam asked where Josh was. I reminded him that he had gone to look for
the thing. Sam figured that Josh should have been back in the amount
of time it had taken him to spill several trays of coffee on their
way up from the mess. I said I'd go find him.
My resolve to remain mean to Josh was wearing down. It might have
been because I was hoping that we'd finish with the speech soon and
that we'd go home. Home being to either his place or mine. I didn't
want to sleep alone tonight. I decided it was time to let him know
why it was that I was so upset about the flowers and hope that he
understood.
I turned the corner and stopped in the doorway of Josh's office. What
the hell was he doing? He was perched on the arms of 2 chairs and
reaching up to the dangerously stacked top of his bookshelf. Yeah,
that was definitely my boyfriend wearing my favorite pair of jeans.
I let him know I was there. "Josh…"
I must have startled him because a shower of binders and files
showered down around his head. He looked over his shoulder at me and
said, "Oh. Well that was predictable."
"Yes," I said, as I stepped in to help him with the mess.
"I'm trying to find that speech Sam said," he explained.
"You know, we keep them on computer," I mentioned. Computers are
usually not prone to falling on your head, I thought wryly.
"Well, yeah, sure, I suppose…" Josh dismissed as he kneeled among the
mess, looking for the right binder.
"Except that you don't know how to use a computer."
"Right." At least he admitted it.
I joined him on the floor. This was the first time we'd been alone
since we'd argued in the bullpen earlier, "Oh Josh, Josh, Josh," I
sighed.
"Yes." He continued to look for the speech.
"Joshua, Josh, Josh."
He stopped and looked at me quizzically. "What the hell is happening
now?"
"You feel, I believe, because you're quite addle minded, that this
job was my second choice."
Smiling, he said, "Hey, I'm just grateful that we were your last
choice."
"I'm going to give you a little gift right now, which you don't
deserve…" I began.
"Donna, if you've got your old Catholic school uniform on under
there, don't get me wrong, I applaud the thought, but—"
"Okay, what I need is for you to stop being, like…you for a second."
He really was trying to get me to smile. His stock was going up by
the second.
"Okay."
"When I came back, remember I had a bandage on my ankle?"
"Yeah."
"I told you that I slipped on the ice on the front walk."
"Yeah, you know why--because you didn't put down the kitty litter."
Paranoid Josh emerges. He hates to fall down and goes through a lot
of kitty litter in the winter.
"I was actually in a car accident."
"You were in a car accident?" His voice got really high when he said
that. He looked very concerned.
"It was…" I started.
"Seriously, you were in an accident?"
This is one of the reasons that I never told him about this. "It was
no big deal."
"You told me it was a late thaw." He sounded betrayed.
I had to smile. That had been my explanation three years ago. He
remembered the exact phrase that I had told him then.
"Yes…I did. Anyway, they took me to the hospital and I called him and
he came down to get me. And on the way…he stopped and met some
friends of his for a beer." The last part came out in a rush. I
really wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.
"He stopped on the way to the hospital for a beer?"
"Yes. And so I left him." I paused to let those words sink in. "Which
was the point of my telling you this. I left him. So stop remembering
that. What I remember was that you took me back when you had
absolutely no reason to trust me again and you didn't make fun of me
or him and you had every reason to."
"Donna…"
"You're going to make fun of him now, aren't you?" I was almost
hoping that he would. I was ready for us to stop fighting and get on
to the making up portion of the evening.
"No."
He actually sounded sincere.
"That's why I didn't tell you in the first place."
"I'm not going to make fun of him," he assured me.
"Good."
"Just what kind of a dumpkiss were you…"
He wasn't going to make fun of him. He was going to make fun of me!
"He was supposed to meet some of his friends. He stopped on the way
to tell them he couldn't." Why was I defending Dr. Freeride?
"And had a beer?"
"Does this make you feel superior?" Oh, what a look he has now. "Yes,
you are better than my old boyfriend."
Standing up, he said, "I'm just saying that if you were in an
accident, I wouldn't stop for a beer."
"If you were in an accident, I wouldn't stop for red lights." He
stopped at the door and looked at me. I'm not sure what the look on
his face was saying. I walked past him and started down the hall.
"Thanks for taking me back. Oh, and the flowers are beautiful."
I was almost to the lobby when he said, "Donna, wait."
I stopped and took a deep breath before turning around. He had
stepped out of the doorway, but the light from his office still lit
his face.
"Why didn't you ever tell me that before?"
I slowly walked toward him, stopping a few feet away, careful to
remain in the dark. "I didn't tell you at the time because I didn't
want to hear 'I told you so.'"
He started to open his mouth, but I held up my hand. "Don't argue
with me—at the time you would have."
He shrugged and nodded.
"The first two times you sent me flowers, I didn't know how to bring
it up. It was so sweet of you to think you were celebrating something
special that I didn't know how to tell you that I wanted to forget
about those 6 weeks—pretend like they never happened."
He had moved toward me and was now standing right in front of me. He
took my hand in his and rubbed it lightly.
"This year, since we've been together, I thought that you probably
wouldn't do it again—send me flowers now. The only anniversaries I
want to celebrate are the ones that involve just you and me." I was
looking down at our joined hands.
"Donna. Donna?" He wanted me to look at him. "I thought we agreed
that everything that has happened to us—the good and the bad—was all
a part of who we are. Of who we are," he said softly.
I didn't trust my voice, so I just nodded.
"But I understand now why you don't want to recognize this date. I
promise that I won't do that again. Besides, we've got new
anniversaries to celebrate, right? Our first kiss.."
"…the night of the movie…" I added.
"…the first night we slept together…"
"…the night after the first kiss…"
"…and the first time we made love," he added almost in a whisper.
"Josh…" I felt like I should stop this before it went somewhere it
shouldn't go in the West Wing.
"Shhh," he said, pulling me to him and wrapping an arm around my
waist. "The only people here are either in the Oval or the Roosevelt
Room." His lips captured mine as I wrapped my arms around him,
holding him close.
When he lifted his head, I said, "We should get back. I was supposed
come get you. We shouldn't be gone too long or…"
Keeping an arm around me, he said, "Yeah. Let's go find the funny so
we can go home, okay?"
"Okay."
As we neared the Roosevelt Room, we could hear laughter. Josh pulled
me close to him one more time before dropping his arm and opening the
door. As we walked in, Sam shouted over the giggling, "Josh! Donna!
I think we found the funny!"
Josh looked at me and winked. We both knew this meant that soon it
would be time to go home—together.