Disclaimer: What's the saying? Wish in one hand and shi-oh never mind. It
goes without saying really that this is an amateur work of fiction, and no
copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Whew. This is going to be a doozy. I will be touching on some
extremely sensitive subjects in this story, specifically, abortion. As this
is an issue I know most folks feel very strongly about, I am attempting to
present both sides without leaning one way or the other.
I've done a little research on the 'net and am going to include the
pertinent links. The Feminists for Life page is
Access to Clinic Entrances Act, check out
Category: CJ/T friendship, CJ/J friendship.eventually romance perhaps. :)
Summary: Series of first person POV, relating to a traumatic instance in
CJ's life.
Rating: Right now about PG-13.
Feedback: Rocks! Fauquita@hotmail.com
Spoilers: None specifically, but everything is fair game.
Thanks: Liz and Sid, or my own Tammy's.
P.S. I am sorry if you are a Neil Diamond fan…I really am.
++++++++
VII
I blame Bob Marley for the unholy alliance—Leo's description, not mine—CJ and I formed fifteen years ago. Well, Bob Marley and Neil Diamond.
I was in San Francisco, visiting an old college friend. I had been scouring the city for about two hours looking for his apartment complex, and had just about given up, when I all but stumbled upon it. So already, I was in a, well, foul mood.
I had sprinted—ok, more like trudged—up the stairs when something sharp hit me upside the head. I was dazed for a minute, but when I looked down at my feet, I found the album sleeve for—wait for it now—Neil Diamond's 'September Morn'. God, who buys this drivel?
A few seconds later, I was showered with a generous amount of clothing and then a few more albums…Bread, KC and the Sunshine Band, Donna Summer…someone is in some dire need of musical taste.
And then I heard it. A loud female voice. A loud, off-key female voice singing to the almost blaring strains of 'Three Little Birds'. I continued to climb the stairs, intent on finding the incredibly rude owner of the voice, not bothering to remove the T-shirts and shorts draped across my shoulders.
"Don't worry, about a thing. Cuz every little thing, gonna be all right." OK, I'd had enough of her murdering one of my favorite songs; something had to be done.
I'd reached the third flight of the rather dilapidated building and stood before the open door of the first apartment on the right. I'd heard some moving inside, but hadn't seen the body attached to the terrible singing. I'm not patient now, and I wasn't patient then, so I did the only logical thing. "What in the hell did Bob Marley ever do to you?" I'd bellowed through the hallway.
An auburn head had poked outside of the door, followed by the most amazing pair of legs I'd ever seen. She had taken one look at me and laughed until she was bent over with the effort.
"I'm glad you find this amusing. Tell me, is this how you greet all visitors in this building?"
"I'm…I'm sorry. Oh God…if you could see yourself," she'd said as she'd wiped a tear away. She'd walked closer and tugged the various apparel, which decorated me like a Christmas Tree, to the ground. "I didn't know anyone was down there," she'd explained more soberly as she'd taken a step back.
"Well, maybe you should check before you start throwing things down the stair case. You could've poked my eye out."
She'd nodded her head, but I could tell she wasn't taking me seriously. She'd then extended her hand and said simply, "CJ Cregg."
"Toby Ziegler. What in the hell possessed you to buy this?" I'd asked as I held up the offending Neil Diamond album.
She'd snorted then, and I knew I liked her. "That is not mine…it belongs to a gutter snipe by the name of James Arrington who will never be shadowing my doorway again if he knows what's good for him."
"Gutter snipe?"
"Yes, a gutter snipe…you have a problem with that?"
"No ma'am," I'd responded as I tried to hide my smile.
She'd appraised me for a moment before suddenly grabbing my arm. "Come on Toby…I owe you a drink."
I hadn't been thirsty, but I couldn't concentrate on anything but her cut-off shorts and simple tank top. I'm a man after all. And back then I was a much younger man.
Her apartment had been like every other college apartment I'd ever seen. Furniture pulled from curbs and dumpsters, posters of Bob Marley (of course), Joan Baez, and David Bowie covering the walls instead of fine art, and a supply of alcohol large enough to open a small bar. She'd gestured to the bottles on top of the hideous green refrigerator and smiled.
"Vodka? Tequila? Gin? No…I think you're a whiskey man."
I think my smile gave it away because she'd nodded and pulled two cups down from the cupboard.
We'd talked about many things that night. The best Cat Steven's album—I'd said 'Tea for the Tillerman', and she'd said 'Teaser and the Firecat'--; the social and political ramifications of a female president; Ken Kesey's indictment of mental health institutions in 'One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest'; and why the only good thing to come out of Russia was vodka.
She'd been amazing arguing across the small table from me. She'd been passionate and fiery. She'd been like nothing I'd ever seen, even as she cried over the 'gutter snipe' who'd run off with one of his students. In short, she'd been wonderful and I knew then that my life would never be the same. Even if I did live all the way across the country with a woman I was sure I was going to marry someday.
It wasn't until all the whiskey was gone that I'd remembered the purpose of my visit. I'd stumbled to the phone and made my excuses to Eli, and then slow danced with CJ into the early morning hours. She'd kissed me goodbye at the door the next afternoon and made me promise to keep in touch.
And I swear to this day, it was the best promise I ever made.
Josh is standing across the hall from her door when I walk out of my office. After he'd escorted her from the briefing room, I'd gone back to work. Well, I'd gone back to staring at the same piece of paper I'd been analyzing for the past three hours, because I knew she needed someone, but I also knew that someone wasn't me.
And I hate that. I've known CJ the longest, but it's clear that she's closer to Josh than she is to me. He knows exactly what to say when she's upset. He knows exactly what drink to order for her when we go out, depending on how the day went. And he always knows what present to buy on her birthday.
I manage to say all the wrong things when she's having a bad day. I have the waitress bring her a whiskey sour when she wants a martini. I spend hours in various boutiques and department stores because I don't know what the hell to buy for one of the best friends I've ever had before settling on a gift certificate to a music store.
It doesn't matter that I know she was confirmed when she was thirteen at the Our Lady Of Victory chapel. It doesn't matter that I know she graduated a year early from Berkeley because she threw herself into her studies after her mother's death. It doesn't matter that I know she has a scar behind her knee from when she fell off her bike when she was eight.
None of these things matter because somewhere in the years of our friendship, I have forgotten how to relate. I have built walls around my heart and she has stopped trying to scale them. We're comfortable in our distance and I don't know who's more afraid of getting hurt. I guess it really doesn't matter in the end.
Josh's eyes are upon me now, and I don't know why he thinks I can help her where he has failed. But he's pleading silently with me and I shake my head. He walks across the hall until we're standing side by side.
"I don't know what to say to her," he explains almost apologetically as he gestures to the door. "I had Donna make a run to that salad place she loves so much."
"You know she probably won't eat it," I say because I can think of nothing else.
His shoulders sag just a little bit, but he nods in agreement. "I know, I just wanted to feel like I was doing something."
"I want you to listen very carefully to me now, Josh. There is nothing you can do. Nothing. If you remember that, you'll be fine. She's strong, you and I know that better than most, and she'll get through this. And then she'll come back. But you have to accept that there is nothing you can do."
His eyes narrow slightly as he digests my words. He thinks I'm being cold, callous even, I can see it in his stance. But he suddenly relaxes and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I know you're right, Toby. But this is killing me…this helplessness."
I'm surprised at his candor, but maybe I shouldn't be. Josh can be arrogant and insensitive, but he's always expressed his affection, and indeed love, for his friends and family. He has never been ashamed of his emotions. And I admire him more than I can say for that particular trait.
"Yeah, well I've got a thing," I murmur as I walk back towards my office.
He nods his head and goes back to his station across from CJ's door. He reminds me of a puppy waiting expectantly at the door for his owner to return. I only hope he doesn't get hurt in the process of this mess, because I don't think CJ could bear it.
++++++++
She once locked me in a car and made me listen to all eight minutes of 'Free Bird' because I had mocked Lynyrd Skynyrd and called them overrated.
She once made me eat an entire bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken while she watched because I admitted to not remembering the last time I had a meal.
She once made me compile a list of the things I loved about Lisa because she'd heard me arguing on the phone with her again.
She once made me compile a list of things I disliked about Lisa to compare with the list of things I loved about Lisa until I realized that I deserved better.
She once took me out to get drunk after the breakup, and then held a cold washcloth to the back of my neck as I got sick in the toilet.
She once danced with me when Bartlet won the primary, and then again when he was inaugurated.
Sometimes when I'm feeling dissatisfied with my job, when I think about opportunities I may have missed by joining the campaign, by working long hours, I turn my thoughts to CJ. Because if I hadn't followed Josh to New Hampshire, then I never would have met one of the most amazing women ever to grace the Earth.
I think of the time she physically stood between Toby and me during one of our more heated arguments; an argument that may have come to blows if not for her well-timed intrusion. I think of the time that she allowed Donna to stay in her hotel room even though she didn't know her because Josh said she had no money. I think of the times she stayed up late to finish a task so that the rest of us could get some sleep.
I also think of the time that she cradled Josh while he cried over his father's death. I think of the time that she held Toby's hand when he announced his divorce was final. I think of the time that she squeezed Leo's arm after his press conference about his drug and alcohol addiction.
"Sam, you got a minute?"
I look up into Josh's worried eyes and nod. "Of course," I smile and then sit up straighter.
"What were you doing?" he asks as he claims the chair in the corner of my office.
"I was thinking about CJ," I admit honestly.
He smiles at me and then leans forward, "You remember that time she bribed Joe to play 'American Pie' over and over again on the bus because she was pissed at Toby?"
I can't help but laugh at the memory of CJ dancing down the aisle as the rest of us covered our ears. "Yeah…but you know what's even better than that? Do you remember that time in Phoenix when she made the five of us have a sharing circle?"
Josh nods enthusiastically as he adds to the story. "And she kept squirting Leo with the water gun because he was speaking out of turn and yelling at you."
I'm laughing so hard I can hardly breathe. "Wait, wait. What about that time she flew your mother in and had her berate you in front of the entire campaign staff for being mean to Donna?"
"It wasn't that funny, Sam," Josh says, although his smile gives him away. He sobers for a moment and settles back against the chair. "We can't lose her."
"Lose her? I thought she was staying…I mean, she told the President—"
"I don't mean physically, Sam," Josh sighs and closes his eyes briefly. "I looked into her eyes, I mean right after the press conference. And, Sam, I didn't recognize her. I didn't recognize her."
Josh's voice is trembling with emotion, and I hardly know how to react. But I do know that I'm not ready to let CJ go, and I tell him as much. "Josh, we're not going to lose her."
Maybe it's the steel in my voice or the resolve in my eyes but Josh smiles a bit lopsidedly and nods his head, taking a deep breath. "You're right."
"Well, of course. I'm always right and the sooner you accept that—"
"All right, smart guy. I get it. I'm gonna go talk to her."
"You think that's wise?"
"I need to let her know that I'm here for her…that we're all here for her."
I nod because I know he needs to see her, needs to reassure himself, more than CJ. "All right…but don't take it personal if she, you know, closes you off a little bit. She's just protecting herself, you know emotionally."
Josh does something totally unexpected. He throws his head back and begins to laugh. That deep, rolling laugh usually reserved for bars and sports events that I haven't heard in quite some time. "Sam, you really gotta stop watching Oprah. You're just getting…well, weird."
"Oh get out," I smile as I toss a pen at him. He catches it in his hand effortlessly and raises an eyebrow as he closes the door behind him.
++++++++++++
The light from the TV dances eerily across the shiny surfaces in my office. The paperweight, Gail's bowl, the small stapler I stole from Carol's desk, even the half-empty bottle of water reflect the image of Mary Marsh.
I've tuned out her angry voice, but I know what she's saying. It doesn't take a genus, and even if I hadn't watched the tape three times already, I'd know from her angry face and wild hand gestures. Janet, or whatever her name is, from the Planned Parenthood clinic in DC is fighting a losing battle. And Mark, bless his heart, is trying to appear impartial even as he argues with something the Spawn, I mean Mary, says.
She's demanding my resignation, more eager now than she was with Josh a year and a half ago. She's calling me immoral, incapable, irresponsible. Mary really likes alliteration.
What gives her the right? What gives anyone the right to judge me? These people who purport to be Christian…these people who bomb abortion clinics while calling themselves pro-life…these people who shout unmentionable names at women as they walk through the doors that will change their lives forever.
I don't understand, I just don't understand.
"CJ, can I come in?"
Damn it, I've already sent Josh away three times today. What in the hell does he want from me? Whatever it is, he's bound to be disappointed because I can't play this game anymore. I can't pretend that everything is fine when it literally feels like my heart is constricting in my chest, growing smaller with every punctuated statement Mary makes.
I don't answer, but he opens the door anyway and walks into my office. He eyes me disapprovingly as he crosses the room to turn the television off, ignoring my frustrated sigh.
"How long are you going to keep doing this?"
"Doing what?"
"Punishing yourself."
"Is that what I'm doing?"
Now it's his turn to sigh in frustration as he perches on the edge of my desk, careful not to get too close to me. "You've watched this, what, five times now?"
"Three," I correct automatically, even though I know it doesn't matter.
Silence dominates the room for a few minutes as he observes the darkened view from the window. There's something he wants to say, but he seems almost afraid to voice it. Finally, he turns his gaze back to me and takes a deep breath.
"I was thinking that maybe you should go home for a few weeks."
I know he's not referring to my modest apartment down the street. He wants me to go back to California. "Is that what Leo and the President think, too?"
He looks at me in surprise and shakes his head. "I haven't talked to Leo or the President. This isn't some scheme we've hatched, CJ. I think that you'd be better off in Napa until things calm down around here."
"And then they get what they want, Josh. Mary Mash and her cronies get to see me leave with my tail between my legs. I'm not doing it."
"Jesus, CJ," he says as he jumps up and begins to pace the room. "This isn't about Mary Marsh, the Christian Right, or even President Bartlet. This is about you...and what you need."
"And how would you know what I need?" I recognize the hurt in his eyes at my sharp tone, but press on anyway. "You think you know me so well, Josh, but the truth is, you have no idea who I am."
He stops suddenly and shoves his hands in his pockets. "You're wrong, Claudia Jean."
"Oh really? What was my major before switching to communications?"
Josh lowers his eyes and shrugs. "English?"
"Zoology. I switched because I didn't like chemistry. Where was I born?"
"San Francisco?"
"Duxbury, Massachusetts. My family moved to California when I was two. What did I want to be when I was a little girl?"
"A teacher?"
"A Broadway singer."
"What the hell, CJ? So I don't know these things about you…you don't know them about me," Josh says angrily as he places his hands on his hips.
I stand up now as I rapidly shoot out, "Before you switched to Political Science, you majored in engineering, but you were failing calculus. You were actually born in Boston, but your family moved to Connecticut when you were ten. When you were a little boy you wanted to be an astronaut."
He widens his eyes in surprise, but still won't admit defeat. "These things aren't important—"
"You're wrong. The reason these things are important is because I had to ask you these questions at some point in our friendship. I cared enough to ask. You have never asked me about myself, ever."
"You like extra nuts on your sundaes from McDonalds. You are ambidextrous, but usually write with your right hand. Your favorite book is 'A Tree Grows in Brooklyn' and your favorite song is 'Tiny Dancer'. Kevin was the name of your first boyfriend, and you broke up because he was enlisting in the army, and you were going away to Berkeley. You studied the piano for twelve years."
"Shut up, Joshua," I say quietly, overcome with emotion.
"You starred in 'The Sound of Music' in your high school theater. You prefer Coke to Pepsi, and butter over margarine. You wear a size eleven shoe. You cook better than anyone I know, but don't let on. You keep a rosary in the bottom left drawer of your desk."
"Shut up!" I yell as I cross the room until I am standing in front of him. He grips my upper arms and continues.
"You run every morning. You don't eat enough, and sleep even less. You have three jewelry boxes full of necklaces. And, you're beautiful."
His voice breaks, and there are tears in his eyes. I don't think I have ever been as ashamed of myself as I am right now. One lone tear makes its way down his cheek and I reach out a hand to wipe it away.
"I'm sorry, Josh, I'm so sorry."
He shakes his head and pulls me into a tight embrace. His chest rumbles against mine as he speaks. "Don't ever doubt my love for you, Claudia Jean. I know you." I nod my head and he repeats himself again, this time more quietly, but no less convincingly. "I know you."
He holds me for a few more minutes before releasing me. He places his hand on my arm, reluctant to break all physical contact, and squeezes it gently. And then I smile because he called me beautiful.
Mary Marsh may be looking for my head, there may be reporters camped outside my door, and there may be questions about my character, but none of that matters right now because Josh called me beautiful.
"I'm going to take you home now. If you're not going back to Napa for a vacation, then you're going to need your strength to deal with the next few days around here."
I see the surprise in his eyes when I capitulate and grab my coat. He expected me to argue, but right now I'm so tired I feel like I could sleep for a few days. He places his hand on the small of my back as we make our way down the hall under the surreptitious gazes of several co-workers.
Once we're inside his car, I grab his hand and squeeze it affectionately. "Thank you."
"For what?" he asks shyly as he looks everywhere but my eyes.
I duck my head and smile. "For caring."
He squeezes my hand back and replies, "Always."
++++++++
TBC