By: The Writer
Rating: PG
Category: Josh/Donna
Author's note: Well, I'm glad you liked it. I was afraid after reading my summary you would all think that this was just some 'Donna gets drunk and then she and Josh fool around' story…WHICH IT IS NOT! As you wish, here is the continuation…
"The Best Laid Plans Wither…"
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The next Monday I sat, lazily lounging in my office chair after a weekend of little sleep and much pondering. On Saturday I had picked up my phone approximately ninety-four times, ready to call Donna and offer to bring her a hangover survival kit, (which includes a large amount of coffee, me, and a bottle of extra-strength Tylenol.) But I decided against it, rationalizing that she wouldn't want to see me anyway and/or the phone would wake her up from a dream about us on a date. (A man can wish, can't he?)
When I was sure Donna was sitting comfortably at her desk, (without saying hello, I might add) I yelled, "Donna!"
She didn't budge. "What?"
I tried my kindest voice; "Can you get me some coffee?"
Donna stood in my doorway. "Joshua, what do I look like to you?"
Gulp. Esophagus closing off. Mouth dry. She looked wonderful, like she always does, in a navy blue skirt and long-sleeved white shirt. "Someone the US government pays to assist me…hence the reason you are sometimes referred to as my assistant."
She raised an eyebrow. "Very funny, Joshua." And turned around and left.
"W-wait a minute!" Where's the banter? Huh? Huh? I feel deprived. I, fully within my rights, bellowed, "Where are you going?"
"To the Mess," Donna said over her shoulder.
I briefly felt a feeling of contentedness I've never experience before. "So, you're going to finally get me coffee, huh?"
"No."
And the feel was gone. "What?"
"I'm going to get myself a cup of coffee."
I was in a state of shock. "You mean you're going to go all the way to the Mess and back with two fully functional hands, I might add, to only get one cup of coffee when you are perfectly capable of getting two?"
"Yes."
Donna was well out of hearing distance by then. I smirked and muttered, "Good. As long as you go down there."
I twiddled (yes 'twiddled' is a word) my thumbs and guestimated the time it would take Donna to return to my desk. Seeing that I was using the watch on my arm to calculate the timing, I was quite a bit off and she came back before I was ready.
I looked up and was startled to see a puzzled look on my assistant's face. My gaze traveled downward to her hands, which were holding a bouquet of brown flowers.
How was I supposed to know that leaving flowers in the Mess overnight would kill them? I thought they could survive a while without water…but obviously I was wrong. In my opinion, florists shouldn't package their flowers in that plastic stuff, unless they (the flowers) can live like that for at least two days.
Her voice brought me out of my thoughts; "Josh, the head chef said these flowers were just sitting on the counter when he came in this morning…"
What should I say? What should I say? "Oh?"
"And this card has my name on it…"
I gazed at the card I had written approximately twenty-four hours ago. I licked my excessively dry lips and hoped she wouldn't recognize—
"This looks like your handwriting, Josh…"
—my writing. Darn it!
Donna cocked her head to the side and gave me the benefit of the doubt; "Do you know who wrote this, Josh?"
Should I lie? Say it was Sam? Say it was chef what's-his-name? "There's probably a perfectly good explanation…" Smooth Josh, very smooth.
Donna sat down and threw the flowers in the garbage just as Sam stuck his head in my doorway. Perfect timing as always, Sam. Just perfect… He said, "Hey, Josh, I was wondering if you wanted to—
"No, Sam, I'm a little busy," I replied through clenched teeth.
Sam looked from Donna, to me, to Donna, to me and then winked. He shut the door, but I could still hear C.J. clearly; "Where's Josh and why are you standing in front of his office like a body guard?"
"He's busy talking to Donna," said Sam.
"You mean—
"Yeah, I think so."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
At that point I stopped listening, hoping that Donna couldn't hear them. She was watching my reactions, with this weird look on her face. "Josh, I had this bizarre dream last Friday that I was drunk and I think I was in your office…"
I am not going to have a heart attack…I am not going to have a heart attack. Ah! She doesn't even remember!
"Josh, are you okay?" Donna looked concerned.
I somehow managed a calm and controlled voice, "Yeah, I'm fine. Please continue."
Fine. Perfect! Just peachy! That's me, Josh Lyman, the man who gave you dead flowers because he thought you thought that he was the one you were meant to marry, but you don't even remember talking to me because you were drunk! Yeah, darn it, I'm just fine and dandy!
Deep breaths…deep breaths.
Donna's definitely looked worried now, but she continued anyway; "I remember you were there, Josh… That wasn't a dream, was it?"
I pulled at my collar. "Um…"
"No, huh?" She stood up, shook her head, and paced. "I guess my first clue that it was real should've been that I woke up Saturday on the floor with a huge head ache…"
"Yeah, I—
Donna looked down at me with an extremely troubled look. I felt the need to stand up to be level with her, but my knees were not responding. "Josh, I didn't say anything…weird to you, did I?"
Weird? No! What a silly question! Of course not! Women talk to me about meeting the man they're going to marry all the time! I smiled unconvincingly. "No. You just wanted some coffee, that's all."
Donna sighed in relief. I wonder what she thought she said? "Oh, good."
"Donna?"
"Yeah?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"Uh, sure."
"Was last Friday your golden birthday?"
The worried look returns. "Yes." She paused and picked up the brown flowers. "These are for my birthday?"
"Well…"
"They're beautiful, thank you." Donna touched a brown rose petal. It crumbled and fell to the ground. My assistant's smile didn't even waver. I wonder if she's colorblind and can't see the brown? I've never asked… "These were—are rosebuds, aren't they…?"
Suddenly the color drained from Donna's face. I had a sickening feeling that she was putting two and two together. The drunken visit she didn't quite remember…the rosebuds…her golden birthday…
Donna was about to ask me something when one of the doors to my office opened. A number of people I control walked in, ready for their meeting. Why does the god of good timing curse me?
I was ready to yell at them to get back out into the hall, when I realized Donna had already fled through the other door.
Why, oh why? It was a good plan! It really was! So my romance muse wasn't with me on this one, it wasn't my fault! Maybe I can still tap into my inner-Romeo? I'm sure it's there! I have a fan club! The Lyman-charm just needs a little time to warm up that's all…
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To be continued… (For sure this time!)
PLEASE RESPOND!
Author's Note: Yes, yes, Political Engagement, I know! Soon, soon! I promise!