Amy taps her foot impatiently. "You ready yet? We're going to be late."
"Just a sec," I say. I didn't get a chance to have Donna fix my bow tie earlier, and I can't for the life of me manage to get it tied. "I just have to finish with my tie."
I struggle with the bow tie, but I bungle it completely. It falls apart the second I let it go.
"You really suck at that," Amy comments. "Do you want me to try?"
"No, I got it," I lie. I'm not sure why, but the idea of Amy fixing my bow tie for me makes me extremely uncomfortable.
She steps towards me and brushes my hands away. It takes all my will power not to flinch away as she reaches for the tie. There's no reason I should react this way. I try to think of a reason for her not to do this, but somehow, the I don't think the only one that comes to mind– the fact that I only want Donna to tie my tie– would go over too well with the woman who is supposed to be my date for the evening.
"You've completely botched it up," she says. She starts in on the tie, but she doesn't fare much better than I did. I feel relieved when she gives up fairly quickly and moves across the room to pick up her purse. "We'll have to find someone at the party to do it for you," she says, folding her arms over her chest.
Donna bursts into the room, flushed, with a big smile on her face. "Hey, Josh, you almost ready? You're going to be late to the party."
"Hey, Donna," Amy says from behind her.
Donna jumps about a foot in the air. "Oh my God!" she says, putting a hand over her heart. "I'm so sorry, Amy, I didn't see you there."
"It's all right, I'm used to it," Amy says wryly. "Josh has that reaction practically every time I see him."
Donna glances between the two of us and turns bright red. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you. I'll leave you two alone," she says, flustered.
Amy waves her hand vaguely in Donna's direction. "No, no, stay. We're heading over there in a minute," she says, rummaging through her purse and extracting a tube of lipstick and a compact. "Hey, do you know how to tie a bow tie?"
"Well, yes," Donna says reluctantly. "But– "
"Good," Amy says, applying the lipstick and checking her reflection in the compact's mirror. "Josh needs someone to fix his. Neither of us knows how to do it."
"It's okay," I say quickly. "I think I can get someone to do it at the party."
"Don't be ridiculous, J. If Donna knows how, there's no point in waiting," Amy says. "You don't mind, do you, Donna?"
Donna smiles tightly. "Of course not," she says, but I can tell she's lying. She's no more comfortable with this than I am.
"Donna," I say in a low voice. "You don't have to."
"Don't be silly, J–Josh," she says, correcting herself at the last second. I'm sure she was about to call me Joshua, but she stopped herself with a nervous glance at Amy, who is still doing her make-up. She takes a deep breath. "I can do it."
"Okay," I say unhappily. Donna takes the ends of the tie in her hands and begins tying the knot. She doesn't meet my eyes, but looks at the bow tie intently while she works.
Amy watches the process with interest. "It's not very intuitive, is it?" she remarks. "It's sort of hard to know where to start in the beginning."
Donna blushes. "Oh, well, you get used to it."
"I guess so," Amy agrees. "Maybe you could teach me how sometime."
"Sure," Donna says, sounding strained. I'm acutely aware of her nearness, and I can feel the tension rolling off her in waves. I feel my own tension reflected in the sensation that needles are oozing out of my pores. I wish Amy weren't here. I wish Donna didn't look so awful. I wish she could tie my tie like she normally does.
We're both uneasy. It's strange how many things we've taken for granted in this ritual. Like being alone, to start. Another example: I wouldn't have been able to tell you that Donna has a habit of touching my neck and shoulders a lot when she ties my bow tie, but she's not doing it now, and I feel the lack. I watch her, trying to communicate how sorry I am that she's being forced to do this in front of another woman, but she doesn't look at me, concentrating instead on completing her task.
When she's finished, she doesn't straighten my collar and brush her fingertips along my neck. She doesn't smooth the wrinkles out of my jacket or rest her hand over my heart. She drops her hands and then looks down at them, affecting great interest in the way they are clasped before her.
"Well, let's go," Amy says.
Donna turns on her heel and walks out of the office. Amy and I follow. Donna's walking really fast, Amy's blathering about the new HHS bill, and I'm privately wondering if it's possible that I somehow entered hell without realizing it in the past twenty minutes.
We enter the party, and I can see Donna looking around desperately for an avenue of escape.
"Ooh, shrimp!" Amy exclaims, heading over to a waiter and flirting with him to score an extra large helping of shrimp.
"There's CJ," Donna says suddenly, sounding relieved. "I have to go ask her about something. I'll see you guys later," she adds, moving away.
I grab her hand and pull her towards me. Amy's still oblivious with the shrimp guy. "Save me a dance later, okay?" I whisper into her ear.
"I don't think that's a good idea," she whispers back.
I tighten my grip on her hand. "Promise me," I say in a low voice.
She looks at me unhappily for a minute. "All right," she says finally. She pulls away from me and walks over to CJ, speaking low into her ear.
CJ looks concerned, and asks her something. Donna shakes her head, and CJ puts her hand on her shoulder. She looks up and her compassion-filled eyes unconsciously meet my own. My face is impassive, mainly because I don't know what the hell I'm feeling at the moment, but I'm fairly certain my expression indicates that I am less than thrilled with my present situation. I think CJ gets the picture, because her eyes stray over to Amy and the proverbial light bulb goes on over her head. Her face clears with sudden understanding and she wraps her arm around Donna, turning to face a group of people with a bright smile on her face as she announces Donna's presence to everyone.
Relieved that CJ's watching over Donna, I turn my attention to Amy, who has returned with a plateful of shrimp. "Come on, J," she says. "Let's go mingle."
I'm really not in the mood to mingle. I'm in the mood to brood about my assistant, but I follow Amy instead.
The next hour and a half are the most excruciatingly boring ninety minutes of my life. Amy's working the crowd, arguing with Congressmen and lobbying her agenda with the tenacity that I once found so appealing and currently find extremely exhausting. For once, I don't interject my opinion or attempt to advance any political goals of my own. I just don't care at the moment. At the moment, all I care about is fixing this mess with Donna.
I finally get away when Amy gets into an argument with Toby about some obscure female writer I've never heard of. I make my escape and scan the crowd for a minute before I find Donna talking to Margaret. I walk up to them and put a hand on her shoulder. "You promised me a dance," I remind her sheepishly when she turns towards me.
Her eyes move past me, scanning the crowd. I take her hand. "Amy's talking to Toby." She nods reluctantly and Margaret takes the drink from her hand.
I lead her to the dance floor and put my hands on her waist. She dutifully puts her hands on my shoulders, but keeps a little extra distance between us.
"I'm sorry about before," I tell her.
She smiles faintly, but it looks forced. "Sorry about what?"
"You know, the tie," I say.
"Why should you be sorry about that?" she says, feigning innocence.
"You shouldn't have to do that," I say.
"Tie your tie?" she asks. "Why not?"
I shrug uncomfortably. "That's not your job."
"I've done it a thousand times before. Why should tonight be any different?" she says brusquely.
"Because..." I trail off.
"See? You have nothing to be sorry about."
"I'm still sorry," I insist.
"Josh, don't do this," she says.
"Do what?" I want to know.
"Don't make a big deal out of this. It doesn't mean anything."
"It means something to me," I say, stung.
"What does it mean to you?" she challenges.
"I... I don't know," I say lamely.
"Well if you can't define it, it must not be very important to you, Mr. 760 Verbal."
I look her straight in the eye. "I can't define the things that are the most important to me," I say sincerely.
She inhales sharply. "You're going to have to do better than that if you want to convince me that this stupid tie thing is worth making a fuss over."
"What do you want from me? Look, I don't understand what's going on here, I'm just trying to say I'm sorry."
"You know exactly what's going on, Josh. You're involved in some sort of bizarre charade with Amy, and you've made me out to be the 'other woman' in this little drama you're playing out with her," she says bluntly. "I'm not the other woman, Josh. I'm your assistant. I'm your friend. So don't do this to me. Don't act like you've betrayed me by letting me tie your goddamned bow tie. Because if it were a betrayal, you would know how to define it."
"Then why are you acting so skittish around Amy? You couldn't get away from us fast enough," I challenge.
"Because Amy already thinks I'm the other woman, and I'm trying to do you a favor with your girlfriend by not encouraging that impression!" she says.
My brow furrows. "What do you mean, Amy already thinks you're the other woman?" I ask with some trepidation, Amy's voice echoing in my head from a conversation we had before we even started dating. "Are you dating your assistant?" she had asked, but I thought she had let that go when I assured her I wasn't. What would make Donna think that Amy believed she was the other woman?
"It doesn't matter," Donna says. I'm burning with curiosity, but I drop it because Donna is clearly agitated. "Just stop worrying about the dumb tie."
"This is a big deal," I insist. "I know it is, no matter what you say. It's such a big deal I can't believe Amy doesn't realize what a big deal it is! I can't believe she could stand there calmly and watch while you tied my bow tie and not think it meant anything," I say, frustrated.
Donna smiles sadly. "Why should she care who ties your bow tie, Josh? She's the one who's going to take it off."
Well. That hit the nail on the head all right. I stare at her. Suddenly I'm a lot closer to knowing how to define why I'm so upset. It has something to do with the fact that I'd really rather Donna take off my tie than Amy. Yet I'm here with Amy, and up until the last few minutes, I had every reason to believe she would take off my tie later this evening and I had not been thinking about that possibility with displeasure. I look away, ashamed.
"Josh, lighten up. We're at a party. Stop looking like you just lost your best friend."
"I can't," I whisper. "I'm afraid I did just lose my best friend."
"Why? Did Sam find another call girl and leave you?" she jokes.
I grip her hand. "I'm talking about you, Miss Know-It-All."
"But I'm right here," she points out.
"What if you left?" I say, and I think a little of the panic I'm feeling creeps into my voice.
She squeezes my hand. "I'm not going anywhere," she assures me. The dance ends, and she gives me a little push. "Now go find your girlfriend and stop bothering me. There's a really cute guy at the bar checking me out and it looks like he can tie his own bow tie and everything."
Why would she want a guy like that? "I just wanted you to know it means something to me," I mutter. I turn away, dejected.
I'm almost out of earshot when she speaks, so softly I almost don't hear her. When I make out the words, in fact, I don't think they're intended for my ears. "It means something to me, too."
I'm back at her side in a flash. "Then why are you sending me back to Amy?"
"She's your date," she points out, recovering quickly from her surprise that she'd actually spoken aloud.
"But I– " I stop. I want to stay here with you.
She smiles understandingly. "It's okay, Josh."
"Donna, I– " I rake my hand through my hair. I step closer to her. "We have a thing."
She shakes her head, apparently understanding my vague statement. "Don't do this, Josh."
"We do," I insist. "You and I have a thing."
"Again with the 760 verbal," she mutters under her breath.
I grab her hand again. "Donna, people think we're dating. Amy is jealous of you. What does that say about our relationship?"
"For the last time, I am not the other woman," she says.
Suddenly, I know how to define everything. And more significantly, I'm no long afraid to do so. "You're not the other woman. She is."
She turns away. "Don't say that."
"Why not? You've been in my life a lot longer than she has."
"You knew her in college, Josh," she points out.
"But I'm closer to you than I am to her."
"She's your girlfriend, Josh," Donna whispers.
I step closer to her. "Donna," I say fiercely. "Don't you ever want more?"
"I don't know what you mean," she says, not looking at me.
"I mean, don't you ever want more for the two of us than what we have now?"
"What we have now is good," she evades. "I like what we have."
"What do we have?" I say, squeezing her hand.
She gestures with her free hand. "You're you and I'm me, and I help you with work, and I take care of you, and we're best friends."
"And that's enough for you?" I ask disbelievingly.
"Yes," she replies simply.
"How can that be enough for you?"
"Because. It's part of my deal with God," she replies matter of factly.
"What do you mean?" I say, confused.
"It's enough for me because God has held up his end of the bargain."
"What bargain?" I want to know.
"The bargain I made with God when you were shot."
"You made a deal with God when I was shot?" I ask, flabbergasted.
She nods as though this were nothing out of the ordinary. "When you were shot, I swore to God that I would never expect anything of him again if he let you live. I told him I would be content with our relationship staying the same if he did that. I promised him that I would be happy, even if I could never touch you or hold you the way I wanted to, if he would just keep you alive for me. And whenever I get sad that I can't have more of you, I remember that you might have been taken away from me, and I think that what we have is enough. It's more than enough."
I squeeze her hand. "You deserve better than that, Donna."
She squeezes her eyes shut. "I know," she whispers.
"What if I told you that I want to give you more?" I say softly. "That I want us to be more."
She cracks one eye open. "You want us to be more?"
"I want us to be everything," I clarify. "What do you say?"
Her face falls. "I can't."
"Why not?" I ask, anguished. She doesn't want us to be more?
"I can't go back on my deal with God."
I contemplate this for a minute. At last I say, "You're right. You can't go back on your deal with God. But you need to do something. You know what you need to do?"
She shakes her head.
I smile at her. "You need to renegotiate your deal."
She looks up. "Renegotiate?" she repeats.
I nod. "Yes. To take into account altered circumstances."
"What altered circumstances?" she asks warily.
I squeeze her hand again. "You need to offer an amendment. An amendment that says you won't expect more of me unless... unless I feel the same way about you that you feel about me. And that you're allowed to expect more if I need more from you. The basis of your deal was that you fulfill the terms of the bargain, and He keeps me happy and healthy, right?"
"Essentially," she agrees.
"So, say in order for me to be happy and healthy, I need you to be in my life. And say to be happy and healthy, I also need you to hold me when I need comfort. I need to hold you when you need comfort, too. And I need to laugh with you. I need to laugh and cry and live and breathe with you."
She looks at me, her eyes filled with tears.
"If we renegotiated for improved terms, where both you and I would be a lot happier than before, the spirit of the bargain would still be intact, wouldn't it? So if we altered the deal to reflect those needs, that'd probably be all right with God, right?" I say hopefully.
The tears spill over and it seems like forever (really, only the length of time I'm able to hold my breath), and then she nods wordlessly. And then she falls into my arms.
She's laughing and crying at the same time, and all I'm doing is keeping my arms wrapped tightly around her, but I feel like I'm laughing and crying, too. I still need to tell Amy that she's the other woman and that Donna and I have renegotiated our deal with God, but I'm too happy to worry about that now. Because tonight I'm going to kiss my assistant for the first time, and someday soon she's going to take off my bowtie, and in the meantime, we're going to be more to each other. We're going to be everything.