"So, Josh..." President Bartlet begins once the Secretary of Agriculture has been escorted from the Oval Office.
"To be honest, sir, I don't think we'll be able to convince China to buy any additional wheat this year. I doubt their economy can handle it," I offer my opinion on the meeting we just finished.
I happen to agree with you, but that isn't what we're going to talk about," he replies, sitting at his desk to sign a couple of papers.
I hug my files to my chest, afraid of what he's got up his sleeve. "Sir?"
"Charlie says he wants to talk to me about something personal tonight. I presume it has to do with my youngest daughter. Do you have any ideas?"
Oh, great - a fishing expedition. I see three options here: tell him the truth, flat out lie, or do something I should have done from the beginning - refuse to get involved.
Let's start with door number three, shall we?
"I have several ideas, sir. But if it's what I think it is, it's for Charlie to discuss with you."
"He's talked to you about it?" Bartlet's head snaps up, leveling me with a piercing gaze.
"Charlie and I talked about several things a couple of weeks ago. I don't feel comfortable playing the middle man." I answer, squirming at the thought of having to tell the President of the United States of America about the discussion Charlie and I had. My wife is probably right, I think I accidentally encouraged Charlie to propose to the First Daughter.
"Oh, God," President Bartlet groans.
I'm spared from further interrogation by the arrival of the Labor Secretary.
***
"Hey, Donna! Is Josh around?" Zoey Bartlet sticks her head in my office.
"Nope. He's staffing your dad today. Is there anything I can help you with?" I ask, flicking my computer monitor off to give her my full attention.
Zoey purses her lips, thinking about it. In the end, she comes in, shyly closing the door.
"Sit down," I tell her. Her heightened state of nervousness is a good indication she wants to talk about Charlie. I decide to break the ice slowly, so I ask her about grad school. "How are classes going?"
"Good," she answers, taking a seat in my visitor's chair.
We look at each other awkwardly until Zoey stares down at her fingernails.
"How did you handle waiting so long for Josh to propose?" she finally blurts, saving me the trouble of bringing the subject up. "I mean, you knew he was the one, right? Didn't it make you crazy to wait?"
"Yes, I knew he was the one, but no, waiting didn't make me crazy," I shift in my chair in an effort to get comfortable. I wore the wrong pants today. "We got together when we were both ready. There's no point in being impatient over something you're not ready for. Trust me."
"But I am ready," Zoey insists.
"If you're pressuring Charlie to do something he isn't sure about, then you aren't ready. Marriage is about patience and compromise," I tell her.
She slumps down in the chair. "You sound like my mom. I feel like I'm on an episode of The Dr. Phil Show."
"Your mom and I and Dr. Phil are all married, Zoey. It gives us a different perspective. Let me ask you something. If Charlie came to you and said I love you, but I'm not ready to get married - what would you do?"
"I don't know," she shrugs with a frown.
"When you can answer that question, you know you're ready." I give her a smile, trying to soften the disappointment. I can tell she'd rather have talked about this with Josh, but I can't, in good conscious, tell her to do something she isn't ready for.
And I doubt Josh would, either.
***
"Come with me, Charles." I grab him by the shoulder and steer him toward the Mess. The President is having 'barbeque' in the Residence with the First Lady for lunch today, giving me a good hour to talk some sense into my young friend.
We both grab some food and sequester ourselves in a corner.
"What the hell are you thinking?" I demand, fully cognizant of the fact my voice just jumped a few octaves.
He looks taken aback. "I'm thinking about what you told me a couple of weeks ago. About how Zoey might not wait much longer and I better get myself in gear."
"You do realize her father is the leader of the free world as well as our boss and a man who can have us both sent to Iceland for the rest of our lives, right?" I can't believe him. I said talk to her - not to her father!
"What do you mean us? I'm the one dating his daughter," Charlie growls.
"You know he's going to find out I may have inadvertently, and unintentionally suggested you get the lead out of your ass," I fire back. "I have a wife and a son and a baby on the way! I can't get sent to Iceland because you want to propose to the boss's daughter!"
"I just want to feel him out. I don't plan on proposing tomorrow or anything."
I glare at him over my burnt burger until he continues, sounding somewhat defeated.
"I don't know anything about being married, Josh. My dad didn't hang around. The only roommate I've ever had is Deanna and she did whatever I told her to do. I just know I love Zoey and I want to be with her. You and Donna are so happy... It makes me think I could... I want that, what you have. I want someone to look at me the way Donna looks at you," he finishes in a whisper.
"Everything isn't as rosy as it seems, Charlie. Donna and I have our share of fights and arguments and disagreements. Being married is a lot of work." I say, jabbing a somewhat limp french fry at him to emphasize the point.
"But you work your problems out. And so do the President and First Lady," he protests.
"What's your first instinct when you're upset about something?" I ask.
"What do you mean?"
"Does it eat you up inside if you can't tell Zoey about what's bothering you or do you feel like she won't understand?" Not that I have room to talk here some days.
He looks down at his sandwich.
"You don't talk to her about the stuff you're feeling, do you?" I guess, softening my attack.
Charlie shakes his head.
"This once? You might want to. If you don't think you can, don't talk to the man tonight," I advise.
He nods and checks his watch. "We better get back. The 'barbecue' is almost over."
The two of us stand and head back to the Oval Office. I stop before we part ways at Charlie's desk - to leave him with some last words of wisdom. Something my dad told me a long time ago.
"It doesn't make you any less of a man to talk to her about your feelings."
***
"I think we're done for the day, Josh. You can head on home," the President says. We've just finished the last scheduled meeting and it's barely 9 o'clock.
"Are you sure, sir?" I ask. My days in the Oval Office normally last until 10 or 11.
"Yeah, I'm gonna head upstairs and talk to Charlie. If anything blows up, we'll call you back in."
"Yes, sir. Thank you." Refusing to look a gift horse in the mouth, I head to my office to wrap things up for the day before going home.
Not surprisingly, Donna and our assistants are gone for the day. There's a note on my desk that I think says something about Matt Skinner and breakfast tomorrow.
I spot Toby lurking around the bullpen while I'm trying to decipher the note. He's been doing this a lot the past couple of weeks, waiting until Donna isn't nearby and then trying to talk to me.
The problem is he takes fifteen minutes to work himself up to ask me absolutely nothing. Leading me to believe it's related to his ex-wife.
"What's up?" I ask, praying it's something to do with work. I've dispensed more than my share of relationship advice today.
"She's pregnant," he blurts with no preamble whatsoever.
"We're talking about Andrea Wyatt, right?" I gesture for him to follow me into my office.
"Right. Andi's pregnant. They're mine." Toby is chalk white, disbelief and fear making his eyes appear unnaturally wide.
"Sit," I order, taking command of the situation. "Start at the beginning."
Toby drops into a chair, right on top of the research papers about oil drilling in ANWR.
"She called a while back to say she was starting the fertility treatments again and she'd keep me posted," he says, telling me the one thing I already know.
"And she called today?" I prompt when he stops.
He nods his head, looking as forlorn as I've ever seen him.
"The fertility thing worked?" I phrase the obvious as a question.
"Yeah. Twins," he chuckles nervously, staring at his hands.
"Okay," I lean back in my chair. "When's she due?"
"Due?" Toby's eyebrows meet in the center of his forehead.
"Yeah," I snicker. I can't help it. "When's her due date? You know, when she's done being pregnant and has the babies?"
"Like maybe in nine months!" He raises his voice, clearly frustrated by today's events.
Scrubbing my hands over my eyes, I'm starting to wonder if I should quit politics and get a job as a relationship counselor on TV. I could be Dr. Josh. My first patient - Toby Ziegler.
"What do you want out of this?"
"Huh?" Toby responds.
"In the end, given the situation - what do you want? Do you want to be a part of the kids' lives or not? Do you want Andi in your life?" I rephrase the question.
"I... I don't..." He falls silent and shakes his head, looking down at his hands again. "I don't know."
I toss my pen on the desk and stand up. This conversation is going nowhere and I have better things to do - like go home to my wife and kid. "My suggestion would be to figure out what you want before you do anything else."
***
It's about 9:30 when I hear the click of the front door unlocking.
"Josh?" I call from the kitchen where I'm doing research on the Genetic Non-Discrimination in Health Insurance bill the Senate is considering after the Thanksgiving recess. David is lying on a blanket on the floor, amusing himself by rolling over.
"I'm home!" he yells back in his best Ralph Kramden impersonation.
David immediately starts screaming happily at the sound of Josh's voice. He squeals with delight when Daddy appears and scoops him up off the floor.
"Hey, Bear!" Josh holds David up at arm's length wiggling him playfully before lowering him to his shoulder and kissing his forehead. He then closes the distance between us and kisses me. His voice is positively sultry when he greets me. "Hey, Mommy."
"Hey," I reply with promising smile.
"Toby came to see me tonight," he says, sitting down across the table from me with David on his lap.
"Again?" I find myself strangely intrigued by the Toby Ziegler situation, despite my continued annoyance with the man. It's like watching a soap opera on daytime TV. Josh comes home almost every night with an update. The past week or so, it's just been Toby hemming and hawing without saying anything of substance.
"Apparently the fertility clinic was successful," Josh replies dryly.
"She's pregnant?" I giggle at the thought of Toby's ex-wife pregnant. In the three or four altercations I've had with Congresswoman Wyatt, I've always pegged her as the career-type. I could be wrong, though, and I'm pretty sure my observation makes me some kind of hypocrite and quite possibly a pseudo-Republican in the making.
Having kids is doing weird things to my outlook on life.
"Toby's in quite the snit," Josh confirms. "He doesn't know whether he's coming or going. I told him he needs to figure out what he wants before he does anything."
"You mean about what I told you CJ said?"
Josh nods. "Among other things. The thing about CJ is she's safe. CJ's not asking him for anything he won't give. Andrea Wyatt? Totally different story."
"When I first met her, I wondered why on Earth they'd ever married to begin with," I admit.
"Different strokes for different folks, I guess," Josh shrugs, helping David stand up on the table. "I don't get it either, but he's still in love with her. Whatever constitutes being in love for Toby Ziegler."
"What do you think he'll do?"
"I don't have any idea," Josh shakes his head as he watches David bend his knees and then straighten his legs back out.
"Zoey came to see you today," I change the subject slightly.
"Why?" he asks curiously.
I raise my eyebrows at him. "Charlie."
"Oh, no," Josh groans, not at all the response I expected from him.
"What?"
"I'm home early because Charlie wanted to talk to the President about something personal."
"You don't think he's planning to propose, do you?" The very thought of President Bartlet's reaction makes me fear for Charlie's personal safety.
And Josh's career.
"I don't know," Josh answers. "I took him to lunch and tried to talk some sense into him, but... I don't think it did any good."
"Zoey got the same spiel from me," I tell him. "She wanted to know why I was giving her the same advice she's getting from her mother."
"And Elizabeth, I'd imagine." Josh moves David to his lap when the little boy won't hold himself up anymore.
"I didn't go there, but probably. She said she felt like she was trapped in an episode of Dr. Phil." I became quite the fan of Dr. Phil while I was on maternity leave.
Josh's eyes twinkle as he laughs so hard he almost falls off his chair.
"What's so funny?"
"I was just thinking tonight that with all the people wandering through my office looking for advice, I ought to get my own talk show," he gasps.
"You and Dr. Phil, baby," I snicker.
"I was going to be Dr. Josh."
We dissolve into hysterics at our individual images of the disaster that would be Josh with his own talk show on national television. Although I'm sure his vision isn't the same type of disaster mine is. And I doubt David is giggling for any reason other than the fact Josh is.
"Matt wants to have breakfast tomorrow?" Josh asks when he finally stops laughing.
"6:30 at the regular place. He said it was important, but he couldn't be seen talking to you," I relay the message.
"Did he say what?" Josh sighs.
"All he said was Sam's count is off." I'm so wrapped up in my own work, I'm not even sure what Sam is pushing on the Hill these days.
From the way Josh's face tightens, he knows exactly what it is and he's not happy about it.
"What?" I ask, wondering what could ruin his mood so fast.
"HR 2038," he says simply.
"When's the vote?" I've really lost track of time.
"It should have been three months ago, but the Republicans didn't want it on the calendar in August. The vote is next week. Right before Thanksgiving recess."
Well, there goes our relaxing evening. Josh will be up all night fretting over this one.
***
"Does anybody have anything else?" Leo asks, wrapping up the morning staff meeting.
"I'm hearing rumblings about problems with 2038 in the House," I announce. Matt wasn't specific at breakfast, he just told me to recheck our base before we started planning a victory party for reauthorizing the ban on assault weapons.
"What?" Sam asks sharply.
"Nothing firm, no names, no specifics. It was just suggested we recount noses," I say.
"Who'd we lose?" Sam wonders aloud.
"I don't care," Leo growls. "Just fix it. Quietly. Anything else?"
After a general chorus of no's and the President's dismissal, everyone starts to filter out of the Oval Office.
"Josh," President Bartlet calls, stopping me in my tracks before I can escape. "We need to talk."
"Busted," CJ calls in a sing-song voice, clearly in high spirits despite the potential setback with the ban on assault rifles.
The President glares at me until the others have left the room. "Charlie came to me last night and I have reason to believe you were complicit in his decision to do so."
"Sir, I..." I'm not sure how to defend myself on this one.
"I think it'd be wisest for you to not speak until I'm finished," Bartlet interrupts my interruption.
"Yes, sir," I reply meekly.
"He started out by saying he had been giving a lot of thought to his relationship with my youngest daughter and he was feeling some pressure from her to take things to the next level."
I think you can hear me gulp over at the Capitol.
"He then proceeded to tell me that what he was going to say wasn't what he had planned to say, but he came to the conclusion yesterday he wasn't ready for the next level. He did, however, want my opinion on whether I thought Zoey would be amiable to not rocking the boat quite yet and how he might best approach the issue with her," Bartlet's voice softens as he finishes.
There is a God.
"I don't know what you said to dissuade him from asking me what we both think he was going to ask me, but thank you," Bartlet finishes.
"You're welcome, sir. Glad I could be of assistance." I can breathe again.
"You got lucky." He tilts his head and looks at me knowingly.
"Yes, sir," I agree with a laugh of relief.
"Get out of here," he orders kindly.
"Yes, sir."
I'm almost out the door when he calls my name again. I stop and turn back to face him. His expression is significantly more serious and there's no question my luck has run out.
"Don't go off the reservation trying to help Sam. Let him handle 2038."
***
Josh isn't in bed when I wake up at 3 o'clock in the morning.
I haven't seen him since lunch and he looked unusually troubled at the time. He didn't want to talk in the Mess and wasn't sure when he'd be home.
I pee and then check on David.
Absolute panic floods my veins when he isn't in his crib. I rush into the living room, convinced I'm going to find the front door wide open and the apartment pillaged.
No such luck.
"JOSHUA LYMAN! YOU SON OF A BITCH!" I scream furiously.
My husband sits bolt upright on the couch, nearly dropping David, who had been sleeping soundly against his chest.
"Good God! Donna!" His eyes are wide with terror and his breathing is ragged.
"You scared the shit out of me!" We chorus at each other.
David interrupts before we can really get going at each other. He wails loudly at being so rudely disturbed. My panic and accompanying anger are flushed away by his cries.
"Shh..." Josh immediately focuses on David. He gets up and starts pacing around the living room, trying to calm our son with no success.
"I went to check on him and he wasn't there," I explain my outburst, taking David from Josh and sitting down on the recently vacated couch.
"I'm sorry. He was awake when I got home. We were sitting out here talking and I must have fallen asleep..." he trails off, sounding as miserable as he looks standing before me in his rumpled, drool-stained suit.
David quiets when I offer him my breast. His fussiness at feeding passed with the ear infection.
Josh collapses next to us. "I didn't mean to scare you."
"It's okay. I overreacted a little there myself," I acknowledge. "What's the matter, honey?"
He takes a breath and releases it before answering. "We're down 35 votes on 2038 in the House and 22 on the Senate version."
"The reauthorization bill?" I ask in disbelief.
Josh bites his lip, reaching out to stroke David's hair. "Yeah."
Please tell me he's not going to do what I think he's going to do.
"You aren't..."
"Would it be so bad?" he asks.
"Yes!" I screech harshly, mindful of the baby in my arms.
No part of whatever cock-eyed scheme he's cooking up can be good.
I take a deep breath and start over again. "Have you talked to Leo or the President about what you're thinking?"
The self-conscious way he bites his lower lip answers my question. Either he hasn't talked to them or somebody told him to keep out of it.
"That's what I thought. Gee, and to think, I was almost done being pissed at Toby. Now I have to be pissed at you."
"Please, Donna," he pleads softly. "It has to come out eventually. I have to talk about it before I try to run for office. I can't get caught covering it up, not on top of the MS thing."
The expression on his face is one of a weary acceptance of the future. It tugs at my heart, tempering my urge to yank him back into line. Marriage is about compromise, I remind myself, thinking back to the conversation I had with Zoey yesterday. Compromise and patience. If Josh wants to expose himself and the Administration to another health-related scandal, I guess it's his business. Well, his and Leo's and the President's and Toby's and CJ's and... No, wait - it is my business.
"Promise me you'll talk to Leo before you do anything stupid."
He concedes and rests his head on my shoulder, falling silent.
***
"Charlie chickened out," I tell her after a few minutes.
"Escaped by the skin of your teeth, didn't you?" Her voice has lost its edge.
"Yeah," I agree.
"Let's go to bed," Donna suggests, intuitively knowing what I need the most - sleep and a fresh perspective in the morning.
I get up and take David from her. He whimpers a bit at the loss of her breast, but he was only suckling for comfort and is more asleep than awake. I put him on his back and lean down to kiss him good night.
"I love you, Bear," I whisper, smiling indulgently as he yawns and falls deeper into sleep.
Donna is already in bed when I enter our room. She watches while I undress, not bothering to nag when I leave my clothes in a pile on the floor. She just opens her arms for me when I crawl into bed. I curl up in her embrace, grateful for her love and understanding.
The last thought I have before drifting off to sleep is to wonder how I ever made it through life before we met and how I got so lucky as to have her love me.
***
Josh is in an all day session with the economic advisory committee today and there's another one on his schedule tomorrow. They're debating the need for a stimulus package. Meanwhile, Sam is up on the Hill trying to get back some votes on the gun control bill. I see these two events as gifts from the scheduling gods which allow me to execute Operation Let Toby Off the Hook. Bonnie and Ginger are my willing co-conspirators, taking off on an extended lunch to give me ample time alone with our Communications Director.
When the coast is clear, I saunter into Toby's office as though I own it. Startled by the sound of the door closing, Toby looks up from his laptop.
"What?" he demands, though he's not as surly as he would be normally.
"How would you like to get out of my doghouse?" I ask.
He eyes me suspiciously. "How?"
"Help Sam get the votes on 2038."
"Donna, they aren't going to ask Josh to..." he tries to placate me.
"No, but that doesn't mean he won't go off half-cocked and make things worse!" I retort angrily. The shooting and its aftermath were the worst six months of my life. I have no desire to deal with the fallout of Josh announcing to the world he suffers from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.
"I'll figure something out," Toby assures me.
He knows as well as I do that neither Josh personally nor the Administration as a whole can withstand the impact of wall-to-wall political coverage insinuating one of the President's most trusted senior advisors is mentally unstable.
***
I hate economics. I hate unemployment numbers. I hate the Dow. I have no understanding of people who find joy and contentment in deciphering the inner workings of the business cycle. I hate spending 15 hours talking about the economy with people who think the study of economics is interesting.
After a night of little sleep and a day of discussing ways around the looming recession, I am exhausted and frustrated and facing three more hours in the office catching up on all the reports I need to review before tomorrow's sessions.
I've read the same paragraph six times and I still don't know what it says. All I can think about is how to get back the votes on 2038. Would it really be such a thing if I went out and said 'hey - this is what happens when you survive getting shot by one of these weapons. Do you really want your son or daughter to go through this?'
Nobody needs these types of guns. Hunting elk with an AR-15 isn't sport, no matter how the NRA and Charlton Heston try to justify it. These weapons are military in nature and they have one purpose - killing people. Killing people is against the law.
"What the hell did you say to Charlie!?"
Speaking of killing people... Murderous is the only way to describe Zoey as she storms into my office.
And I'd like just one day of not having to play Dr. Josh, I swear to God.
"I told him the exact same thing my wife told you," I snap. I'm in no mood to do this right now. "You two aren't done growing up yet, let alone ready to get married."
"Since when does your opinion matter?" Zoey demands.
"Since you started coming to me for it," I growl.
"Obviously that was a mistake! What makes you think we're not ready to get married?"
I sigh in frustration, praying my kids don't turn out to be this dense. "The fact you're in here, blaming me for a situation you created, instead of taking responsibility for it yourself. When is the last time you and Charlie talked about your future and actually listened to each other?"
Zoey looks down and bites her lip, not saying a word. Time for a little tough love, I think.
"Get out of my office. I'm tired of being used as an excuse for the state of your relationship with Charlie. You two broke it, you two need to figure out how to fix it." It doesn't take much effort for me to sound angry.
Her shoulders slump even further and she leaves my office dejectedly.
I scowl down at my report and read the same paragraph for the seventh time.
***
There's no point in waiting up for Josh tonight. The economic meeting was still going strong when I left at 7 o'clock and he still had to prep for tomorrow.
So, I'm slightly surprised when he joins me in bed just after midnight.
"You're home early," I murmur, rolling onto my side with enough difficulty to tell me sleeping on my side is about to be a thing of the past. I take advantage of it while I can, though, and snuggle up against Josh's warmth.
"I wasn't getting anything accomplished," he says, running his hand up and down my bare back.
"What happened?" I shiver under his touch.
"Zoey's pissed off. Charlie finally took my advice and talked to her." His talented fingers trace the stretch marks on my hips.
"Let's not talk about Zoey and Charlie," I suggest, leaning in and pulling his earlobe into my mouth.
"Works for me," Josh replies. His mouth immediately finds my neck and I can feel from amount of pressure he's exerting I'm going to have a very visible mark in the morning.
"Josh?" I mumble around his ear.
"Hmmm?" He's moved on to another, equally visible, part of my neck.
"I have a meeting with an group of conservatives from Oklahoma about the Pledge of Allegiance."
"Wear a turtleneck," he suggests, moving up to my jaw.
"Except, I don't have any turtlenecks that fit anymore," I point out, letting my fingers stray to the spot behind his ear.
He stills instantly, his mouth going slack against my skin.
"Donna..." he grinds out, pressing his hips against mine, letting me feel the heat radiating from Spongebob.
"No more hickeys," I admonish, finding a highly visible spot on his jaw and returning the favor without regard for my own pronouncement.
"You're evil," he laughs when I finish. His thumb tenderly grazes my cheekbone while he draws his other hand through my hair.
"You love me for it," I whisper, kissing the tip of his nose.
"I love you for a lot of things," Josh replies with a sudden hitch in his voice. In the span of thirty seconds, he's gone from playful to subdued.
"I love you, too," I tell him, wondering what prompted his mood shift.
"Make love to me?" he pleads, his hand now running over my hip and down my thigh.
Josh reaches for my hands, causing me to look down at him. His eyes are clenched shut and tears are leaking down his face. I'm still not sure what's behind this, but he asked me to make love to him, so I do. Slowly, I lift up and settle back down, moving methodically until Josh joins me. His tears don't stop, but he releases his vise-like grip reaching up to massage the growing bulge of my stomach.
"Stop," he whispers, holding my hips still. "I can't..."
I nod and slide off of him. Despite his desire to make love to me, he can't. Josh waits until I get comfortable before he wraps his body around mine, clinging to me as though I'm a rock in the storm only he's enduring. The moisture of his tears is cool on his skin.
"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask, gently caressing his coarse hair. The reddish highlights seem especially noticeable tonight.
He snorts, chuckling in spite of himself.
"What?" I temper my demand with a smile he doesn't see.
"When Charlie and I talked the other day, one of the things I told him was he had to be open and honest with Zoey and not be afraid to tell her what he was feeling in his heart. I've been feeling like a hypocrite all day, but I haven't been able to find the words," Josh explains. He's stopping holding me so tightly and resumed massaging my stomach. "I want this bill to pass so badly, Donna. I don't want anyone else going through what we did, you know? Nobody should have to suffer like that."
"I know, honey." I cover his hand with mine, stilling it when the cub kicks against the pressure. Josh looks up at me through his tears. "But this isn't the right time. What you want to do, it can't be reactive. Announcing you suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder is a huge deal and if it's done right, it can have the kind of impact I think you're looking for. Coming out and browbeating Congress with it right now just makes you look shrill and desperate. Shrill, desperate and mentally unstable."
I stop because he knows I'm right. I can feel it in the way he snuggles his head into the crook of my shoulder and sighs deeply.
"What did I ever do to deserve you in my life?" Josh mumbles softly. He hasn't slept much the last few nights and it's caught up with him.
I don't answer with words, I just squeeze his hand to let him know I'm here for him.
***
"Mr. McGarry wants to see you," Chris pipes up the instant I return to the Operations bullpen from my afternoon meeting. When his announcement doesn't stop me from heading directly into my office, he follows with his message pad in hand. "Mr. Lyman? He said it was important."
The kid's been here over six months, you'd think he could stop calling me Mr. Lyman.
"I heard you," I snap, well aware I'm taking my frustrations out on my assistant. Donna's not in her office or she'd ream my ass for doing it. I've been tossing around what she said to me last night and come to the conclusion she's right - now isn't the time, regardless of my future political aspirations. Losing the vote on something so personally important still stings, though, and my impotence in the outcome is infuriating.
I set most of my files down, keeping only my notes on the economic meeting - which is probably what Leo wants to talk to me about.
Margaret passes me into his office without a word.
"We can expect unemployment to continue to..." I launch my recap of the meeting I spent six hours in today, but Leo interrupts me.
"Have a seat," he says. The way he's clipping his words has me mentally reviewing what I've done the past couple of days.
"What's going on?"
"Leave 2038 alone. I don't want you making phone calls to lobby Congress. I don't want you talking to reporters. I want you to keep your mouth shut and your opinions to yourself. We have a deal, Josh. As much for your benefit as for the Administration's."
I knew 'the deal' would come up eventually. The deal where I have nothing to do with gun control legislation. Leo's right - it's not an altruistic bargain on the Administration's part. The nondisclosure of my diagnosis is a murky gray area - despite the White House Counsel's assurances we didn't need to hold a press conference the day after my sessions with Stanley.
Everyone who knows about it knows I haven't had an episode since Christmas 2000, but that doesn't mean people who don't like me, personally, or the Administration wouldn't use it against us. Donna's right - the wrong kind of exposure isn't just the end of my career; it's a scandal for the Administration.
"Josh?" Leo prompts.
"Why can't we make it personal?" I ask. I'm more interested to hear how his reasoning compares to Donna's than actually arguing the point.
"Do you seriously want to open yourself up to the kind of scrutiny we're talking about here? Do you even begin to comprehend the level of questioning you'll open yourself, not to mention Donna, up to?"
"I have to eventually. Better sooner than later," I shrug.
"What do you mean you have to eventually?"
"If I run for office in '06, I'm going to have to disclose the PTSD. I can't conceal a condition like that. It has to be out there before I announce," I lean forward, reminding him of my intention to pursue a Senate seat. I can't have this hanging over my campaign. I'll face enough problems as a perceived carpetbagger.
Leo leans back in his chair and sighs heavily. "I'll make you a deal. You stay out of this fight and I promise to get it out there before the '06 campaign season. We're running a little short on political capital at the moment. Getting what we wanted into the budget cost us a lot. I can't guarantee you the protection you'll need right now."
"Sam isn't going to get the votes," I state.
"No, probably not," he agrees.
"We'll have to wait until after the midterms to reintroduce it."
"Okay," Leo nods, seeing the roadmap I'm drawing. "We reintroduce it in the next Congress and put you on it."
***
The bounce is back in Josh's step when he returns to his office. Chris warned me my husband was in as pissy a mood today as he was yesterday, so I wonder what changed his tune.
I give him a few minutes to check his schedule and then rap on the doorframe separating our offices.
"Wanda Milhouse thinks women who wear makeup are trashy and cheap," I announce. "And the Reverend DeWayne Milhouse finds it abominable that a woman, let alone a pregnant woman, works as a policy advisor to the President."
"Were these people wearing shoes?" Josh leans back in his chair. One of these days the damn thing is going to break again.
"And comfortable ones at that," I kick off my shoes and plant myself on the desk, plopping my feet in his lap. "How was your meeting?"
"It's going to be a bagel," he sighs as he massages my feet.
"A bagel?" I cock an eyebrow at him.
"We can't say the word... you know, it's like jinxing it. And we have to call it something. Andrea from OMB wanted to call it a banana." He waits until I finish laughing. "We had to explain it to Larry."
"You're feeling better today," I broach the subject of his improved mood.
"I just came from Leo's office."
Thank God.
Josh continues when I look at him expectantly. "Announcing it now is not politically expedient."
"Isn't that what I told you last night?"
"Yeah, but you used the words shrill and mentally unstable," he grins, letting me know just who swayed his thinking. "Leo cut me a new deal. I continue to keep my head down now and when we reintroduce the ban after midterms, I make the case for it with my experiences. It puts the diagnosis out there if I decide to run for office after we leave the White House."
"You keep mentioning running for office." I poke him pointedly with my big toe. "Is there something we need to talk about?"
***
Oh shit.
"Um, yes?" I squeak.
"Josh, honey?" Donna raises her eyebrows and looks at me like a cat looks at a cornered mouse.
"Senator Marshall isn't running for re-election."
"Phil Marshall, 85-year-old Republican from Wisconsin whose seat is up in 2006?" she clarifies.
"Right."
"What does Phil Marshall's retirement have to do with you running for office after we're out of the White House?"
Like she doesn't know. In my own defense, she knew I wanted to run for something.
"I may have been in touch with the Wisconsin Democratic Party a few times over the past year," I admit.
"You may have been?" She nods obliquely toward my window while ratcheting up her volume.
I catch a glimpse of movement outside the half-open door.
'Zoey,' Donna mouths.
I return her smirk. This is our perfect opportunity to show her the rockier side of marriage.
"Okay!" I shout back, loving the way my wife's mind works. "I've talked to them on several occasions. They think I'm a viable candidate."
"When the hell were you planning to tell me about this? Before or after you were elected?" Donna runs her stocking-clad foot teasingly up my crotch.
Not the kindest thing to do to a man who was unable to achieve sexual satisfaction the night before. Spongebob responds instantly in response to her ministrations.
"I was going to talk to you about it after they got back to me! It's not a done deal!"
I never realized how hard it could be to argue with someone about nothing. Especially when the person you're arguing with is responsible for your hard-on.
"You're damn right it's not. You are not the only person in this marriage, Josh! I get some say!"
Her harsh words are mitigated by the fact she slid off the desk and replaced the foot she had in my crotch with her hand.
"I'm not denying you input. I wasn't trying to hide this from you..."
"You just hadn't gotten around to telling me, yet!?"
I have no idea how she can sound so snotty and still undo my zipper.
"No! I mean, yes, I hadn't told you, yet because..."
There is absolutely no way I can think right now.
"Because what? You don't value my opinion?"
"No! Donna!" I yelp, praying it sounds more like I'm trying to calm her down than what really happened. Which was a predictable biological response to her actions.
"You know what, Josh? If you can't tell me the truth, you can just sleep on the damn couch tonight!"
From the way she just licked her upper lip that was less a threat and more an invitation.
"Fine!" I growl, wondering how the hell I'm going to get out of the office without anybody noticing the wet spot on my pants.
"Fine! I'm going to pick up David. Take your damn time coming home! Call Wisconsin three or four times! See if I care!" Donna snarls back, stomping off to her office, slamming the door in dramatic fashion.
I don't even have time to zip my pants up before there's a knock on my door. I hastily scoot closer to the desk to hide the evidence of what Donna and I were actually doing.
"Josh? Is everything okay?" Zoey asks timidly.
I shrug and run my hand through my hair, leaving it standing on end. "Yeah, it's... Just one of those things."
"Donna sounds really upset." She glances at the door connecting our offices with wide-eyed trepidation.
"She'll get over it," I reply, loud enough for Donna to hear.
"But..."
"But, what?" I can't believe I'm sitting here talking to the First Daughter with my pants undone and my dick hanging out. No wonder Leo didn't want us having sex in the West Wing. It's quite the trick for me to get everything tucked back where it belongs while I'm talking to the kid.
"You two seem like you're so in love," she protests somewhat lamely.
"We are in love, Zoey. But this is what I've been trying to tell you - people who are in love still hurt each other. I understand she's upset and blowing off steam. We'll talk about this like rational human beings when I get home."
After we spend some quality time with the sofa and maybe the coffee table. The thought of which has Spongebob stirring again.
"When Charlie and I fight, we end up not speaking for days," Zoey admits.
"Your situation is a lot different," I point out. "Donna and I can't escape each other so easily. We go home and whatever the problem is, it's still there. There's no escaping it, we have to deal with it. Plus we have David to think about. Marriage is a 24/7/365 arrangement. The good days and the bad ones. You both have to be able to handle it."
"And Charlie isn't ready, yet," she finishes.
"Be honest with yourself, kiddo. You aren't either."
She looks pretty teary, but she nods in agreement. "How do I know?"
I think back to a rainy April night outside a two-bit New Hampshire motel in 1998. The night Donna came back to me and I told her about the way she made my heart sing a song I'd never heard before and she told me about the flutter I caused in her stomach. I remember an unseasonably warm December night three and a half years later when I realized I knew all the words to the song in my heart and discovered Donna knew them, too.
"For me, it was coming to the conclusion that I could live without everything else in my life as long as Donna was with me. There was nothing I wanted to do more than marry her and start a family."
"There's a lot of stuff I still want to do..."
"Zoey, kiddo, there's still stuff I want to do too, but it all revolves around Donna," I interrupt.
"Even running for office?" She sort of smirks, making me wonder if we were as convincing as I thought we were.
"Especially running for office."
We sit in the quiet for a few minutes, I can hear Donna bidding the assistants good night as she heads over to the daycare to pick up David.
"I'm afraid I'm never going to find it," Zoey says out of the blue.
I shake my head at her. "What are you? 22? 23? I was 36 when I met Donna and 41 when we got married. It took me longer to find my soul mate than The Real Thing. It'll happen when you stop trying so hard."
"Donna was my age."
"Donna was running away from a jackass who used her to get through med school. Stop trying so hard, kiddo. Keep your eyes and your mind open, but let it happen on its own," I advise.
She nods. "I'll try."
"No. Try not. Do. Or do not," I intone, summoning the timeless Yoda adage. "There is no try. Now get out of my office so I can go home."
"In that big a hurry to get yelled at?" Zoey snickers.
"You know what comes after the arguing?" I decide to impart one last bit of marital wisdom.
She stops in the doorway. "What?"
"Make-up sex."