THE SANTOS FOR A BRIGHTER AMERICA CAMPAIGN 2006
"At that point, if we haven't murdered each other, well…" I try not to let this comment bother me too much. He's agreeing to my plan after all. It's not like I didn't expect his snark or his need for a safety net.
"Okay." I sit in the desk chair and turn around. "Are you… ready?" He gulps and for a second, I can see that he cares still, that he might not hate me and the ground I stand on.
"Yeah. I'm ready, Donna."
Oddly, now I'm not sure if I'm ready. I know the first few questions are softballs but how ready am I to be honest with him? My answer to the first question is going to make how I feel about Josh pretty obvious. Am I willing to give up that much ground in the first skirmish? And when did I start planning my interactions with Josh as if our relationship is a war?
His words bring me back to the last time we did this. He sounded so different.
THE BARTLET FOR AMERICA CAMPAIGN 1998
"Yeah! I'm ready, Donna. Ask it!"
"Are you su-"
"Donna!" He groans and flops back on the bed we're sitting on the edge of. I laugh and flop back next to him, rolling on my side. I place the laptop between us, by my stomach so I can see his face. His grin is wide and his dimples are out and his eyes are sparkling.
"Okay, okay." I have to stop laughing. I'm a little drunk and a little nervous and Josh's energy is infectious.
"Alright, Chuckles. I'll ask first." He turns the computer and focuses on the first question. "Given the choice of anyone in the world, living or dead, whom would you want as a dinner guest?"
My heart races a little when I realize my honest answer. There's no way I can come out and say him. He'll think I'm obsessed! It's just… we've been having dinner together every night since I got back and I like that time together. I like stealing his fries and I like him complaining about it as he pushes it towards me. I like that he knows to get ranch even when he likes honey mustard. I like that he almost always gets ketchup on his chin and I can casually rub it off. I like that sometimes in middle of conversations, he'll just stop and watch me. I like that we can have quiet moments. I like that he's never commented on my eating habits aside from stealing his food. I like that even while we're at a table with ten or more people, his attention is devoted to me. Well, me and his burned burger.
"Earth to Donna?"
"Don't rush me! I was thinking, you goof."
"Goof? I'm not the goof."
"You are most definitely, absolutely, one hundred percently, the goof." He rolls his eyes at my excessive adverbage. I go with my number two answer as to not freak him out. "This is corny but President Bartlet… He's brilliant. And I know you guys are tired of his lectures and trivia but…" I shrug, picking at the blanket. I'm feeling a little shy about the nerdiness of my answer now. Josh touches my chin, bringing my eyes back to him.
"That's adorable, you know."
"Shut up." God, why do I feel fourteen and Gabe Haddad just told me I was cute? (Gabe Hadded was the cutest boy of the sophomore class of Madison High.)
"It is! I'm sure he would agree with me." Josh loves to be right.
"Oh my god! You are never ever telling him that."
"Well, you're probably right. But only because I don't wanna hear Toby ribbing me about the experiment to generate Josh and Donna friendship."
"We're not already friends?" The question is out of my mouth before I can pull it back in. His smile widens in response.
"Of course we are."
"Good." I smile back at him. "Okay, your turn to answer."
"Ah." He looks up at the ceiling now. "So this is a morbid answer… My dad. Just to, ya know, ask him stuff. Get more closure."
Question one, down. Donna in love with Josh? Down for the count.
THE SANTOS FOR A BRIGHTER AMERICA CAMPAIGN 2006
"Earth to Donna?" His voice takes on a sardonic tone. I look at him. His face has been colored in with frown lines and his wrinkles by his eyes are more pronounced. His dimples show now from his frown, not a bursting at the seams smile. His hairline has receded. His coloring is grayer. A sadness settles in my heart as I'm shaken from memories of before. I smile sadly.
"You said that last time."
"I- what?"
"Nothing."
"I thought we were supposed to be honest."
"With answering the questions. That wasn't one of them." Josh rubs his eyes in exasperation. Good going Donna. Really teeing him up to forgive you and allow yourself to forgive him.
"Are we doing this?"
"Yeah." I shake myself a little, trying to not dwell in the happy past or the depressing present. "So the first time we actually did it wrong, I realized reading the instructions."
"We were drunk." He shrugs. "How'd we do it wrong though?"
"So the person who reads the question aloud has to answer first."
"That matters…?"
"It matters because it will affect the effectiveness of the study." Josh snorts at this.
"Donna, the study is supposed to be done on strangers."
"Aren't we?" I blurt out in my exasperation and exhaustion. His eyes flash to mine and I can see the hurt there but I don't feel bad since we're strangers because of his avoidance issues.
"Fine." He relents, pulling his gaze from mine. "I still asked first last time though so you go."
I want to argue. That technically since I answered first last time, he should ask and answer first this time. But I also would prefer we make it to set three without murder or a blow out fight where he taps out when it gets too rough.
"Okay. Given the choice of anyone in the world, living or dead, whom would you want as a dinner guest?" I take a deep breath before my answer. I'm unable to look at him. It's important that this time I'm honest. "You."
There's a second before he explodes onto his feet.
"I thought we were being serious here!"
"I am!" I yell back indignantly.
"Really?" He tosses back with disbelief. "Not John Lennon or JFK or Frida Kahlo? Me?" I know he's being sarcastic but in my reality, the rest of the world pales in comparison. Dinner with Josh would mean he'd forgiven me, that we would talk freely. Maybe it'd be hostile but maybe I'd get my questions and worries answered and assuaged.
"Yes! You! I stuck around for as long as I did for a reason!"
"Yeah? What reason is that?" His expression is sour but at least he's trying to follow my reasoning.
"I-I" Oh, god. How do I get this out? "Because you mean something to me. Because in the not to distant past, we really liked each other's company. Because a year ago, we were having dinner together. Almost every night. And you can't tell me it's just because we were working. It's because we liked spending time together and you liked making sure I wasn't on dates!"
Well.
At least that's out there now.
He's just staring at me with this blank look on his face, like he's trying to shut down his emotional response. I get the urge.
"It's your turn now." I know my voice is quiet but I can't bring myself to worry that much about how weak that makes me seem because I'm pretty sure Josh is putting the pieces together that the first time we did this worked. That I'm in love with him.
Then I see a look of resignation pass over his features as he sits back on the bed again, this time by the pillows. The furthest he can get from me while not leaving the room.
"You." His voice is as quiet as my own and it's hard to hear but as he continues, his volume and energy ramps up. "You. I'd have dinner with Donnatella Moss!"
"Josh. You don't have to say me because I said you." I roll my eyes. But then my heart softens a little when I remember his answer from the last time. "Josh, you said your dad last time. You don't have to change your answer."
"Oh! But I do!" He says. "I do because I'm supposed to be honest, right? And I honestly wish I could it was my dad or my sister or hell, Toby! Or pull an old you and say the President but none of those people can take my calls right now! And that doesn't matter because even if they could, it's still you."
I stare at him, blinking. I'm trying to parse his meaning.
"Why?" I whisper. He looks at me with his eyebrows pulled together as if it should be obvious.
"So I can make sure you're not on a date." His reply is sarcastic but I wonder about a note of truth there. Josh doesn't know what I'm doing now. It occurs to me he might not even know I'm single. It's not like he knows that I've been on two dates since we'd last seen each other and that those had gone terribly because I couldn't stop thinking about him. He starts talking again before I can question him further. "Question two. Would you like to be famous? In what way? I don't know what qualifies as famous but…" He gets a weird look on his face. "The President said something to me once. I think it's true… He was talking about how I didn't want to disappoint Leo. How I didn't want to be the guy, that I wanted to be the guy behind the guy. I think that's true."
"Very Wizard of Oz of you." I smile a little. He doesn't quite return it but he's not frowning either. I continue with my answer. "No. I don't wanna be in a fishbowl." I shrug, trying to maintain a conversational tone. "Okay, question three. Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say? Why?" I pause before answering, blushing a bit. He used to poke fun at me when he'd find me in his office muttering to myself if I had to make particularly important call. He always would give me the room to do it though. "Yeah, you know this." He smiles a little this time. I wonder if he's thinking about the time I had to kick him out of the office as well because I was nervous. It was for a call that Josh had passed on to me about the Brussels trip talking with the German ambassador's chief of staff.
"I don't. You know this."
"You didn't rehearse take your legislative agenda and shove it up your ass in the mirror?" I quip back. He smiles a little again. I'm making progress! Well, it's more of a smirk than a smile.
"Maybe that one a little."
"Did you actually?"
"No, it was a last minute thing." He's leaning forward now, in storytelling mode. "Sam was in my ear and Toby was trying to make sure I was in the right headspace and then you came up and I don't know. I wanted to-" He cuts himself off and looks at me. He sighs then continues. "I wanted to impress you a little."
"Josh." I roll my eyes.
"It's true! You- you-"
"You impressed me plenty."
"You were in that dress and- wait, what'd you say?"
"You impre- wait what did you say?"
"Nothing! I impressed you all the time?" He's grinning again. Still a smirk though.
"You liked my dress?"
"This is good information to have."
"I didn't say all the time. I said plenty."
"Ah, what did I do that was so very impressive?"
"You're obnoxious, you know." My smile undermines the sentiment.
"I've been told." We're getting into a banter rhythm now. Can warmth flutter? Because that's the only way to describe what's happening inside me.
"What was it about that dress?" I sass back. He rolls his eyes at me but it lacks the hostility of before.
"Question four. What would constitute a "perfect" day for you?"
"Does yours involve that dress?" I smirk at him. He laughs but he seems surprised that it happened.
"Yeah, Donna, my perfect day is just watching you walk around in that dress. 24 hours of it."
"Alright, smart ass. What's your perfect day?"
"Uh, wake up to good polling numbers."
"You're very predictable."
"And you're bad with the interrupting!" I laugh but gesture that my lips are sealed and he should continue. "So I am woken up with good poll numbers. Then someone in the GOP says something stupid that forces Vinnick to the left and we get to look good while the cable news shows spend the day harping on Republican idiocy."
"Josh, did you notice this is all revolving around work?"
"I thought you weren't interrupting? But fine. You're right. Because it's such a wonderful day for us and bad day for them, I get to take off early and well this is a fantasy right? So we're back at The White House and we all play poker and drink. And The First Lady is in town so the President doesn't stick around long enough to quiz us."
"Hey!"
"Or you're there to distract him."
"So glad I could finally get an invite."
"Hey, you were invited." I raised a brow at that. "Okay, so there may have been an oversight." He cringed at that.
"It's fine. I usually planned my dates for those nights." I smirked.
"Tricky of you."
"You don't see an issue with me needing to trick my boss so I could go on a date?" He's quiet at that. I wasn't meaning for it to take a serious turn. "I just meant- I wasn't trying to-" Josh shook it off and continued, cutting me off.
"And I'd wrap the day up with great sex." He's trying to distract me with making me blush. It works. "Your turn." He smiles at me, attempting innocence. He's moved forward, on the edge of the bed now.
"Fine. I'd start with sleeping in, doing something important something that'll help people, eating something homecooked that I managed not to burn, and then just to put the cherry on top… some mind blowing, acrobatic sex."
He blinks once, twice, and then his jaw drops. I can see his mind working through my adjectives.
"Josh?"
"Yeah?" His voice is all husky. Then the smirk slowly slides across his face. "Well, you wear that dress to poker night…" My blush deepens. This man is going to be the end of me.
"When did you last sing to yourself? To someone else?" I ask so hopefully the temperature will cool down a little. "Uh, there was a karaoke thing during the Russell campaign."
"You didn't!"
"I didn't, you're right. But they got I Want Candy stuck in my head. So I sang it in my hotel room to myself that night. And in front of others? When I was home, I think. My sister and I revived our production of Sisters from White Christmas when we drank one too many White Claws."
"Fran?"
"Yeah. She can be fun when she's got some alcohol in her."
"I'll believe it when I see it." Josh grins at me. Fran and Josh met once before. Fran is pretty uptight and it showed when they met. I think he also knows how much Fran's need to be right and mighty upsets me, how our relationship is mostly complicated.
"Your turn."
"To myself? I'm not sure. I know it's a cop out but I don't." He runs his hand through his hair. Josh sighs and stands up. He paces for a second. I'm starting to worry about what he's about to say. "In front of someone… the, uh, the morning you left. When we were in my office." He's not looking at me, just at the wall.
I feel compelled to stand as well. I stop just a few feet from him. If he notices I've moved, he doesn't acknowledge it.
"I'm sorry, Josh. I-I had to do it. And-"
"Let's not. Let's just try and get through these before- let's just. Question six." He turns to me for the paper but he's avoiding my eyes. "If you were able to live to the age of 90 and retain either the mind or body of a 30-year-old for the last 60 years of your life, which would you want?"
I wonder if I should push it but maybe he's right. Maybe now isn't the right time for the apology.
"Body of a thirty year old. Getting older sucks." Josh stretches to make his point.
"Is the hairline included in the body of a thirty year old?" I joke, trying to bring it back to a banter rhythm.
"Funny." Okay, so he's not ready for that yet.
"Mind of a thirty year old. Same reason as last time. I watched my grandpa lose, ya know, what made him him." I shrug and sit back down in the chair. Josh retreats to the bed, back against the pillows but he pauses now, his expression softening.
"You can, uh, sit up here if you wanted." I nod and move to where he gestured.
"Thanks." I say awkwardly. We're both suddenly very aware about how we're not touching.
"Question seven. Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?" I continue, breathing through the awkwardness. "Statistically a car accident, probably."
"And you know those statistics, I'm guessing?"
"One in one hundred and three people in the US. Only thing more likely is an opioid overdose. But I think I'll be fine on that front."
"Yeah…" I can hear his apprehension in admitting what his answer is. "I mean, I feel like it's going to be a heart thing or… a head thing." That makes my heart stop.
"Do you mean…"
"Yeah."
"Josh, have you been having-"
"No, Donna. Not since then. But you know, you read the pamphlets. There's not a cure. I was already predisposed to crazy so… ya know. One day."
"Not one day, Josh. Okay? It can't… That can't be…"
"Donna, hey. Don't get worked up about it." He drops his hand on my knee. It doesn't calm me down though. The warmth from his hand and the fact he hasn't willingly touched me since I quit makes me heart race. I look up at him, he's staring at his hand as if he's wondering how that happened. "Just, I'm fine. It's just a thought. More the heart thing."
"I don't like talking about you dying." I admit quietly. His eyes search my face. I can't help but think of the GW OR, watching his surgery, terrified I was going to lose the only man I'd ever loved.
"I'm fine, I'm right here." He whispers back.
"You almost weren't." I don't know if he can tell I'm thinking about Rosslynn but I can feel my lip tremble and I have to drop my gaze to his chest. That just makes me think of the scars though. I'm so lost in thought I don't realize that he's put his arm around my shoulders, that he's changing our position so that my head leans forward onto his chest. From this, I can hear his heartbeat, strong and present if a little quick. What else could you expect from Josh Lyman? I calm down with this knowledge but neither of us pull away even as my breathing slows and we both know I'm fine.
He jostles me for the paper but doesn't move me from where I am.
"Question eight. Name three things you and your partner appear to have in common." He sucks in a breath. "We both dislike watermelon." I can't help but chuckle at the surface level nature of that answer. "We both work for the Santos campaign." I try not to roll my eyes at that one considering he's the one who didn't want me here. I'm glad he can't see my facial reaction to that. "We both think that how much we care is our downfall." Well, he just had to save being insightful for last, didn't he?
I know that my answers could very well upset the balance of the odd calm and closeness we've reached. But I was the one with the honest rule.
"We both talk to your mother once a week."
"What?" He pulls away slightly but I predicted that response. I sit up and look at him. We're still much closer than we were before and his arms rests on my shoulders.
"Your mom called me when I left. She wanted to make sure I still called her. It was very sweet." I inform him. Truthfully, those phone calls usually told me how Josh was doing. Ruth didn't offer that information but there were context clues. If Josh wasn't doing well or wasn't talking to her at all, she would avoid the mere mention of him. But if he was doing well, she would toss his name in casually, probably searching for some kind of reaction from me. There were days when those conversation were hard to have. Definitely weird. It made me miss him. But Josh's mom and I were close and she was more nurturing than my own mother. And I didn't want to give up what I believed was my last connection with him.
Josh leans forward, removing his arm from around me. He runs his hands through his hair, rubbing his face.
"Oh, of course she did!" He exclaims.
"Are you actually upset about that?"
"No," He looks over at me, seeing the apprehension on my face. If he's upset with this one, the other two might have to change. "I'm- just, ya know. It's very much my mother. She adores you."
"And that bothers you?"
"No! Donna, that's not what- I mean, it would have bothered me when you first quit but more I'm just surprised I didn't put it together."
"What? What do you mean?"
"She dropped hints, she wanted me to call you." He looks away from me now, looking slightly embarrassed.
"Ah. That is very your mother." I can't help but smile at that. I really do love Ruth. Josh settles back against the headboard, our shoulders matching up. I brush my hair behind my ears before I continue. "We both aren't sure how to forgive one another."
Josh sucks in a breath. I can see he wants to debate me on that.
"I didn't say it so we can…"
"No. I know. You're right." His voice sounds a little strangled. He looks down at his lap instead of at me. I'm surprised that he doesn't fight me more on it. I almost wish he would. Just so I could stall for the last one. I stare at my lap as well.
"Donna?"
"Yeah?" My voice sounds strangled now.
"You have to do a third one."
"Yeah." I don't add any more. I can feel Josh's impatience radiate off him.
"Donna…"
"We need alcohol!" I pop up. He looks at me with an eyebrow raised.
"What's so bad with this last one?"
"Nothing. Just- this would be more fun-"
"We're supposed to be being honest, Donnatella."
"Okay! Okay! Jesus." I sit back down but with my back facing him. "We both are on Zoloft for the same reason." He doesn't say anything right away.
"Gaza?" He asks quietly. I can barely hear him. My breathing feels loud to my own ears in this moment.
"Yeah."
"Why didn't you tell me you… Donna, you have PTSD?" His voice sounds strange and I resist the urge to look at him to figure out what's going through his head.
"Yeah…"
"When did you…"
"I had a panic attack when getting into an SUV of one of the Russell staffers. Will noticed and covered for me. He said that the insurance covered a psychiatrist." I shrug. Now that it's out there, I can look at him. The guilt is plain as day on his face. "It's not your fault, Josh."
"Yes it is!" He exclaims, exploding out of the quiet that had settled between us.
"Josh, it's not."
"I should've never sent you there! I should've known… I should've been looking for it…"
"Josh, I knew how to hide it from you. My PTSD is more my fault than yours. And what happened in Gaza is no one's fault! You could have never known and I pushed you to send me. Josh, it's not your fault."
"If you don't blame me, what were you talking about with forgiving me!?"
"You can't be serious! Josh, everything we talked about the other day!" I feel my temper rising. I can't decide if I baited him or he's baiting me.
"Ah, yes. I forgot! I'm the villain in your story!" He's getting worked up now. We've both stood, the bed between us.
"Josh-"
"I'm just the guy who forced you into what was it? Grunt level servitude? Never mind the fact that it was The White House! Never mind the fact you were never just ANSWERING PHONES or fetching COFFEE!"
"You know damn well I never fetched you coffee."
"Oh! I'm aware!"
"What? Now you're mad about that?"
"NO! I'm mad that you're mad about the rest of it!"
"That's helpful! Very specific and mature!" I snipe back.
"And what are your specific and mature complaints?! I'd love to know!"
"No, you really wouldn't!"
"AGH! What even is the point of this?" He picks up the papers and waves them.
"I want-" I cut myself off. Dammit. The angry tears are coming. "Are you tapping out?" I ask him, my voice firm. He swallows and schools his expression into a mask of aloof calm, something I've seen all too often since I joined the Santos campaign.
"Are you?" He retorts.
"No."
"Then fine." He pushes the papers to me. I stare at them for a second. My heart is beating pretty hard as that tends to happen when Josh and I fight like this. Not that it's happened too often. For someone so full of fight and passion, Josh is great at avoiding you when he's upset with you. "Donna?" Josh's voice is clipped but not loud like before so I'll take it as progress. I sit back down on the bed where I had been before. I take the papers from him and wait to see if he'll sit down.
Eventually it's clear he's not ready to do that yet so I just continue, pushing my exasperation into a box to be dealt with later.
"Question ten. For what in your life do you feel most grateful?" I stare at the paper for a minute trying to formulate my answer. "I'm grateful for the opportunities you did give me."
"I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean."
"It's not supposed to mean anything. I'm not trying to… My answer isn't pointed, Josh. I'm trying to say that I know, I know that working in The White House was a big deal. And a privilege. And I loved working for President Bartlet- it's something I'll be proud to tell my grandkids. And I'm grateful that you gave me a chance back then. I'm grateful that I got out of Wisconsin and launched into somewhere I could be ambitious. I am grateful, Josh. I know it doesn't seem like it. But I am."
He searches my eyes as if he's checking for truth. He must see something because he exhales and drops back onto the bed. We're still sitting pretty far apart though. I ignore that that hurts. That I had a taste of our old dynamic and now it feels like this again.
"I'm grateful that you push me. I know I don't seem… This is hard. But I'm grateful that you don't take no for an answer. That you showed up and didn't ask for a job. That you came back and just started working. That you asked for more when you knew you could do more. That you inspire me to… steal the rest."
"Fishhooks McCarthy?" I can't help but smile a little at that. A smile tugs at the sides of his mouth too.
"Yeah. I'm still not convinced he's not someone you made up."
"Well, there's no way to know for sure." I joke. The smile makes an appearance but he is too practiced at finding his composed mask.
"Next. If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?" Josh scratches his chin. I'm a little fascinated by his hands. "This is obvious. I probably said it last time… But Joanie, I guess." I don't know how it happened but I've reached for his hand. We both stare at them linked. I squeeze his hand because what do you say to the man you love talking about his dead sister, knowing all the guilt and pain associated with that?
THE BARTLET FOR AMERICA CAMPAIGN 1998
"Josh?" We're wrapped up together now. I'm not sure exactly when that happened. In the course of the first ten questions, I've sobered up from the alcohol but become increasingly intoxicated by this little hut of intimacy Josh and I have created. The outside world doesn't feel real. I am so in love.
"Yeah? Oh. Sorry. I got… distracted."
"Do you want me to repeat the ques-"
"No. I got it… Have I told you about Joanie?"
"Noooo."
"My sister," He coughs as his voice gets tighter. "I don't tell a lot of people about this. But, uh, Joanie was my sister and she died when I was eight. There was a fire. She was babysitting me and- and I wanted popcorn." He holds me tighter to him against his chest. I like that that gives him comfort. My heart hurts as he talks about what he's gone through. "So, uh, if I had to change something, I wouldn't have asked for popcorn. So she could be… around." I pull away a little and turn to face him.
"Josh? It wasn't your fault. You were a little boy."
"You read me pretty quick." Josh smiles sadly.
"Josh, it's not your fault."
"Donna…"
"It isn't, Josh." I rest my hand on his chest. I know this is dangerous territory but the pain in his eyes make me throw caution to the wind. "You walk everywhere as if you, I don't know. It makes sense. You're scared that someone will get hurt and it'll be your fault but Joshua, it's not your fault."
His hand reaches up and he plays with my hair. I give him time, I can tell he's struggling with how to respond.
"It's surprisingly comforting that you, ya know. Get it. Unless it's because I'm easy to read. Is my poker face that bad? Sam says-"
"I'm tuned to you."
"Wha?"
"It sounds, I don't know. It might be stupid. But I don't think that other people see that. I didn't put it together until now and we do spend quite a bit of time together now and I'm just-"
"Tuned to me?" He smiles at that. I reflect that smile back at him. God, I'm so in love with this man. His hand is warm on my hip and it tingles. We should do the next question but the computer is behind me and I don't care to break eye contact right now.
And then his lips are on mine. And any part of me not touching him melts away.
THE SANTOS FOR A BRIGHTER AMERICA CAMPAIGN 2006
"What are you thinking about?" Josh breaks me from my nostalgia.
"Huh? Oh. Um." I blush furiously.
"I was, too." He admits.
Neither of us can look up at each other but won't look away from our linked hands either.
"It's your turn to answer." Josh's voice sounds a little husky, a fact my body registers before my brain registers his actual words.
"Yeah…" My voice is lower in tone as well. "I wish my parents had higher expectations of me. That they thought I could, or pushed me, to do better. To be more than someone's wife." I shrug, it seems shallow when compared to Josh's answer.
"I hate how your mom talks to you, you know." I look up at him surprised. He's still not looking directly at me.
"Josh, she's just…"
"She belittles you." He says firmly. I know he's right but it feels wrong to criticize her. It is validating though to hear him say it. And Josh's protective side has always been something I alternate between being turned on by, resenting, and feeling grateful for.
"Yeah, that's why I talk to your mom." I admit, half joking. He squeezes my hand now. But Josh's eyes are fixed on a spot on the comforter now.
"What's next?" He asks. I turn up an eyebrow at the Bartlet phrase but he doesn't notice. I use my hand that's not in his to pick up the paper.
"Take four minutes and tell your partner your life story in as much detail as possible." I check the clock on the nightstand. "So it's twelve… oh four now. So twelve oh eight. Okay… You know basics. I grew up in a condo in Madison. I'm the youngest. I have two older brothers and an older sister. Fran is the oldest and she's the… perfect one. I was the creative one but they really meant the sensitive one. Or maybe scatterbrained, I don't know. I think with my brothers being so stereotypically boyish my mom was exhausted with me and she, ya know, lost her patience a lot with me." I twist my hands in my lap, feeling uncomfortable having to monologue about myself. I peak at Josh and he's just listening intently. Though I can see the tinge of irritation about my mom. "I read a lot in school and I didn't talk a lot- don't you dare laugh." Josh suppresses his grin but the smirk pokes through. I roll my eyes. "In high school, the teachers all knew my sister. They expected me, I don't know. I tried out for cheerleading and made it and no, I do not still have the uniform." I elbow him lightly at the mischievous grin on his face. "I hated it and quit. I kind of hopped around the cliques in high school. I applied to college and got in a couple of places but my parents didn't let me go out of state."
"Wait, where did you apply?" I'm not sure why this detail got his attention but I can't help the slight blush that dances across my cheeks.
"I applied and was accepted to Yale, sir."
"Not Harvard?" He smirks. I narrow my eyes at him.
"Wait listed."
"Ah, not everyone can have a seven sixty-"
"Yeah, you're right. But some people do get seven eighty." I smirk back at him. His jaw drops.
"You-you… what!? How did this never come up? You're messing with me!"
"Nope." I grin at him but swallow the banter for the moment. "I don't like talking about that stuff. Like I didn't even graduate from University of Wisconsin." I roll my eyes at my own failure.
"Donna-"
"It's not been four minutes yet and we're missing a pretty big part of my life." I'm suddenly eager to get off the topic. He gestures for me to continue. "I, uh, went to college and Stephanie Gault was my roommate and the first year we changed majors and had a lot of fun but then I went home for summer and met Nathan again-"
"Nathan?" Josh asks. His tone gives away that he knows very well who I'm alluding to.
"Yes, Freeride, Joshua. It was supposed to be a summer fling but had just finished undergrad and when he came to the same university… He just, I don't know. He kind of took over everything. I let him… But yeah. After the second year, I dropped out and I was working an office job and an waitress job while he did med school. Then something happened and I realized I was never going to get out of there if I didn't run so I did. To the campaign. And-"
"What do you mean something happened?"
"Josh…"
"Donna! It's supposed to be as much detail as possible."
"You- Josh, I can't talk about it with you right now." I admit, staring down. It's not something I'm prepared to talk to him about. I can't deal with him being angry about it even if it's not directed at me. And as much as I hate to admit it, the trust that was once there isn't anymore.
Josh takes a couple of calming breaths before reaching for my hand and sandwiching it between his two.
"Okay. It's okay." He says quietly. I take a shuddering breath before I continue.
"You know the rest of the story." I shrug. I look over at the clock and watch it switch from 12:07 to 12:08.
"Donna?" I look back to him. The look in his eyes arrests my heart. "I'm sorry you can't trust me anymore. Or couldn't before."
"Josh, I trusted you. Too quickly probably." I reply without thinking.
"What do you mean?" He asks.
"Um, I just…" I cover my face with my hands, pulling my right from his. I trusted him so quickly because I fell so entirely in love with him so quickly. I still love him. I know this. But there are layers that have been stripped away over the past year and half of resentment and arguing and frustration. "It's your turn!" I sit up quickly. He raises a brow at me.
"No, Donna… I just want to say…" I watch him search for the words that he's feeling. "I'm sorry your family didn't understand you and made you feel like your feelings weren't important. You're not scatterbrained and you deserved to go wherever you wanted for school."
I want to say that it would've been a waste either way but what he said is so thoughtful and kind- it's hard to believe that he's the same person who opened the door with such hostility. That is if you didn't know him.
When I meet his eyes, the trust in them swallow my heart whole. And I think he might, somewhere, deep down, behind his anger with me, still love me too. I don't know who does it first but our lips meet then we've pushed ourselves against one another, adjusting to laying on the bed.
Josh's hand wraps both of mine and places them above my head. I arch into him as I pull him on top of me. It feels like too much not to touch every part of him to every part me. His hand not on my hands holds him above me. I run my foot along his leg. He shutters as I reach his thigh. He moves his hand from my own, dragging a finger down my neck and over my chest before he palms my breast. I cannot stifle the moan that escapes me. He pulls away to look at me, his eyes burning with lust.
But his expression shifts.
"Donna…"
"Don't. Just-" I drop the rest of the statement in favor of pulling him to me again, my hands tangling in his curls. He pulls away after kissing me again just as I start to deepen the kiss. I groan in frustration. He flops back onto his back, echoing my groan.
"Donna, maybe this is… This whole thing-" He rubs his hands over his face again. I sit up, feeling embarrassed. "Sorry. I just- I can't… We were just at each other's throats and then… I don't know, Donna." He's sounding increasingly frustrated.
"Josh! It's fine. It's fine. I get it." I get off the bed, needing distance. He leans up on his elbows to look at me. "Are you tapping out of the rest of the questions?" I add testily.
"It's not that I don't want to, Donna…"
"Okay. It's fine." I say, turning away, wondering when it actually took a wrong turn. I don't think it was just this kiss. I feel on fire from being so forward and being rejected but that's nothing when I think about the idea of Josh calling this off. It's just a silly exercise in getting close if we were on good terms. But this is the last chance I can give to this.
I've given so much of my life to Josh, so much of my heart, so much of my energy. And I love him and I want to see if there's any way to salvage the friendship but I can't bear to just sit around and wait for it to happen. And I can't spend my adult life fighting for him. I've finally made a name for myself apart from Josh and I need to know that he's in this too, that there's still something to fight for. The idea that he'd willingly let this go because he's scared of relationship beyond friendship kills me.
"Let's… why don't we finish the first set? And we can take a break…" I offer, hating how my voice shakes.
"I don't know-" I turn around to refute him. He's sitting on the bed, looking a little lost.
"All you have to do is do your life story then there's one final question in this set and it's not a hard one! There's no room for us to get in a fight or get caught up in… this." I take a deep breath. "Don't give up on me, Josh. Just this. Then we can have a break. And come back to it. But let us come back to it, Josh." I hate that I'm begging. I hate it. But one of us has to be the brave one and he said he was grateful for me pushing him!
I watch the war inside him play out on his features. It feels like years go by as I wait for his response. It's agonizing.
"Okay. Okay." Josh finally says. "Let's do this. Then get some sleep because we have a lot to do tomorrow." He runs his hands through his hair. His hair that felt so soft in between my fingers a few minutes ago.
Over the next five minutes, Josh tells his life story. I stand by the wall, clutching at the papers like a lifeline. He sits on the bed. We don't look over at each other much, aside from the parts where I'd like to be able to squeeze his hand or wrap him in an embrace, when he's talking about Joanie or his dad. His eyes sparkle when he talks about his days as a congressional aide with Sam. I hear the frustration in his voice when he talks about Toby. He ends his story with me coming back to him that April. We both stare holes into the carpet.
He takes the papers from me. I look up surprised that he's this close all of a sudden. He doesn't go back to the bed but stands with me.
"If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be? You were right. This is a softball." I shrug, still living in the awkwardness of the moment as I hadn't talked since I begged him to stay, to try to fix this with me. "I guess, mind reading. It'd be helpful in politics… And with you." My eyes flash to his.
"What's that mean?"
"You read me like a children's picture book, Donna. I can't do that with you."
"I'm more open with you than most."
"I know… I just, I wish I could know what you were thinking sometimes." He shrugs and steps back.
"I'd choose.. This is less fantastical but speed reading." I sigh and he lets out a bark of a laugh. "That was mean."
"I'm not laughing at you! I just… And you say I'm predictable."
"You are."
We both laugh for a second but we both realize at the same time that this set of the experiment is done and we have no reason to still be with each other, that we were going to take a break now.
"You could-could stay here. We have to be up in a few hours anyways." Josh offers.
"And the two minute walk to my room is going to really take away from my sleep?" I retort.
"Just… Just stay." His eyes are open and trusting again and this rollercoaster of a night weighs on my eyelids.
"Okay." I nod and he takes my hand.
We get into bed, he loans me large shirt to wear. Like how it used to be when I'd sleep in his room or his apartment because it got too late or we were too drunk. But we don't cuddle up to each other this time. We mind the gap between the two of us.
"Night, Donnatella." Josh whispers as he gets comfortable. It's the first time he's said my full name in so long it feels like a caress even though we aren't touching. It gives me hope to fall asleep with, hope that the 36 questions are working. That Josh and I might just make it through this- with our health, strength, and love. We'll steal the rest.
AN ahhh sorry this got so much longer than I thought it would is it too jumbled to follow? is it too mood swingy? idk pls review it heals my heart from that one mean middle school teacher who thought my writing was simple screw you lydia