Author's Note: I'm posting my other works to FF that never quite made it here. This was posted at B4A and on my website, way back when it was written. That was... 2005.
Something is bothering Josh. After his impromptu "make Donna feel better about herself" speech before lunch yesterday things just weren't quite…right. He was quiet during lunch—a state of being that Joshua Lyman is highly unfamiliar with.
This evening is one of three evenings off between now and the election. CJ and I are going out for drinks at eight. Of all the things my friend and I need to talk about, I hate to be the one to drag old irons into the fire…especially after hearing her opinion of the situation with Josh. But, she is probably my last remaining girlfriend. And, I'm sure she doesn't want to hear about it. Dilemmas, dilemmas. I guess the rule will be: if she brings him up, then we'll talk about him; if she doesn't, it's her subtle way of saying that she's through with the whole thing and I'll leave it alone.
I'm putting special care into my appearance tonight. It's very important that I look like I'm doing well for myself. Part of me feels as if I do need to prove to CJ what I'm capable of doing on my own. I had my hair trimmed again today. It's got more layers now, but I'm letting these dreadful bangs grow out. It seemed like a good idea to get the bangs at the time, but now I'm not feeling it. The new layers are working, though, they make me look older—something that is a commodity in this town.
My clothes are more expensive now. A by-product of being caught on camera so often. I feel this need to project a very put together image. I'm sure my candidate appreciates the effort. My suits are what might be referred to as "power-suits". Bold, sophisticated colors like black, navy blue, scarlet, and winter white. Tonight's suit is a black, four button, streamlined ensemble that, when worn without the powder blue blouse I had on earlier, does amazing things to my shape. I'll be the first to admit that I absolutely do not have a weight problem. I'm pleased enough with my waistline. It's my bust line that agonizes. But in this suit—this glorious BCBG slick black wool suit (and, of course, with the help of a wonderbra)—I have a figure that's to die for. The skirt is my favorite kind, a pencil cut. I have these really amazing black and silver Steve Madden heels. As if I wasn't tall enough, they add about three and a half inches to my height—now I'm seriously statuesque.
My hair and make up is the biggest change, though. My hair used to be almost a white blond, straight cut—you know, demure. But now it's slightly darker, messier, sexier. My makeup is bolder, smokier. In short, I'm Donnatella Moss, the woman. The woman that Josh seems so fond of.
I will admit that there is a slight possibility that I know where Josh is taking Sam tonight after his flight gets in. And, I will admit that there is a slight possibility that CJ and I made plans to be in that very same lounge. Of course, I'll also admit that the original plan called for CJ to be long gone by the time Josh and Sam arrived. Said original plan called for CJ and me to meet at six. So, we'll see how this goes.
*************************
I haven't seen Donna since yesterday. I sort of flipped out on her. But when I heard her talk to me like she was my assistant again, it took me back to that unpleasant place where things were so mixed up between us. I was more upset by the feeling of insecurity that dredged up than I was about the fact that it seemed like she was putting herself back in that old place.
Our lunch conversation was practically non-existent. My fault entirely. She kissed me. Repeatedly. And we're very good at the kissing. It feels like we've been doing it for a long time.
She thinks I don't know that she and CJ are meeting at the same place Sam and I are going after I pick him up at the airport. I'm looking forward to seeing her tonight. I'm also looking forward to being able to sit around like we used to—CJ, Sam, Donna and me. It's going to be great to have friends again.
I'm also slightly nervous about tonight. I'm going to ask Sam to leave a highly successful private practice to write for the campaign of someone I'm not entirely sure is the real thing. Don't get me wrong, I have great faith in Matt Santos. The problem is he doesn't seem to have great faith in himself. I'm honestly not sure how we're going to win an election with a candidate who seems befuddled by the fact that we've actually gotten this far. That's why I need Sam. I need someone who can shape the big ideas of the Congressman's into words that can convey his power to potential voters. Next to Toby, Sam's the best. Sam's my best friend. And after everything that's happened with Toby, I don't think he'd be the wisest decision.
I'm sitting in one of those high-backed airport restaurant chairs when I see him enter the gate, garment bag slung over one shoulder, cell phone pressed to his ear. I have to smile a little—he never changes. I'm nervous about asking Sam to join the campaign because I'm not sure that he'll say yes. Above and beyond his law practice he's got what appears to be a very serious relationship going with one Sierra Parry—interior designer extraordinaire. She seemed great when I talked to her a couple of nights ago. Evidently Ms. Parry spends a lot of time at Sam's house.
He spots me, waves me back into my seat and starts to head my way. The sheer number of people at National astounds me. So it's not surprising when it takes him about five minutes to traverse the hundred and fifty feet that separate us. I would have just barged right though, but Sam is much more polite than I am. When he finally reaches me he sets his garment bag down on the high coffee table I'm seated at, tells the person on the other end of the line that he loves them and he'll call later (I'm going to take a leap and say he was talking to Sierra). He snaps his phone shut, grins at me and pulls me out of my chair and into a hug. I can't help but laugh.
"Hey buddy!"
He steps back from me. "You look happy."
"Thank you. So do you."
"Sierra's very good for me. Donna good for you?"
"Don't you know it. We're going to run into her and CJ tonight."
"Run into them?" He picks his garment bag when I incline my head in the direction of the exit. "What do you mean?"
"Donna doesn't know I know she made plans to meet CJ at the Royal Vinter."
He grins when I tell him this. "Ah, but that's where we're going."
"That's something we all know. Things were a little awkward between us yesterday. I think creating this opportunity for us to 'run into' one another is her way of ensuring that we get together without making a thing of it."
"You mean you're still not together-together?"
"I take it back. You're not a woman trapped in a man's body—you're a teenage girl trapped in a man's body."
"Josh, answer the damn question." But he's still grinning at me.
"No, we're not together yet." I grin back at him. "But we're getting there."
***********************
"I love this place." CJ says after we're shown to a table. "It's like stepping back in time fifty years."
She's right. The lighting is low, there's a guy in the corner playing piano and an older woman singing the standards. A small dance floor has been fashioned in front of them. There are already, at this early hour, three couples out there swaying back and forth to "You Belong To Me". When the duo breaks into "It Had To Be You", one of the couples leaves the floor, temples together, hands clasped, trying hard to stare into one another's eyes while navigating through the sea of tables. Josh and I will never be like that. Oh, I'm sure at some point we'll dance. And we'll probably gaze longingly into each other's eyes, but we'll never be that couple that leaves the dance floor with their temples pressed together, hands entwined, oblivious to the world around us. I used to want that. I'm suddenly okay with the fact that the man that I've fallen in love with isn't going to be that kind of guy.
"Donna?"
Oh, right, CJ. "I'm sorry…I was kind of lost in thought." I smile at her. "I love it here too. I came across this place just after they opened and I just fell in love. I don't get much occasion to come here, though."
"Me either."
Thankfully, the waitress chooses this moment to interrupt us. The conversation, while pleasant, seems stressed. "What would you ladies like tonight?" She asks us genially.
CJ orders a amaretto sour and I order my new usual dirty martini. She gives me the same look that Josh gave me when I ordered it the night of the verbal vomit. Isn't the imagery just beautiful? The waitress leaves us to place the order which leaves me to concentrate on CJ—who's still giving me that look.
"What?" I finally ask.
She thinks for a moment. "You're just so…different."
I have to decide how honest to be right now. In less than an hour, my almost—for lack of a better term—boyfriend and his best friend are going to walk though that door. She knows that my life is different. That I'm different. But I feel the need to choose my words carefully. "I've had to be, CJ. Things just all kind of fell apart, you know? Once I figured out how to pick up the pieces and move on, I did. Things are really starting to come together now."
She nods. "That's great. That's really…great." She takes a sip of her drink, sets it down, picks it back up, and then sets it back down. "About the lock down—"
I cut her off. "Please, let's not talk about it."
"I really think I should tell you what I really meant."
That makes me angry. "CJ, I know what you really meant. You meant that I had inappropriate feelings for my boss. You meant that I was no longer able to do my job. What you meant was that I should explore other avenues because the man I was in love with—a feeling, by the way, so intense that at times I couldn't see straight—couldn't ever love me back. You implied that I was somehow lesser than him. So when I did move on, because I couldn't stand the fact that one of my best friends thought so little of me, because I started to think that maybe you were right, I did something amazing for myself. I actually started to follow in your footsteps. Because, despite everything, despite knowing what you think of me, I really admire you."
"Donna, I never meant that you were less than him. I never, ever, meant to imply that what you were feeling wasn't real." She cocks her head to one side. "I always kind of thought that no matter what you and Josh would end up together. I honestly thought that if you moved on, if you had a chance to be you, Donna Moss, not Donnatella Moss Joshua Lyman's Girl Friday, then when it was time you would really be ready to take that next step. I was afraid of how you could short change yourself if you never got to know yourself and an adult." She pauses, giving me an opportunity to stop her, I think. "You were so young when you came to us. But you were different than the others, even then. It was amazing, really, your passion for it. It ignited the rest of us. But then the infatuation started. We all saw it. The only way we could think to keep things appropriate was to keep you and Josh together. We knew, above all else, that both of your senses of propriety would keep you apart. Don't you see, Donna, we did this to you."
"You were trying to get me out." Realization dawns. All of them, CJ, Toby, Sam, Leo, maybe even the President, kept Josh and I so close together so we wouldn't be a political liability. I don't know whether to love them for it or to hate them for it.
She nods. "When it became apparent that your feelings for Josh went beyond simple infatuation we decided it would be best if you left. If you left, by the time Josh would get around to making things right between you two—"
"We'd no longer be a political liability." I finish for her. I'm tearing up now. "CJ, I have news for you. The feelings I have for Josh evolved from simple infatuation years ago. But, you were right about one thing. My sense of propriety did keep me from telling Josh exactly how I felt. My loyalty to both him and the job kept me there for seven long years. Kept me both as close to and as far from the man I loved more than life itself. And I can't believe that you all did it on purpose. I can't believe that you could do that and still call yourself my friend." I am crying now. This is not how I envisioned this going.
"Donna, please—" CJ reaches out across the table and puts a hand on my forearm, but I jerk it away. She starts again, "Donna, please understand. There's no way we could have known when we made the decision."
"Maybe not, but you certainly knew somewhere along the way, sometime before that conversation. You could have put a stop to it a long time ago."
"Be honest, would you have left four years ago? Knowing that you couldn't be with him? Knowing you couldn't just quit and then claim him for your own? Knowing that wouldn't solve anything? That it would look just as inappropriate that way as if you were together while you worked for him? I could tell when it came apart for you. I believed it better to push you out before the thing between the two of you became irreparable."
"You were almost too late." I hear Josh's soft tenor behind me at the same time I feel his hand land on my shoulder. I whip around to face him. He's got a look on his face I've never seen before. He looks angry, hurt, betrayed, but also a little relieved.
"Almost?" I turn back to face CJ, there's a hopeful smile on her face.
"Yeah, almost." I say with that same hopeful smile as I lay my hand over his.
"So, are you two?" Her question trails off, but there's no mistaking what she means.
"Not yet, but we're getting there."
******************
Catching up with CJ was good. It was also emotionally exhausting. It was fun to have the four of us together again, though. She left about a half hour ago. Sam and Josh are engaged in a conversation I'm too tired, and a little too drunk to follow. After the drinks toasting Sam's acceptance of Josh's job offer of Communications Director on the campaign, I had to cut me off. Contrary to what I've tried, fairly successfully, to make our friends believe, Josh's system is not that sensitive. He and Sam have been going drink for drink for a while now and neither is showing signs of inebriation.
After spending about fifteen minutes psyching myself up, I turn to Josh, "I need to go home. Work bright and early tomorrow." I lean in to kiss him on the cheek. I'm surprised when he turns enough for our lips to meet. The kiss he gives me is a little too steamy for public, but nice nonetheless. Sam coughs behind his hand, but he can't hide the grin. I lean over and kiss his cheek. "It was great to see you, Sam. You're coming out for good next week, right?"
"Yep. Good night, Donna."
"'Night." I lean into Josh again, "Good night, I love you."
He completely surprises me when he tells me he loves me too, loud enough for Sam to hear.
********************
After Donna leaves Sam starts questioning me immediately. "Why didn't you tell me that things have gotten so good?"
"I'm afraid that if I start to talk about it, it's all going to unravel."
"Last Thursday when you called me you were sure that things between you and Donna were a complete and total mess. Today, four days later, it's "I love you" all around."
"To be fair, we've known we've loved each other for years. And you and Donna have both said it, there's a difference between loving someone and being in love with someone. I tell my mom I love her every time we talk."
Sam seems exasperated. "That's not at all the same thing and you know it."
"I'm not entirely sure where this thing is going yet. I'm trying to be as cautious as possible. But damn it, Sam, a lot has happened in the last couple of days. She wants a relationship. I'm almost sure I want a relationship. The more I think about it, the more I can't imagine my life without her. If I'm not going to be with her, I'm probably not ever going to be with anyone."
"That sounds a lot like being in love with her. Well, you know, for the emotionally stunted."
"I am not emotionally stunted. I just choose to express myself differently." I consider this for a moment. I'm really not emotionally stunted. And I think I've shown a lot of really great growth over the last week. Though, it does seem insane to me that all of this has happened in the span of a week. "Oh my god, Sam."
He looks very alarmed, "What?"
"It's only been a week. Last Monday was the night that she told me everything. It's only been a week. What the hell do I think I'm doing?" I knock back the rest of my drink. "This is exactly what I was afraid of. This is what I didn't want happening. She's got this insane power over me. I can't lose myself to her, Sam, I can't."
"Whoa, calm down. It has not only been a week. This has been seven years in the making. You fuck this up now and you may not get another chance. Get a hold of yourself. No one's trying to pin you down. She's not trying to force you into something you don't want."
"Oh yes she is. She's luring me in with sex!" Now I'm being irrational. I know it, but I can't stop it. "She told me that it didn't matter if there was going to be a relationship or not. She just wanted to know so she could prepare herself. She's luring me with all the sex and all the kissing."
"All the sex?" He asks this with total disbelief, like there's no way in hell I'm getting any.
"Okay, well, the promise of all the sex. She says that the banter was the foreplay."
"Josh, I could use just a little less information about your sex life with Donna."
"I don't have a sex life with Donna!" I may have said that a little loud. The nice elderly couple at the next table is glaring at me.
"You do realize that this entire thing has been one giant comedy of errors? That things are good, then they're bad, then they're good again, so one of you has to go and screw it all up." I start to interject but he talks over me. "And it's not just you. It's Donna too. It's like you two are terrified of the possibility of actually being together. It's almost like you believe that when you get together it's over. That the climax just isn't going to live up to the build up. The sad thing is, with the two of you, it may just be true."
I'm especially afraid that he may very well be right.