You're upset.
Josh is slouched on the couch watching ESPN with the baby when I wander into the living room. From the set of his shoulders, it's obvious he's not over yesterday's squabble.
Despite our attempt at makeup sex.
My concern grows when he doesn't reply and he flinches when I put my hand on his arm.
I know what we agreed on, Josh, and I'm not asking you to change it.
Josh finally speaks when he hands me our son. He's probably hungry. I'm going out for a run.
David isn't hungry. He's fussy and restless. I lay him on a blanket on the floor and grab the cordless.
Josh and I have been together for almost two years, married for four months. This is the first time I've ever done this.
***
Moss Residence.
Hi, Mom. I start crying the instant I hear her voice.
Donna? What's wrong?
I'm sobbing so hard I can barely breath.
Is it David? Where's Josh, dear?
Running. David's fine, but
My mother becomes instantly calm and commanding. Take a deep breath, Donnatella and tell me what's the matter.
I did something, said something and upset Josh. We talked about it and I thought it was okay but this morning he won't talk to me and doesn't want to touch me
Start at the beginning, Donna. What happened last night?
Josh and I have an agreement. I can hear Mom nodding her head on the other end of the phone. The great agreement we both flaunted. We talked about everything before we got married and we compromised on the things that were most important to each of us. I really wanted to get married at home in our church and Josh was adamant about raising our children Jewish. That's what I agreed to.
Oh, Donnatella, Mom sighs. What did you say?
Her disappointment starts my tears fresh. Josh wants to plan a circumcision for David, now that he's home. I sort of freaked when he brought it up and asked him if it was really necessary.
What did Josh say?
By the sound of Mom's voice I can tell she wants to reach through the phone and shake me.
He said we had an agreement and he was living up to his end of it and how he was trying really hard to include my family in our lives and that he even named David after Grandpa out of respect
I said I was sorry, I tell her. And Josh seemed to accept my apology.
Then what happened?
We started fooling around, I blush.
Talking to my mother about sex is worse than talking about it with Dr. Bartlet.
What happened this morning?
He and David were up when I got up. I could tell he was still upset, but when I tried to talk to him, he handed me David and said he was going for a run.
Donna, I'm not going to take sides in your marriage, but I will tell you this. You and Josh need to sit down and reaffirm your agreement. If either of you thinks you can't trust the other to do what was agreed upon before you got married, how can you be expected to trust one another now? Be open and honest, but remember you've already gotten what was most important to you. Josh trusted you enough to wait for what was most important to him.
How is it your mother always makes you feel twelve again when she gives you advice?
***
I feel my annoyance dissipate leaving in its place confusion and distress each time my feet hit the sidewalks of our Georgetown neighborhood.
One question still dogs me as I reach the small park a couple of miles from the apartment. Bending over the water fountain to douse my face, I ask myself again, why Donna didn't tell me I was hurting her last night?
If I try hard enough, I can give her the benefit of the doubt regarding the bris. Leading up to the wedding, there were more than a few times when I wanted to say ÔI don't want to do it this way', but I sucked it up and gave Donna what she wanted.
Last night, she did the same. I have no doubt we had our first and last cantankerous discussion about the religious upbringing of our children.
That was the whole point of talking about it in advance.
Right?
Shaking my head, I meander over to the unoccupied swing set and indulge my innerchild while pondering the mysterious workings of my wife's brain.
Why wouldn't she tell me I was hurting her last night? I ask myself over and over. I didn't need to make love to her badly enough for her to be in pain.
I asked if it hurt. I would have stopped. I did stop when I saw the look on her face.
I sway back and forth on the swing until the shrill ring of my phone interrupts my brooding over whether postbaby hormones have anything to do with Donna's behavior.
The caller ID says it's Mom.
Great.
Hey, Mamme, I answer.
What's wrong, Joshua? she asks instantly.
I swear my mother is telepathic.
I don't know. I scuff the heels of my shoes in the dirt.
Is something the matter with David?
No, no, he's fine, I assure her. In fact, plan on next Saturday for the bris. Since we couldn't do it eight days after his birth, the mohel suggested 8 days after he came home.
Something happen with Donna?
I sigh, but try to explain. We had an argument last night,but we worked it out and then we
I don't need the details, Joshua, her wry tone makes me smile despite my confusion.
Well, actually, that's sort of the problem. I was worried it would hurt her, you know? It's only been three weeks and I thought she might still be kind of sore. Anyway, she said she was ready and we were, you know and I look at her and she was almost crying, Mamme. I asked her if it hurt and she lied to me and let me
Oh, Joshua.
Why would she do that? I whine plaintively, fully aware I sound like I'm five years old, wanting to know why my sister stole my teddy bear.
I don't know, son. You should probably ask Donna that question.
Well, duh. The problem is I'm not sure I want to know the answer.
***
I'm no longer hysterical when I get off the phone with my mother.
Which is good, because the next call is from my motherinlaw.
Donna, dear, she says when I answer the phone.
Hi, Elisa, I dab at my stillwatery eyes with a clean burp rag.
How's my grandson? she asks, leaving me to wonder if she's talked to Josh already this morning. He always takes his cell when he runs.
I can't help but smile at him. He calmed down while I was on the phone with my mother.
I just wanted to check with you and see if my coming up Friday morning was a problem?
Well, that pretty much answers my question about her talking to Josh.
Not at all, Elisa. Did you want to stay here? You're more than welcome to the couch, I offer.
Oh no, dear. I'll stay with Leo. It'll be easier on all of us.
Elisa doesn't want to stay here? Elisa always stays here when she visits.
Oh God. I've offended my motherinlaw somehow.
Have you talked to Josh this morning? I ask, thinking I can practice apologizing on her.
I have and I'll tell you the same thing I told him, dear, she says kindly. You two need to sit down and talk about what happened.
I know, I sigh. I'm sorry, Elisa.
Marriages, like children, are sometimes a little messy, Donna. You are both adult enough to clean it up and get on with life. I'll see you on Friday.
***
After I hang up from the extremely unsatisfying conversation with my mother, I call the only person I know who will sit me down and explain this to me like I'm an idiot.
CJ.
She agrees to meet me at a coffeehouse near the park I'm in and promises to pay, since I have no cash on me.
What did you do? CJ wastes no time in cutting to the chase when I join her.
She hands me a couple of napkins to mop the sweat off my face. It's still early in the day, but the July humidity is already stifling.
Donna wanted to try having sex last night. I'm whispering in deference to the three reporters I recognize in line at the counter and the four old people at the next table.
It was her idea, right? You didn't pressure her or anything?
No! I mean, it was her idea, I hiss. I kept asking her if she was okay and she kept saying she was fine. Except she wasn't. We were
In the throes of passion? CJ fills in blandly.
I scoot closer to the table and hunch my shoulders forward as I explain the events of the previous evening.
When I'm finished, she gives me a look of amusement crossed with envy. I wish I had a relationship where the biggest problem was how soon we could have sex after we had kids.
CJ! That's not what this is about. I want to know why she would lie to me about it? Besides, it was makeup sex. We had a spat earlier, but I shrug.
My friend contemplates me for a few minutes while she sips her espresso. Okay, I'm going to ask a question against my better judgment, because this is information I really don't want. Had Donna already had an orgasm?
Well, yeah. I didn't just throw her down and do her. From the look the old lady behind CJ just gave me, I might have defended myself a little loudly.
Ah, okay. You need to talk to Donna, but my guess is reciprocity, she nods to herself.
I'm confused.
Right. Payback. She got hers, so she felt obligated to
A light bulb goes off in my head and suddenly it all makes sense. The argument, the makeup sex, everything.
I could very well be wrong, though. I'm serious, you two need to talk.
Pitching my paper cup, I stand up to go. Thanks, CJ. You've been a huge help.
Yeah, well, she waves at me on my way out the door.
***
Josh is usually hungry when he gets home from a run and seeing as he's been gone for over two hours, I think he's going to be very hungry.
Since makeup sex is out of the question for a while longer, I'll try makeup food.
I set David's bouncy seat on the kitchen table, lay his still sleeping form in it and go about making breakfast while I try to figure out how to best apologize for last night. Just thinking about it makes me want to bawl again.
I'm beginning to wonder how much of this entire incident is hormonal.
***
Bounding up the stairs, the smell of latkes wafts from our apartment.
I call from the living room.
She's dressed in boxers and an old tshirt of mine when she comes out of the kitchen.
she says, her lower lip quivering.
What's the matter? I ask, closing the distance between us and taking the spatula from her hand.
I'm sorry, she sobs, throwing her arms around my neck. I didn't mean to offend you. I know I agreed, but I just had a moment when you started
I coo. It's okay, baby. I just wish you had said it hurt. I never want to hurt you, Donna.
Hurt me? She pulls back a little bit to look me in the eye. What are you talking about?
Last night, I tell her. When we were making love.
***
I thought you were mad at me because you thought I was going back on our agreement to raise the kids Jewish.
Josh shakes his head. You said last night you were okay with it.
I know. But you were upset this morning and you wouldn't say why and I thought it was because of that.
Josh brings his thumb up to wipe away the tears running down my face. I never, ever want to hurt you. You just laid there last night and let me hurt you.
I'm so sorry, honey. I didn't think it would until you were inside me and then I thought I could just hold on until you finished. I didn't realize you'd be this upset.
Upset might be an understatement.
It felt like I was forcing you almost Josh stops what he was going to say and pulls me to his chest and hugs me tightly. Always tell me, baby, please. I don't want you to ever feel like you have to make love to me. I'd never force you to It isn't just sex, Donna. It's something deeper. It's trust and acceptance and sharing. I love you more than anything.
Deeply touched by his words, I'm almost speechless. The only words I can think of seem small in comparison.
I love you, too.
We stand there for a minute longer, clinging to each other as though we've been separated for years.
Josh asks when we finally let go.
***
Why are you making latkes? I sniff at the air again. Well, why are you burning latkes?
I thought you might be hungry? Donna's downcast expression tempers my sarcastic response.
Do me a favor? I lead her into the kitchen and dump the blackened potato pancakes into the garbage disposal.
Leave the Jewish cooking to my mother, I pour the batter after the cakes. She screwed something up. Latke batter shouldn't be green.
It was makeup food. She sits at the table beside David and lets him grab onto her finger.
Makeup food? I laugh. Since we can't have makeup sex?
Sort of? An embarrassed smile tugs at her lips.
How about I cook, since I was pretty much an asshole this morning? I shouldn't have left without working things out.
French toast? Donna perks up. And don't swear in front of David.
Sure. Then we can all watch Spongebob.
Donna shakes her head at me. He can't see the TV yet, Joshua.
It's never too early to start watching cartoons, Donnatella.
***
On Monday morning, CJ waits until the staff meeting breaks up to pull me aside.
Did you two work it out? she whispers.
Yeah. It was a gigantic misunderstanding. She thought I was upset about one thing and then we talked about the other thing. It's all good, CJ, I assure her.
Leo is hovering near the President's desk, waiting to talk to me as well.
What's up? I ask, following Leo into his office.
Has Donna decided how long she's going to take? He gestures for me to have a seat and leans against his desk.
She's coming back on September 1st, I answer. It works out to almost eleven weeks.
The EEOB daycare is open from 7 a.m. until 7 p.m. Monday through Friday, Leo points out. Have you thought about how that's going to affect things?
I shrug. We talked about a nanny, but Donna thinks if we put David in daycare not only it will cost less, he'll develop some independence and social skills.
That wasn't what I was referring to, he crosses his arms and gives me an exasperated glare.
I look down at my shoes and take a deep breath.
I know, I just don't know how you're going to react when I tell you those are the hours Donna's going to work when she comes back. I look up at him.
He purses his lips and nods his head, obviously thinking about how to phrase his reply. What about you?
I'm going to be around for my son, Leo, I reply vaguely, yet firmly. However it needs to happen.
David is welcome in the White House any time, for any reason and for any length of time, Leo mentions. He's trying to be casual about his offer, but it's a lifeline to me. We'll move you out of your office and turn it into a play room or something.
I chuckle until I realize he's serious about the second part.
I appreciate it, Leo. Really. I stand up to go. Are you busy Saturday morning?
He frowns, mentally checking his schedule. I should be. What's up?
We're having a brit milah for David at the apartment, I explain. We'd like you to come and celebrate with us.
Of course, I'd be honored. Your mother is staying with me anyway. Leo jerks his head towards the open door to the Oval Office. You inviting the boss?
I shove my hands in my pockets. I don't want them to feel obligated, you know? It's a pain in the ass for him to go anywhere and to spend a couple of hours in Georgetown? The Secret Service would scream bloody murder.
About what? President Bartlet wanders through the open door.
How's your schedule for Saturday morning? Leo asks him.
I don't know. The new secretary, whatever her name is, is in charge of the schedule. Why? The President is in one of those moods.
Fabulous and I get to spend all day with him.
The Lymans are having a bris for David Saturday morning and Josh here thinks it would be a pain in the Secret Service's ass for you and Abbey to attend, Leo smirks.
President Bartlet turns to me.
They're playing with me. I'm the cornered mouse and they're the cats.
You and the First Lady are more than welcome, if your schedules permit, sir. I wouldn't think of excluding you. I reply.
Good, good. I'd hate to miss something so important in that young man's life. As my girls have seen fit to not provide me with one of my own, I'm adopting yours as my grandson. Informally, you understand, he waves his hand in the general direction of the Residence. Abbey feels the same way.
Thank you, sir, I'm touched.
Now, a bris, that's a circumcision, correct?
Yes, sir. God, please don't make me explain it.
They can't just do it at the hospital?
No, sir. There's a whole thing that goes with it.
So what should we expect?
A nice little ceremony in Hebrew, sir. It's a little complicated to explain.
Alright, Josh. I'll let you off the hook, he takes pity on me and turns to go. Let Charlie know what time. I don't trust whatshername.
***
Saturday, the 12th of July dawns with minimal fuss.
Elisa arrived yesterday and assured me I hadn't done anything to upset her. She thought it would simply be less crowded if she stayed with Leo. Josh made it home at a reasonable hour and made a nice dinner for the three of us.
David is nestled safely between our pillows, sleeping soundly. He's only waking up once or twice a night at this point and since I fed him around 3, I figure we've got a little time before he starts demanding our attention again.
You know the American Pediatric Association discourages cosleeping, Josh mumbles, cracking his eyes open.
Where did you hear that? I ask, reaching out and running my thumb along Josh's cheek.
Mona, Presidential secretary number 105, randomly gifted that information on me the other day.
Josh's hand reaches up and wraps around mine, bringing it to his lips. We've been fooling around a little since the Ôincident,' mostly kissing and oral stimulation.
My blow job skills are top notch these days.
We meet mere inches above our son, seeking out one another's lips and tongues until a little hand flails up and interrupts us. Guess we don't have any time to fool around.
David, leave your daddy alone, he's trying to get some. I giggle as disappointment flits across Josh's face when he realizes he's going to have to wait.
I'll go make coffee, Josh groans.
The only good thing about David's timing is he usually goes back to sleep after he eats. It's a little after seven right now, Elisa is supposed to be here around eight to help us get ready, the mohel guy is going to be here at 10 and the thing starts at 11.
David lets go of my breast on his own and I rub his back until he burps, then offer him the other side. He doesn't seem too interested, preferring to chew on his fist. His feeding patterns have shifted in the past couple of days and he isn't eating as often as he was when he first came home.
He's finished already? Josh returns with my orange juice and his own coffee.
The fingers are tastier, I joke.
If I had those options, I know which one I'd pick. His voice deepens and his eyes meet mine.
I hand David over to Josh. I fed him. You change him, then we can talk options.
***
I linger a moment at the cradle until David's eyes begin to close and his little mouth opens in a huge yawn.
This eating and growing stuff is hard work, isn't it? I whisper, leaning down and kissing his forehead. You just go on back to sleep, little bear.
Crawling back onto the bed, I snuggle close enough to Donna to feel the heat radiating from her. Placing one hand lightly on her inner thigh, my lips seek out her long neck.
She sighs and sinks back against the pillow, her own hand reaching down to fondle Spongebob. It feels as though every drop of blood in my body detours to my groin and I moan into her skin.
I need you, Donna whispers breathlessly.
Our lovemaking is short and frantic as we try to rediscover one another and fulfill our own desires.
Are you okay? I finally ask, opening my eyes to see her dazzling blue ones looking down at me.
You can do it harder next time. She grinds her pelvis against mine and Spongebob jumps a little bit, but he's done for the morning.
I ask, my heart melting at the mischievous grin on her face.
***
Oh, yeah, I nod, then look at the clock.
It's 7:45. We need to get moving, but I'm content to stay here with Josh inside me for as long as I can.
My mother's going to be here soon, Josh groans. With Leo.
You don't think they're I tease him. You know Doing what we were doing?
You think my mother and Leo are doing to horizontal mambo? Josh rockets into a sitting position, dislodging me.
Come on, Josh. She's an adult woman. She has needs. Parents have sex. That's how we ended up with siblings.
I love messing with his head.
At least I think I'm messing with his head.
Elisa told me there was nothing going on back in March, but what if she was messing with my head?
Parents do not have sex! he insists, lying back down.
Um, babe? I snuggle next to him, resting my head on his chest, one leg thrown haphazardly over his, my hand tracing random paths on his skin.
They don't!
What did we just do then? I ask, enjoying the feel of his hand on my naked back.
We're attempting to give our son a sibling?
Can I be not be pregnant for a while? I'm enjoying being able to see my toes.
I guess, Josh whines playfully.
I was just saying, I smack him gently for changing the subject, that we, as parents, are having sex. Therefore it would logically follow that our parents have sex, even if it means your mother is having sex with Leo.
Josh shudders at the mental picture I've given him. Ew! Donna!
Your mother isn't that old either, I continue, straightfaced, wondering just how far I can take this. It might still be possible for David to have an aunt or an uncle from your side of the family.
Josh screeches at me for even suggesting such a thing. That's just wrong!
He jumps out of bed, shaking his head in disgust on his way to the shower. The water is barely running before a knock at the front door announces Elisa and Leo's arrival.
***
The hot spray washes the images of my mother with Leo from my mind.
I seriously have to get over this.
I don't even understand why the idea of my mother dating bothers me so much. Besides, if I had to pick out a guy I would probably pick Leo. I guess if I had to have a stepfather, I'd want it to be somebody I already look to that way.
My brain runs circles around their relationship while I shower out of habit, somehow always coming to rest on the fact that now matter how ably he has stepped in, Leo isn't my father. My dad has been dead for over five years and even if Mamme is seeing Leo, he won't ever be my dad.
This is one of those days when my heart aches because he's gone. I can just imagine how proud he'd be of David. My dad was the kind of guy who tortured people with pictures of his kids. He never got over losing Joanie, but never made me feel less than loved. Even after I'd moved to Washington, my 5th grade Little League picture was the one prominently displayed on his desk at the firm, right next to a picture of Joanie playing the piano at a recital when she was 10.
Working the shampoo into my hair, I'm suddenly struck by the sight of a curlyhaired little boy in a toobig barber's chair with an older man kneeling beside him, calming his fearful whimpers. I, for the life of me, can't decide if this is a long forgotten memory or a prognostic vision of the future.
As part of this morning's ritual, the rabbi will announce David's Hebrew name, the name by which he will be called to the Torah. I have given it little thought until now. Much in the same way I decided the name on his birth certificate, I figured it would just come to me at the right moment.
I discover my electric razor is dead once I've got shaving gel on my face. Digging under the sink for one of Donna's disposables, I find a scuffed leather package. I know what's inside without opening it: the antique straightblade razor my father gave me the day of my bar mitzvah.
You're a man now, son. I'm entrusting this to you like your grandfather did to me and his father did to him. When the time is right, you'll give it to your son.'
The blade is still sharp after all these years and I dredge up memories of the lessons my grandfather gave me in using it. I can still feel his gnarled old hands guiding mine as we shaved the prepubescent peach fuzz from my thirteenyearold face while Dad watched with amusement.
I'd never been so proud of myself as I was when I finished reading from the Torah that Sabbath, not so much for what I'd accomplished but for doing what my father expected me to do. I'll never forget the raw emotion on the faces of my father and grandfather. It's something I want my son to experience, a feeling I want him to understand, a pride I want to have in him.
It's a journey we'll start today.
***
Donna, Leo and I are sitting in the living room, relaxing after the departure of our guests.
Everything went off with out a hitch this morning; the only thing out of whack is Josh.
Since Leo and I got here, he's been distant and pensive. I haven't had a chance to talk to him privately, so I'm not sure what's bothering him.
Right now he's in the bedroom putting David down. My grandson has been up most of the day and is in dire need of a quiet nap.
I'm going to check on Josh, I announce, getting off the sofa. I'm not oblivious to the grateful look Donna gives me.
I find him sitting on the bed rocking the antique cradle.
I place my hand on his back and sit next to him.
he greets me quietly.
What's the matter? I rub his back like I did when he was little and upset about something.
His whispered is completely unconvincing.
Don't lie to me, Joshua. This isn't still about last weekend is it? I thought you and Donna talked things out.
I'm not, it isn't and we did. His voice never rises above a whisper and his eyes never stray from David as he rocks the cradle slowly.
In the halflight of the bedroom, he looks so much like Noah it makes my heart jump.
Your father would be so proud of you, I tell him, resting my head against his shoulder.
Joshua's arm encircles my body and in a rare moment, he shows me his soul and his vulnerability. I miss him, Mamme. There are so many questions I want to ask him and he's not here to answer. I thought it would get easier, you know? As time goes by, but now now I want him here and
I miss him, too, Joshua. You picked a beautiful way to honor him today.
I admit I was surprised when Josh named his firstborn son after a member of Donna's family. I haven't asked the significance; I simply accepted he had his reasons. I was touched beyond words when the rabbi announced the child's Hebrew name as Noah ben Joshua at the end of the ceremony this morning.
I gather myself together, getting the impression Joshua really doesn't want to talk right now. Standing up, I squeeze his shoulder before I go. You know Leo's here for you if you need him, right?
Even in the dim light, I can see him tense and his jaw set.
Something about Leo is bothering him, but his body language tells me there is nothing to gain by prying further. Leaving him be, I head back to the living room.
***
Josh is seriously worrying me. As quiet as he's been all day, he got even quieter after the conversation with his mother in the bedroom. Elisa and Leo left shortly thereafter, planning on spending a peaceful day together.
It's not natural for Josh to be this withdrawn.
Right now, he's lying on the floor with David playing with the Rolly Cow my sister sent us.
What's the matter? I ask, sitting next to him.
He tips the roundbottomed toy over before he answers. I don't know. I just
Your mom and Leo?
Sort of, he mumbles, intent on the cow's swaying ears.
Look at me? I ask softly, wanting to see his eyes.
He rolls onto his back and I recognize the pain in his eyes. It's a less intense version of what was there after I told him his dad had died.
Taking his hand, I squeeze it supportively. Leo's not trying to replace your dad.
I know, it's just that Dad was I don't know He was always there for me and
I interrupt, keying on the one thing troubling him that I can reassure him about.
We're gonna screw the kid up. It's inevitable. I succeed in getting a wry smile from him. We're both nervous about the whole parenting thing. The best we can do is try. Don't you think I'm insecure, too? This is as new to me as it is to you. We're going to be fine because we're going to do this together. We're going to love him
And hug him and call him George? Josh finishes, sitting up.
You've been watching too many cartoons, I chuckle before giving him a searching look.
He shrugs under my scrutiny, but whatever has been weighing him down today seems a bit lighter.
This thing with Leo and your mom isn't going to go away. You need to work it out.
They did seem pretty chummy today. I'm starting to wonder whether there's something going on between them and what the implications of that are for Josh's relationship with Leo. In retrospect, that and our conversation this morning are probably what started Josh thinking about his dad.
I know, he sighs. I just always thought
Your mom would stay true to your dad forever?
Josh, if, God forbid, you died tomorrow, would you expect me to be alone for the rest of my life? I ask, partially afraid of his answer.
I guess not, he answers after thinking it over.
I wouldn't expect you to be either. Why do you expect your mom to be?
Because she's my mom and he's my dad and that's the only way I can see it. His admission comes in a guiltridden whisper. I want her to be happy, but it still hurts, you know?
I wrap my arms around him and hold him close. It's okay, baby. We're going to be fine and David's going to grow up and idolize you the way you idolize your dad. It's inevitable. He already thinks you're cooler than I am. Don't worry about the past, Josh. Leave it there, let's concentrate on the future.