Classification: Post-ep for "The Portland Trip" - or else I'd have had
to strangle Josh.
Summary: "Oh, man," Josh said aloud, rubbing his temples with the knuckles
of his index
fingers. "Just how badly did I screw this
up?"
With grateful thanks to Ryo Sen, Jill Kirby, and Anna for their timely
and
honest beta reading.
***
Josh Lyman's apartment
12:45 a.m.
There was no one to call.
Josh hated that feeling, the sensation that a thousand supernovas were
running
through his bloodstream and that he'd explode if he couldn't find an
outlet for
all his energy. Usually he'd just pick up the phone and go from there
- call Sam
and drag him from his unnaturally tidy environment to some hole-in-the-wall
where the beers were ice cold and the ambiance was so noisy that they
could talk
about state secrets yet not be overheard. On the rare occasions where
Sam blew
him off, he could phone CJ. Josh was one of the few people who knew
her secret
predilection for dancing, and he enjoyed whisking her away to a place
where they
could burn off their excess energies without consequence.
But CJ and Sam were in the friendly night skies, unavailable for a conference
in
the flesh, and that was what he needed after his long ordeal at the
White House.
He considered calling Leo and asking, again, if he'd like some coffee.
Poor guy.
Josh had never felt any particular fondness for Jenny, who on her part
had never
shown him any particular fondness, either. Nonetheless, he knew Leo
loved her
deeply and was feeling a renewed sense of loss. But he'd said "no,"
and when Leo
said "no" it didn't mean "please talk me out of it," it meant
"no."
There were others, guys from Congress or their aides, people with whom
he had
started hanging around for political expedience only to find that he
had a
genuine appreciation for their company. Matt Skinner was one of those
guys, but
Josh had burned a few bridges earlier in the evening, then scattered
the ashes
just to make sure.
"If this had been an actual emergency, you would've been instructed
to contact
Toby Ziegler and get the ass-kicking you so deeply deserve," Josh muttered,
setting down the phone again when he remembered that Toby was off with
CJ and
Sam.
Ass-kicking? Where the hell did that come from?
With a sudden flash, an epiphany that sang like a chorus of angels -
if angels
tended to blow raspberries during their chants - Josh knew why his
subconscious
was bubbling to the surface and demanding that his posterior be kicked,
and
hard.
Donna. Usually his first call. Just...not after tonight.
Good God. What had he said to her? Something about being coupled up,
and
self-worth, something that made her face melt, that made the Donna-spark
vanish
from her eyes like a match extinguished by ice water. But he couldn't
remember
what he'd said.
He stopped pacing.
It was happening more often now, the tendency to let loose with verbal
outbursts
that left him stunned afterwards, unable to remember the words or why
he'd said
them.
"Oh, man," Josh said aloud, rubbing his temples with the knuckles of
his index
fingers. "Just how badly did I screw this up?"
Something he remembered with crystal clarity was Leo, sitting on the
sofa right
here in Josh's living room about a month before Josh had been allowed
to return
to work. Leo had proven his political craftiness by sending Donna on
a spurious
but important-sounding errand. It bought enough time for the two guys
to share
Leo's contraband - overstuffed Reuben sandwiches from the only decent
deli in
the entire D.C. area.
Over their sandwiches and half-sour pickles they'd swapped Margaret
and Donna
stories, laughing, but then Leo had turned serious.
"It's one thing to kid around with them a little, Josh, but you have
to know
there's a line and you can't step over it. You have to make sure you
don't hurt
these women, ever." Leo had leaned forward, holding a sauerkraut-dampened
hand
just shy of Josh's arm. "They're women of valor, Josh. Don't forget
that."
"Beyond rubies," Josh had whispered, remembering the long, horrible
nights when
Donna was his only link to sanity in a world of shock and agony and
helplessness.
Tonight Donna had been dressed like a ruby, and he had humiliated her.
"You're a schmuck," he said to his reflection in the window as he considered
picking up the phone.
"You're a schmuck and a coward," he amended, lifting his chin and staring
himself down.
Without a second thought, he grabbed his keys and headed out the door.
His car
radio was tuned to NPR and they were interviewing someone about Seasonal
Affective Disorder. Josh groaned and turned the radio off with a sharp
snap of
his wrist. "Give me a break," he muttered into the chilly night air.
Seconds
later he realized that he'd forgotten to grab his coat on the way out.
"Serves
me right."
Traffic was light, and he was at Donna's apartment before he had time
to talk
himself out of it. Fortune was smiling on him, he thought, noticing
that
Miranda's car wasn't in the space next to Donna's. Her roomate's new
boyfriend
must be working out.
So Donna got to witness Miranda's happiness every day of her life. Ouch.
He craned his neck, counting windows. Her living room light was still
on. It was
a good sign, he thought. Then he thought it was a bad sign because
surely,
surely she'd have gone to bed by now unless she felt the need to sit
on the
sofa, eat ice cream, and brood.
Josh shifted in the seat, pulling his phone out of his pocket. Taking
a deep
breath, Josh punched her number on the speed-dial that she had programmed
for
him. The phone rang once, twice, and then he heard her voice, thick
with
exhaustion. "Josh, I said I'd call you in the morning."
"Yeah. Thanks. Hey, Donna - could you do me a favor?"
She paused. "Don't make me come in to the office. I've had a couple
drinks and I
really shouldn't drive."
A couple? Were they the ones she'd had with dinner, or had there been
more when
she got home? Josh shook the thought out of his head as he got out
of the car.
"Nah, this one's easy. Go to your living room window and look out."
"If this is some sick variation on 'what are you wearing,' Josh..."
He heard her
walking toward the window and saw her silhouette against the mini blinds.
"Okay,
what am I looking for?"
"You're looking," Josh said slowly, running his free hand through his
hair, "for
a complete asshole who wants to apologize."
There was a catch in her voice. "I think I see one. Some dork who doesn't
wear a
coat in the winter."
"Yeah, that's the one." He waited next to the car, stamping his feet
to ward off
the bitter chill, his heart beating fast enough to make him dizzy.
"Come up before you freeze to death. I'll buzz you in."
Josh took the stairs two at a time, trying to burn off the hyperactivity
but
succeeding only in getting winded. He leaned over, his palms on his
thighs, and
was still catching his breath when the door opened.
"Josh, what the hell?"
"I'm fine...ran too fast..." Josh gulped for air and looked up. Donna
was in her
bathrobe, a ridiculously oversized green terrycloth monstrosity, and
he could
see navy blue flannel at her wrists and ankles. "You were going to
bed, weren't
you?"
"Not yet. I was just...thinking. Here." She took his elbow and pulled
him into
the living room, shutting the door and fastening all the locks, the
largest of
which had been installed at Josh's insistence. "So. About the asshole
who wanted
to grovel."
"Apologize."
"Groveling works better," Donna insisted. Her smile was strained.
Josh tucked his chin to his chest, looking at Donna through half-mast
eyes.
"Remember the UFO guy Sam talked to at one of his cheese meetings our
first
year? I think you'd better call him up 'cause Josh Lyman was abducted
by aliens
and this pod person guy took over his body. Turned him into a real
moron who
says mean things to his assistant that the real Josh has to apologize
for in the
middle of the night."
"I'll take that under advisement." Donna's arms were crossed and she
lowered her
head, her hair falling in front of her face so that Josh couldn't read
her
expression.
"Donna, look, I'm really sorry. That was way outta line, even for me."
"I didn't deserve that," Donna whispered. "You hurt my feelings tonight.
I don't
mind when you joke, but you meant what you said and that hurt me."
"To tell the truth, I don't remember what I said. I opened my mouth
and some
crap came out, and the next thing I knew you had such a..." He waved
his hands
in front of his face. "I'm sorry."
"It's just that I had a really lousy week and I didn't need your pop
psychology
lesson on top of...well, the other stuff."
Josh watched her as she pulled the sash on her bathrobe tighter. Beyond
where
Donna was standing were her bookcases, and among the books and photographs
were
greeting cards. One had a big, pink cake on the front, with yellow
glitter
serving as candle flames.
"Donna. It's November."
"Yeah, and you really should wear a coat, you know that?"
"Your birthday..."
"...was two days ago," she finished for him. "Don't worry about it,
Josh. I
didn't put it on your calendar."
He winced as another layer of guilt settled on his shoulders. "You never
do, but
Ginger or Margaret always reminds me. Not that I remember, anyway,
and whatever
you get usually comes from CJ, who sends me the bill along with a note
about
what a thoughtless, arrogant oaf I am."
Donna's face still bore the remnants of makeup, but there were dark
smudges of
mascara beneath her eyes and the blush on her cheeks had long, thin
streaks
running through it. She sat on the arm of the sofa and folded her hands
in her
lap.
"Donna. Donna, look at me." She wouldn't lift her head so he crouched
in front
of her, looking up at her wan face. "No one said anything this year.
I'd have
done something. After everything you went through for me, you have
to know that
I'd have done...something."
"I know," she whispered, her voice choked with tears. She turned her
head, but
not before Josh saw a shining drop make its way down her face.
"And don't you guys usually take each other out the Friday of your birthday
weeks, anyway?" He saw another drop, and another, splashing on the
sleeve of
Donna's robe, and he patted her arm. "Donna?"
"We don't...hang out much, anymore."
Josh shook his head, remembering peals of bright laughter whenever the
assistants were together in the mess. "None of you? Did something happen?"
"The others still hang out, Josh. Just...not with me. Not since..."
She put her
hands over her face. "Gimme a second, okay?"
He'd only been back at work for a few weeks and he strained to remember
the last
time Ginger had dropped by for a chat with Donna, or when he'd seen
any of them
eating with her in the mess, but all he could remember was Donna spooning
yogurt
out of a cup at Josh's desk, claiming that she wanted to read for a
while before
getting back to work and that she'd rather not be interrupted.
Remorse took a back seat to a sudden, white-hot anger. "Donna, if this
is
because of those nights you stayed at my place when I got home from
the
hospital..."
"It's not about that. Well, it's not only about that." She took a deep
breath
and wiped her eyes with her fingertips before turning back to him.
"No one
thought we were doing anything inappropriate, Josh. I mean, you could
hardly
hold up the telephone to talk to anyone, much less--"
"Yeah, let's stay away from 'much less,' please. Those three months
were bad
enough without massacring my ego." He was still angry, holding it in
check lest
he say something that could cause Donna any more pain. "So, if that's
not it,
what's this about?"
"You know that I was the only assistant they let into the hospital, right?"
"Well, I was the only boss in the hospital. Not counting the President,
of
course."
"Of course," Donna echoed, and Josh was relieved to see a ghost of a
smile on
her face. "They were okay with that - I mean, if it'd been CJ, they'd
have let
Carol be there, right?" She waited, shivering, and let Josh run his
hand gently
up and down her arm. "I don't even think they minded when the President
put me
on a fully-paid leave of absence while you were in the hospital, or
that no one
made me punch out when I went to see you during the day or drove you
to physical
therapy once you got home."
The anger dissipated a little, but the guilt returned full-force. "That
was
above and beyond the call, Donna. So what didn't they like?"
She glanced away from him for a moment before looking back into his
eyes. "You
remember when you first got home, I wasn't letting anyone from the
office visit
you. They'd come to your office to ask me how you were, and they'd
stay to
talk." Donna's eyes brightened and her tone lost its wistful quality
as she
continued. "CJ would say I looked tired, and would I like to get some
coffee, or
Sam would cancel a meeting and make me go have lunch with him. A couple
of
times, Toby came by and pretended he was on his way somewhere else,
but he'd
always leave a book or magazine for me, or those cheese things I like
from the
mess, something like that. He'd just put it on the desk while we were
talking
and then walk away."
"So...they're jealous because the senior staff was nice to you?"
"No," Donna said, her voice hesitant and soft once again, "but I think
that was
the start of the problem. It got to where we'd be together outside
of work. Sam
took me rowing on the Potomac a couple of times, and CJ and I went
to a spa
together and had our nails done. Toby - well, Toby kind of skulked
around, but
whenever CJ and Sam and I went for a drink, Toby would come, too. We
got to be
friends, Josh, not just work acquaintances, and they treated me as
if I'm their
equal."
"But you are--"
"They're educated, Josh. They have law degrees and Masters' degrees,
and I'm a
college dropout. I have less education than anyone working as a senior
staff
member's assistant, did you know that? Carol's ABD at Georgetown, for
God's
sake, and she'll finish in the spring. But I'm the one going to CJ's
hairdresser. I don't blame her for thinking I'm getting...you know...above
my
station."
"Above your station?" Josh's voice went up an octave. "What is this,
'Upstairs,
Downstairs?' "
"What I mean is that it's like that old saying about being neither
fish nor
fowl. And don't laugh at me, Josh," Donna said, her forehead wrinkling.
Josh
could see the struggle to hold back her tears.
"I'm not laughing at you, Donna. I'm laughing at them for being so damn
stupid.
Not that I'm not pissed off, and not that I don't want to tear their
arms off
and beat them over the head with the wet stumps, but they're stupid.
It's like
that time I took Charlie to a bar by Georgetown and he obsessed over
being the
only one not in college. CJ told him he's a hundred times smarter than
anyone in
the room, and she was right. And that applies to you as well."
She blinked at him a few times, her head tilted to one side.
"Donna, you're every inch my equal, even without the degrees from Harvard
and
Yale--"
"And the 760 verbal on the SAT, don't forget that," she chimed in, and
Josh was
relieved to hear some of the old Donna in her mocking tones.
"And in matters of conscience, matters of the spirit, matters of humanity,"
he
began, finding that he had to look away from her lest her bright-eyed
gaze make
him lose his composure, "you are my superior."
He hadn't seen her look so grateful, so moved, since he'd given her
the book on
skiing the previous Christmas. And she hadn't hugged him so hard since
that day,
either. Josh smoothed her hair for a moment. "I'd like to give you
that dress
for your birthday, Donna. You really did look...incredible."
To his surprise, she drew back from the hug and shook her head. "I loved
it when
I tried it on, but now...I think it'll just make me think about the
lousy date
and how mean you were to me and why I even had time to go out with
the guy. But
I appreciate the thought."
"Okay, then." Josh smiled at her until she smiled back, and this time
her eyes
had the Donna-spark they had been missing all night. "I hate to shatter
the
moment. But I've gotta, you know." He got to his feet, groaning as
his knees
creaked, and went into the bathroom.
Hanging on the shower rod was the red dress, the tag cleverly concealed
between
the lining and the bodice. Josh peeked at the price and gasped. How
could
something so small cost so much money? And since when did women come
in size
zero?
The part of his brain that had been on overdrive since the day he stepped
back
into his office wanted to make those snotty hellcats pay, wanted to
have them be
the ones to order flowers and pick out a nice dress and arrange dinner
reservations. But he'd just have to wait until CJ got home. He'd bribe
her with
drinks and dancing, that's what he'd do. And if that failed, he'd whine
until
she gave in.
He heard Donna turn on the radio in her bedroom. Something soft and
sweet, a
familiar tune he couldn't quite place. "I'm about to go to bed, Josh,
so hurry
up."
"I'm out, I'm out." He washed his hands, carefully avoiding the sight
of his
face in the mirror. He found Donna standing outside the bathroom, smiling
at
him. "See you tomorrow?"
"Yeah, 'cause there's nothing in the world I love so much as spending
Saturday
at the office."
"Flattery will get you everywhere."
"Get out of my house, Joshua," she said, giving him a playful shove
toward the
door. "G'night."
"Night, Donna." Even after the door closed, he could still hear the
melody
floating from Donna's apartment. It was a Christmas carol - already,
and here it
was the week before Thanksgiving - and as he reached into his pocket
for his
keys he noticed a tremor in his hands.
***
End
***
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