Title: HEAVEN
AND HELL, "The
Authors: Westwinger247
and Enigmatic Ellie
Webpage: http://wing_nuts.tripod.com
Notes: We’ve changed the title once again.
The Lyman house
August 16th
Donna bustled around the living room, tossing the empty boxes into the hallway. It had been one month since they moved into their new home, and she had done nearly all of the unpacking. Josh had not yet unpacked his home office, claiming that he was busy running the country. Donna had offered and after a heated argument for twenty minutes conceded that Josh’s office was his space, and she would not touch any boxes inside.
Arguments. They had had their share of arguments over the past few weeks – ranging from the way Josh left his dirty clothes on the bathroom floor to his promising to help with the unpacking and arriving home too late to help. Everything he did got under her skin. And they weren’t little arguments between people who were either tired or hungry or busy. They often started that way, but then each seem to blossom into something uglier and colder—the kind that left them answering each other in short, clipped tones for days afterward. Things seemed to be escalating and were heading toward what Donna was now willing to call fights. His cold and dismissive attitude, his reluctance to take even the slightest interest in their new home and his general distance from what she thought was supposed to be a partnership away from the office had him sleeping on the couch more often than not lately. Not that she had seen him in a week. For a variety of reason (all which were logical yet angered her and caused a fight upon Josh’s return all the same) she not permitted to travel with the President and his economic advisors when traveled half way across the world to discuss trade markets. She wasn’t sure why Josh was even needed. The President was an economist and she couldn’t think of anything he could tell the President that the man didn’t already know quite well on his own. Telling Josh precisely that spurred yet another verbal bombardment.
That observation ended in both yelling at each other and Josh leaving for the trip without any attempt at apology. During the five days he was gone, the only thing she heard from him was through email and it was usually a request for information or a task he wanted done. There was no personal phone call—though there were several indications on the caller ID that he had attempted to reach her at home but didn’t bother to leave a message. Just as well, she thought. There was no reason to run up international calling charges just so they could fight when separated by an ocean or two.
So, as August dwindled in the sweltering heat, Donna refused to go to work on a Saturday so that she could finish the tasks of putting order to their house. As she emptied the final boxes, her ire with Josh peaked yet again. She was amazed—usually after the fact—at how quickly her anger burst through the surface. Some of the latest agitation she knew was due in part to the weather. The central air system on the house allegedly worked fine. However, no matter how Donna tried, she could not get it to work for her. Josh--who’s mechanical competency could be typically rivaled only by a three year-old—could dial the proper settings into the system and Poof, instant comfort. Every time Donna touched it, she fouled it up somehow. No matter what she did, one of three things would happen: the system would generate an error and request to be reset; the heat would kick on; or the burglar alarm would go off. Josh had attempted to explain how to work the system to her—insultingly she thought as each time he did it he spoke slower and slower and use smaller and smaller words (though was actually annoyed her most was that despite the simplistic lessons she could still not remember what he told her to do). In fact, she noted, there were a lot of things slipping her memory. She had forgotten her mother’s birthday, two lunch dates with her friend Stephanie and the passwords for her email at work. She was certain her forgetfulness and states of confusion were the effects of the stress at home and the blistering heat that prevented good sleep.
As she wiped sweat from her forehead, the doorbell chimed three times, signaling a visitor. Donna ceased her under the breath cursing of her husband for owning so many books that she never thought he would read ever again and made her way to the front door. The chime started again, followed by rapid knocking. Donna took a deep breath—determined not to snap the head off whomever was intruding upon her afternoon off. With a painted on smile, Donna opened the door.
“Hi!” she said greeting the very first visitor to the house.
Zoey Bartlet pointed an accusing finger at her. “You held out on me!”
“I’m sorry?”
“How could you?” Zoey huffed. “I was in on the whole thing – well, at least a part of it. And I had to hear it at a briefing four months ago!”
“Oh, you mean…” Donna understood and waved her left hand. “Zoey, I’m sorry. I got your message back in May.”
“It was April,” Zoey informed her.
“Yes, April,” Donna shook her head wearily. “I’m sorry. I meant to get in touch with you, but then there was…. I’ve been so busy. And you had graduation and… My life if crazy and I don’t get medication. Do you want to come in?”
“With that kind of an invite, sure,” Zoey nodded. “Am I at least the first visitor to Chez Lyman?”
“Actually, yes,” Donna said, stepping aside and letting her enter while the agents on the detail milled around the perimeter. “Stay here more than an hour and you’ll probably know the place better than Josh does.”
“Ooo, this is your ring?” Zoey grabbed Donna hand as she stepped into the door way then glared at the glittering object. “It’s gorgeous!”
“Yeah,” she said tiredly; she was growing weary of the praise people gave the shiny rocks. They were nice, she agreed, but there were moments lately when she could think of a better way to spend the money—namely socialization and behavioral lessons for her husband.
“Where did he get it?”
“Harry Winston,” Donna said, trying not to sound snotty though she wasn’t sure that was possible considering the acclaimed jeweler. “His grandfather worked with the actual Harry Winston so there’s a family connection to someone there still. I don’t know the whole story. Someone obviously helped him pick it out; Josh isn’t… He’d need help.”
“You got a ring by
Harry Winston, took off for a wedding in
“Would bribery
help?” Donna offered as she headed toward the living room which contained the
last of the unpacked boxes. “I actually
bought you something—compensation for you part in that little scheme—while I was in
“Um,” Donna paused
and tried to cull her thoughts—not an easy process in recent days. Since returning from
“Oh you didn’t have to do that,” Zoey paused then quickly added. “What did you get me?”
“I actually just
came across it today,” Donna said. “I
was going to give it to you when I called you, which as you noted, I
forgot. It’s not much. It’s a pooka
necklace made from shells found on the beach in
“Wow,” she said surveying the smooth shells strung closely together. Then she surveyed the room, observing the few remaining boxes disgorging their contents. “How’s the moving in process?”
“Almost done,” Donna sighed. “I know it’s a big house – and I’m not complaining that it is – but when you’re the only one doing it…”
“Josh isn’t helping, huh?” Zoey concluded. “Well, you sort of had to see that coming. You’ll probably end up divorcing him by Thanksgiving; there’s a betting pool about it, you know.”
“Can I get in on it?”
“Probably,” Zoey said though she did not like the tone in Donna’s voice. It didn’t sound like she was kidding entirely. “So, Josh is not being helpful. Is that why most of these boxes say Josh’s Junk?”
“They’re his,” Donna hissed. “I was going to move them into his office since he doesn’t seem able or interested in doing so. I think it’s mostly just books and stuff—and can you explain why a human being who barely has time to read the headlines in a paper has so many books?”
“I won’t comment on
the books,” Zoey said. “You could build a house out of the ones my
father has back in
“Some of it is old financial record,” Donna continued, not wanting to comment on the President’s fascination with books no one else would likely read even if paid. “I don’t think I realized it before, but Josh is like a closet geek about records. He might even like being audited just to show the IRS that he has all the paperwork they could possibly want.”
“The walls look
pretty bar,” Zoey said swiftly changing subjects from
anything that might bring up the apparently unpleasant topic of Josh. “I was hoping to see some nice shots of
“I actually just dropped off the negatives to get some copies done for my mother,” Donna sighed. “She’s not email competent and can’t open the attachments I’ve sent her so she needs the real thing. The pictures themselves are still in a box upstairs waiting to be put in the beautiful album I got at my shower but which I have no time to put together because I am a house widow.”
“Oh,” Zoey sighed as she peered into Josh’s junk. “I was hoping to see something from your trip or the wedding; maybe some other time.”
“You can’t be half as disappointed as I am,” Donna said dejectedly. “I’ve been going nuts here trying to find the disc with the wedding on it. Josh’s friend Mark filmed the ceremony and sent us it on DVD, but I didn’t get a chance to see it before it got packed. I told him where to put it and he managed to screw that up, too. Now, I can’t find it. I thought I’d come across it by now, but pretty much all that’s left is Josh’s junk. I can’t believe he lost my wedding!”
“Donna,” Zoey said, after rifling through one of the boxes marked Josh’s Junk. “I found a disk here. It says ‘Josh and Donna’s wedding.”
Donna lifted her head out of a box. “What? Really? Where was it?”
“In this box,” Zoey pointed out.
Donna walked over to the box. “1996 Tax Records? I didn’t tell him to put it in this box. Why would he put it there?”
“It’s Josh.”
“But it’s not even my box,” Donna seethed. “I told him to put the disc in a box that goes in the living room. He’s impossible!”
Rather than wait for
a further scathing remark, Zoey took the disc and put
it into the player in the entertainment center.
She turned on the TV and hit play.
Instantly, images of
The picture was stable and clear. The sky was a deep azure. The camera panned the horizon then returned to the outdoor venue looking over the beckoning sea. Josh was in the frame as well, speaking with Mark. He appeared relaxed and almost bored with the afternoon. His demeanor changed quickly several moments later. The expression on his face was the definition of breathless. He appeared entranced and fixated.
The object of his
fascination was shown next as the camera turned to the left. Donna was approaching carrying what appeared
to be lilies. Her dress was born out of
the history of
“Hi,” she said, beaming at Josh as she reached his side.
“You’re a goddess,” he said softly, sending an appreciative pink hue into her cheeks and a glistening of tears to appear in her eyes as he leaned in and kissed her tenderly.
“That’s afterwards,” Mark chided.
“I don’t care,” he stated. “I had to.”
The official began the ceremony and it was apparent neither participant was listening to his words closely as they gazed at each other, possibly not believing what was occurring. When the time came for responses, Mark had to elbow Josh after several seconds of embarrassing silence.
“Josh, your line,” Mark said, trying not to laugh. “He asked if you want to do this. You interested?”
“Okay,” Josh said and nodded. The official shook his head and grinned before continuing over Mark’s observation of “you’re pathetic.”
Donna, however, was more focused on the proceedings by this point. She was practically trembling as she smiled at Josh—her expression saying she agreed with Mark but that she liked her groom that way. The official began this invocation then moved on to his question for Donna.
“Donnatella Moss, do you…”
“Yes,” she said instantly, not letting him finish. “I do.”
The official and the two men facing her smirked as she stared back, unsure what was so funny. Josh, in control of his mental faculties again, stepped in.
“Uh, Donna?”
“What?” she whispered, with puzzlement on her face. “He doesn’t have to ask me twice.”
“Yeah, Donna,” he replied. “He has to ask you once.”
“I was ready is all,” she said in her defense.
“Okay,” Josh said understandingly.
The entire question was asked and Donna responded demurely, as though her aggressive approach of a moment before had not occurred. The rings were exchanged; by then the tears were no longer blistering in Donna’s eyes but flowed gently down her face as she smiled brighter than the sun above.
“Wow,” Zoey said as the ceremony drew to a close. She turned to speak to Donna whose expression matched the digital image of her on the screen. “That was so romantic; I can’t believe Josh was even a part of it.”
“I know,” Donna sniffled and shivered slightly as she watched the kiss fade from the screen. Watching it brought a warm flush to her face.
“Whoa,” Zoey agreed, as she watched their lips part. “Okay, I think I need some water and you should turn the fan on. Wow. Who’d have thought that Josh was so—”
“What was that,” Donna interrupted, pausing the frame and reversing the play several seconds.
“It looked like he….,” Zoey began. “He did. He just rolled his eyes at you. Okay, now I believe that was Josh.”
“Uh,” Donna huffed. “What did he do that for? Right after I turned my back to get my flowers from Mark’s girlfriend, he rolled his eyes at me. My beautiful wedding and he does that!”
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Zoey said helplessly. “Maybe he was just relieved that the…”
“This is why the disc was stuffed in his old tax records,” Donna said, getting up and stabbing her finger at the eject button. “He knew I’d see that. He thought he could hide it. Oh, I don’t think so!”
Zoey
was looking for a polite and quick exit when Josh suddenly entered the house
having finished at the office early. He
was hoping to assist somewhat in Donna’s masochistic effort to bring order to
the house in record time. He hoped that
doing so would at least let him sleep in his own bed again. The couch was turning his spine into a question
mark. He had tried to be home as much as
possible, but Donna seemed to have forgotten that the nation didn’t run on a
set schedule and his job was necessarily linked to that chaos. He was nearly beyond finding reason for her
relentless attacks on him. Outside the
office, she appeared to question every thing he did and search for hidden
motives to accuse him of shirking his duties as her spouse. By the time he found himself trying to
explain why it wasn’t his fault that the President specifically requested he
accompany him to
“Zoey, what kind of trouble are you starting or should I not even ask?” Josh asked as he entered the living room.
Zoey flashed a huge grin, jumped off the couch and hugged Josh.
“Okay, what is she doing?” Josh said cautiously.
“Nothing,” Zoey replied. “I’m just so happy for you two, that’s all.” Then added softly: “Be careful. You’re in trouble.”
“Okay,” he nodded suspiciously.
“Sweep me off to
“I gave at the office,” he smirked.
“So it seems.”
Josh gently pushed Zoey away and took a seat next to Donna. “What are you doing here besides harassing me?”
“I don’t believe you,” Donna accused him.
“What now?” he sighed. “I’ve been here for a total of ten seconds. I can’t possibly have…”
“Well, I see by the hands on my watch,” Zoey interrupted, tapping her naked wrist, “that it’s time to go.”
Zoey waved goodbye to Donna and smacked Josh on his shoulder as she left the house.
“Rule number one,” Josh declared, hoping to bring levity to the situation, “no more Zoey here without warning.”
“I didn’t know she was coming, and I think you need to actually take an active role in living here before you start laying down rules,” Donna said crossly. “Besides, it was a pleasant surprise. I finally had someone other than myself to talk to while I was home. Know what I find interesting?”
“I can categorically say no,” Josh sighed as the throbbing in his temples—the one that seemed to be a constant visitor whenever he was in this house.
“She was more interested in watching our wedding video than you were,” Donna informed him. “Wonder why?”
“I’ve seen it…” Josh paused, and then winced.
“I’m sorry,” Donna said in a calculating manner. He was tired; she could see that from the haggard look on his face. Tripping him up was easy and pleased her. “You what?”
“Nothing,” he said quickly, moving toward the couch.
“Josh.”
“How is it you manage to say my name and it sounds like a curse,” he wondered—not for the first time in the last few weeks. However, as he stare bored into his skull he felt the necessity to defend his action. “I don’t remember rolling my eyes at you. Mark called to say the items were on their way, and he mentioned that I might want to….”
“He told you,” she glared at him. “He told you that you would get in trouble so you watched the wedding – without me – and then promptly hid it in a box that you knew I wouldn’t open because it was yours.”
“That’s not the reason,” he countered.
“Really?” she arched an eyebrow. “Then why did you hide the video in the box marked 1996 Tax Records?!”
“Because it was the nearest box to me,” he said simply.
“Josh…”
“That’s the truth, Donna,” Josh sighed. “You told me to put it in a box.”
“I said put it in a box that’s going in the living room,” she corrected.
“I thought you said put it in a box in the living room,” he replied. “There were twelve boxes in the living room. I put it in the nearest one.”
“Oh,” she replied docilely after a lengthy pause.
“Oh?” Josh asked. “I get Hurricane Donna when I get home and once I tell you the reason all I get is ‘Oh’?”
“I’m sorry,” Donna apologized. “I jumped to a conclusion that I shouldn’t have. I just…I got angry.”
Josh nodded. “You’ve been getting angry a lot lately. It was an honest mistake, Donna. When did you start assuming I was deceitful?”
“I didn’t,” she said, though from her tone it was obvious she had.
“Whatever,” he said, letting the moment pass. He was growing weary of her temper flares. He dropped onto the couch and considered buying stock in the makers of Tyleno as he found getting through a day without it to relieve this newly manifested stress headaches was unusual.
“So why did you do it?” Donna took a seat next to him.
“Do what?” he asked.
“Roll your eyes,” she explained. “Everything was so beautiful. You called me a goddess. And then you roll your eyes after the ceremony was finished. Did it not suit you or something?”
“Donna,” Josh moaned. “I…I rolled my eyes because…I don’t even remember doing it, but I would guess from my expression and how nervous I was, that I did it because I was thankful that my knees didn’t give out; that I was amazed that I was still standing upright. What do you want me to say?”
Donna maneuvered herself onto Josh’s lap and kissed him. “That’ll do.”
Good answer, he said to himself and tried not to show his exasperation over the jarring 180 degree turn her mood had done yet again. He was going to get whiplash if this continued.
****************
The White House
August 20th ,
Charlie closed the door to the Oval Office and proceeded to his desk. He sat down and marked the meeting that was in progress off his schedule and began to gather notes for the President’s next meeting. He glanced up from his work and noticed Toby sitting in the Mural Room reading. Curious, and worried he might have a miscue on his schedule, Charlie approached the speech writer.
“Toby, do you need to speak with the President?” he asked from the doorway.
“No, I do not,” the speechwriter replied as he read. “I’m just reading.”
“Not that it matters right now, but why are you doing it in here?” Charlie continued. “Is there something wrong with your office? I heard Sam has a bee in his office.”
“Yeah,” Toby said, still reading.
“Are you allergic to bees?”
“No,” Toby said. “And for the record, I think Sam is just scared of them rather than allergic to them. I have no proof of that, but he screamed like a little girl with it buzzed around him and I think the allergy thing is just a rouse.”
“Okay,” Charlie said slowly. “So you’re deputy is….”
“I’m on the cusp between the words wuss and sissy, but it’s odds on I’ll go with sissy,” Toby explained as he intently scrutinized the box score from the previous night’s games.
“And you’ve decided to stake out the Mural Room to help you make that cut?”
Toby looked up from his reading. “I haven’t – yet. I’m not going back into my office until…”
Toby paused and a slight pinkness rose in his cheeks that Charlie found curious.
“Until what?” Charlie asked. “Is Sam having the place fummagated?”
“Sam, for once, isn’t the real problem,” Toby said. “It’s estrogen.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Estrogen,” Toby said testily. “The estrogen level in the general nerve center of the communication’s department needs to drop considerably before I can return. I’m waist-deep in it Charlie – waist-deep.”
“Okay,” Charlie sighed, choosing his next words carefully. “Are you avoiding your ex-wife?”
“No,” Toby
answered. “Andy’s nowhere near this building. She’s in
“She’s the keynote speaker at a forum focusing on amending Title IX,” Charlie said, pointing to a headline in the paper laying on the coffee table. “It’s right there on the front page. So, is that why the estrogen level is….”
“No,” Toby replied curtly. “Girls in sports doesn’t involve estrogen. Well, not the kind I’m dealing with today. No, this is the bad kind.”
“There’s bad estrogen?”
“When you have to
wade through it to find out that Wells seven full innings last night and Rivera
held on to send
“Cooing?” Charlie arched an eyebrow. “You know what that word means?”
“I’m a speechwriter, Charlie,” Toby replied. “Of course I know what it means. And knowing what it means gives me ample opportunity to escape from ever having to be witness to it in action.”
Charlie put notes in a folder. “Can’t you hide somewhere else? Like the Situation Room?”
“Surprisingly, Charlie, they won’t let me in,” Toby grumbled. “I’ve been here for half an hour and this is the first time you’ve noticed me. I’m not disturbing anything nor am I needed for anything at the current moment. So I’m taking the time to read the box scores without any interrupt…”
“There you are,” CJ said as she breezed in. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“Apparently not hard enough,” Toby replied. “What do you need?”
“How’s your estrogen level CJ?” Charlie piped in.
“My what?”
“Toby doesn’t need a lot of estrogen around him today,” Charlie smirked. “Apparently he’s had his fill in his office, and he’s on overload.”
CJ grinned. “This has to do with Ginger’s thing, huh?”
Charlie nodded. “Yes. Toby is in anti-cooing mode today. But you don’t have to ask him if he knows the word. He does.”
“Anti-…?” CJ turned to Toby. “Okay, listen Grumpy Dwarf. Your assistant is engaged. Be happy for her and move on. I need a copy of the President’s remarks for the thing next week. So if you could please venture into your office long enough to get me those remarks, my day can go off more pleasantly than having to play detective and track you down.”
“Fine,” Toby sighed as he deposited the newspaper in the trash. “I was done reading anyway.”
“Want me to have the agents do a sweep of your office first?” Charlie offered.
“I don’t like you very much right now.”
***************
The Oval Office
Wednesday,
“Charlie!” Bartlet bellowed.
The young aide entered. “Yes, sir?”
“Am I done?” the president asked, packing his bag.
Charlie checked his PDA. “Yes, sir. You’re all done for the week.”
“Are you sure? I think I have more in me.”
Charlie smiled. “Yes, sir. You’re done.”
“What about you?” Bartlet asked eagerly. “Do you need any help out there? I could be helpful. Maybe do some filing.”
“Filing?” Charlie
asked. “You’re the President of the
“Which hopefully means I know how to alphabetize things or follow a simple numbering convention,” Bartlet argued. “I feel invigorated and I’m eager to dig in and work on something.”
“Josh has projections for the Budget,” Charlie said.
“I said I’m eager, no into self-punishment.,” Bartlet groaned.
“So no Budget?”
“And no Josh,” Bartlet shook his head. “He’s been a tad grumpy lately and when Josh is grumpy he’s no fun. He staffed me all day and didn’t even smirk at one of my jokes.”
“Maybe that’s because he didn’t think any of them were funny,” Charlie offered, trying to be helpful.
“My jokes are always funny,” Bartlet commanded.
“Yes, sir,” Charlie nodded. “Mr. President, there is nothing left on your schedule for the evening. Except…”
“No,” Bartlet said. “I’m not going on.”
“Yes, sir,” Charlie informed him, taking the man’s jacket and holding it out for him. “You’re vacation started an hour ago.”
“That’s not a vacation,” the President said. “That’s confinement at a five-star maximum security detention center.”
“It’s
“Good, you go with my wife and daughters,” Bartlet offered.
“Okay,” Charlie nodded.
“No you don’t,” Bartlet growled. “You think I’m going to let you go there with them, without me, to supervise things?”
“I wasn’t aware I needed supervision,” Charlie said, enjoying his employer’s discomfort.
“It’s more like keeping you all in check,” Bartlet said. “Why should you get to enjoy my vacation?”
“You can enjoy it
to, Mr. President,” Charlie said positively.
“
“It’s punishment,
Charlie,” Bartlet groused. “I wanted to go to my farm—my
own home—for my vacation since our trip to
“They’re testing the electrical lines, sir,” Charlie responded. “From the storm a couple of weeks ago. The Secret Service wants to make sure everything is up and running.”
“I’m still being punished,” the President repeated.
“Yes, sir.”
Bartlet stuffed some folders into his briefcase. “Abbey’s
pissed that she missed the opera in
“I think it will be nice,” Charlie said. “You haven’t seen Ellie or Elizabeth since the Inauguration.”
“Ellie’s bringing that boyfriend of hers,” Bartlet grumbled. “I still don’t like him.”
“Yes, sir,” the aide nodded. “I can see how dating a pediatrician can be a bad thing for Ellie.”
The President glared at him. “You’ll understand someday when you become a father, Charlie. All men are bad for their little girls. That includes you, by the way.”
“Of course, Mr. President,” Charlie smiled. “Mrs. Bartlet said that you are both packed and she is ready to leave at any time. She’d like remind you that the longer you stall the more--.”
Bartlet sighed cutting him off. “Look, is there any way I could order Congress into doing something stupid so I have to stay?”
“They’re still out on summer recess.”
“Where’s Josh?” Bartlet asked in a last ditch effort. “He’s as good at fixing a crisis as causing one; can’t he do something that will….”
“He’s all about the Budget right now, sir,” Charlie said apologetically. “I don’t think he’s leaving his office much.”
“I can’t win.”
****************
Briefing Room
Thursday,
The press milled
around the briefing room as they waited for CJ. It was a relatively light news
day as the President was vacationing at
“I’m telling you,” Kris began, “the Giants are the team to beat this year. Their pitching is solid; their bullpen nearly unbeatable and – oh yes – Barry Bonds plays for them.”
“If they’re so unbeatable,” Bobby argued, “then why have they lost to the Montreal Expos every single time they’ve met?”
Kris shrugged. “The Expos have to win sometime, don’t they?”
Danny joined the group. “What’s going on?”
“Kris seems to think that the Giants have a shot this year,” Bobby explained. “She’s obviously delusional because the Braves will clinch the East in a matter of weeks, and it’s one step closer to the championship.”
“Sure,” Danny nodded. “That is, if you call winning only one world series out of four appearances strength. But who am I to say? The Orioles haven’t exactly been the American League’s version of a powerhouse.”
“They were in the world series last year,” Kris pointed out. “That’s gotta count for something.”
“They got spanked by the Mets,” Bobby reminded her.
“That wasn’t the worst of it,” Danny grumbled.
“Josh?” Kris recalled.
“Who?” Bobby asked.
“Josh Lyman,” Kris elaborated.
“What’s Josh got to do with the Orioles losing?”
“No, it’s the part about the Mets winning that involves him,” Danny said. “Or, so you’d think listening to him, and believe me you don’t want to. He was unbearable last year. Here he was, running a presidential campaign and he still managed to throw in a jab or seven about the series at me—even during an interview. He made this comment about…. Well, it was about my team and curling—you know the thing with the big stone they play on ice?”
“The Canadian thing?”
“Yeah,” Danny said, still mildly insulted even though it had been funny. “I guess you had to be there to fully understand. You know, I could have done something about that. Put in the story.”
“But you didn’t,” Kris reminded him.
“I was hurting because my Orioles were getting spanked,” Danny shrugged.
“Pay back?” Bobby asked.
“Big time,” Danny nodded. “With the Mets in the basement this year, I’m savoring my revenge.”
“You gotta feel bad for Donna,” Bobby observed—still smarting over the abrupt marriage of the blond beauty to Atila the Politician. He was always deeply fond of Donna—and her legs.
“How so?” Danny asked, unaware Donna was a baseball fan.
“She has to put up with him and his grumblings 24 hours a day,” Bobby sighed.
“Not lately,” Kris said.
“How’s that?” Danny asked.
“I heard they’re not speaking to each other,” she said, spreading the gossip she heard over lunch the previous day. “Whirlwind romance is either turning into something like a tornado or just fizzling out entirely.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Danny said.
“It’s what I heard,” Kris said.
“Take your seats,” came Carol’s voice over the speaker. “The briefing will start now.”
“You said you’ve had revenge?” Bobby asked, inwardly pleased to hear the marital news. “What was it?”
“Let’s just say that Josh’s inbox is inundated every so often with articles about curling.”
****************
Thursday,
“Mrs. Bartlet asked me to bring you your coffee,” Charlie said as President Bartlet said on the porch, reading the newspaper.
“Thank you,” the President replied, taking the cup. “She sent you out here, huh?”
“Yes, sir.”
“It’s because she didn’t want to hear me gripe about being here.”
Charlie smirked. “It’s quite possible, sir.”
Bartlet pointed to a chair beside him. “You, however, wouldn’t mind staying with me, would you Charlie?”
“Not at all, sir,” the aide said begrudgingly as he took a seat.
The President returned to his reading. “Here I am, barely into my second term and the media is already trying to choose my successor. They can never be satisfied.”
“No sir,” Charlie nodded as he picked up the sports section. “Give them an inch and they want a mile.”
“That’s cliché but true—I suppose that’s why it’s a cliché,” Bartlet agreed. “I mean, The Washington Post already has a field of three. Now, these two, I think have some merit.”
“Senator Kerry and Congressman Gephardt?”
“I’m not saying I support either, but there’s logic behind those candidacies,” Bartlet said. “But this one? Randall Kyle? I don’t know.”
“Is that the
governor of
Bartlet nodded. “Apparently he gave a speech at the National Governor’s Association that some deemed to be his unofficial declaration of wanting to be president. He can have it now if it gets me out of here.”
Charlie nodded as he continued to read the sports section.
“Josh thinks Kyle could be a serious contender,” Charlie said in the silence.
“How’s that?” the President asked looking over his glasses.
“Josh and Toby were
talking about some polling the DNC did,” Charlie replied. “Toby thinks the Governor of
“Phil Patterson?”
“Yeah, and Josh was more interested in Kyle,” Charlie said.
“Are they looking for a new boss?”
“No, I think they were bemoaning the future of the Democratic Party,” Charlie recalled. “Josh said Kyle is the most likely to get the nod of the early candidates but that he didn’t put much stock in the man’s ability to administer. I’m not sure what he meant, but he seemed to understand so I just nodded.”
“I do that when he speaks a lot, too,” Bartlet confessed. “But that’s mostly because I don’t care.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you know that
three presidents have come from
“I did not,” Charlie replied.
“James Polk, Andrew Jackson – Leo’s favorite – and Andrew Johnson,” Bartlet said.
“Andrew Johnson was impeached,” Charlie pointed out.
The President nodded. “By one vote. Johnson went over to the guy’s house and thanked him. Can you believe that? Walked to the guy’s house and introduced himself. Hi, I’m the President and you saved my sorry… You know, they say things are more civilized today, but I’m not so sure. That’s appreciation and you don’t see that much these days.”
“That might have something to do with the Secret Service,” Charlie offered. “They don’t normally like it when you go door to door.”
“True,” Bartlet agreed. “But Kyle? Josh seriously thinks he’s a contender? The man is just is starting his second term as Governor of North Carolina.”
“Sometimes we elect governors,” Charlie offered.
“He graduated from the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill with a degree in political science and a law degree from Harvard,” Bartlet went through the man’s biography, ignoring his aide’s attempt at funny.
“Good schools,” Charlie noted.
Bartlet glanced at his aide and continued his lesson. “The
“Don’t suppose it was integrated,” Charlie commented.
“I didn’t say it
was perfect,” Bartlet stated. “
Charlie nodded and started his own trivia indulgence.
“During the civil
war,
Bartlet looked at his aide. “How did you know that?”
“
“You did your research,” Bartlet remarked.
“I had game even then.”
There was a small bit of silence as both men continued to read.
“
Charlie nodded. “Which means Charles?”
“Yes,” the President said. “So I’m going to start calling you Carolus.”
“Yes, sir,” Charlie sighed. “Zoey’s expecting me to…”
“What about Zoey?” Bartlet asked, removing his glasses.
“Dad,” Zoey chided as she entered the sunroom. “Are you holding Charlie hostage? We’re supposed to go on a hike.”
Bartlet waved them off. “Go. You’re released, Carolus.”
“Thank you, Mr. President,” Charlie replied as he stood.
“One more thing,” the President said. “Esse Quam Videri.”
“Sir?”
“It means to be rather than to seem,” Bartlet explained. “It’s their state motto.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Charlie said as he escorted Zoey out of the room.
“Charlie,” the President called one final time, summoning his aide back.
“Yes, sir?”
“Notre Dame’s a good school too,” Bartlet returned to his reading. “Randy Kyle. Southern governor as president? Too moderate for my taste.”
****************
CJ’s office
“Hey,” Toby said as he entered CJ’s office. “Nice save with the thing.”
“Thanks,” she replied as she kicked her feet up on her desk. “What are you doing here? I’d thought you’d be locked away with Sam and the speechwriters.”
Toby took a seat
on her couch. “I sent them back to rewrite. It’s like reading a report that was
done in crayon. I swear the only one who’s batting above the
“What did Justice Mendoza do?”
“What?” Toby
asked. “CJ, I’m not talking about Justice Mendoza. I’m talking about the
“I knew that,” she said quickly and then caught Toby’s stare. “Okay, no I don’t.”
“The
“So the writers aren’t working up to par,” CJ concluded.
“They’re not even close,” he grumbled. “If this was spring training, I’d be cutting them.”
“Hey, you know something about baseball,” CJ observed as if just entering the conversation.
“Yeah,” Toby said slowly.
“Some of the reporters were talking about baseball today,” she said. “Something about a giant oriole…”
“A giant oriole?” Toby laughed. “You know nothing about baseball.”
“I… may… know some things about…” she paused. “Yeah, I’m clueless.”
Toby grinned. “Well, at least you came to me. Josh may have tainted your view of baseball, but I can give you facts.”
“Don’t you and
Josh like a
“No, no, no, no,”
Toby corrected. “I like the
“Ah.”
“Out of all the World
Series,” Toby continued, “the Yankees have won 26 – 26! The next closest is
“I’ve heard of them,” CJ replied. “My dad used to watch them with my brothers.”
“And only twice has the World Series not been played,” Toby explained. “In 1904 and 1994.”
“What happened then?” she asked.
“No series in 1994 due to a player’s strike,” Toby said. “In 1904 the National League president didn’t want his team to play against the inferior American League champion Boston Red Sox. It’s the first time I’ve agreed with the National League.”
“Wait,” CJ
exclaimed. “A
“So?”
“Where was your team?” she asked.
“They…decided to take a rest,” Toby explained as he rose from the couch. “I’m going to check on the Peanut Gallery to see if they can form complete sentences.”
As he left, Donna entered, carrying two Styrofoam cartons.
“Here,” she said, giving CJ her salad. CJ tore into it and was startled to see a greasy cheese burger and fries in Donna’s.
“Is that a mistake?” CJ asked.
“Huh? No,” Donna said chomping on the extra rare burger. “I’m starving. I didn’t get breakfast today and I’ll probably work through dinner. I figure Josh can keep going on this junk so I thought I’d try it.”
“He’s a man,” CJ waved off the logic. “They’re not right. They sit in a park and watch other men hit a ball with a stick for a few hours and call it entertainment.”
“Whack a ball?”
“Baseball,” CJ said. “We went to that game tow years ago and it was fun—for like the first few minutes—but after that I gotta tell you, I was bored stiff,” she said, stabbing a tomato. “And they keep all these facts in their heads about the game, but do they remember your birthday? Do they remember to call when they say they will? No.”
Donna said nothing. Her view of men was less than flattering and had nothing to do with the annoying nuances of men’s forgetfulness. It was the insensitive and irresponsible nature that was foremost in her mind. But she wouldn’t let her mind wander there during work. To do so might prompt a scene she knew would be unprofessional. Her fuse for Josh was exceptionally short lately and it took so little to light it. She worked on her heart-attack lunch as CJ continued to ramble about baseball.
“… and he says it
like everyone should know it,” CJ continued.
“I hear
“The cut off point?” Donna asked, catching the end of the discussion. “That’s interesting. Knowing when to say when. Yeah…. Yeah.”
“Donna?” CJ said, waving a hand in front of her face. “Where did you go?”
“No where,” she said and tried to focus on the conversation again.
****************
The Lyman Residence
Saturday
With more than a month behind them in their new house, Donna was liking the home less and less. It was still beautiful and everything she ever dreamed her home would be: spacious, elegant, welcoming. But the atmosphere of those living there was stifling. She had put the home in order—no help or thanks (even his words of thanks didn’t sit well with her so she wasn’t calling them true thanks despite his contention that they were sincere)—except for the room Josh had staked out as a library. She had arranged the house so it seemed that someone lived there, despite their long hours at the White House, but that room remained unconquered territory for her. Finally, Donna had had enough. Josh’s office was never going to get unpacked if left up to him, she decided in a sudden fit of agitation that afternoon. She entered into his home office and began unpacking. If Josh wasn’t going to unpack, she would have to do it for him.
After three hours of solid work, she came to the final box. She opened it and saw several frames stacked neatly against each other. The first few frames contained family photos—his parents with him at his college graduation, a picture of his grandfather and a picture of Noah Lyman with a young Josh.
The last picture Donna pulled out stunned her.
“Her?” she asked aloud. “Why would he keep a picture of her?”
Donna stormed out of the office and down the hallway. She went into the living room and peered out the window. She then glanced at the grandfather clock. Barring anything pressing by Leo, Josh was due home in ten minutes.
I remember telling him to get rid of the picture, she fumed. He doesn’t listen to anything I say!
Donna left the living room and began pacing in the foyer. As the wait grew longer, so did her anger. Flashing headlights in the driveway alerted Donna to Josh’s arrival home. She sat down on the stairs in the hallway, steeling herself.
Josh opened the door and spotted her and her evil expression instantly. “'Sup?”
“Explain this,” Donna demanded,
tossing the frame at him.
Josh dropped his bags and caught the object. “This is a frame. You put pictures in it. Anything else I can help you with?”
“Look at the picture,” she snapped.
Josh looked at the photograph. “This is the one with my face scratched out.”
“I have a mind to do more than that,” Donna snapped. “Why did you keep a picture of her?”
“It's Madeline.”
“Yeah, it's HER.”
“I don't believe it,” he smirked. “You're
jealous.”
“No, I’m asking why my husband keeps
pictures of his scanty and trampy old girlfriends
hidden away in his office,” Donna asked.
“I don’t and you’re jealous,” Josh
stated. “You Donnatella Moss are green with
jealousy. Tell me why. What happened? Did Mandy call or
something?”
Donna stood. “I asked you to do one
thing. ONE. LITTLE. THING. And you ignored it. Why? You
still want her, is that what it is?”
Josh tossed the frame on the bench.
“Wait? What are we talking about now?”
“I asked you to toss that picture
when we moved,” she pointed a finger at him. “I thought you had. Evidently I
was wrong.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking
about,” he shook his head.
“I found it in a box and I said toss it,” she recalled clearly. “You said okay. Then I found it, hidden away with your little treasures.”
“My what?”
“In one of those boxes where you keep your special stuff,” Donna said. “It was on your desk in there.”
“The only box in my desk in there was a box of stuff that I packed the last day that we were at my apartment,” Josh said, his anger at the unprovoked attack rising. “I had a couple books and some pictures that we took down so you’d have room for some of your stuff and….”
“Oh, so you had her picture up at your apartment,” Donna seethed. “Did you put it up after I left each time?”
“Let me finish,” he growled. “And stuff that I had brought home from the office and tossed in a box! This obviously falls in that category. Damn it, Donna! Would you think for once before you decide to convict me of these things?!”
Donna glared back at him. “I found that picture and told you to toss it,” she said. “When I said toss it, I meant in the garbage or in the fireplace, anywhere but IN THE BOX!”
“Well did you specify?” Josh asked.
“Don't get smart with me, Joshua,”
Donna warned.
“You're treating me like an idiot or
worse, an intending adulterer so I think I can pretty much be however I please
right now,” Josh countered.
“I said toss the photo and keep the
frame,” she repeated. “You didn't listen. You never listen.”
Josh nodded. “No.”
“What?”
“I'm agreeing with you in an attempt to
end this discussion because I have a question of my own,” Josh replied.
Donna arched an eyebrow. “And what is
that question?”
Josh pointed to the frame. “What were
you doing in my office unpacking?”
“I was unpacking your office this
afternoon because I was bored,” Donna said.
“One room, Donna,” he sighed. “That's
all I asked. One room that is mine. And
what do you do the first time you're bored?”
“And it is yours,” she replied. “I
was just putting up some photos and trying to make some order in there before
you messed it up again.”
Josh looked at her. “You decided to
bring some order to my space? You went through my things and decided how my
room should look? Am I getting the gist
of this?”
Donna threw up her hands. “You want
it all to yourself, fine. I'll never set foot in your room again, how 'bout
that?”
“Wonderful!” he yelled. “Now, do we
put a chalk mark down the center of every room so I don't step on your side?”
“You are being such an ass,” Donna seethed.
“You're the one who's out of line,”
Josh retorted.
“Me?” she scoffed. “If
you say so.”
Josh stepped forward. “Donna,
whatever the hell your problem is with me or the world or whatever, tell me
what it is now because I don't have the time for this damn rollercoaster you
insist on dragging me along anymore!”
Donna’s face flushed with anger. “Am
I not good enough for you?! You have to keep pictures of your old girlfriends
around to help you remember the times you shared with them? Here, let me call
Amy. She can come over and help you relive the good times.”
“I threw a frame in a box because I
threw everything in a box that day!” he shouted. “You want to accuse me of...
No, you know what? You don't get to accuse me of anything. I had
hoped to come home and have a few peaceful hours. How
stupid of me!”
“Go ahead and fall asleep at your
desk!” Donna roared as Josh picked up his bag. “If you want
to come home, the guest bed's all yours.”
“Your generosity is overwhelming,
Donna,” Josh said. “That must be why I
married you—you’re all heart.”
Donna began to walk up the stairs. “I tell
you what. You can have the master bedroom and I'll take the guest bed. I don't
want to burden you with that inconvenience.
Josh flipped open his cell phone and began dialing. “Don't bother.”
“Who are you calling?”
Josh ignored her. “None of your damn
business,” he said then spoke into his phone.
“Hey, remember what you said about…
Yeah, well, does tonight work?...I know... No, not really… Sure...Give me half and hour...”
Josh shut his phone and said nothing.
He breezed past Donna and took the stairs two at a time. Donna followed him to their
bedroom. He flung the bag of clothes on the bed and opened it.
“What are you doing now?” Donna asked, surprised by his actions. She felt cold and was shivering despite the humidity in the air. She sat on the bed and hugged a pillow to her chest as she watched Josh grab several articles of clothing and put them in the bag.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“You get your wish,” Josh said firmly.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re precious house is all yours,” he said, zipping the bag closed viciously. “I can’t take this anymore so I’m not going to. I’m leaving.”
“Where are you going?” she asked stunned.
“Any place has got to be better than here,” he said cavalierly as he grabbed the bag and headed toward the door..
“So that’s your answer?” she
asked. “Run away the first time you…”
Josh stopped packing. “Donna, it’s
not the first time, but so help, me it will be the last. I am so sick
of being the object of supreme scorn in your world. I don't know what I
did. I've asked and you won't tell me. Know what I realized? I no longer care! I can't stand living like this. I have
a lot going on at work and whatever it is that's going on with you... I don't
have the time or the patience any more.”
“Well it goes both ways,” she argued.
“I'm tired of constantly having to tell you what any responsible adult who
wants to be in a marriage should know.
You know, for someone as smart as you think you are,
you don’t know a lot about the simplest things.
God, you know what, you just…..”
“When did you start to resent me so
much?” Josh asked simply.
“Resent you?” she scoffed. “You think it’s just resent me. I swear sometimes I….”
Josh looked back at her and the anger lines etched deep in her face and the dark circles under her eyes. He could see the word before she snapped it out at him.
“You really do, don’t you?” he asked painfully.
“I hate you,” she sneered, feeling the rage welling in her throat and churning in her stomach so violently she was certain she’d be sick. “I hate you’re superior attitude; always having to be right; all the sarcasm; pretending that I’m the one who’s in the wrong when you know it’s you. You don’t get to manipulate me like some idiot intern.
Josh paused and removed a thin card from his wallet. “Congressman Conroy told me to give this to you,” he said trying to keep the regret from making his voice quaver. “I think it was a joke but hey, who knows... I suppose its time we discuss it. Let me know when you’re ready.”
He flipped the card at her then closed the door behind him. Donna froze as she listened to the door downstairs close as well and heard his car leave the driveway. After several moments of shivering and running the conversation through in her head again, she was aghast at what she had said.
Maybe it wasn’t that bad, she thought. Maybe I just think it was that bad.
As tears started to
well in her eyes out of shame, she picked up the card he left. The tears were on full force as she read the
embossed lettering. It was for a law
firm in
The tears flowed down her face and her body was wracked with sobs. She had crossed the line – couldn’t stop herself from uttering those words. She hugged the pillow to her chest tightly and wanted badly to pull back her words. She wanted to understand why she was so angry with him and why couldn’t explain her feelings to him. She had pushed him out and now he was gone. He was had decided it was over—he had just said as much—and it was her fault. She had pushed him to that.
She continued to cry until there was no saline left in her body. She went down to the kitchen quietly to get something to drink and was startled by the phone. A wave of relief washed over her.
“Josh?” she said hopefully. “I’m sorry.”
“No, little girl,” spoke the voice of her brother. “Not Josh.”
“Ralph?” she sighed disappointedly.
“Yeah, unless someone else calls you little
girl,” he remarked. “Senator
Kennedy maybe?”
“No, nothing that sweet,” Donna
replied. “How are you?”
“Fine until just now,” he said. “I was calling to check on you. You sound awful. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she said smally.
“You've never been a good liar,” he
replied. “It's nice to know exposure to
so many politicians hasn't changed that.
Now, tell me the truth.”
Donna started sniffling again and in a burst
of emotion, told him what was going on up to and including the most recent blow
up. Her older brother paused and made no
comment for several moments as Donna did her best to plead her case for why she
had reacted the way she had. After
several moments of contemplation, he spoke.
“How’s Josh’s ESP?”
“His what?”
“How good are his mind-reading skills?”
Ralph asked.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Donna
said. “Josh isn’t a mind-reader.”
“Then how the hell do you expect him to know
what you’re thinking if you never tell him,” Ralph remarked.
“I do tell him,” she argued. “All the time. And all he does is…”
“No, what you told me is what you shout at
him,” Ralph corrected. “Now, it’s not
like me to side against you with any guy.
God knows isn’t a one of them you dated that I liked. I can’t say I’m too fond of Josh in some
respects—I don’t like the idea of any man having such rights with my baby
sister. But, I gotta
take the man’s perspective here, Donna.
You women do this to us all the time.
We don’t interpret sighs, eyerolls or any of
those other little signals you all think are as obvious as words written in
blazing neon. We don’t work that
way. We’re like the telephone. You can’t just let it ring then do
nothing. Once someone answers, you gotta speak to them or they have no idea what you
want. You’re all about being the ones
who communicate, well, why don’t you ever just say what you mean?”
“Ralph,” Donna sighed. “I’m serious.
This isn’t some battle of the sexes.
I’m not some little girl who is following you around and asking what you
are your buddies do at the lake at night. I want advice. I think… What if we’ve reached the
“What?”
“The
“I know what it is,” he said testily. “Do you?”
“Yes, it’s the point you need to be above or
you get cut,” she said. “Basically.”
“Yeah, but not for one game,” Ralph
said. “If I teach you nothing else in
life, let it be this. Don’t
use sports terms as metaphors unless you know what you’re doing. This is dangerous stuff best left to the
experts. The
“We’re not?”
“Well, you won’t be if you’ll stop doing
what you’re doing,” he said in an exasperated tone. “Isn’t that obvious? Look, Donna. I know you’re not a little girl
anymore. You’re an intelligent
woman. I can’t believe how much you’ve
grown as a person since you left home.
You’ve made a real success of yourself and you did it through hard work
and determination. That’s my advice to
you. Keep that up.”
“Some days, Ralph, I feel like I'm still the
same girl who puts her heart before her head,” Donna wept. “I mean, really, what was I thinking just
hopping on a plain and heading to
“I thought you went with Josh,” Ralph said.
“I did,” she sniffeld. “You
know that he's my boss.”
“No,” Ralph corrected her. “He's your husband.”
“Not lately, he's not,” Donna said. “I thought that... that he... he wouldn't
work as much as he used to. I mean, he has a reason to come home now and it
seems like he stays at the office more than he ever did.”
“When did his job suddenly get easier?”
Ralph asked. “Did they change how the
country works because he has a wife?”
“No,” Donna said, relenting the point
grudgingly.
“So what made you think that?”
She remained silent. She could see the logic in his words and it
galled her. She found herself growing as
angry with her brother as she did with Josh.
That was good and bad, she realized.
Good in that Josh was not the sole object of her scorn, but bad that it
was difficult not hang up on her brother rather than listen to him tell her
things that she knew were true but didn’t want to hear.
“I make an observation?” he asked in her
silence. “I don't know Josh all that
well. I met him briefly in June when we
were in your area for our vacation. But
I know a thing or two about most people after I meet them and shake their hand
and ask them a few questions. So this is
what I know: He's a good guy, Donna, and from what I've seen, things happen
very fast in Josh's world--his working world.
You and I both know that for the most part, it doesn't work that way
with a personal life. And from the other
things I know about him, I guarantee you that you've had more of a chance to be
a human than Josh has—your life was a lot kinder than his was. This guy has been on a treadmill most of his
life; he's a perfectionist in pragmatists clothing. You know more about people and personal relationships
than Josh does; you need to teach him now, not try to change him or force him
to conform.”
“But what if I made a mistake?” she asked. “You
know, just another one of my monumental screwups with
men. You know all my failures; I jumped the gun; I was too eager.”
“Do you love him?”
“I don’t know anymore,” she sniffled. “Some moments I know I do, and other times…”
“Best you find out,” Ralph said.
“How?”
“Same way you got to know him to begin with,”
Ralph said. “Be with him. Only this time, you can’t just work beside
him. You need to sit down with him on
some neutral territory and have this thing out.
Tell him what you’re feeling.
Explain it to him. And let him
explain himself to you. Don’t try and
figure out what he means. Make him tell
you what he means. It’s really not that
hard. Talk to each other.”
“What if he doesn’t want to work things out?”
she asked, devastated by the possibility.
“Only one way to find out,” Ralph informed
her.
“I don't know how,” she said.
“Just call him,” Ralph encouraged her.
“If it’s that easy, why don’t you do it?”
“Because I’m not married to him,” Ralph
said. “I have a crazy wife, thank you
very much. I don’t need two. Makes a man wonder why anyone would be a
polygamist. Masochist is more like it.”
“Ralph,” Donna warned, feeling a diatribe
coming on. “I’m not crazy.”
“Then you can be rational and behave like a
reasonable adult,” he said. “Maybe if
you don’t fly off the handle, Josh will sit and listen and he can be honest
with you. Fine some time away from work
and hash this thing out before it’s too late.”
“Peace would be nice,” she sighed. “We haven’t had that in a long time.”
“I seriously doubt whether you ever had it,”
Ralph said.
“We did,” she recalled serenely. “There was our time in
No, you've had lulls between the storms,”
Ralph explained. “It’s not the
same. You need to find the everyday peace.”
“When did you become this smart,
Ralph?”
“By making every mistake with Liz that you
and Josh are making right now,” he said.
“Just go read a bunch of Hallmark cards that are seeking forgivness, Donna.
They’ll tell you marriage is hard work.
You need a little bit of luck, a lot more yelling, a touch of faith and
an amazing amount of trust. Damn, I
should go work for those people.”
“Think I’ll be as lucky as you?” she asked.
“Don’t hope for luck,” Ralph said. “Remember what Dad used to say. Hope is not a course of action. No, what you need to do is work. If you need me, I'm just a phone call away.”
“Thank you,” Donna said gratefully.
“Any time, little girl,” he replied. “I’m gonna start
working on that line of greeting cards now.
Bye.”
They disconnected and Donna felt marginally
better. That is, until she realized she
had no idea where Josh was. The solution
was obvious, but came to her 20 minutes later.
Cell phone.
She steadied herself and made sure she was relaxed before dialing. She was intent upon having a
non-confrontational conversation.
The phone rang five times with no
answer. She knew he was likely looking
at the number on the screen and debating whether he wanted another shouting
match. On the sixth ring, just before
the message service would normally pick up, he answered.
“Yeah,” he said flatly.
“It's me,” she said kindly. “You probably knew that.”
“Yeah.”
I'm probably disturbing you, so I won't keep
you too long,” she said calmly.
“Okay,” Josh answered, keeping his answers
short so as not to provoke further fights.
“I just...,” she paused. “I think we need to talk. I want to talk, that is. To you. About us and what’s going on. I think there are a lot of things that we
need to say to each other rather than scream at each other. So was want… I was hoping, that is, that you
would agree to that.”
“Okay,” he said cautiously after several minutes.
“I think it would be best if we went some
place,” she said. “Just
a short weekend, if you can get away, so that we don’t get called away. Let’s just get this out and you know…”
“I said okay,” he replied keeping his tone
even.
“So can I check your schedule and make some
arrangements?”
“Fine.”
“Thank you,” she said formally, feeling
queasy again. She’s never had a
conversation this stilted with Josh, even when she first met him.
The line disconnected several moments
later. The butterflies in Donna’s
stomach did not dissipate, but she paid them no mind as she started rummaging
through her purse for another phone number.
She found it and dialed, hoping it was not too late to call.
“Hello?” the man answered, sounding very
much awake.
“Isaac?” Donna asked.
“Yes, who is this?”
“This is Donnatella
Moss… uh, I mean Donna Lyman,” she said.
“We met in
“Hi,” he said. “I’m surprised to hear from you. Are you in town? I didn’t see anything in the papers.”
“No, actually,” she explained. “I was calling to ask for a favor.”
“Ask away.”
“Do you remember the name of the place where
you went with Josh and his family on
Up next: Chapter
12– Horatio