Donna's fingers tap on the counter, her nails looking bare after taking the polish off just this morning. The faintest hint of burgundy still lingers, staining her with remnants of herself, peeking through to the character she was mentally preparing to inhabit for several nights.
She's so jittery from the anticipation of tonight, she can barely focus on her work. Her manager has already had to get onto her several times this morning, much to her annoyance. She's flustered, and excited, and hoping that this will finally be the catalyst to get her out of here for good.
Working that morning hadn't been the plan, she'd wanted to take off, spend the morning getting in the right headspace, trying to relax. But she knew she wouldn't make rent that month if she didn't pick up the hours that morning, so here she was. Counting down the minutes until she would finally get to be where she truly felt herself. On stage, pretending to be someone else.
They always said that if you do something you love, it'll never feel like work, and for her, that was acting. She'd always loved to perform as a child, and sure, the praise and accolades were nice. But she never could quite describe what it was like to inhabit a character so fully, that suddenly your problems dissipated, to feel so consumed with the emotions of someone else that felt all too familiar, that for however long, you didn't feel so alone, as if it were a shared experience, one that translated to the audience.
"Donna, your lawyer was just seated," her coworker says in passing, rushing to get a tray of drinks.
She glances over at the gift she'd tucked away with her coat, and smiles to herself.
Grabbing it from the shelf, she's careful not mishandle it as she makes her way to Harvey's table.
He looks tense from behind, his shoulders hunched over, and she wonders if maybe her information had been wrong.
Setting the gift in front of him, she can picture the confusion of his face before she comes to face him. But she's shocked to find the scruff from before even more pronounced now, but still unable to hide the confusion blooming across his face at her.
"What's this?" His brow raised at her in a smirk.
"Something for your new office." She answers, as if this was obvious.
He doesn't even act surprised that she knows about him making junior partner, even less surprised that it was her observation about Monica that had been the key to finally getting Hardman out of their lives.
"It's…a plant," his hand reaches out to move it around, studying it.
"It's a cactus," she laughs, before cocking her head to the side. "I figured it would fit your personality. You know, prickly on the outside, arrogant, keeps people at a distance," she gestures with her pen, biting on her lip.
"See, you just get me," he jokes, but she knows that there's truth buried in that statement. Because she does get him.
"I know," she mutters, matter of factly. His gaze unwavering as she stares back at him, watching as his eyes trace over her, studying all the ways in which he could know her.
"So do you have to water the thing?" He asks, breaking their hold and looking back at the cactus in front of him.
"Relax, it's so low maintenance even you can keep it alive," she teases, watching as he tries to avoid touching the needles, eyeing the gift wearily.
"You're going to stick it somewhere and forget all about it, aren't you?"
"No," he answers quickly, her brow raising at his assuredness. "I promise. I will…try." The statement feels loaded, as if it's not the the cactus he's talking about.
"Good, because I've got shows all this weekend, I can't be babysitting a cactus," she winks, the not-so-subtle hints of her upcoming play not lost on him. But he'd never shown up to one, so she wasn't exactly holding her breath that this would be different.
"Oh, is that tonight?" He asks, peering up at her. She narrows her eyes at him. "I'm kidding, you're going to do great."
Her face falls, knowing that when she looks out tonight at the curtain call, she might see her regular, but Harvey won't be someone that she sees in the audience. He never is.
"I mean, not as great as you, Mr. Junior Partner," she nudges him, deflecting her disappointment.
"Thanks to you," he says, and she can tell he means it, like she'd had a hand in his accomplishment.
"Just call me Mrs. Junior Partner," and a flash of something she can't pinpoint crosses her face, before he's laughing.
"You know, actually, don't," she cringes at her slip. "'Starring Donna Paulsen' has a way better ring to it," she grins, and he nods, as if acknowledging that although not even remotely in the same field of work, they both had reason to be proud. Never letting her downplay her own accomplishments, even if he wasn't there to see them.
"We did it."
Donna practically floats into work that morning, her coffee having scalded her mouth, but feeling nothing but the taste of last night on her lips. She finds her fingers tracing over the promise of more.
"You look happy," Harold comments as soon as she walks in, and she feels the heat rising in her, the bloom across her cheeks not even a shade she tries to hide.
"I am," she smiles, shyly, like the words had been hovering on the tip of her tongue for long that they'd become stale. But she was, for the first time in so long.
"Good night?" He asks, filling up some drinks that he was likely to spill as soon as he picked up his tray. But he seems genuinely interested in her answer.
"It was," she smirks, hiding behind her curls. Not wanting to go into the details with the guy she's caught gossiping with absolutely everyone. But it was oddly comforting to know that at least someone at work was able to acknowledge that they noticed her.
She checks her phone, seeing no new messages, despite leaving Rachel a voicemail on her way in that she thought would warrant an immediate call back with her screeching friend on the other end. But nothing.
"Do you need help?" She asks Harold, his glasses balancing precariously on the tray he's attempting to lift above his head.
"Nah, I got this," he says, shakily making his way to his table, and Donna laughs to herself.
She makes her way through her shift, a smile plastered onto her face, the jokes and pleasantries coming more easily to her when she was in a good mood. The glow from this morning still painted onto her face when she goes on her break.
Pulling her phone out, she still finds it empty of messages, but she figures that everyone is busy working on the case that had seemed to consume Harvey this week. It wasn't the first time she'd seen him throw himself into a case, and she knew he wasn't one for texts, barely checking his phone as it was, so she wasn't too worried. But she quickly sent one off to him.
See you tonight?
She'd tried reading her book, but found her mind wandering off mid-sentence, rereading the same line over and over and retaining absolutely nothing. Her mind instead choosing to replay a stream of moments in her mind until they permeated every part of her. A lovely sort of reverie that had her feeling that fate had aligned all the moments before to culminate into the sensation of a deeper truth.
Her fingers tracing over the handwriting on the piece of paper she'd tucked into her pocket. The lines of the letters curving with her, their indentation engraved into the grooves of her fingertips. Silent promises etched into words that felt like the beginning of everything.
By the time she's finally ready to grab her things and leave, she's thankful she didn't have to close tonight, instead being cut early. She steps out onto the sidewalk, the heat from the day still clinging to the night. The humidity catching her curls, and shrinking them until they stick against her neck.
When she looks up, she sees a familiar car parked outside her building, with its occupant leaning against the door.
A smile immediately adorns her face, her steps hurried to get to him.
"Hey, you," she stops in front of him, moving to playfully straighten his tie. But he doesn't smile back. Instead, pulling away from her, straightening himself, before pushing off the car.
Donna takes a step back.
"What's wrong?" She asks, her face falling for the first time today, a worried frown quickly taking the place of the smile that had once made it itself comfortable.
It's only then that she notices he's carrying a file with him. She can feel her heart sink at the look in his eyes, the brown lost to the black that threatens to take over. The fantasy of what tonight would be sinks with her shoulders, and remains to be just that, a dream that never seems to come to fruition. Her lip quivers, but she bites it to maintain some control.
He holds out the file to her, and she reaches for it with a shaking hand. Her cinnamon nail polish shimmering in the streetlight, the abundance of sweetness turning to a bitter taste sprinkling over his words.
"Donna, what did you do?"
