"Hampton or Kansas?" Donna calls from her desk.
"A 16 seed has never beaten a number 1 in the first round," I yell back.
I'm hunched over my desk, trying to discern which 15-seed will be this year's Cinderella. As much as I'd like to go with Harvard, which miraculously discovered it had a basketball team this year, I'm thinking McNeese State might be able to dump the East's 2-seed, Duke.
Despite Sam's contention they're going all the way this year.
"Duke all the way, baby!"
Speak of the devil and he appears, reciting his mantra.
I grab the bracket sheet off my desk and head down the hall to Senior Staff with Sam. Maybe I'll pick two upsets.
"Gonzaga or Tulsa?" Donna calls after us.
Sam and I grin at each other before chorusing, "Gonzaga!"
This is the first year Donna has participated the White House NCAA Tournament Pool and she knows as much about basketball as she does football. Brackets are due by 5 p.m. today; everyone is scrambling to play catch up on a season none of us have been paying attention to.
***
The questions about basketball are a ruse; Fred gave me a copy of his picks before we left Wisconsin yesterday.
I figure if I ask Josh A' or B' questions long enough, I can slip in a Caravan' or Venture' and get him to accidentally commit to a minivan.
"Who are you picking?" Ginger comes up studying a copy of Sports Illustrated she stole from Ed.
"Arizona and do you notice we never do this for the women's tournament?" I pull my stash of carrots from the drawer to munch on.
"Actually the guys do." Bonnie has drifted over as well. "Charlie runs it. The President has won four years running."
"Why isn't it a big deal like this one," I point at Ginger's half-filled in sheet.
"Because it's either Connecticut or Tennessee every year. The only challenge is in figuring out who's going to win in the first two rounds," she finishes.
***
"Welcome back, Josh," Leo grabs my piece of paper. "Why am I not seeing Michigan on here anywhere?"
"Because they banned themselves from the post-season this year," Toby's still got the superiority thing going on because he won last year's pool.
"I'd take Oklahoma then," Leo says, surveying the pairings.
We're filing into the Oval Office, heading for our usual places.
"Over Arizona?" Sam asks.
"Never count out Notre Dame," President Bartlet advises. "Evidently, we should never count out Congress either. Toby, why was Brent Mitchell on TV last night bitching about Social Security reform? I thought that SOB was on our side."
In the end, Toby gets ordered up to the Hill to put the smack down on Mitchell.
I have to stay here for a series of meetings with Leo, the President and Admiral Fitzwallace.
***
Margaret summons me to Leo's office about the time Josh should be getting back from Senior Staff.
She doesn't give me any hint. "Just bring Josh's schedule. He's waiting."
"Go on in," she says, giving me an encouraging smile.
I catch a glimpse of Josh through the open door to the Oval Office. He's talking with Admiral Fitzwallace and Nancy McNally. As Leo shuts the door, Josh flashes me thumbs up.
"Have a seat, Donna," Leo unbuttons his jacket and settles into his chair. "I'm sure you're curious about what's going on. Let me just get this out there — we want to promote you."
"Me?" I ask, more than slightly confused. He's joking.
"The plan is to shift a significant portion of Josh's domestic workload to you. You already write policy memos and position papers. The only difference is you'll be signing and presenting them."
"Me?" I repeat, more confused than ever.
"You'll get a new title, as soon as we think one up, a raise, an office, an assistant of your own"
"What about Josh?" I interrupt.
"He's going to mentor you. Take care of smacking people down if you aren't comfortable doing it, TV appearances if you don't want to do them. Stuff like that." Leo looks up from the papers he's been shuffling when I don't respond. "He'll be alright without you running his office, Donna. You'll still be working together. Talk to him if you aren't sure, but I need an answer tomorrow morning."
"What about this summer?" The question is prompted by a swift kick from the bear.
"This summer?" Leo stares at me blankly.
I blush furiously as I gesture to my stomach.
"Oh. Right. We'll figure it out when the time comes."
My emotions suddenly get the better of me, forcing me to blink back tears. I don't know if this is what I really want. I like what I'm doing now.
"Go over Josh's schedule with Margaret. She'll help you figure out what you'll take over and what Josh will need to keep handling."
He obviously means for me to go, but I just sit for a minute and try to comprehend what just happened.
"Get out of my office," he finishes gruffly, tempering it with a genuine smile.
After Margaret and I go over Josh's schedule, I head back to the Operations bullpen going over and over in my mind what Leo said.
My misgivings get the better of me when I take a break for dinner around six.
Grabbing a salad from the Mess, I sequester myself in Josh's office to try and figure out why on earth anyone would think I'm qualified to take over parts of Josh's job.
***
Dragging back to my office at almost 8:30, my head crammed full of national security information, I find Donna curled up in my chair with tears running down her cheeks. She's looking out the window onto the South Lawn.
We've been out of the office for almost 12 days and my workload is astronomical, but this scene indicates I will get nothing else done tonight. I figured Donna would jump at the chance for a promotion, to take a more overt role in the administration.
Picking up her coat from her desk, I knock softly on the doorframe to get her attention.
"Let's go," I offer.
I know she can do what Leo's asking of her; she's always said she can do my job better than I can.
It pisses me off that she doesn't have the same confidence in herself.
***
The drive home is uncomfortable and silent. Once inside, the only thing Josh asks is what I want for dinner.
He sighs when I tell him I don't care.
Which leads to our present situation: us eating spaghetti at the unnaturally quiet kitchen table.
"I can't do it, Josh," I finally tell him, picking at my pasta.
I can feel his eyes on me, but I can't bring myself to meet them.
"Donna," his voice is filled with exasperation. "Leo is giving you a great opportunity. This is something you can do. You do most of it already."
"I can't," I insist, still studying my uneaten dinner.
"Why not?" Josh demands.
I hear him stand up and put his plate in the dishwasher.
"Do you think I want to be doing what I'm doing? I'm no more qualified to weigh in on national security than I am to be a plumber. I'm doing it anyway, to the best of my ability, because it's what the President is asking me to do." Josh pauses briefly, his words no less harsh when he continues, "You need to eat something."
Still sitting in the kitchen, I can hear him change clothes and stalk back into the living room with his backpack.
Dumping the spaghetti into the trash, the wave of self-pity I've been wrapped in recedes, leaving me pissed at Josh for not caring about what I want, or don't want, to do professionally.
I decide a hot bath is definitely in order.
***
Donna standing in front of me, bringing the death glare pulls my attention away from a report detailing the different stages of military readiness.
"Did it ever occur to you that I might want to stay home after the baby was born?" she snarls.
Evidently, her bath didn't help.
"No, it didn't," I refuse to look up. The stay-at-home' thing is an option I am more than willing to revisit under any other circumstance, but I am not going there tonight.
"Did it occur to you to ask?"
"No, it didn't," I look up to see her blue eyes flashing.
"Maybe it should have!"
"Maybe it didn't because you told me you wanted to go back to work. Remember? The conversation we had to have about our future? So neither of us would be surprised when we got to this point?" I hurl back, feeling my own temper reach its breaking point.
"Maybe I changed my mind. You like those damn reports so much, you can sleep out here with them, because you sure as hell aren't sleeping with me," she yells, turning on her heel and slamming the bedroom door shut.
There's nothing I can say or do to make this better right now.
***
Curling up on the bed, I begin sobbing uncontrollably into a pillow.
A little after 2 a.m., I wake up, still alone.
Josh has been in the room. He got me undressed and under the covers, without waking me up.
Those tiny gestures make me feel extremely guilty, even though I'm determined to be pissed at him for being insensitive.
I get up and go pee. Sitting on the toilet, my eyes fall on a picture hanging on the wall by the door. Sam took it with one of those stupid disposable cameras. I have no idea when it was taken and I had always wondered why Josh put it in the bathroom of all places.
He told me he did his best thinking while shaving sometimes and the picture reminded him to consider alternative points of view.
It's of me giving him hell over a welfare reform proposal. What I never noticed before was the look of absolute pride in Josh's eyes as I ripped his idea to shreds.
His disillusioned why not' suddenly echoes through my mind and I can't come up with even one good reason.
Getting up, I head for the living room.
***
I've been staring at this damn thing for four hours and I'm no closer to understanding the differences between an M1A2 Abrams main battle tank and a M2 Bradley Fighting Vehicle than I was yesterday.
Mostly because I'm trying to figure out how to fix this mess I've made with Donna. I can't help being frustrated at her unwillingness to even consider making this move.
Closing my eyes, I lean my head back against the sofa. I take a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm the conflicting feelings of guilt at being an inconsiderate ass and the frustration I feel towards my wife.
"Hi."
Donna sits down next to me.
"Hi," I answer without moving.
"Can we talk?"
I bite back three sarcastic responses before settling on a simple, "Sure."
"You're upset."
"I'm disappointed," I clarify.
"Josh, will you please look at me?"
I can't stop the sigh from escaping, but I do pull my head up and open my eyes.
She's been crying and I have no defense for that.
***
"I don't want to fight with you about this," I begin.
"I don't want to fight with you at all," Josh interrupts.
"I'm sorry."
It's a chorus, his voice and mine, apologizing.
***
Donna's vivid, blue eyes shine with insecurity; an uncertainty I helped put there.
I reach for her hand, running my thumb across her palm while struggling for the words which have eluded me all night; the words to help make this thing between us right.
"I just I have so much faith in you. I hate to see you not even try."
"I'm scared," her voice quivers and the tears start fresh. "I'm not you, Josh. I can't be you."
"Donna" I pull her to my chest and hold her while she sniffles. "You aren't supposed to be me, you're supposed to be you. You're who the President wants."
"What if I mess up?"
***
"Like the rest of us haven't?" Josh jokes. "Come on, Donna, you're talking to the man who single-handily fucked up the tobacco thing."
He does succeed in getting me to smile a bit.
"You really think I can do this?" I whisper.
Josh doesn't even hesitate. "Without a doubt."
"Are we okay?" I ask after a few minutes of him quietly stroking my hair.
"Of course we are," he whispers.
"Can we have make-up sex?" I rub my hand against the stubble on his cheek, turning his head so I can kiss him.
"Raucous," kiss, "wake-up the neighbors," kiss, "make-up sex?" he teases, kissing his way along my jaw line.
I tilt my head back, giving him access to my neck. "Mm hmm."
***
I hate fighting with Donna, but I'm all for make-up sex.
"Do you need to pee?" I mumble, still kissing her neck and allowing my hands to roam up under her T-shirt.
More than one moment of passion has been interrupted by Donna's need to pee lately. I've decided to start checking before we even get started.
"No, I'm good."
We shift on the sofa so Donna is partial under me. Hiking her shirt up, I replace my hands with my lips.
She moans as I take her breast into my mouth, swirling my tongue around its peaked nipple, biting at it before changing sides.
Donna presses her hips upwards, encouraging me to pay some attention to Squarepants. Sliding off the sofa, I kneel beside her, tracing her lips with my thumb and slipping the other hand between her thighs while continuing to kiss my way around her body.
"Hey!" I stop short.
"What?" Donna grouses.
"It turned outie!" I poke at her belly button. I swear it was an innie this morning in the shower.
Okay, yesterday morning.
Still.
"Is it supposed to do that?" I continue to play with it until Donna reaches down and smacks my hand.
"Yes and aren't you supposed to be doing something?"
"You mean this?" I lean forward and kiss to the aforementioned belly button, my hand resuming its exploration of Squarepants.
"Much better."
***
"We should go to bed," I yawn after we've finished.
"Wanna just stay up all night and have more make-up sex?" Donna giggles, getting up and giving Spongebob a little pat on the head.
My wife is every man's fantasy come to life.
***
I laugh out loud at the look on Josh's face. Sort of a cross between I'm too tired to consider moving' and I wanna have sex all night.'
In the end, the sex wins because he scrambles to his feet and grabs me by the hand, leading me to bed.
***
"How's Donna?" Sam asks, luxuriating in his prime real estate.
The stars are in some sort of weird alignment; he and I are the first ones to Senior Staff this morning.
Translate that into: he and I got the comfortable sofa.
"Why?"
"She just looked miserable when you were leaving last night."
"We had a fight last night," I admit.
Only to be smacked over the head with a file folder and a videotape by CJ, "You haven't even been married a week! What did you do?"
"I stuck up for her self-esteem!"
"You were an ass about it, weren't you?" CJ suddenly grabs my chin and jerks my head to the left. "Wait a minute. What's this?"
"You know the best thing about fighting with Donna?"
***
A self-satisfied smirk has spread across Josh's entire face. Whatever the fight was, it must not have lasted long.
"No, mi amour, please enlighten us all." My gesture includes the President, Leo and Toby. I mostly just want to hear him say make-up sex' in front of President Bartlet.
"Make-up sex."
He does.
"Nice hickey, Josh. Donna's on board?" Leo takes a wing chair opposite Frick and Frack.
"Yeah. She was worried about making mistakes"
"I keep you around," the President mutters loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Yes, sir. I reminded her of that. It seemed to do the trick."
"Which trick? Taking the job or instigating make-up sex?" Toby is sitting next to me pulling at his beard.
"Both."
"All right, let's get down to the real business of the day," Bartlet ends the dissection of the Lymans' sexual adventures by opening a folder. He studies a piece of paper, then looks up. "There is a tip-off party tonight in the Residence starting at 7:30. Ed and Larry will be providing live pool updates as the evening progresses. Toby, I see you've picked Kansas State in the women's tournament pool. Are you insane?"
***
I'm lounging on Josh's lap, witnessing the decimation of Sam's beloved Blue Devils.
Much to Josh's joy.
Which is why I'm holding him down.
CJ pulled me aside when we got up here and asked me to please try and keep the peace. Sam is in the kitchen commiserating with the Bracket-Masters, Ed and Larry. He's trying to determine if there's any way he can win, since he picked Duke all the way to the semi-finals.
"Give it up, Sam the Man! You are out of the contention on the first day!" Josh yells when the final buzzer sounds and Duke is eliminated by McNeese State. I slap my hand over his mouth before he can continue the trash talk.
I'd do something more tried and true, but this is the White House.
"Mr. President?" Larry sticks his head into the room.
"What's the tally?"
"Keeping in mind there are three more games to finish tonight, Josh and Toby are tied for second and Donna is in the lead."
***
Sixteen games down, two major upsets, a few minor ones and Donna, of all people, is still leading the pool.
She and her husband are spooned together on one of the sofas, both of them dead to the world. Josh has his back to the cushions, his head tucked in the crook of Donna's neck which is supported by his arm. His other arm is wrapped around her, his hand resting possessively on her stomach.
It's sickeningly sweet.
It's also 2 o'clock in the morning. Everyone else has gone home for the evening.
"Just leave them be, Jed." Abbey tosses a blanket over them.
Donna stirs a bit; opening her eyes just enough to see me motion her to not worry about it. I get a sleepy smile before she nods back off.
"You're going to tease him about this mercilessly, right?"
"Without a doubt." I take Abbey's hand and we head for our bedroom.
***
"I cannot believe we fell asleep on the President's couch," Donna repeats for the seventy-third time this morning.
"How are you doing today, Donna?" Dr. Williams enters the exam room before I can tell her to stop worrying about it.
Again.
***
I had scheduled this appointment before I left for London; not even realizing it was going to fall during our honeymoon, which got cut short.
Then I forgot about it until I got the reminder call off the answering machine this morning when we went home to change clothes.
I thought it was next Friday.
"I'm still hungry all the time," I answer.
Dr. Williams laughs, pulling out her tape and taking her measurements. She's frowning by the time she's done, though.
"For somebody who's hungry all the time, you still aren't gaining weight like you should be. Only a pound and a half since your last visit, seven and a half pounds total."
Josh squeezes my hand reassuringly, but remains quiet as we go through the rest of the regular tests and stuff.
"Let's do another ultrasound and make sure everything's still okay in there. With some luck, we'll be able to determine a sex."
We all breathe a bit easier when everything appears normal, but small.
***
It's still a bear. We got a great view of the kid's butt.
At least that's what Dr. Williams claimed it was.
I think she makes half this stuff up.
I also think it's time to start car shopping.
Donna's starting to have trouble getting in and out of the Audi, despite only gaining seven and a half pounds. I've been dreading this conversation since Pat tipped me off.
She caught Donna perusing the Consumer Reports automotive issue.
The minivan section.
I am not driving a minivan.
"Hey babe?" I decide to broach the subject on the way back to the office.
"Hmm?"
Donna looks up from the reading material on hospitals she picked up.
"Can we have a reasonable discussion about trading in the car?"
"Define reasonable. Reasonable as in what would be a mature, adult decision based on our long-term family planning or reasonable as in you won't be caught dead driving a minivan?"
"The second one."
"The minute we have a second child, we're going to need the space," Donna shakes her head at me. "Two car seats, two strollers, two kids worth of stuff, Josh. It just makes sense."
"Can we compromise at all? Maybe one of those station wagon thingies that Crocodile Dundee pitches? Anything, Donna, please?"
I've been reduced to whining.
"How about we make a deal?"
She's giving me the I know something you don't know' look.
"What?" I ask warily.
"Whichever one of us finishes higher in the basketball pool gets the final decision."