Proximity: Daylight and Shadows
***
CJ called me on Saturday morning, and I awoke abruptly to find myself tangled in the blue sheets of my double bed. It was 10:43—late enough that I had no reason to be annoyed. As I sat up and pulled the comforter up, I realized that she could call me at 3 am and it would be just fine with me.
"What do you need?" I asked. It sounded like CJ was in the bullpen, and it was a bit noisy for Saturday morning. I flicked my television on, preparing to learn of some national disaster that required White House attention. Just the weather report…
"I woke you. I'm sorry," CJ apologized and paused briefly. "Listen, you don't need to come in for long, but I was wondering if you could do this thing for me."
I ran my fingers through my long hair and cocked my head. "Sure, what is it?"
"The President is dragging me to the Kennedy Center this evening. I'm not going to get a chance to go home and I was hoping you could get some stuff?"
I smiled, knowing that CJ saw it as a big chore. I, on the other hand, absolutely reveled in the times she sent me to her place. "Sure, that's no problem. What do you need and what time?"
I heard CJ tapping the desk with a pen. "Something black. Shoes and a purse…by five, if that's all right."
"No problem…" I grinned, suddenly glad my sleep had been interrupted.
"The key is…"
"Under the mat, I've got it," I finished CJ's sentence only to hear her amused laughter.
"Good. And if you want to take back your CDs, they're on the kitchen counter. I've gotta go, Carol."
***
CJ lives pretty close to the White House and I don't, so it took me a good twenty minutes of maneuvering the four o'clock DC traffic before I arrived at her huge brownstone building. I parked my '93 Nissan Sentra right behind the nearly new Lexus—CJ must have walked to work today. I snickered at the contrast between cars. My father bought the Sentra for me my senior year in high school and I love it still, even with its manual locks and age-old tape player.
Her apartment was on the top floor, the corner pad. As I unlocked the door I didn't really find it surprising that CJ had the best apartment in the building. The heavy mahogany door opened easily, and I flicked the light on quickly.
It was such a beautiful apartment, windowed, plush and much too large for a single woman. It was actually immaculate, I saw as I wandered into the kitchen. The marble countertop was clear but for the small stack of CDs, and there was hardly a newspaper or magazine to be found. I fought the urge to see what CJ kept in her fridge—that might be too much of an intrusion—and I instead noticed the round brass magnets that held up her calendar. It was free of writing save for a tiny note for next Saturday that read "Salon @ 4".
The living room was black and white and it was as spotless as the kitchen. The end tables were laden with things that proved her taste for class. Little crystal figurines surrounded framed postcards from all around the world, and the way she'd arranged her collection of candles was purely artistic. None of them were burned down, I saw, though a silver lighter engraved with her name rested nearby.
In the hallway on the way to her bedroom, I stopped and looked at the wall. It was here that she hung her photos of the Administration. Dozens of shots with the President, many fun candid takes from the campaign, a professional photo from the Inaugural gala…. Frames of different sizes and shapes took up the entire surface of the wall. About to turn into her bedroom, my eye was suddenly caught by a familiar looking black and white. It was the picture I had on top of my TV —our picture—and she too had it framed!
With an idiotic feeling of happiness, I opened CJ's bedroom door and stopped short with surprise. She'd completely redecorated since the last time I'd been in here to find a dress. The walls were deep red, as was the silky bedspread that covered the lacquered black queen sized. The matching dresser and nightstands made the room incredibly beautiful; even the black rug looked new. Red and black were perfect colors for CJ, and based on the way this room looked, I'd have a lot to add to my list of fantasies.
I went over to the closet, remembering my mission. Black, something black…The closet was a huge walk in, with one entire half reserved for gowns. CJ's collection alone would suffice for a couple dozen prom-goers. They were arranged by color and I easily picked out a simple black satin Donna Karan, long and strapless. I'd never seen CJ in this dress, but it was doing crazy things to my imagination.
Shoes and a purse were simple to pick out, and I closed her bedroom door with reverence as I took the garment bag down the hallway. I left the CDs on her counter and contemplated leaving a note as well. Reminding myself that I could never do something like that, I simply entered into the hallway and locked up her apartment.
***
"Ah, you're so good to me," CJ proclaimed with a wide smile, reaching her arms out for the garment bag as I brought them down the hallway.
I smiled back and handed them off, noting with admiration the fact that CJ was wearing jeans and T-shirt. I think I've seen her in jeans and a T-shirt exactly three times in the White House, and it was a refreshing change from the suits and dresses of the week.
"I hope you don't need anything else…" I said, watching as CJ unzipped the garment bag. She smiled brightly and turned to me.
"Excellent choice. Thanks a lot."
"I'm glad…Listen, I'm going to stick around for a bit and get a head start on some things for Monday," I informed CJ, knowing that if I went home I would only wish that I'd stayed.
CJ looked at her watch. "Okay, I'm leaving in about an hour. I'll probably get dressed soon."
I nodded, leaving her alone in the office. Out in my area, there was nothing I could do but arrange and rearrange my notes, briefs and memos; still, I didn't want to leave. I wanted to see her in the dress.
I was just about dial into the Internet when CJ walked out of the office, surrounded in black satin. She leaned up against the doorframe and folded one of her toned, tanned bare arms over the front of the smooth material.
"I need your help," she announced with a shy smile, holding out two lipsticks. "Which do you think?"
I was rendered a bit speechless upon sight of her; it was a gorgeously simple dress, tight to her torso and flowing past the waist. If I could look so good in anything that cost that much, I'd quit my job with CJ and fly to the moon. But it was no effort for this woman.
"The dark red," I chose immediately upon regaining my power of focus, for just like her bedroom, the black and red together were perfect. I watched as she slowly applied the lipstick with a hand-mirror, and I wondered reticently if she were teasing me. She looked up and raised her eyebrows, seeking my approval. "It's good," I stammered, letting my breath out slowly.
"Good. I'm just waiting for Toby and Josh…" she said, tucking the lipstick into the small purse. I couldn't take my eyes away from her, and I knew that the minute she looked up, it would be clear. "So how was your day—what?" CJ asked, looking quickly down at herself and back at me.
I let out a soft chuckle, embarrassed but caught red-handed. "I'm sorry, you just look amazing in that dress."
"Oh!" CJ exclaimed, her expression bright but humble, "I thought I was having a fashion crisis…Thank you, though," she added slowly, her smile softening.
"Yeah," I said quietly, suddenly eager for her to leave. Had I really just told her she looked amazing? The perfume, the lipstick, the billowing black satin and the way her hair laid around her face were all too much for me to stand; the newly formed look in CJ's eye told me that she knew it, too. As she swept down the hall, I saw her glance back at me quickly before Josh took her arm.
***
I am a little like daylight and shadows. My entire life has been that way, from the moment I knew that I didn't want to date Billy Green down the street. I knew it, I always had, and even though I could have made things easy I've chosen the hard way instead. I let the selected few see who I really am, and hide behind a thin veil from the rest of the world. I took my job at the White House knowing that it would have to remain that way, just so it could.
I remember the first time I met CJ. She walked into the campaign headquarters with Toby Ziegler, her hair curly and wild as she approached me with a smile and a handshake. I thought she was insanely beautiful, and by some stroke of luck I'd been assigned the job as her assistant.
Pleasing her pleased me, and ever since then I've worked as hard as possible for CJ. I do it because I want to be someone important to her, and I know that she values me as an assistant. I used to wonder if she too could possibly have feelings for me, but it truly is hard to read CJ Cregg. I can only pray that we win re-election, if just for four more years of studying her emotions.
As I sat behind my desk, wondering if she'd come back to the White House after the concert, I also considered the fact that I was foolish. Foolish for wanting her, foolish for wasting my time watching her, and foolish for ever acknowledging that I was different. Yet it comes back to me time and time again—if I were not here, I would be no where at all. *
***
CJ called me on Saturday morning, and I awoke abruptly to find myself tangled in the blue sheets of my double bed. It was 10:43—late enough that I had no reason to be annoyed. As I sat up and pulled the comforter up, I realized that she could call me at 3 am and it would be just fine with me.
"What do you need?" I asked. It sounded like CJ was in the bullpen, and it was a bit noisy for Saturday morning. I flicked my television on, preparing to learn of some national disaster that required White House attention. Just the weather report…
"I woke you. I'm sorry," CJ apologized and paused briefly. "Listen, you don't need to come in for long, but I was wondering if you could do this thing for me."
I ran my fingers through my long hair and cocked my head. "Sure, what is it?"
"The President is dragging me to the Kennedy Center this evening. I'm not going to get a chance to go home and I was hoping you could get some stuff?"
I smiled, knowing that CJ saw it as a big chore. I, on the other hand, absolutely reveled in the times she sent me to her place. "Sure, that's no problem. What do you need and what time?"
I heard CJ tapping the desk with a pen. "Something black. Shoes and a purse…by five, if that's all right."
"No problem…" I grinned, suddenly glad my sleep had been interrupted.
"The key is…"
"Under the mat, I've got it," I finished CJ's sentence only to hear her amused laughter.
"Good. And if you want to take back your CDs, they're on the kitchen counter. I've gotta go, Carol."
***
CJ lives pretty close to the White House and I don't, so it took me a good twenty minutes of maneuvering the four o'clock DC traffic before I arrived at her huge brownstone building. I parked my '93 Nissan Sentra right behind the nearly new Lexus—CJ must have walked to work today. I snickered at the contrast between cars. My father bought the Sentra for me my senior year in high school and I love it still, even with its manual locks and age-old tape player.
Her apartment was on the top floor, the corner pad. As I unlocked the door I didn't really find it surprising that CJ had the best apartment in the building. The heavy mahogany door opened easily, and I flicked the light on quickly.
It was such a beautiful apartment, windowed, plush and much too large for a single woman. It was actually immaculate, I saw as I wandered into the kitchen. The marble countertop was clear but for the small stack of CDs, and there was hardly a newspaper or magazine to be found. I fought the urge to see what CJ kept in her fridge—that might be too much of an intrusion—and I instead noticed the round brass magnets that held up her calendar. It was free of writing save for a tiny note for next Saturday that read "Salon @ 4".
The living room was black and white and it was as spotless as the kitchen. The end tables were laden with things that proved her taste for class. Little crystal figurines surrounded framed postcards from all around the world, and the way she'd arranged her collection of candles was purely artistic. None of them were burned down, I saw, though a silver lighter engraved with her name rested nearby.
In the hallway on the way to her bedroom, I stopped and looked at the wall. It was here that she hung her photos of the Administration. Dozens of shots with the President, many fun candid takes from the campaign, a professional photo from the Inaugural gala…. Frames of different sizes and shapes took up the entire surface of the wall. About to turn into her bedroom, my eye was suddenly caught by a familiar looking black and white. It was the picture I had on top of my TV —our picture—and she too had it framed!
With an idiotic feeling of happiness, I opened CJ's bedroom door and stopped short with surprise. She'd completely redecorated since the last time I'd been in here to find a dress. The walls were deep red, as was the silky bedspread that covered the lacquered black queen sized. The matching dresser and nightstands made the room incredibly beautiful; even the black rug looked new. Red and black were perfect colors for CJ, and based on the way this room looked, I'd have a lot to add to my list of fantasies.
I went over to the closet, remembering my mission. Black, something black…The closet was a huge walk in, with one entire half reserved for gowns. CJ's collection alone would suffice for a couple dozen prom-goers. They were arranged by color and I easily picked out a simple black satin Donna Karan, long and strapless. I'd never seen CJ in this dress, but it was doing crazy things to my imagination.
Shoes and a purse were simple to pick out, and I closed her bedroom door with reverence as I took the garment bag down the hallway. I left the CDs on her counter and contemplated leaving a note as well. Reminding myself that I could never do something like that, I simply entered into the hallway and locked up her apartment.
***
"Ah, you're so good to me," CJ proclaimed with a wide smile, reaching her arms out for the garment bag as I brought them down the hallway.
I smiled back and handed them off, noting with admiration the fact that CJ was wearing jeans and T-shirt. I think I've seen her in jeans and a T-shirt exactly three times in the White House, and it was a refreshing change from the suits and dresses of the week.
"I hope you don't need anything else…" I said, watching as CJ unzipped the garment bag. She smiled brightly and turned to me.
"Excellent choice. Thanks a lot."
"I'm glad…Listen, I'm going to stick around for a bit and get a head start on some things for Monday," I informed CJ, knowing that if I went home I would only wish that I'd stayed.
CJ looked at her watch. "Okay, I'm leaving in about an hour. I'll probably get dressed soon."
I nodded, leaving her alone in the office. Out in my area, there was nothing I could do but arrange and rearrange my notes, briefs and memos; still, I didn't want to leave. I wanted to see her in the dress.
I was just about dial into the Internet when CJ walked out of the office, surrounded in black satin. She leaned up against the doorframe and folded one of her toned, tanned bare arms over the front of the smooth material.
"I need your help," she announced with a shy smile, holding out two lipsticks. "Which do you think?"
I was rendered a bit speechless upon sight of her; it was a gorgeously simple dress, tight to her torso and flowing past the waist. If I could look so good in anything that cost that much, I'd quit my job with CJ and fly to the moon. But it was no effort for this woman.
"The dark red," I chose immediately upon regaining my power of focus, for just like her bedroom, the black and red together were perfect. I watched as she slowly applied the lipstick with a hand-mirror, and I wondered reticently if she were teasing me. She looked up and raised her eyebrows, seeking my approval. "It's good," I stammered, letting my breath out slowly.
"Good. I'm just waiting for Toby and Josh…" she said, tucking the lipstick into the small purse. I couldn't take my eyes away from her, and I knew that the minute she looked up, it would be clear. "So how was your day—what?" CJ asked, looking quickly down at herself and back at me.
I let out a soft chuckle, embarrassed but caught red-handed. "I'm sorry, you just look amazing in that dress."
"Oh!" CJ exclaimed, her expression bright but humble, "I thought I was having a fashion crisis…Thank you, though," she added slowly, her smile softening.
"Yeah," I said quietly, suddenly eager for her to leave. Had I really just told her she looked amazing? The perfume, the lipstick, the billowing black satin and the way her hair laid around her face were all too much for me to stand; the newly formed look in CJ's eye told me that she knew it, too. As she swept down the hall, I saw her glance back at me quickly before Josh took her arm.
***
I am a little like daylight and shadows. My entire life has been that way, from the moment I knew that I didn't want to date Billy Green down the street. I knew it, I always had, and even though I could have made things easy I've chosen the hard way instead. I let the selected few see who I really am, and hide behind a thin veil from the rest of the world. I took my job at the White House knowing that it would have to remain that way, just so it could.
I remember the first time I met CJ. She walked into the campaign headquarters with Toby Ziegler, her hair curly and wild as she approached me with a smile and a handshake. I thought she was insanely beautiful, and by some stroke of luck I'd been assigned the job as her assistant.
Pleasing her pleased me, and ever since then I've worked as hard as possible for CJ. I do it because I want to be someone important to her, and I know that she values me as an assistant. I used to wonder if she too could possibly have feelings for me, but it truly is hard to read CJ Cregg. I can only pray that we win re-election, if just for four more years of studying her emotions.
As I sat behind my desk, wondering if she'd come back to the White House after the concert, I also considered the fact that I was foolish. Foolish for wanting her, foolish for wasting my time watching her, and foolish for ever acknowledging that I was different. Yet it comes back to me time and time again—if I were not here, I would be no where at all. *