It's now 20 minutes to 7 by Donna's watch that doesn't suck.
Amy hasn't spoken to me in 23 hours and 20 minutes.
Donna is back in her best form, snarky and feisty and in control as ever.
And there are still roses on Donna's desk on Valentine's Day. I still don't know who sent them.
I'm loving it.
Well, not the part about Amy not speaking to me or not knowing who sent the roses, of course, but the part about Donna being back to normal after the whole Cliff thing. I've missed those sighs and her eyes rolling at me when I do something she thinks is monumentally stupid.
Come to think of it, I think she rolled her eyes when she found out about the whole Tahiti thing with Amy. Hmmm….
Donna announced to me at lunchtime that she is leaving at 7 tonight. In a moment of weakness, I said it was okay. Unfortunately, it's been so quiet today that I can't think of a single good reason to make her stay.
I have considered the possibility of making her stay until she shows me the card that came with the roses. According to the assistants' gossip network – perhaps that should be Assistants' Gossip Network – she tucked the card inside her shirt and hasn't let anyone else see it. Nor has she divulged the identity of the sender. He is now called The Rose King in the office.
This wouldn't bother me under other circumstances. Well, okay, it would, but not for the same reasons. It bothers me now because I still can't remember to whom and where I sent roses last night after my fight with Amy.
It wasn't really a fight. She got a bit pissed, well, a lot pissed, really, that I called her Donna while she was taking dictation for a brilliant thought I had as we worked on a position paper. Amy was assisting me, and that's usually Donna's job, so it was an honest mistake.
Anyway, after Amy left me a parting gift of a really ugly bruise on my cheek – it has stopped hurting, particularly after Donna sympathetically kissed it when I whined about it after lunch, and no, I'm not delving into the ramifications of Donna kissing it and making it better – I proceeded to get drunk and then order roses as an apology.
Not until the man on the other end of the phone at the 24-hour florist told me the cost of 3 dozen roses did I realize that today is Valentine's Day. Why 3 dozen? I like the number 36, I guess. My intention was to send them to Amy with a card that said, "Amy, I love you. Josh."
I don't think Amy got the roses. Most women, even when they aren't speaking to a man, would be thrilled enough to at least call and say "Thank you." Even CJ agreed with that, because Toby has sent her flowers a number of times (we won't be discussing that with anyone, since CJ threatened to make my cheeks match if I did) when they weren't speaking and she always called him.
Of course, I now know with granite certainty that Amy didn't get roses with a card that reads, "Donna, I love you. Josh." By lunch, I was fairly convinced, since I was still alive, but now that it's been nearly 24 hours, I am sure that the wrong roses didn't arrive.
Which leads me to think that the most likely scenario at this point is that the 3 dozen roses on Donna's desk are from me, and that the card reads, "Donna, I love you. Josh."
"Josh?" Donna's musical voice interrupts my thoughts, which I'm sure she believes are centered on the future of our great nation. I'll let her think that.
"Yes, Donna?"
"It's 6:55. You have a meeting with Sam and Toby in 20 minutes, and then, assuming that nothing else happens, you can go home early tonight."
"Really?" It has been a quiet day. "How long is my meeting with Sam and Toby?"
"It's scheduled for 45 minutes, but Sam thinks you'll be done early. He says there's just one paragraph of the speech that's getting flack from State."
I lean back in my chair with a yawn and a big stretch. Maybe it's my imagination, but I see Donna's azure eyes widen and a smile play across her face as I do. "Anything else?"
"No. I'm leaving now. I'll call you at 7:10 to remind you about your meeting."
"Why don't you just stay until 7:10 to make sure I actually get up and go?"
That scowl. Can a scowl be beautiful? Maybe it's just because we're back to normal. "Josh, I have a thing. I'm leaving now. Call me before you leave here so I can give you your schedule for tomorrow."
"Why don't you give it to me now?"
"Because you won't remember it."
I won't remember it if she tells me later, either, but this is our normal ritual when she leaves early – unless she's going on a date. I relax now, because it's official that she doesn't have a date for Valentine's Day. She would be giving me my schedule now if she did.
"Sam and Toby and I may go out for drinks later. Want to come?" I like it when Donna comes out with us. She takes good care of me when I'm drunk. If she had been there last night, the whole rose thing… well, it wouldn't have happened, but for a whole other set of reasons that I'm not going to think about right now.
"Sam's got a date and Toby refuses to go out in public on Valentine's Day. So just go straight home, okay, Josh?" That's a command voice. I sometimes wonder if Donna is really on an undercover assignment from the Marines or something, the way she can give orders.
"Um, okay. See you tomorrow."
"Later," she replies, and turns to leave for the night.
I actually take the time to read the draft of the speech Toby and Sam and I are working on tonight before the meeting. I think it's the first real work I've done all day except for the staff meeting and the meeting with Leo and Bruno and some other consultants about the thing.
Maybe that should be "The Thing" – as in the whole reelection thing.
I wander again. My phone rings, and I pick it up, knowing exactly who will be on the other end. "Josh Lyman, best boss in the world," I say.
It's not Donna.
"Yes, you are. You call everyone who helps you by your one perfect assistant's name." Oh, God, it's Amy.
"Uh…" is all I can manage. That's the 760 verbal going for me yet again.
"We're through," I hear her say, distantly, as if she were in England shouting across the Atlantic. "I'm not competing with her in any way, shape, or form."
"Wait, Amy – "
"No, J., we're done. Tahiti was a nice idea, but you're never gonna get beyond Mai Tais in your apartment. And you, my friend, have a thing for her, and I refuse to come second in your life."
Why can't I come up with a reasonable denial? All I can say is, "I'm going to Tahiti someday."
"Josh, are there flowers on her desk?"
"No," I answer honestly. She took them with her.
Amy isn't buying it. "But there were."
"Yes."
"Who sent them?"
Well, that's the question of the day, isn't it? "I don't know," I answer honestly again.
"I didn't get flowers today. Not a single carnation, tulip, daisy, or rose. Nor did I get chocolate."
My other line is ringing. "Yeah, Amy, I got to go. I've got a thing now and my phone – "
"It's over, J. Don't look for me later."
I think I should be more upset than I am, and maybe later, I'll think about it and get drunk again. But now, all I can manage is, "Whatever," as I reach for the phone to connect the other line.
That I do this successfully is testament to how good Donna is at her job. "Josh Lyman."
"You're late if you don't go now," Donna's voice reminds me. I hear elevator music in the background, and I realize that she must be at Union Station.
"'k, I'm going now."
"Call me later," she reminds me. That's unusual. I wonder why she's so insistent on me calling her?
"'k." I'm off to my meeting.
And I'm strangely content for the day, given that my girlfriend just broke up with me and that Donna had roses on her desk on Valentine's Day. And suddenly, I am convinced of the identity of The Rose King.