Chapter 2
Loud. She couldn't believe how loud it was. Two campaigns and countless public appearances and she'd never heard anything so loud. She wondered if Rosslyn was this loud, but she quickly pushed the thought out of her head. She hated going there.
She stood on the side of the stage and watched the Vice-President give a speech no one wanted to hear. Please, she thought. Just say it. I agree with the President. I disagree with the President. I'm too damn stupid to understand the situation. Say something. No one cares about education right now.
She noticed Josh out of the corner of her eye and barely had time to glare at him for putting them in this situation before her phone rang. Not that it was Josh's fault. This had been set up two weeks ago. No one knew the President was going to go Cuba crazy a week before the Florida primary. Who knew whose side the President was on these days. It was like he wanted the republicans to win.
She looked at the caller id. Toby. She'd spoken with him the day before. Well, she'd tried. She couldn't hear a thing he said and had finally lost him, and it hadn't been nearly as loud yesterday as it was today. She hit talk and screamed into the phone. "Toby, I'm going to find someplace quieter. I'll call you right back. Stay by your phone." Then she turned and looked around. She could go inside the pavilion, that might be quieter. But she was sure the Congressman was in there trying to get ready for his speech. His speech that she had a feeling would include Cuba. She didn't want to get in the way. And, a truth she'd only tell herself, she didn't want to get to know him anymore than she already had. She didn't want any more knowledge of what Josh saw in him. The 'you're on the wrong campaign' line still haunted her when she least expected it, and she didn't want anymore proof that he was right. She was already contemplating who to vote for, and she worked for one of the candidates.
She looked off to the side. About 150 feet or so away was a building with restrooms. Maybe it would be quieter in there. As quickly as she had the thought she laughed to herself. Like she knew what 150 feet was. She took one last glance back at the Vice-President before climbing the four steps down off the make-shift stage and heading off towards the bathrooms.
Making her way through the large crowd was harder than expected. A polite 'excuse me' couldn't be heard over the yelling and the sounds of the Vice-President, so she found herself just trying to squeeze through people. A man in a white t-shirt caught her eye and must've recognized her from the side of the stage, because he stopped her by putting his hand on her shoulder and screamed, "When he will speak concerning Cuba?" with a heavy Cuban accent.
Certainly not until we're out of Miami, she thought. "It's coming up," she screamed back and he let her pass. She kept her head down as she moved after that, hoping no one else would stop her. She hated lying, but she wasn't about to stand in a crowd that large and tell them that the candidate, her candidate, was too much of a coward to speak about the issues.
The further from the stage she got, the less people there were to squeeze through, and a few minutes later she reached the small building and went inside the restroom. The first thing she noticed was the smell. It made her think of Girl Scout camp and the greenies. Of all the capers, cleaning the greenies was her least favorite. Now she remembered why.
The second thing she noticed was the sound, or lack there of. The building must've been used as a tornado shelter, because it was well insulated. She took a deep breath through her mouth and leaned against the door for just a minute, reveling in the silence. Her ears were ringing and her head was pounding from all the screaming and the Vice-President's voice through the microphone, not to mention the high school band that had played before the rally began.
She reached for her cell phone again and called Toby. While it rang, she looked around the small restroom. Two wooden stalls with doors that hung wide open, an old sink with a broken faucet and mold in the basin, a mirror that was cracked in several places, and an empty paper towel dispenser. The walls were cement and were painted a blue-green color that was old and faded. There was a modest amount of graffiti on the wall, mostly "Becky loves Brian" and similar sentiments. She thought briefly of the first and only time she'd written something like that on a bathroom stall, her sophomore year of high school. "Donnatella loves Freddy." Unfortunately, she hadn't been smart enough to use 'Donna,' so she'd been called to the Principal's office for vandalism and had to spend the next Saturday with a group of delinquents painting the restrooms. The plus side was that news got back to Freddy and he'd asked her out.
"Donna?"
"Toby, hi," she said cheerfully, thankful she didn't have to yell.
"I can hear you."
"Yeah. I found a quiet place. What's up?"
"I wanted to give you a heads up. The President's giving an address about Cuba in… five minutes."
"Yeah, Will called Margaret earlier and found out when it was. You should tell Josh though. Santos is scheduled to go on stage any second now."
"I just talked to him."
"Yeah?" She was glad to hear it. She'd heard about the fight. Margaret had mentioned it the night of the fundraiser. It felt odd to her not to already know about it, but that was what she'd wanted. Distance from Josh. Still, without her, without Sam, without the support of the administration, and now without Toby, she knew Josh must've felt so alone. Part of her wanted to wrap her arms around him and tell him it'd be ok.
"Yeah," he said simply. She understood it as, 'we'll be ok. Just give us time,' and she smiled.
"How's CJ? I didn't get to talk to her much at the fundraiser. I think she was afraid I'd get too close to the President."
"She's fine. We've been pretty impressed with the way you've been handling the press with Russell. Wish we'd thought of that last summer."
"Thanks. It's still a little scary up there."
"Yeah, I…" he trailed off.
"Toby?"
"Donna, are you alright?" he asked in a panicked voice.
"Yeah, why? Is everything ok?"
"Where are you Donna?"
"In the restroom, why?"
"Something's happening there."
"What?"
"Something's happening. Russell finished and the announcer walked on stage and then…"
"And then what?" she asked in an equally panicked voice.
"I don't know. This damn television's too small. The announcer just fell. People are screaming. The stage looks like it's…falling apart."
She went to the door and opened it. The noise was even louder than before and they were chanting something…free Cuba. She couldn't see the stage through all the people, but she could see the top of the blue curtain serving as the backdrop, and as she looked at it, it fell out of her sight. "Josh…"
"What? I can't hear you Donna!"
"Josh," she yelled, trying to talk to him through the noise. "I just saw him on stage a few minutes ago! I've got to go!"
"No! Donna, no! If you're not in that crowd, do not go back into it."
"I've got to get Josh!"
"Donna, get someplace safe! Find Russell, the secret service will be with him! Do not go into that crowd! Josh will be fine. He'll get Santos out of there!"
"I gotta go Toby!"
"Donna!" he yelled again, but she'd already hung up.
zzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Josh had gone all of about five feet when he hit a wall of people. He tried to push his way through to no avail. They were coming his way and he was being pushed along with them. Finally, he turned back around and went inside the pavilion to call Donna. If he at least knew which way to go, maybe it would help. As he stepped inside and closed the door behind him, however, he wondered if he'd even be able to hear her, and if she'd be able to hear him.
He hit '1' followed by talk. He hadn't called her in six weeks, but still, he refused to replace her on his speed dial. Just as it started ringing, he got an incoming call. He glanced at the number. It was her, calling him. He clicked over. "Donna!" he yelled.
He got no answer. "Donna!" he yelled again. Still silence.
He clicked back over to the other line, where her voice mail had picked up. Damn it. He hit end and called her again. After one ring, she picked up in a panicked voice. "Josh?"
"Donna!" He held the phone as close to his ear as possible while plugging his other ear with his finger.
"Josh, are you alright?"
"Yeah. Where are you? Are you ok?"
She sighed heavily. "I'm fine. The stage… and you were on it. I thought…"
"I'm fine," he yelled. "I'm looking for you though. Where are you?"
"I'm alright. Get Santos out of here Josh. Get him out now."
"He's gone. Tell me where the hell you are Donna!"
"I'm in the restrooms."
"What restrooms? Where?"
"The building about… I don't know… 75 yards from the stage. I was talking to Toby."
"Is anyone around there?"
She opened the door again and looked out. The noise suddenly got deafening to Josh and bile rose to his throat as he thought she was in danger. Then the noise disappeared completely. "No. The crowd's over by the pavilion. It looks really bad over there. Where are you?"
"I'm fine."
"Are you out by the buses?"
"Stay there Donna. Does that door lock?" He was nearly hysterical at keeping her safe. He fought the site of her in a hospital bed, the site of her blood on a hospital floor, the word 'scared' written in her distinctive handwriting on a pad of paper.
"Where are you Josh?" she asked sternly.
"Does the fucking door lock, Donna?" he screamed again.
She locked the deadbolt. "Yes. Now where the hell are you?" she screamed just as loud.
He took a deep breath. She wasn't going to like this. "I'm in the pavilion."
"Josh…" He could hear the fear in her voice and he berated himself both for telling her where he was and for being relieved to hear concern in her voice.
"I'm fine Donna. Listen to me. Lock the door. Do NOT go outside. Do you understand me? Do NOT go outside. I'm coming to get you."
"I can take care of myself Josh. You've got to leave."
"Damn it Donna. Call me a chauvinist later. I'm getting you out of there. Lock yourself in the damn bathroom," he yelled and hung up, giving her no choice.