***
March
***
It had been a hell of a day. Meeting after meeting, with a few meetings to break
the monotony, and Sam giving a speech about a health care initiative that blew
the doors off the Capitol, and then some more meetings. It was all wonderful,
when he stopped to think about it, because the spirit of bipartisanship and
reform was high. The C.A.P. members were about to lose their seats in Congress,
big-time, and rumor had it that Schiller was going to dump the Vice-President in
the 2010 elections. Support of Israel was tempered with provisos about rights
for all its citizens. Everyone was shutting up about Moral Majority anything and
concentrating on the true reasons behind social ills. And right there, right
there in the middle of anything, was the man everyone was turning to as the
natural leader. Sam Seaborn.
But in spite of the many blessings of the day, Josh had left earlier than normal
- when it was still daylight - and gone home, because Amy had said over
breakfast that she needed to talk to him about something that affected them
both.
He was pretty sure that she was going to have a baby. Made sense - the recent
moodiness, the furtive phone calls, the weird reverse-nesting instinct that had
her bringing more and more of her personal items to her office. Oh, he was so
the man. Not that Amy wasn't the woman, but...
Josh lounged on the sofa, arms spread along the back, and put his feet on the
coffee table. "Let me have it."
Amy sat in the leather chair across from him. Her dark eyes flashed. "Naima's
husband has figured out where they are. He's trying to file charges of
kidnapping against her, and we're not sure where the Canadian government's going
to go with it even when we tell them what's really going on. Naima's going to
have to get out of the house pretty fast, and she needs help moving and finding
a new place."
"Oh, God, Amy, that's horrible. I'm so sorry." Josh leaned forward, reaching for
Amy's hands and clasping them between his. "Sam's got some law school buddies at
State - I can make some calls tonight."
"Thanks," Amy whispered. "I appreciate that...more than I can tell you." Josh
saw tears in her eyes, and her face was deathly pale. "I'm going up there--"
"Yeah, that's what I figured, with all the suitcases." Something unpleasant
began to tickle the back of his brain, and he let go of Amy's hands so he could
gesture toward the brown leather bags. "That's a...lot of suitcases. How long
are you going to be gone?"
Amy blinked back her tears, and something in the way she looked at Josh left him
breathless. In a bad way. He heard something about not coming back. About Naima.
About Angela. But that wasn't possible.
He hadn't heard her correctly.
Yes, that's it, Josh thought as he continued to stare at Amy with his mouth
open. No way did I hear what I think I just heard. No chance that Amy just said
she was leaving to live on the run in Canada with Naima and Angela. Leaving me
forever.
"Josh?" Amy asked, standing up and walking behind the sofa to hold on to his
shoulders. "Are you going to be okay?"
He shook his head, trying to clear it of the hundreds of noises racketing around
in his brain. "This morning, when you said you needed to talk...I thought..." He
was grateful that she couldn't see his face, and his chest was so tight that he
could hardly breathe. "I thought you might be pregnant. I wasn't...I really
didn't...expect..."
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Josh nodded. "How long has this been going on?" God, what a cliché.
"Since last January."
"January? We'd only been married--"
"I know!" Her hands tightened on his shoulders. It hurt. It felt good. "I'm
sorry, Josh, I tried not to act on it. I'd meant to tell you, but then Leo died,
and I...I couldn't do that to you."
Josh rubbed his forehead with one hand. "The night Leo died, you said you wanted
to tell me something. You said it could keep. This was it, wasn't it?"
He felt Amy rest her cheek on his head, felt her nodding in silence.
"Okay." Josh shifted his weight forward and shrugged away Amy's soothing hands.
Sat far enough forward that he wouldn't feel her warm breath, or the tears that
slipped from her face into his hair. "You got a lawyer?"
"Everyone I know is a lawyer, Josh. I've filed papers. All you have to do is
sign. I don't want anything." She paused. "I don't deserve anything."
Josh wanted to agree with her, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. "How
will you get by? You won't be able to work - they're not going to give you a
visa, and, even if they did, you'll be on the run."
"We have...ways. We don't need much. I've been saving."
He turned around, kneeling on the sofa, and cupped Amy's face in his hands. The
tears in his eyes blurred her edges, making her look so soft. "Will you be
safe?"
"I can't believe you're asking that," she whispered, sounding close to tears
herself. "I just said I'm leaving you, and you're not hoping I'll get shot by a
jealous husband?"
"Ask me again tomorrow," he quipped. Old habit. Jokes to cover up the agony.
Amy had to know that about him. She leaned over, pressing her forehead against
his. "I really do love you, Josh."
He could barely force out the words. "I...know that." He grabbed hold of her,
pulling her close for a kiss, feeling her soft mouth open for just a second
before she broke contact.
Josh licked his lips. Tasted her. They'd made love last night and the image of
Amy astride him, her wild hair clinging to her face and neck as she moaned in
pleasure, went through him like a jolt of electricity. "Was it a pity fuck?" he
asked, knowing she was probably remembering the same thing.
"Josh. No. Never." She looked surprised - although how she'd be surprised by
this train of thought seemed inconceivable.
He nodded. "Okay. Okay." Clearing his throat, he got up on shaky legs and stood
next to her. They both leaned against the back of the sofa, looking at the door.
"When will you be leaving?"
"As soon as Sam gets here."
"You told Sam?"
Josh's indignant cry made Amy shudder. "I just asked him to come over tonight. I
didn't want to leave you and have you be all alone."
God. God. "Amy, do you think I'm going to hurt myself?"
She sighed. "The thought had crossed my mind. There's...history."
Sirens. There had been sirens everywhere, and the smell of gunpowder, and the
lancing pain. He squinted, then yanked himself away from her. "Don't flatter
yourself."
And because Sam's timing had always been just this side of eerie, the intercom
buzzed. Amy punched the button and moments later Sam was inside the apartment.
His expression went from bemusement to disbelief as he looked from Josh to Amy
to the suitcases. "You're leaving," he said in what Josh thought of as his
"lawyer's summation" voice.
"I'm going to Canada. To be with Naima." She sounded defiant and sad at the same
time, something Josh wasn't used to hearing. But that was about to stop
mattering.
"By 'be with,' you mean..." Sam clasped his hands together. "Be with. Oh. I, uh,
see." He took a few steps closer to Josh, aligning himself with him.
"Sam, I'm sorry to put you in the middle of this. I just...I held on for so
long, hoping Josh would get over Leo, hoping there'd be a time that's not a
crisis..."
"You don't 'get over' Leo," Josh whispered.
"That's not what I mean!" Amy's frustration manifested itself in fists balled up
on her hips and the creases in her forehead. "I tried, Josh, I tried to help
you--"
It was Sam who cut her off, not Josh, and his tone was dangerously neutral. "I
can't fault you for wanting to live your life the way you think is best, Amy.
But you have to understand that my first and only concern is for Josh."
She nodded, slowly, and reached for her duffel bag, slinging it over her
shoulder while reaching for the two larger suitcases. Armed now, untouchable,
she looked up at Josh with such tenderness that he thought, for an instant, that
she might be reconsidering.
"I'm so sorry," she said as she turned toward the door and walked away.
He was wrong.
Sam closed the door and quickly returned to Josh's side. "I don't think she'll
stay away," he offered, but Josh shook his head.
"No. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that Amy Gardner's mind, once made
up, is unassailable." He swallowed hard at the sight of Sam's compassionate
expression. "I thought she was trying to tell me that we'd gotten pregnant. What
a joke."
"I'm sorry," Sam said. "Do you need a lawyer?"
"I'm a damn lawyer," Josh cried, pointing with both hands at his own chest. "Why
don't people remember that?"
"Because, on most days, you don't remember that. Seriously. I can have someone
get in touch with you tomorrow. Has Amy filed?"
Josh shrugged. "She said she'd gotten papers. That she doesn't want anything."
"Mmm." Sam stood beside Josh, their shoulders touching just a little. "So. What
do we do now?"
"I think your job is to keep me from killing myself." Sam made a horrified
choking noise, so Josh forced a smile. "Kidding. Kidding."
"That's completely unfunny."
"I know."
There was silence again. Josh turned to Sam. "I'm hungry."
"God, I was hoping you'd say that." Sam's face lit up. Josh couldn't tell
whether Sam actually felt hungry or was just relieved that Josh was.
Nonetheless, Josh grinned as he tossed Sam the phone. "What do you want?"
"Anything that goes with beer. And, you know, actual beer."
"Do you have any actual beer?"
Josh walked into the kitchen - noticing that Amy had left dishes in the sink -
and opened the refrigerator. "Not as such, no. I mean, there's one bottle, and
that's mine, so you're going to need some. And I'll need more later."
"So, reinforcements are in order." Sam pulled out his cell phone.
"Who are you calling?" Josh asked, slumping into a chair in the kitchen and
looking glumly at the coffee cups that had been a wedding gift. He wondered if
he'd have to give them back.
"Matt."
"Sam! No, it's bad enough that you're here - I don't need a damn slumber party!"
"I doubt that any of us will be sleeping tonight...no, Matt, I wasn't talking to
you. I'm at Josh's, and, well, there's a thing. So can you bring beer?"
"This is not happening," Josh moaned as he opened the one lonely bottle of
Heineken.
"Yeah, and as much really obnoxious food as you can lay your hands on. A burnt
offering of meat would probably do for Josh."
Sam's voice dropped low enough for Josh to lose the exact words, but he knew Sam
was telling Matt that Amy was gone.
Oh. Amy's gone. Oh.
His stomach knotted up and for one horrible moment he thought he was going to
vomit. Or cry. Josh couldn't decide which would be worse. He remained at the
table while Sam busied himself with plates and glasses, filling the void with
news about the A.S.O.'s recording contract and problems with residuals for the
players while Josh drank the beer.
"You don't have to entertain me, Sam," Josh said. He sounded...hollow. Which was
no surprise. He twisted his wedding band around his finger and fought back
tears. "C.J. called me an idiot, that day."
"I think we all did," Sam said evenly.
"Yeah, but you didn't do it to me in the White House. Which sucked. And then
Toby told me I was an idiot, and Leo, and the next morning Abbey called me...all
sorts of things. But you know what, Sam? I was really happy. I was."
"I know that."
"Except for the thing with Donna. That wasn't so wonderful. And that happened in
the White House, too. You know what?" Josh folded his arms on the table and
rested his head on them. "I think I should avoid the White House at all costs.
That place is dangerous."
"I don't think it's the White House that got you into trouble, there."
Josh took a sip of beer. "Don't stop me. I'm on a roll."
All of a sudden he froze. The bed. He'd have to sleep in the bed. Their bed. The
one they'd had sex in less than two days before.
"Got any clean sheets?" Sam asked, and Josh turned to him with his mouth agape.
"How do you do that? Read my mind?"
"Because it's transparent." Sam knocked on Josh's forehead, then leaned over and
threw his arms around him. "I'm sorry," he said again.
"Sam." Josh disentangled himself, trying to hide the rise in emotions behind a
smirking facade. "Did you have an affair with Amy?"
"Josh!" Sam's eyes were enormous.
"Did you ask her to leave me? Did you draw up the divorce papers?" Josh gave Sam
a smile. "Then you have nothing to be sorry for."
After a few seconds, Sam seemed to digest what Josh was really saying to him,
and he smiled ruefully. "I see Matt's car. I'm gonna go help him with the
stuff."
Josh took the last few moments of solitude to pull himself together as much as
possible. Amy's gone. She's gone. Okay. I can do this.
I've had worse things happen to me.
And how depressing is that?
Matt came through the door first, carrying takeout bags that did nothing to mask
the delicious, forbidden scents within. "All the fried food that I could muster
up on such short notice. And Sam's got the beer." He looked at Josh kindly but
not pityingly. "I'm sorry," he began, but Sam cut him off as he entered.
"Don't apologize or Josh will start accusing you of, you know, some pretty weird
things." They passed out food and put the extra beer in the refrigerators after
opening bottles for themselves. "What are we drinking to?"
Josh just stared at him, but Matt smiled and clinked his bottle to Sam's.
"Beards."
"That is...not funny," Josh sputtered, even though he started to laugh. He
joined in the toast. "You are sick people. My wife just left me for a woman, and
you decide to mock me?"
"That's nothing. Wait until you tell your mother," Sam said, picking up some
french fries and dipping them into a glob of ketchup.
"Oh, God. My mother. This is gonna suck so completely and thoroughly." Then a
horrible thought struck him and he blanched. "Forget my mother - what about
Donna?"
"What about Donna?" Sam asked, still munching on french fries as he took another
drink.
"She's gonna mock me until, I don't know, forever." His shoulders slumped and he
pushed his hamburger to one side. "She's gonna laugh."
Matt set his sandwich down on the plate and looked down at it with unusual
interest. "She didn't laugh."
"That's good," Sam said, then paused with his hamburger halfway to his mouth.
"I'm sorry, you just said she 'didn't' laugh."
"As in you already told her?" Josh demanded.
"She was sitting right next to me in the office when I got the call. I was
supposed to stay late and work on the Hayley stuff, but...well, I had to tell
her something, and the truth is always the easiest thing to remember."
Josh was slightly mollified. And hungry. He bit into the charcoal-edged
hamburger with a sigh. Donna hadn't laughed. That was something.
"If it makes you feel any better, Josh, I had a guy dump me for a woman, once."
"That sentence," Sam declared, "sounds so bizarre."
"It doesn't make me feel better. Besides," Josh said as he removed the offending
tomatoes, lettuce, pickles, and all other vegetation, from his dinner, "I don't
think this will go on forever. She'll come back."
Sam and Matt exchanged worried looks. Matt shook his head. "Josh, look, if she'd
been planning this for a year..."
"Give me another beer," Josh demanded sourly. Matt handed him another bottle,
which Josh opened but then set aside. "I've had women leave me before."
Sam made a noise that sounded like a snort, then opened his eyes wide and spread
out his arms.
"I've had women leave me before," Josh repeated. "And the good ones, I've been
able to win back."
"With your charm and boyish self-deprecation?" Matt asked.
"Something like that. And please don't mock the afflicted." He was actually
enjoying this, in a sick kind of way. Sam and Matt, on his side. "But this thing
with Amy - what she wants, I'm literally not equipped to give her. It's not
exactly a fair fight."
"And thank you for making my point." Matt took the pickles off of Josh's plate
and ate one of them. "I hate to tell you this, Josh, but when it's about the
equipment, it's never a fair fight."
"There's nothin' wrong with my equipment," Josh mumbled.
"I wouldn't know," Matt replied primly, and as a result he found himself wearing
a piece of lettuce on his shirt.
They finished their meals quickly and took the beer out onto the stoop. Josh
plopped down, bone-weary, on the top step, with Matt and Sam flanking him. "So
what will you do now?" Sam asked.
"Right now? I don't know. It's too late to buy a bed," Josh said glumly. "I am
never sleeping in that bed again."
"Neither is Amy," Sam put in, not at all helpfully, for which Josh punched him
in the arm. Sam laughed. His lips were just above the bottle, and it whistled
darkly. "Okay, we'll have someone go bed-shopping with you tomorrow. Then what?"
"Lawyer. Calling my mom - unless you'd like to do that for me, Matt?"
"God, no. Not that I don't think your mom's great. I get a kick out of talking
to her when she comes up to visit, and there's nothing in the world as great as
her noodle kugel. But now she's always looking for a nice Jewish doctor for me.
I think she's more worried about my being Methodist than being gay."
Josh thought that his mother was about the coolest little old Jewish lady in the
world.
"Seriously. Josh." Sam looked at him with concern radiating from his whole body.
"What can we do?"
"I have...no idea. No one's ever divorced me before. I know that's hard to
believe. So, apart from the lawyer and the bed, I don't really know what to do.
Give me some more work to do, maybe."
"Because it takes your mind off Amy, or because you won't want to go home?"
He didn't know the answer to Matt's question, so he just shrugged. "What
difference does it make, if it's successful?"
"What difference will you make," Sam asked gently, "if it doesn't mean anything
to you?"
"What makes you think it doesn't?" Josh had worked endless hours after the "End
of Days" interview, getting the people who privately agreed with C.J. to go
public, making sure no stone was unturned in bringing important, thoughtful
people into the group that was struggling to turn America from a secret
theocracy into a true democracy.
"Josh, I just don't want you to throw yourself into this to the extent that you
wear yourself down. You're no spring chicken anymore." Sam paused. "I need you
too much to let you make yourself sick over something you can't control."
There. That was it. No control. He hadn't felt this dizzying a sense of freefall
in years. Josh sucked in a breath and nodded.
So this is it, he thought as Matt helped him to his feet and watched, arms
folded, as Josh made a nest for himself on the sofa. Amy is gone and I'm still
here, and they're still here, and somehow it'll be better in the morning.
"The pain gets better," Sam reminded him, prescient as always.
"I know that," Josh mumbled into the pillow. He let his breathing deepen,
waiting until he heard two pairs of footsteps and the click of his front door.
Then he turned over on his back, his arm thrown over his eyes, and let the tears
fall at last.
***
Part four
March
***
It had been a hell of a day. Meeting after meeting, with a few meetings to break
the monotony, and Sam giving a speech about a health care initiative that blew
the doors off the Capitol, and then some more meetings. It was all wonderful,
when he stopped to think about it, because the spirit of bipartisanship and
reform was high. The C.A.P. members were about to lose their seats in Congress,
big-time, and rumor had it that Schiller was going to dump the Vice-President in
the 2010 elections. Support of Israel was tempered with provisos about rights
for all its citizens. Everyone was shutting up about Moral Majority anything and
concentrating on the true reasons behind social ills. And right there, right
there in the middle of anything, was the man everyone was turning to as the
natural leader. Sam Seaborn.
But in spite of the many blessings of the day, Josh had left earlier than normal
- when it was still daylight - and gone home, because Amy had said over
breakfast that she needed to talk to him about something that affected them
both.
He was pretty sure that she was going to have a baby. Made sense - the recent
moodiness, the furtive phone calls, the weird reverse-nesting instinct that had
her bringing more and more of her personal items to her office. Oh, he was so
the man. Not that Amy wasn't the woman, but...
Josh lounged on the sofa, arms spread along the back, and put his feet on the
coffee table. "Let me have it."
Amy sat in the leather chair across from him. Her dark eyes flashed. "Naima's
husband has figured out where they are. He's trying to file charges of
kidnapping against her, and we're not sure where the Canadian government's going
to go with it even when we tell them what's really going on. Naima's going to
have to get out of the house pretty fast, and she needs help moving and finding
a new place."
"Oh, God, Amy, that's horrible. I'm so sorry." Josh leaned forward, reaching for
Amy's hands and clasping them between his. "Sam's got some law school buddies at
State - I can make some calls tonight."
"Thanks," Amy whispered. "I appreciate that...more than I can tell you." Josh
saw tears in her eyes, and her face was deathly pale. "I'm going up there--"
"Yeah, that's what I figured, with all the suitcases." Something unpleasant
began to tickle the back of his brain, and he let go of Amy's hands so he could
gesture toward the brown leather bags. "That's a...lot of suitcases. How long
are you going to be gone?"
Amy blinked back her tears, and something in the way she looked at Josh left him
breathless. In a bad way. He heard something about not coming back. About Naima.
About Angela. But that wasn't possible.
He hadn't heard her correctly.
Yes, that's it, Josh thought as he continued to stare at Amy with his mouth
open. No way did I hear what I think I just heard. No chance that Amy just said
she was leaving to live on the run in Canada with Naima and Angela. Leaving me
forever.
"Josh?" Amy asked, standing up and walking behind the sofa to hold on to his
shoulders. "Are you going to be okay?"
He shook his head, trying to clear it of the hundreds of noises racketing around
in his brain. "This morning, when you said you needed to talk...I thought..." He
was grateful that she couldn't see his face, and his chest was so tight that he
could hardly breathe. "I thought you might be pregnant. I wasn't...I really
didn't...expect..."
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Josh nodded. "How long has this been going on?" God, what a cliché.
"Since last January."
"January? We'd only been married--"
"I know!" Her hands tightened on his shoulders. It hurt. It felt good. "I'm
sorry, Josh, I tried not to act on it. I'd meant to tell you, but then Leo died,
and I...I couldn't do that to you."
Josh rubbed his forehead with one hand. "The night Leo died, you said you wanted
to tell me something. You said it could keep. This was it, wasn't it?"
He felt Amy rest her cheek on his head, felt her nodding in silence.
"Okay." Josh shifted his weight forward and shrugged away Amy's soothing hands.
Sat far enough forward that he wouldn't feel her warm breath, or the tears that
slipped from her face into his hair. "You got a lawyer?"
"Everyone I know is a lawyer, Josh. I've filed papers. All you have to do is
sign. I don't want anything." She paused. "I don't deserve anything."
Josh wanted to agree with her, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. "How
will you get by? You won't be able to work - they're not going to give you a
visa, and, even if they did, you'll be on the run."
"We have...ways. We don't need much. I've been saving."
He turned around, kneeling on the sofa, and cupped Amy's face in his hands. The
tears in his eyes blurred her edges, making her look so soft. "Will you be
safe?"
"I can't believe you're asking that," she whispered, sounding close to tears
herself. "I just said I'm leaving you, and you're not hoping I'll get shot by a
jealous husband?"
"Ask me again tomorrow," he quipped. Old habit. Jokes to cover up the agony.
Amy had to know that about him. She leaned over, pressing her forehead against
his. "I really do love you, Josh."
He could barely force out the words. "I...know that." He grabbed hold of her,
pulling her close for a kiss, feeling her soft mouth open for just a second
before she broke contact.
Josh licked his lips. Tasted her. They'd made love last night and the image of
Amy astride him, her wild hair clinging to her face and neck as she moaned in
pleasure, went through him like a jolt of electricity. "Was it a pity fuck?" he
asked, knowing she was probably remembering the same thing.
"Josh. No. Never." She looked surprised - although how she'd be surprised by
this train of thought seemed inconceivable.
He nodded. "Okay. Okay." Clearing his throat, he got up on shaky legs and stood
next to her. They both leaned against the back of the sofa, looking at the door.
"When will you be leaving?"
"As soon as Sam gets here."
"You told Sam?"
Josh's indignant cry made Amy shudder. "I just asked him to come over tonight. I
didn't want to leave you and have you be all alone."
God. God. "Amy, do you think I'm going to hurt myself?"
She sighed. "The thought had crossed my mind. There's...history."
Sirens. There had been sirens everywhere, and the smell of gunpowder, and the
lancing pain. He squinted, then yanked himself away from her. "Don't flatter
yourself."
And because Sam's timing had always been just this side of eerie, the intercom
buzzed. Amy punched the button and moments later Sam was inside the apartment.
His expression went from bemusement to disbelief as he looked from Josh to Amy
to the suitcases. "You're leaving," he said in what Josh thought of as his
"lawyer's summation" voice.
"I'm going to Canada. To be with Naima." She sounded defiant and sad at the same
time, something Josh wasn't used to hearing. But that was about to stop
mattering.
"By 'be with,' you mean..." Sam clasped his hands together. "Be with. Oh. I, uh,
see." He took a few steps closer to Josh, aligning himself with him.
"Sam, I'm sorry to put you in the middle of this. I just...I held on for so
long, hoping Josh would get over Leo, hoping there'd be a time that's not a
crisis..."
"You don't 'get over' Leo," Josh whispered.
"That's not what I mean!" Amy's frustration manifested itself in fists balled up
on her hips and the creases in her forehead. "I tried, Josh, I tried to help
you--"
It was Sam who cut her off, not Josh, and his tone was dangerously neutral. "I
can't fault you for wanting to live your life the way you think is best, Amy.
But you have to understand that my first and only concern is for Josh."
She nodded, slowly, and reached for her duffel bag, slinging it over her
shoulder while reaching for the two larger suitcases. Armed now, untouchable,
she looked up at Josh with such tenderness that he thought, for an instant, that
she might be reconsidering.
"I'm so sorry," she said as she turned toward the door and walked away.
He was wrong.
Sam closed the door and quickly returned to Josh's side. "I don't think she'll
stay away," he offered, but Josh shook his head.
"No. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that Amy Gardner's mind, once made
up, is unassailable." He swallowed hard at the sight of Sam's compassionate
expression. "I thought she was trying to tell me that we'd gotten pregnant. What
a joke."
"I'm sorry," Sam said. "Do you need a lawyer?"
"I'm a damn lawyer," Josh cried, pointing with both hands at his own chest. "Why
don't people remember that?"
"Because, on most days, you don't remember that. Seriously. I can have someone
get in touch with you tomorrow. Has Amy filed?"
Josh shrugged. "She said she'd gotten papers. That she doesn't want anything."
"Mmm." Sam stood beside Josh, their shoulders touching just a little. "So. What
do we do now?"
"I think your job is to keep me from killing myself." Sam made a horrified
choking noise, so Josh forced a smile. "Kidding. Kidding."
"That's completely unfunny."
"I know."
There was silence again. Josh turned to Sam. "I'm hungry."
"God, I was hoping you'd say that." Sam's face lit up. Josh couldn't tell
whether Sam actually felt hungry or was just relieved that Josh was.
Nonetheless, Josh grinned as he tossed Sam the phone. "What do you want?"
"Anything that goes with beer. And, you know, actual beer."
"Do you have any actual beer?"
Josh walked into the kitchen - noticing that Amy had left dishes in the sink -
and opened the refrigerator. "Not as such, no. I mean, there's one bottle, and
that's mine, so you're going to need some. And I'll need more later."
"So, reinforcements are in order." Sam pulled out his cell phone.
"Who are you calling?" Josh asked, slumping into a chair in the kitchen and
looking glumly at the coffee cups that had been a wedding gift. He wondered if
he'd have to give them back.
"Matt."
"Sam! No, it's bad enough that you're here - I don't need a damn slumber party!"
"I doubt that any of us will be sleeping tonight...no, Matt, I wasn't talking to
you. I'm at Josh's, and, well, there's a thing. So can you bring beer?"
"This is not happening," Josh moaned as he opened the one lonely bottle of
Heineken.
"Yeah, and as much really obnoxious food as you can lay your hands on. A burnt
offering of meat would probably do for Josh."
Sam's voice dropped low enough for Josh to lose the exact words, but he knew Sam
was telling Matt that Amy was gone.
Oh. Amy's gone. Oh.
His stomach knotted up and for one horrible moment he thought he was going to
vomit. Or cry. Josh couldn't decide which would be worse. He remained at the
table while Sam busied himself with plates and glasses, filling the void with
news about the A.S.O.'s recording contract and problems with residuals for the
players while Josh drank the beer.
"You don't have to entertain me, Sam," Josh said. He sounded...hollow. Which was
no surprise. He twisted his wedding band around his finger and fought back
tears. "C.J. called me an idiot, that day."
"I think we all did," Sam said evenly.
"Yeah, but you didn't do it to me in the White House. Which sucked. And then
Toby told me I was an idiot, and Leo, and the next morning Abbey called me...all
sorts of things. But you know what, Sam? I was really happy. I was."
"I know that."
"Except for the thing with Donna. That wasn't so wonderful. And that happened in
the White House, too. You know what?" Josh folded his arms on the table and
rested his head on them. "I think I should avoid the White House at all costs.
That place is dangerous."
"I don't think it's the White House that got you into trouble, there."
Josh took a sip of beer. "Don't stop me. I'm on a roll."
All of a sudden he froze. The bed. He'd have to sleep in the bed. Their bed. The
one they'd had sex in less than two days before.
"Got any clean sheets?" Sam asked, and Josh turned to him with his mouth agape.
"How do you do that? Read my mind?"
"Because it's transparent." Sam knocked on Josh's forehead, then leaned over and
threw his arms around him. "I'm sorry," he said again.
"Sam." Josh disentangled himself, trying to hide the rise in emotions behind a
smirking facade. "Did you have an affair with Amy?"
"Josh!" Sam's eyes were enormous.
"Did you ask her to leave me? Did you draw up the divorce papers?" Josh gave Sam
a smile. "Then you have nothing to be sorry for."
After a few seconds, Sam seemed to digest what Josh was really saying to him,
and he smiled ruefully. "I see Matt's car. I'm gonna go help him with the
stuff."
Josh took the last few moments of solitude to pull himself together as much as
possible. Amy's gone. She's gone. Okay. I can do this.
I've had worse things happen to me.
And how depressing is that?
Matt came through the door first, carrying takeout bags that did nothing to mask
the delicious, forbidden scents within. "All the fried food that I could muster
up on such short notice. And Sam's got the beer." He looked at Josh kindly but
not pityingly. "I'm sorry," he began, but Sam cut him off as he entered.
"Don't apologize or Josh will start accusing you of, you know, some pretty weird
things." They passed out food and put the extra beer in the refrigerators after
opening bottles for themselves. "What are we drinking to?"
Josh just stared at him, but Matt smiled and clinked his bottle to Sam's.
"Beards."
"That is...not funny," Josh sputtered, even though he started to laugh. He
joined in the toast. "You are sick people. My wife just left me for a woman, and
you decide to mock me?"
"That's nothing. Wait until you tell your mother," Sam said, picking up some
french fries and dipping them into a glob of ketchup.
"Oh, God. My mother. This is gonna suck so completely and thoroughly." Then a
horrible thought struck him and he blanched. "Forget my mother - what about
Donna?"
"What about Donna?" Sam asked, still munching on french fries as he took another
drink.
"She's gonna mock me until, I don't know, forever." His shoulders slumped and he
pushed his hamburger to one side. "She's gonna laugh."
Matt set his sandwich down on the plate and looked down at it with unusual
interest. "She didn't laugh."
"That's good," Sam said, then paused with his hamburger halfway to his mouth.
"I'm sorry, you just said she 'didn't' laugh."
"As in you already told her?" Josh demanded.
"She was sitting right next to me in the office when I got the call. I was
supposed to stay late and work on the Hayley stuff, but...well, I had to tell
her something, and the truth is always the easiest thing to remember."
Josh was slightly mollified. And hungry. He bit into the charcoal-edged
hamburger with a sigh. Donna hadn't laughed. That was something.
"If it makes you feel any better, Josh, I had a guy dump me for a woman, once."
"That sentence," Sam declared, "sounds so bizarre."
"It doesn't make me feel better. Besides," Josh said as he removed the offending
tomatoes, lettuce, pickles, and all other vegetation, from his dinner, "I don't
think this will go on forever. She'll come back."
Sam and Matt exchanged worried looks. Matt shook his head. "Josh, look, if she'd
been planning this for a year..."
"Give me another beer," Josh demanded sourly. Matt handed him another bottle,
which Josh opened but then set aside. "I've had women leave me before."
Sam made a noise that sounded like a snort, then opened his eyes wide and spread
out his arms.
"I've had women leave me before," Josh repeated. "And the good ones, I've been
able to win back."
"With your charm and boyish self-deprecation?" Matt asked.
"Something like that. And please don't mock the afflicted." He was actually
enjoying this, in a sick kind of way. Sam and Matt, on his side. "But this thing
with Amy - what she wants, I'm literally not equipped to give her. It's not
exactly a fair fight."
"And thank you for making my point." Matt took the pickles off of Josh's plate
and ate one of them. "I hate to tell you this, Josh, but when it's about the
equipment, it's never a fair fight."
"There's nothin' wrong with my equipment," Josh mumbled.
"I wouldn't know," Matt replied primly, and as a result he found himself wearing
a piece of lettuce on his shirt.
They finished their meals quickly and took the beer out onto the stoop. Josh
plopped down, bone-weary, on the top step, with Matt and Sam flanking him. "So
what will you do now?" Sam asked.
"Right now? I don't know. It's too late to buy a bed," Josh said glumly. "I am
never sleeping in that bed again."
"Neither is Amy," Sam put in, not at all helpfully, for which Josh punched him
in the arm. Sam laughed. His lips were just above the bottle, and it whistled
darkly. "Okay, we'll have someone go bed-shopping with you tomorrow. Then what?"
"Lawyer. Calling my mom - unless you'd like to do that for me, Matt?"
"God, no. Not that I don't think your mom's great. I get a kick out of talking
to her when she comes up to visit, and there's nothing in the world as great as
her noodle kugel. But now she's always looking for a nice Jewish doctor for me.
I think she's more worried about my being Methodist than being gay."
Josh thought that his mother was about the coolest little old Jewish lady in the
world.
"Seriously. Josh." Sam looked at him with concern radiating from his whole body.
"What can we do?"
"I have...no idea. No one's ever divorced me before. I know that's hard to
believe. So, apart from the lawyer and the bed, I don't really know what to do.
Give me some more work to do, maybe."
"Because it takes your mind off Amy, or because you won't want to go home?"
He didn't know the answer to Matt's question, so he just shrugged. "What
difference does it make, if it's successful?"
"What difference will you make," Sam asked gently, "if it doesn't mean anything
to you?"
"What makes you think it doesn't?" Josh had worked endless hours after the "End
of Days" interview, getting the people who privately agreed with C.J. to go
public, making sure no stone was unturned in bringing important, thoughtful
people into the group that was struggling to turn America from a secret
theocracy into a true democracy.
"Josh, I just don't want you to throw yourself into this to the extent that you
wear yourself down. You're no spring chicken anymore." Sam paused. "I need you
too much to let you make yourself sick over something you can't control."
There. That was it. No control. He hadn't felt this dizzying a sense of freefall
in years. Josh sucked in a breath and nodded.
So this is it, he thought as Matt helped him to his feet and watched, arms
folded, as Josh made a nest for himself on the sofa. Amy is gone and I'm still
here, and they're still here, and somehow it'll be better in the morning.
"The pain gets better," Sam reminded him, prescient as always.
"I know that," Josh mumbled into the pillow. He let his breathing deepen,
waiting until he heard two pairs of footsteps and the click of his front door.
Then he turned over on his back, his arm thrown over his eyes, and let the tears
fall at last.
***
Part four