Chapter 10

Time seemed to move in slow motion after that. Her tears started falling, landing on her lip as the bell sounded over the door. The coffee cup slipped from her hand, hitting the tip of her shoe before the floor, the top popping off and soaking her leg and the floor. The man behind her swore under his breath and jumped, but she just stood there as it soaked through her pants and onto her leg.

And then the cashier was coming around the front of the register with a "Wet Floor" sign and she was holding the dollar bill in her hand out towards him, whispering that she was sorry and he was quietly telling her not to worry about it. Her whole body was shaking, her legs and hands, her breathing, even her jaw, and she nodded and choked on her breath as she thanked him with a hoarse voice.

She turned to leave, glancing at the man behind her, his face turning from anger to pity in the span of a second, and she looked quickly down, wondering how bad she looked, and mumbled her apologies before walking towards the door. He turned around and followed her, holding it open for her and reminding her to put up her umbrella, taking it from her wrist when she showed no comprehension and opening it for her, then smiling softly at her when she nodded slightly at him.

Her car seemed miles away and she doubted she had the strength in her legs to get to it across the parking lot, but she stepped down off the sidewalk, stumbling slightly, and walked across the pumps towards it. A car made a horrible screech nearby, but like everything else, it sounded far away. But finally she was there, trying to pull the hose out of her tank, something she'd done hundreds of times, but was suddenly finding too difficult to maneuver. After several tries, she felt someone's hands on hers, and startled, she looked up into the man's face who'd held the door for her. "I've got it," he said quietly, taking it from her and hanging it up, then screwing the cap on and closing her tank door.

"Thank you," she said numbly, trying to smile but ending up biting her lip to keep from crying even harder, and he asked if she was ok to drive. She took a deep shaky breath and nodded, telling him she just lived two blocks away, and he watched her as she walked around to the driver's side and fumbled with the door handle, finally getting it open and then closing her umbrella and slipping inside.

When she walked back into the second story apartment she'd be living in for the next five and a half months, she looked up at the clock on the mantel and sighed. She'd only left for work ten minutes ago. Wiping tears off her face, she slipped off her shoes and went into her bedroom and lay down on the bed, closing her eyes and wanting nothing more than to erase the morning from her mind. But then her cell phone was ringing and Michelle was telling her that the meeting with Congressmen Wilson and Allen had been postponed to Monday becauseOklahoma had several tornados the night before and Congressman Wilson had taken an early morning flight to Stillwater and she was making up an excuse and taking the day off. And it had still only been fifteen minutes and she was beginning to think the day would never end.

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She sat numbly in the cab, much the way she had on the airplane, the entire way to her parents' house. She hadn't eaten a thing all day; she'd gone from not being hungry to not sure she'd keep anything down to simply not having the strength, but she knew her mom would take care of that and she was almost looking forward to it. When the cab dropped her off, she paid the driver and grabbed her duffel bag before taking a deep breath and walking up the driveway to the sidewalk to the door. She still had a key, but by the time she dug it out from her purse, her mom had opened the door and was smiling at her like she understood completely. Donna doubted she did, but the smile was comforting nonetheless.

She held the door open farther and Donna walked inside, dropping the bag by the stairs and all but collapsing into her mother's arms. "I made up your bed for you, if you're tired," she said a minute later.

"You knew I was coming?" Donna asked unsurprised, pulling back and looking at her mother.

"Just in case," she said with another of her knowing smiles.

Donna had called her that morning, once she had the tears under control. It had turned out to be pointless, because as soon as she heard her mother's voice, she'd started crying again. By that afternoon, she found herself driving to the airport and using her charge card, something she never did, to purchase a plane ticket home.

Her dad came home from work not long after, and Donna could tell by looking at him that he knew something was going on but had no idea what it was and she wondered not for the first time if he ever felt left out of her and her mother's relationship. Still, he hugged her tightly and during dinner, asked her a thousand questions about work and the promotion while she put on her bravest smile and pretended life was perfect. After dinner, she heard her parents talking and not long after, her father was leaving to play an impromptu game of poker with the guys.

She and her mother hadn't discussed anything yet, other than the few details Donna had been able to get out on the phone that morning, and even as they did the dishes side by side, her mother didn't say anything about Josh. Donna knew she wouldn't; she'd wait until Donna brought it up, regardless of how long it took. It was that patience that made her feel the safest, that patience that had always told her she could tell her mother anything.

They finished the dishes and drove down to the Chocolate Shoppe Ice Cream on Daniels for some Door County Cherry ice cream with whipped cream and chocolate sauce on the side. It had been Donna's favorite since she was a kid, and only available in the summer, and they sat outside at a picnic table and ate it while her mom talked about the neighbors and her father's newly formed habit of falling asleep on the couch while watching the news at night.

It was on the way home, when the car was quiet and the sun had finally set, the darkness giving her that extra security she hadn't realized she needed, when she quietly said, "I've been thinking of moving home."

Her mother kept driving, and it was quiet for so long that Donna thought maybe she hadn't heard her. But after what felt like minutes, and without taking her eyes off the road, she spoke. "You've been thinking about it…" she said, stressing the 'been'.

"Yes," Donna lied.

Her mom nodded and the car went silent again. "You're not happy in DC?"

"Not anymore," she whispered, wiping away a lone tear that slid down her cheek.

"Not since this morning," she replied as fact.

Donna looked out the window for several seconds then continued, ignoring her mom's last statement. "I'd have to do it soon. Fall semester starts in four weeks."

"You'd transfer to UW?"

"UW has a good law school."

Her mom pulled into the driveway and put the car into park, then stared at the steering wheel for several seconds while Donna stared at her hands folded neatly on her lap. She suddenly felt like she was ten years old again, asking her mom for permission to do the unthinkable. "So you're going to leave the school you love and the job of your dreams so you can run away from Josh Lyman again?" She pulled the keys out of the ignition and opened her door. "Honestly Donna, I never knew you were such a coward."

The door shut then, but it might as well have been a slap in the face. Her mother had never spoken to her like that and Donna found herself frozen in place as anger and betrayal washed over her. And then she was throwing open the car door, getting out and slamming it behind her before storming up to the condo and doing the same to the door there. "I didn't run away from Josh today!" she yelled as she faced her mother in the foyer. "I said hello and he didn't recognize me!"

"So you got on the next plane," her mother replied calmly while checking the answering machine for messages. "Willing to give up your life again for some guy."

"Moving back is not giving up my life! It's just…"

"Giving up the life you want," her mother cut in and finished before turning around and looking at her. "And this isn't a hiding place."

But it was home, it was her shelter, and for the first time ever, it felt like her mom was taking that shelter away. "So I'm just supposed to stay there and let my heart break over and over?"

He mother half rolled her eyes. "You're not the first person who's had a broken heart, Donna."

Donna looked at her mother in utter disbelief. "You're talking to me about broken hearts? Really? When you wake up in the middle of the night and the love of your life isn't next to you, all you have to do is come and get him off the fucking couch! Don't talk to me about broken hearts! You have no idea what I go through every day!" She'd never sworn at her mother before, and before that very second she would've said that she never would. But until that day, she would've sworn her mother was always on her side.

The last sentence hung there for several seconds before her mother turned around and pretended to sort mail. "Well, maybe now that he's proven himself to be imperfect, you can stop being the martyr," she said casually. Donna stood staring at her, unable to even fathom this happening, and her mom turned around again and looked at her expectantly. "I mean, that's why you're upset, right? The perfect Josh Lyman, the man no other can live up to, didn't remember you. How dare he?"

"Shut-up! Just shut-up! You don't know anything about him!"

Her mom nodded slightly. "It's been four years, Donna. Neither do you."

Donna gasped and closed her eyes, trying to control her breathing and shaking, not opening them again until the thick layer of silence in the room was overpowering. She looked off towards the stares and spoke with a hoarse voice. "I'm going to bed." Her mom didn't say anything, didn't try to stop her, just let her go, and she climbed the steps slowly and walked down the small hallway to her room, closing the door behind her.

According to the clock, it wasn't quite ten, eleven in DC. She hadn't been to bed that early in years but she was suddenly exhausted and went into her bathroom and took out her contacts and put her hair into a sloppy ponytail before brushing her teeth and washing her face. She heard her mother walking down the hall while she was slipping into a pair of pajamas from her old dresser and she thought maybe she'd come in and apologize, but she passed Donna's room and a second later she heard the door close to her parents' bedroom. She stood there staring at her own door for a moment longer, then turned off the light and crawled between the blankets, staring up at the ceiling.

She lay there in the blackness of the room for minutes, maybe hours, she wasn't sure. Time seemed to be pushing together and swallowing her up as she tried to process what had just happened. Had she really just told her mother to shut-up? Had her mother really just acted as though her feelings for Josh were nothing? Tears started falling again, different from the morning tears, although she couldn't pinpoint how exactly. This was supposed to be her safe place. Her mother was supposed to be the one she could always turn to. She wasn't supposed to calmly berate her as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Was it possible that she never understood? That she was never on Donna's side? That Donna had always been completely alone in this? Or had she just grown sick of it after four years? Sick of the tears, of the ups and downs, the almosts when it came to getting over him. Donna sighed; she certainly had.

But that didn't mean her mother got to put down Josh. Josh who watched out for her and took care of her. Who made sure she had a place to sleep and food to eat. Who taught her and teased her and let her argue with him. Who showed her what she wanted to be and the kind of man she wanted to be with. Who changed her life completely.

And then forgot her.

She rolled onto her side in the dark room cried harder, feeling stupid and naive. She'd said it a hundred times. 'He probably doesn't even remember who I am.' But saying it didn't mean she believed it. She never believed it.

There were footsteps in the hallway; her father home from his poker game. He paused at her door and she tried not to make any sounds, but he must've heard her crying, because a minute later, the door opened and the bed sunk down next to her and her mother was rubbing her back and whispering that it was going to be ok.

"He forgot me," she whispered.

"I know."

"He changed my entire life and doesn't even remember it."

"Yeah."

"How could he do that? How could he forget me like that?" she asked through tears.

"I don't know sweetheart, but it doesn't mean that time never happened. It doesn't erase what you took from it."

She was quiet then, crying for another minute before sitting up and facing her mom. She handed Donna a tissue, who attempted a half-smile and took it from her, wiping her eyes and face while taking a deep breath. "I'm not moving home," she said a little stronger.

Her mom nodded and smiled at her. "I know."

"I love my job. And now that I'm working on legislation I'm bound to see him again, but I'm not going to throw away my career to keep that from happening."

Her mom smiled slightly, putting her palm on Donna's cheek. "It'll get easier, you know."

Donna nodded and looked down at the tissue in her hand. "I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"You're entitled," she said with a grin. "Once every 29 years. Which means you have to watch yourself until you're what, 58?"

Donna laughed quietly. "Thank you."

"For what? Being mean and heartless?"

"For saying what I needed to hear."

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Three weeks. She was starting her last year of law school in three weeks. Eight classes left. And the bar, of course, but she was choosing not to worry about that yet. Eight classes. Six really, if she got the ok to use her work at the Council instead of completing two internships over the next two semesters. She had a meeting with her dean that morning to discuss her duties and the Council's work, but it was just a formality. The Children's Right's Council was well known and well respected.

With the internship out of her way, she'd have only six classes remaining, only three each semester, which was a minor miracle in itself. 'Child, Parent, and the State,' 'Juveniles and the Courts,' 'Child Immigration and National Law,' 'Sexuality, Gender and the Law,' 'Legislation Drafting III,' and 'Higher Education Law and Policy.' Two semesters, fifteen weeks each. She'd be a lawyer in nine months.

She wasn't going into work until after her meeting on the law campus, which was at nine. So after a longer than usual stop at the Baked and Wired, her absolute favorite thing about living in Georgetown, she drove toGrace's Custom Cleaners to pick up some dry cleaning that had been there since she'd flown home to see her parents the week before.

Finding a parking place a few blocks away, she grabbed her ticket out of her purse and walked inside. Grace, who she presumed was the owner, although the cleaners was on Grace Street NW, so she couldn't be sure, was finishing up with a customer and smiled at her before another worker came out and took the ticket from Donna.

While waiting, which she'd learned from two previous visits could take a while, she looked at the bulletin board on the wall and skimmed over ads for babysitters, dog walkers, used cars and similar things. The door opened and closed, the man who was there when she walked in leaving, and a moment later the worker came back out with two large bundles of clothing on hangers and in plastic.

She looked at the clothes and back at the woman with large eyes. "Those aren't mine."

"They aren't?"

Donna smiled politely and shook her head. "No."

The woman looked at the tag she'd taken from Donna and compared it to the tag stapled to one of the plastic bags. "The numbers match."

Donna lookedat the tags herself. The one stapled to the bag said Grostefon on it, and she looked back at the woman. "There must've been a mix up. My name's Moss. Donna Moss."

"Oh… kay…" the woman said reluctantly, disappearing again into the back room and leaving Donna alone to read the bulletin board again. The door opened and closed a minute later and she glanced over and froze.

He walked in wearing a tan suit that made him look absolutely incredible, and she was in an instant more turned on than she'd been in four years. He didn't noticed her there, not until he saidhello toGrace and then happened to glance in her direction, their eyes meeting and locking, and it was as if she'd gone back in time to unexplained looks and floating on air. She wondered if he could see that she was shaking.

"How are you this morning, Mr. Lyman?" Grace asked.

"Good," he answered, still looking at Donna. There was shock on his face, and she almost dared to hope that he did remember her after all. That he'd gone to work that day and at some point it had just dawned on him. But she couldn't hope. She couldn't let herself get sucked into that again. It would only lead to more pain when she found out she was wrong, and she suddenly wished he'd turn around and look at Grace, because she knew from years past that she wouldn't, couldn't be the one to turn away first.

"I'll get your things and be right back."

And then he did turn to look at Grace and said thanks and Donna closed her eyes for a second and swallowed heavily before turning and looking straight ahead towards the back room as Grace left. And then, as if it was normal, as if it wouldn't serve to further shred her heart, they were alone.

She didn't say anything. There was absolutely no way she was going to put herself into the position of being dismissed by him again. He didn't know who she was, a fact she didn't need to be reminded of, so she stared straight ahead, and so did he, and the silence became thick and uncomfortable and stifling, and she wondered if he felt it too. "It always takes them forever to find things back there."

His voice in the silence surprised her, but after a few seconds she managed a chuckle. "I've only been here a few times, but I've noticed," she said in a voice that she hoped sounded casual. She kept her eyes ahead, but took a deep breath and congratulated herself for not fainting.

He didn't say anything else, and after a several seconds she found herself biting her lip and wondering if she should risk saying anything else. "They do a great job, though," she said quietly.

"Yeah," he mumbled, and she braced herself and stole a glance at him reading something on the counter, paying no attention to her at all, and she wondered how it was so easy for him to do. A moment later, he stood upright again. "Yeah."

"So," she said as casually as possible, hoping he couldn't hear the fear in her voice. "How's the campaign going?"

He turned towards her then, and for a second he looked like he was going to tell her to leave him the hell alone and let him wait for his dry cleaning in peace, and it startled her because he'd never looked at her like that before. But then his eyes softened and he smiled, not enough to bring out his dimples, but it wasn't the fake smile he'd given her at the Shell, so it was enough . "Well, thanks."

She nodded and tried to relax into this small-talk they'd somehow forced themselves and each other into. "It must be going well if you have time to pick up your own dry cleaning."

"Here you go Mr. Lyman. Medium starch, just like you like it."

He continued looking at her for a second before turning to Grace. "Thanks Grace. Charge my account."

He looked back at her with a strange look on his face, like he was trying to figure something out, but then turned and walked towards the door and she bit her lip and reminded herself that this was going to happen from time to time. She was going to run into him and her mother was right, she wasn't going to be able to get on a plane each time she did.

Time seemed to move slowly as he walked the ten feet to the door, and she couldn't help turning and watching him leave, just in case… Just in case she didn't run into him after that. Just in case it was the last time. "Do good Josh," she whispered to herself as he pushed the door open.

And then the most amazing thing happened. He stopped walking and looked back at her, and with a small smile she was sure she'd seen in a thousand dreams, he thanked her. But it wasn't the thanks or the smile or the way the sun shone in from the open door and kind of pooled around him that made her smile larger than she had in four years. That had her smiling even as the woman finally returned with her clothes listed under the name Donald Mosh, or even hours later as she tried to concentrate on the bill she was working on for children with special needs. It was what he said after the thanks. Because after he said thanks, he said her name.