Part 6: The Anecdotes
Washington, D.C.
Jed Bartlet has spent the last fifteen minutes ranting about his staff. Josh did this, Sam said that, CJ went here, Debbie was there. Dr. Adams has been patient, occasionally even smiling and nodding as if he understood the pressures of daily life in the west wing of the White House. He waits for the President to move on to things slightly more substantial. He often begins his sessions speaking of inconsequential things. It is his way of easing into it, convincing himself that it's okay to speak freely to this doctor. Dr. Adams is not the enemy. On the contrary, he is the key to that unlocks the door to the only room Jed wants to be in.
Abruptly bringing Dr. Adams back into focus, the President changes his topic. Clearly, his pre-session rambling has finished and he is ready to move on. And thank God.
"You know what I was thinking about today?" Jed asks.
Dr. Adams sits up straight, with his pencil positioned over his notebook, ready to write at any given moment.
"What"
"A few yeas back, Abbey and I took a quick vacation, maybe three or four days, to Florida. Congress wasn't in session, and no major crises had befallen us, so we jetted off to West Palm Beach for a few days. On our way to the hotel, we're driving with the motorcade, and of course the whole street had to be blocked off and such. And Abbey says to me, 'I feel awful that we're blockinf off this entire street. Think of all the lives we're distrupting. Ambulances have to be re-routed, buses, taxis. Right now, a man is rushing his pregnant wife to the hospital so she can give birth to their first child Now it's gonna take him ten extra minutes to get there.' And I said, 'Well, it's that, or someone trying to blow us up. You choose.' And she said, 'Jed, you really think that poor expectant father is plotting our demise"
Dr. Adams smiles, pleased that the President has opted to share something like that with him.
"What made you think of that"
He shrugs, dismissively.
"I don't know. Just popped into my head this morning"
"It's a good story," Dr. Adams comments.
"It is. Especially when you know the rest"
"There's more"
"That night at the hotel, we were in bed watching Leno. There was a group of kids, teenagers probably, laughing outside, at least ten stories down. It got to the point where we couldn't hear. And when you get to the point where you can't hear a voice like Jay Leno's, you know you've got a problem. And Jay was talking, making a joke I'm sure, about cocaine. So Abbey's frustrated, gets out of bed, and opens the window. She sticks her head out and shouts 'Hey! Hey, you kids! The President of the United States is up here trying to hear Jay Leno talk about crack, so shut up"
As much as Dr. Adams tries, to the very best of his abilities, to hold in his laughter and be completely indifferent to what he has just been told, it seems impossible. He bursts out laughing, dropping his pencil on the floor. Jed leans over and picks it up, handing it to him.
"Oh. Thank you, sir," Dr. Adams says, between fits of involuntary laughter.
"You're very welcome," Jed replies, laughing considerably himself.
"Did they listen"
"Who"
"The riotous teenagers"
"Oh, yeah. My wife is very intimidating you know"
The smile on Dr. Adams' face fades as he returns to the original purpose of te session, which doesn't include laughing.
"Have you been remembering a lot of anecdotes like that lately"
"Yeah, actually," Jed replies, thoughtfully.
"Anything else that stood out"
He thinks for a moment, allowing all the thoughts that had passed through his mind that day to take another trip through.
"There was a DAR function last night. Abbey used to hate being in the DAR"
"Used to"
"Well, I guess she still does"
"Sometimes you refer to your wife in past tense," Dr. Adams observes.
"Do I"
"Occasionally, yes"
"Hmm. Well, anyway. I remembered how Abbey hated the DAR"
Dr. Adams sighs and leans back in his chair. Clearly the President is not interested in discussing his astute observation.
"Why was she in it"
"Family tradition. Her mother hated it too, but it was legacy thing they had going on. Abbey never planned on joining, but then her mother died, when she was seventeen. Her older sister loathed the DAR and her little sister was just too young. So Abbey didi t. Now Zoey's a member, carrying on the legacy"
"Why did they hate it"
"It's full of hoity-toities. Snobs. Abbey called them the Ladies Who Lunch. Now she's their most important member," Jed says.
"Why's that"
"Oh, I don't know, maybe because now she's the most influential woman in America." He grins. "A few months ago, they tried to kick her out, or something, because her qualifying ancestor was a pirate. Well, pirate, privateer, whatever. I think they were just looking for publicity by stirring up trouble myself"
"What happened"
"It's never been entirely clear to me. Something about Francis Scott Key"
Jed laughs then, quite suddenly.
"What?" Dr. Adams asks.
"I was just thinking about how…she used to confuse the hell outta me. I knew her better than anyone in the world, and yet there were still times when I had no earthly idea what she was talking about. Which was good. She kept me on my toes. Never a dull moment when she was around"
"You're speaking about her in the past tense again"
"Yeah," Jed replies, disinterested, and then laughs yet again. "Once, Abbey and I went to Parents' Night at Ellie's school. She must have been in the four grade. We had her in private school that year, to see if she'd react to the atmosphere better. Ellie was always very shy, very introverted and studious. This school was the most elite in the area, and the mothers were all part of the DAR crowd, the stay-at-home type, and the fathers all belonged to some hunting club. You know, that kind of thing. Abbey and I arrived late, because we'd just come from Parents' Night at the high school for Liz. We walked into the classroom, and suddenly all eyes were on us. And there was only one seat open. I told her to sit down, and I'd stand. And she said 'Don't be silly, Jed. Why should you have to stand when I can just sit on your lap?' So, that's exactly what we did. She sat on my lap, and immediately the women started whispering. Then, I guess Abbey's skirt must have inched up a little when she sat, because the eyes of all the men in the room instantly became fixated on her, which only made the women angier, and their whispers louder.
See, Abbey was really…not welcome with these women. They despised everything about her. She scandalized them. Not only was she a doctor, and therefore not a housewife or soccer mom, but she was a doctor who liked to…strut her stuff, if you know what I mean. They saw her as a sort of…rebellious sex kitten feminista. I had husbands approach me all the time saying they admired me for putting up with her. And I'd say I admired them for putting up with such stuck-up, boring, frigid bitches. Anyway, at this particular meeting, they were giving her a hard time. So eventually, she'd had it. She stood up and put them all in their place. She siad, 'Yes, ladies, it's true. I do have legs, and I have no problem showing them off. Maybe if you did the same, your husband wouldn't have to drool over mine! And so I'm comfortable enough to sit on my husband's lap in public. I think the real question is, why aren't you? So why don't you stop scrutinizing my life for five minute and take a look at your own!' I was so proud of her that night. In fact, I wanted to jump her right there. But I figured that'd just make things worse"
Washington, D.C.
"I've been seeing a lot of you," Dr. Moran comments, studying her patient meticulously. "Not that I mind the extra cash, but I'm just curious"
"I've been feeling charitable," Dr. Millicent Griffith replies. "I enjoy writing checks. It relaxes me"
"I like receiving checks. Relaxes me too"
"Glad to hear it"
"Are you going to tell me the real reason or are we going to beat around the bush for the next few weeks?" Dr. Moran questions.
"I don't know. I'm thinking that after three years of picking apart my brain, you should be able to read my mind as well"
"Well, for that, I charge extra"
"All right, all right. I'll talk," Millie concedes.
"Sense or sarcasm"
Dr. Moran has been doing this dance with Millicent Griffith for years now. She doesn't miss a beat. On a good day, she can interpret Millie's every twitch and blink. Some sessions, they don't exchange more than ten words. Dr. Moran doesn't need to hear her speak to know what she's feeling.
"Sense"
Dr. Moran raises an eyebrow, a gesture full of skepticism and doubt.
"By all means"
"You have to promise not to fly off the handle when I tell you this," Millie says.
"I'm your psychiatrist. You could tell me you killed a guy and I wouldn't fly off the handle"
"Yeah, you're right. I don't think you have it in you"
"You were saying"
"Right. I have an announcement to make"
"This oughtta be good," Dr. Moran smirks.
"Damn right it is. I'm just going to come out and say it. Plain and simple. I've been having an affair with Leo"
Dr. Moran does a double take, not fully comprehending the weight of her patient's words.
"Leo…McGarry"
"Yes," Millie answers, calm, cool, and collected, for once.
"Leo…the President's Chief of Staff McGarry"
"Yes"
"You're sleeping with him"
"Yes, I am. I am sleeping with him, damnit"
"Well…oh"
"Oh, indeed," Millie says.
"When did this start"
"A month or so ago"
"What do the Bartlets have to say about this?" Dr. Moran asks.
"Jed's all right with it. Abbey doesn't know"
"She doesn't know"
"She doesn't know"
"You don't think you should tell her"
"Oh, I know I should. But that doesn't mean I'm going to. At least…not yet."
Jed Bartlet has spent the last fifteen minutes ranting about his staff. Josh did this, Sam said that, CJ went here, Debbie was there. Dr. Adams has been patient, occasionally even smiling and nodding as if he understood the pressures of daily life in the west wing of the White House. He waits for the President to move on to things slightly more substantial. He often begins his sessions speaking of inconsequential things. It is his way of easing into it, convincing himself that it's okay to speak freely to this doctor. Dr. Adams is not the enemy. On the contrary, he is the key to that unlocks the door to the only room Jed wants to be in.
Abruptly bringing Dr. Adams back into focus, the President changes his topic. Clearly, his pre-session rambling has finished and he is ready to move on. And thank God.
"You know what I was thinking about today?" Jed asks.
Dr. Adams sits up straight, with his pencil positioned over his notebook, ready to write at any given moment.
"What"
"A few yeas back, Abbey and I took a quick vacation, maybe three or four days, to Florida. Congress wasn't in session, and no major crises had befallen us, so we jetted off to West Palm Beach for a few days. On our way to the hotel, we're driving with the motorcade, and of course the whole street had to be blocked off and such. And Abbey says to me, 'I feel awful that we're blockinf off this entire street. Think of all the lives we're distrupting. Ambulances have to be re-routed, buses, taxis. Right now, a man is rushing his pregnant wife to the hospital so she can give birth to their first child Now it's gonna take him ten extra minutes to get there.' And I said, 'Well, it's that, or someone trying to blow us up. You choose.' And she said, 'Jed, you really think that poor expectant father is plotting our demise"
Dr. Adams smiles, pleased that the President has opted to share something like that with him.
"What made you think of that"
He shrugs, dismissively.
"I don't know. Just popped into my head this morning"
"It's a good story," Dr. Adams comments.
"It is. Especially when you know the rest"
"There's more"
"That night at the hotel, we were in bed watching Leno. There was a group of kids, teenagers probably, laughing outside, at least ten stories down. It got to the point where we couldn't hear. And when you get to the point where you can't hear a voice like Jay Leno's, you know you've got a problem. And Jay was talking, making a joke I'm sure, about cocaine. So Abbey's frustrated, gets out of bed, and opens the window. She sticks her head out and shouts 'Hey! Hey, you kids! The President of the United States is up here trying to hear Jay Leno talk about crack, so shut up"
As much as Dr. Adams tries, to the very best of his abilities, to hold in his laughter and be completely indifferent to what he has just been told, it seems impossible. He bursts out laughing, dropping his pencil on the floor. Jed leans over and picks it up, handing it to him.
"Oh. Thank you, sir," Dr. Adams says, between fits of involuntary laughter.
"You're very welcome," Jed replies, laughing considerably himself.
"Did they listen"
"Who"
"The riotous teenagers"
"Oh, yeah. My wife is very intimidating you know"
The smile on Dr. Adams' face fades as he returns to the original purpose of te session, which doesn't include laughing.
"Have you been remembering a lot of anecdotes like that lately"
"Yeah, actually," Jed replies, thoughtfully.
"Anything else that stood out"
He thinks for a moment, allowing all the thoughts that had passed through his mind that day to take another trip through.
"There was a DAR function last night. Abbey used to hate being in the DAR"
"Used to"
"Well, I guess she still does"
"Sometimes you refer to your wife in past tense," Dr. Adams observes.
"Do I"
"Occasionally, yes"
"Hmm. Well, anyway. I remembered how Abbey hated the DAR"
Dr. Adams sighs and leans back in his chair. Clearly the President is not interested in discussing his astute observation.
"Why was she in it"
"Family tradition. Her mother hated it too, but it was legacy thing they had going on. Abbey never planned on joining, but then her mother died, when she was seventeen. Her older sister loathed the DAR and her little sister was just too young. So Abbey didi t. Now Zoey's a member, carrying on the legacy"
"Why did they hate it"
"It's full of hoity-toities. Snobs. Abbey called them the Ladies Who Lunch. Now she's their most important member," Jed says.
"Why's that"
"Oh, I don't know, maybe because now she's the most influential woman in America." He grins. "A few months ago, they tried to kick her out, or something, because her qualifying ancestor was a pirate. Well, pirate, privateer, whatever. I think they were just looking for publicity by stirring up trouble myself"
"What happened"
"It's never been entirely clear to me. Something about Francis Scott Key"
Jed laughs then, quite suddenly.
"What?" Dr. Adams asks.
"I was just thinking about how…she used to confuse the hell outta me. I knew her better than anyone in the world, and yet there were still times when I had no earthly idea what she was talking about. Which was good. She kept me on my toes. Never a dull moment when she was around"
"You're speaking about her in the past tense again"
"Yeah," Jed replies, disinterested, and then laughs yet again. "Once, Abbey and I went to Parents' Night at Ellie's school. She must have been in the four grade. We had her in private school that year, to see if she'd react to the atmosphere better. Ellie was always very shy, very introverted and studious. This school was the most elite in the area, and the mothers were all part of the DAR crowd, the stay-at-home type, and the fathers all belonged to some hunting club. You know, that kind of thing. Abbey and I arrived late, because we'd just come from Parents' Night at the high school for Liz. We walked into the classroom, and suddenly all eyes were on us. And there was only one seat open. I told her to sit down, and I'd stand. And she said 'Don't be silly, Jed. Why should you have to stand when I can just sit on your lap?' So, that's exactly what we did. She sat on my lap, and immediately the women started whispering. Then, I guess Abbey's skirt must have inched up a little when she sat, because the eyes of all the men in the room instantly became fixated on her, which only made the women angier, and their whispers louder.
See, Abbey was really…not welcome with these women. They despised everything about her. She scandalized them. Not only was she a doctor, and therefore not a housewife or soccer mom, but she was a doctor who liked to…strut her stuff, if you know what I mean. They saw her as a sort of…rebellious sex kitten feminista. I had husbands approach me all the time saying they admired me for putting up with her. And I'd say I admired them for putting up with such stuck-up, boring, frigid bitches. Anyway, at this particular meeting, they were giving her a hard time. So eventually, she'd had it. She stood up and put them all in their place. She siad, 'Yes, ladies, it's true. I do have legs, and I have no problem showing them off. Maybe if you did the same, your husband wouldn't have to drool over mine! And so I'm comfortable enough to sit on my husband's lap in public. I think the real question is, why aren't you? So why don't you stop scrutinizing my life for five minute and take a look at your own!' I was so proud of her that night. In fact, I wanted to jump her right there. But I figured that'd just make things worse"
Washington, D.C.
"I've been seeing a lot of you," Dr. Moran comments, studying her patient meticulously. "Not that I mind the extra cash, but I'm just curious"
"I've been feeling charitable," Dr. Millicent Griffith replies. "I enjoy writing checks. It relaxes me"
"I like receiving checks. Relaxes me too"
"Glad to hear it"
"Are you going to tell me the real reason or are we going to beat around the bush for the next few weeks?" Dr. Moran questions.
"I don't know. I'm thinking that after three years of picking apart my brain, you should be able to read my mind as well"
"Well, for that, I charge extra"
"All right, all right. I'll talk," Millie concedes.
"Sense or sarcasm"
Dr. Moran has been doing this dance with Millicent Griffith for years now. She doesn't miss a beat. On a good day, she can interpret Millie's every twitch and blink. Some sessions, they don't exchange more than ten words. Dr. Moran doesn't need to hear her speak to know what she's feeling.
"Sense"
Dr. Moran raises an eyebrow, a gesture full of skepticism and doubt.
"By all means"
"You have to promise not to fly off the handle when I tell you this," Millie says.
"I'm your psychiatrist. You could tell me you killed a guy and I wouldn't fly off the handle"
"Yeah, you're right. I don't think you have it in you"
"You were saying"
"Right. I have an announcement to make"
"This oughtta be good," Dr. Moran smirks.
"Damn right it is. I'm just going to come out and say it. Plain and simple. I've been having an affair with Leo"
Dr. Moran does a double take, not fully comprehending the weight of her patient's words.
"Leo…McGarry"
"Yes," Millie answers, calm, cool, and collected, for once.
"Leo…the President's Chief of Staff McGarry"
"Yes"
"You're sleeping with him"
"Yes, I am. I am sleeping with him, damnit"
"Well…oh"
"Oh, indeed," Millie says.
"When did this start"
"A month or so ago"
"What do the Bartlets have to say about this?" Dr. Moran asks.
"Jed's all right with it. Abbey doesn't know"
"She doesn't know"
"She doesn't know"
"You don't think you should tell her"
"Oh, I know I should. But that doesn't mean I'm going to. At least…not yet."