Title: Heaven and Hell: Hypocrites and Democrats (Chapter 16)
Authors: Enigmatic Ellie and Westwinger247
Webpage: http://wing_nuts.tripod.com
Email: e_allen@hotmail.com or minorleeg@yahoo.com
Toby Ziegler’s Office
Toby sat at
his desk, reading the Times editorial—circling in red the less than pithy
phrases that, while poor writing in his opinion, were
still going to create questions in the briefing room. He and the senior staff needed to put out a
few fires quickly before accompanying the President on a three day trip to
In the middle of his plotting, Sam entered having just spoken with Josh on the phone. While he still hadn’t disclosed fully to his mending friend that he was in the know about all the new developments in the Deputy Chief of Staff’s life, Sam was feeling pleased with his own place in the world all the same. He sauntered into Toby’s office sporting a wide grin.
“Quite a day,” he sighed grandly. “Quite a few days, actually. Wouldn’t you say?”
“What?” Toby asked, looking up at his deputy with a mystified expression.
“Everything,” Sam replied. “They're gone. They're fine and they're here. It's.... I don't know, but I feel... you know?”
“Yeah,” Toby said blandly. “Overwhelming. Exciting. Go away.”
“And it's only going to get better,” Sam announced, ignoring the command to vacate the room. “I have that on good authority.”
“Good for you,” Toby shook his head. “I have it on better authority that you’re interrupting me.”
“Well, maybe it’s not so much authority as it is being in possession of news... Information, if you will. Knowledge,” Sam continued as he slowly paced in the room. “It’s a about a thing. It's a good thing. A great thing.”
“Sam, you're babbling,” Toby sighed.
“You know, I think all along I knew this would turn out okay,” Sam nodded. “I know we were all worried and Ed started crying at one point. Or was it Larry? Doesn’t matter. But while you were all thinking the worst, I think, deep down I never lost hope.”
“You were writing a eulogy,” Toby said. “You did that because you felt hope?”
“I said deep down,” Sam offered.
“That was denial, Sam.”
“Yeah, I don't think it was,” he shook his head. “See, I had this news, and it made me believe that things would get better.”
“What news?” Toby asked, regretting any action he took that kept the conversation going.
“This news I have,” Sam answered coyly.
“Which is...?”
“Yeah, I can't tell you,” Sam replied.
Toby sighed again and scratched his head. “Sam….”
“The thing is, I'm not supposed to know,” Sam explained cryptically. “And then I promised I wouldn't tell. But let me just say, it's good. Great. Wonderful. Joyous, in fact.”
“I'm getting a headache, Sam, and it's your fault,” Toby informed him flatly.
“You'll know.... soon, I suppose,” Sam continued. “I’m sort of on the inside in this one. And I have to say I feel rather honored.”
“I don't
care,” Toby said. “And unless it has to
do with our trip to
“Well, you'll have to know,” Sam said. “And by that I mean, everyone will know. You can’t hide these things and there’s no reason anyone could want to.”
“I care even less now that you’re ending your sentences with prepositions,” Toby said. “Whatever it is you know, I don't want to know. Wild dogs couldn't make me care.”
“You’ll care,” Sam nodded. “Okay, maybe not care, but you can't ignore something like this.... Well, maybe you could, but you won't. Because you’re not as mean or detached as you like people to believe. At least, most of the time.”
“How about if I ignore you?” Toby asked as he returned his attention to his notes.
“You know what this is, I think you were feeling the heat,” Sam surmised.
“Feeling the heat?” Toby repeated with a surprised chuckle. “Heat from you? On what?”
“The competition,” Sam answered confidently. “The eulogies. I don't mean to brag, but I had quite something going there. I was on a roll.”
Toby looked back at his deputy with a dumbfounded expression that prevented words—though there were many—from spilling over his lips for a few moments. He shook his head again.
“Competition, Sam?” Toby asked. “We were competing? And you think, let me get this straight, and you think that you were bringing the heat?”
“I think you could hear me knocking,” Sam said.
“I think your fruity coffee has finally made you as loopy as its name,” Toby replied. “You’re going to honestly stand there in my office and claim you think you had something better? You think you could take me? I’ve written the majority of five State of the Union addresses, two inaugurals and countless, I say, countless other pivotal addresses that have helped shape domestic and world policy. I could handle a eulogy.”
“Yeah, I hear that, but you were in CJ's office for an hour looking for inspiration from a fish,” Sam pointed out.
“I already had ideas in my head.”
“Well, I had the meaning of life scripted in eloquent phrases,” Sam countered.
“On what? Your arm?” Toby asked. “The last time I saw you working on it, you had a blank screen. Your cursor had more life in it than anything you had down on the screen which was, as I just mentioned, nothing.”
“I had things written,” Sam defended. “A lot of things. Many, many things.”
“I didn't see anything.”
“I wasn't ready to share,” Sam argued. “I even had a James Bond reference. Sort of.”
“I don't want to know,” Toby said, dismissing him with a roll of his eyes.
“Yeah well...,” Sam sputtered defensively. “I would have amazed and bedazzled, which is probably not something you should do in a eulogy, but it was Josh and I thought it needed some gusto.”
“Josh is his own gusto,” Toby said.
“Now, sure,” Sam shrugged. “But late last week he was a corpse.”
“Well, we’re passed that now and I’d like to get back to actually working,” Toby said. “Have you spoken with Josh?”
“Yeah, just a few minutes ago,” Sam answered and grinned at his little secret again. “He’s sounding more like himself. He’s still battered and bruised but he’s rebounding well. He’s still at home with Donna. His mother went home yesterday, I think. He’ll be in tomorrow. He’ll be in a good mood, I guarantee it.”
“Good, then
he can get to work with the mess we got from
“
“Josh is back,” Toby said. “He can handle it. It’s his thing.”
“But I was ready,” Sam argued.
“Well, now you can focus on the D-section of the President's address at the summit,” Toby replied. “Will is working on it, but I still say he’s not out of junior high. Help him so that I have less I need to rewrite on the plane.”
“But I was ready to negotiate,” Sam replied dejected. “Why does Josh get to do this and I get stuck checking Will’s grammar?”
“Let me see,” Toby said strategically. “Josh is the White House Deputy Chief of Staff; he deals with legislative affairs and does most of the President’s politics. Plus, he's been in on this since the beginning. Oh yeah, and because I said so.”
“See, now you're just being mean,” Sam said, turning to leave the office. “I think it might be residual stress from the heat. I'm calling this jealousy.”
“Sam,” Toby said with a flat stare.
The deputy communication direction read his expression accurately and nodded once before leaving swiftly.
*****************
Lyman House
Josh sat very still as Donna ceased speaking. He knew as soon as she began that the news was not good. Knew what it must be, in fact. There was something in the carriage of her head, the downcast and guilt-ridden look in her eyes, the barely audible tremble in her voice as she came into the room and said they needed to talk.
He did not interrupt her. What was there to say? The news rocked him off his heels on some level and yet there was some part of him that was not surprised at all. The other shoe was never far behind any good news, it seemed. So he sat, waiting for words of his own, feelings that he could articulate, to come. But nothing did.
“Josh,” she said in a soft, small voice as tears trickled down her cheeks. “Josh, please. Say something. Say anything. Don’t retreat into that little, quiet, dark place you go to; I can’t reach you there and I need you now. This is hard for me. Very, very hard.”
The words, when they did finally come, were no louder than her own and seemed equally as feeble.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Sorry?” she repeated as she sniffled and brushed back the tears with the back of her hand. “You didn’t do anything to apologize for. This is my fault. It’s… all my fault.”
“No,” he said firmly as he cupped her face with his hand. “It’s a fluke of genetics, right? You were born with this… whatever it is, right? You and your sister.”
Donna nodded. It didn’t make things easier knowing there was nothing she could do to avoid the inevitable conclusion to this process. Her body wouldn’t maintain a pregnancy. She knew it; had known it nearly all her adult life. When she was younger, it didn’t seem to matter. She wasn’t interested in having children. Doctors had told her that given her body chemistry it would be a severe long-shot for her to even conceive without medical intervention.
“I should have told you the whole truth,” she shook her head. “I never thought you’d be happy.”
“What?”
“I was sure you’d be mad about a baby,” she said.
“Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know,” she cried softly. “Bad timing? We hadn’t planned it. I don’t know.”
“I see,” he said, keenly feeling the insult he knew she didn’t mean to give.
“But you were so happy and I think that makes it even worse,” she sobbed, her whole body quivering. Josh hugged her instinctively, unsure what if anything to say. She continued in that fashion for a few minutes then regained her composure and pulled away from him. “I’m sorry. I thought I was more prepared to do this. I guess I’m still in a little bit of shock about all of it. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to get pregnant; leave it to your determined DNA to…”
“I’m a Democrat through and through,” he said mildly. “Imminent failure is never an effective deterrent.”
She grinned weakly, but his half-hearted attempts at humor did nothing to stem the ache in her heart. The pain of knowing what would happen next was awful enough. Having watched one of the few genuinely unfettered happy moments she had ever seen Josh experience crushed by the devastating news about her inadequate reproductive organs was worse still. She had taken something from him that he had wanted badly—possibly much more than he even realized—and there was nothing anyone could do to give it back.
“What happens now?” he asked after several more linger moments of silence.
“Now?” she asked.
“Yeah, you said your body is going to reject this whole….,” he paused, biting back the word thing, “process. When? Is it going to hurt you? What does your doctor say?”
“She wants me to see a specialist at John Hopkins,” Donna replied. “There are only a dozen documented cases of this in the world. It’s different from Rh-factor rejections and just about any other infertility or sterility problem. My body will generate a kind of, well, it’s like a cancer…”
“Cancer?”
“No, no, not like that,” she said as she watched his face grow suddenly pale. “I’m not good at explaining this. Frannie explained it this way to Rob the first time it happened to them. See, basically there’s a protein in blood that people have but for reasons no one really understands, when it’s configured the way it is in my family it reacts badly when estrogen and a few different enzymes and hormones are elevated due to pregnancy. It causes the white blood cells to go into overdrive. They attack the embryo—actually, they attack the placenta mostly—and that suffocates the developing cells. In that sense, it’s like a cancer because of the lesions that form internally. Frannie tried to stick it out five times. The last time she went through all these procedures and was in the hospital hooked up to IVs the whole time; she made it into the second trimester but she nearly bled to death with the hemorrhaging. It was after that when she finally admitted what all her doctors said all along was true. There’s no medical intervention that works. There’s nothing that can be done.”
“Are you in any danger?”
“No,” she shook her head. “Not really. It’ll make me sick; like fighting off a virus. In the end, there will be a miscarriage and a couple weeks later, everything is back the way it was before.”
“But you said she nearly died,” he pointed out with concern.
“That was different,” Donna replied. “They were trying a lot of experimental treatment that was marginally sustaining the pregnancy, but the longer they held off the inevitable, the more the lesions grew and the more it attacked her body. She wanted that baby so badly that if Rob hadn’t convinced her to stop the treatments, she would have died.”
“When is all this going to happen?”
“I don’t know,” Donna said. “That’s one of the worst parts, Frannie said. You just wait for it.”
“So why don’t you end it yourself?” he suggested. “Save the worrying and the illness and terminate this right now.”
“Because it’s my baby!” she snapped. She hadn’t expected the suggestion and was appalled that it even occurred to him. “Everything doesn’t have to be the easy way, Josh.”
“If it’s inevitable,” he said, clueless as to why his thoughts were so deplorable. “Donna, you said it’s all ready over; there’s nothing you or anyone on this planet can do. Why are you going to make yourself suffer?”
“I… I…,” she said, her lips quivering. “I don’t know.”
“You’ve never been opposed to abortion,” he said.
“I’ve never been opposed to women having the ability to choose for themselves,” she corrected him. “I like that I have the choice; I support NARAL and vote for candidates who are in favor of Roe v. Wade so that I can continue to have right to make the choice myself. For the first time in my life, I’m exercising that right. I choose no.”
Josh said nothing. He didn’t understand. Why invite and prolong the pain, he wondered. She was obviously deeply upset with the situation and—since his lead balloon suggestion—with him as well. He knew a lot about losing something or someone you cared about deeply. Most of his losses had come as surprises, shocks actually, from unexpected circumstances. He was never given the gift of knowing that the end was imminent and being able to plan for it and settle his feelings on the matter. Still, having science step and speed nature along didn’t seem to conflict with any of the advance notification benefits.
“Okay,” he said finally.
“Okay what?”
“Okay, that’s your choice,” he said. “I just thought it would be easier on you if…”
“I know,” she said, sighing and chastising herself for snapping at him. “You didn’t say anything wrong. This is just hard for me. I’ve known about it for a lot longer than you. I forgot that I’ve had more time to think about it. Oh god, Sam.”
“I’m sorry?” Josh asked, instinctively looking over his shoulder and expecting to see his friend walking down the hall.
“I told Sam,” she gasped. “I was upset and… He had just told me you were dead.”
“I wasn’t dead,” he said.
“We thought you were,” she shook her head. “I didn’t expect to… I told him. Not everything just that I was…”
“Pregnant,” he said, the word feeling sour in his mouth and sounding hollow as it emptied over his lips.
“He knows,” she said. “I don’t want anyone to know. I don’t want people feeling sorry for me or giving me advice. They don’t know what this is like. I saw what it did to Frannie and she had nearly everyone she knew and worked with trying to be helpful but all it did was remind her that she couldn’t do what a real woman can.”
“You are a real woman,” he said stunned by the comment. “Donna, this doesn’t make you any less of a person. A lot of people can’t have children. It’s not a character flaw and doesn’t make them any less important to the people who love them.”
She nodded. She knew it was true—in theory. But he wasn’t the one who was a mutant—that’s how she felt. She was twisted inside, something in her wasn’t right and was killing that which should have been her child. She’d never look into a baby’s face and see her own eyes or Josh’s smile. That hurt her in a way she couldn’t articulate but could only feel. There was no use arguing the point. She would feel how she felt and no words in any language would alleviate her feelings of inadequacy.
“I know,” she said. “And I suppose going through these next few weeks is not going to help me from feeling…. I know that’s probably a good argument for ending this quickly—save myself the anguish. But, I can’t. And I don’t want to have anyone else try and talk me into it or give me the pep talk about hoping for miracles or whatever. I don’t want to have to explain or justify this to anyone.”
“So don’t,” he offered. “Sam won’t say anything. I’ll take care of it. You just… Don’t worry about it.”
She nodded. She held back any further tears, convinced she had shed more than enough for several years in just the past week. She could hide this secret easily. It wouldn’t be long until it was over and she could resume life as she knew it previously. The end was coming soon, she knew. The fact that it had taken this long to discover the pregnancy was sign enough. The mild hemorrhaging had occurred several weeks earlier, fooling her into thinking it was her regular cycle. Had it not been for a screw up with her insurance company regarding her birth control prescription, she would have never needed the full exam which discovered the news. She might have never known about it at all and she loathed herself for wishing that was the case.
*****************
Communication’s Bullpen
Josh arrived at the office before Donna who was not feeling well. He made a point not to make a point of how malady. He hadn’t slept the previous night. His mind was trying to exorcise the news she had given him—rather not so much the news but the way he initially reacted to it. The idea that they would have a child had taken him by surprise. Both the news and his lack of objection to it. The information that followed trounced any fleeting joy his earlier thoughts had generated. After Donna disclosed what was going to happen, two things kept running through his mind. The look on Donna’s face as she told him the inevitable and thoughts of his own mother. Donna had told him months earlier that she couldn’t have children. He had taken that news in stride not fully comprehending it or being bothered by it—that is until his mother dropped her not so subtle desires to have grandchildren in the near future. Adoption was the solution, he knew, and he saw no problem with it, but some part of him felt cheated by that. He feared that might show in his reaction and he dearly did not want Donna to sense this. It never occurred to him until he had the possibility of his own biological child dangled in front of him that he actually did want that.
But with that possibility slowly dying—and what else could you call it after Donna’s explanation of what her body was doing at that very moment—he had another problem. Sam. He would like to tell him the truth, to tell him that things were about to go horribly wrong. Sam had a way of helping shoulder the awful things and even when he couldn’t, Josh knew he was the sort of friend who would never refuse to stand beside him during the worst moments. He wasn’t only about fair-weather. Sam was a true friend.
However, in this instance, he needed to keep Sam out of the picture. He had information that he shouldn’t and Josh’s job was to see that Sam understood no one else was to know anything. He didn’t have a good or polite way to do this, especially with Donna beseeching him to not tell Sam the whole story. Sam’s sympathy, above all, she said would make her feel worse. He would grieve along with them and she did not want that.
So Josh arrived at the speechwriter’s office as Sam arrived with his beloved coffee in hand. He grinned wildly as he saw Josh.
“Hey, he returneth,” Sam announced. “Back from the dead and back from a day off.”
“Same thing sometimes,” Josh replied as he followed Sam into his office and closed the door. “So we need to talk.”
“Do we?” Sam grinned further. “You have something on your mind there, Josh?”
“Yeah,” he said firmly. “Stay away from Donna unless it’s work related.”
“I’m sorry?”
“She’s got a lot going on right now and she….,” Josh began. “Look, just don’t bug her.”
“I don’t understand,” Sam said. “Did I do something? Josh, I was there for her when we thought you…”
“Yeah, I know all about that and I thank you for it,” Josh said, cutting him off. “But everything is back to normal now so you don’t need to check up on her or bother her.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he answered quickly.
“This is about the baby,” Sam surmised.
“No, because there isn’t going to…,” Josh began then paused. “It was a mistake, Sam. There’s no baby.”
“Sure there is,” Sam replied. “She told me that her doctor said…”
“Sam, we’re not talking about it anymore,” Josh said. “As of now, I’m asking you to forget she ever said anything. All right? It never happened.”
“Sure it did,” Sam said. “Josh, what the hell is wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” he said quickly. “I’m asking you as your friend to let this go and pretend it never came up, okay?”
“No, it’s not okay,” Sam disagreed. “Hey, I’m your friend and I want to know what’s really going on here.”
“It’s a bad time,” Josh said. “Bad timing, really. And things change.”
Sam looked back at him dumbfounded. He didn’t know what was going on or what Josh meant by any of his requests. He knew what Donna told him. He hadn’t made it up and it didn’t seem likely from the way in which she told him that she was mistaken either. What had changed in the intervening days, he did not know. And from the haggard and retrained look in Josh’s eyes, there was more going on than Sam could see or hear in this conversation. He wanted to pry further, but there was something in Josh’s tone that told him it was best to just nod in agreement and let the subject drop. For now.
******************
Air Force One
The staff spent
the rest of the week and part of the next readying for the
“I can’t believe this,” CJ grumbled, tossing a newspaper onto the conference table. The majority of her wiring had been removed since her accident. She wasn’t able to eat solid foods yet and it was driving her crazy.
“Something’s got your knickers in a knot,” Sam said, picking up her newspaper.
“First off,” CJ groused through her teeth, “Don’t ever ever use that phrase again.”
“You bet,” he replied. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”
“I’m not angry,” she replied. “Upset, yes. Pissed off, you betcha.”
“Well,” he reasoned, “you sound angry. You not being able to move your jaw and all. I mean, I just got around to deciphering what you’re saying now that you’re not completely wired shut.”
“Shut up.”
“See? I understood that clear as day,” he smirked. “So, what’s going on?”
“The
“What?” Sam asked. “I think that there’s a big difference between men and women.”
“Not physically,” CJ sighed. “They’re saying that in the drive for equality makes homosexuality and heterosexuality virtually equivalent in what they are calling a polymorphous sexuality.”
Sam scanned the article in question.
“Oh come on CJ,” he sighed. “According to Professor Lakeland, this document in question is likened to a feminist document.”
“Only in regards to fair treatment for women in the workforce,” CJ countered. “It said that feminism is destroying the two-parent system. And that women shouldn’t have to choose between their work and their family life. What? So woman are the only ones who have to sacrifice? What about the man? Why is it the women have to sacrifice their careers in order to have a stable family life?”
“CJ.”
“Look at our own
Congress,” CJ continued. “Women hold 73 of the 535 seats in Congress.
Seventy-three! That’s fourteen percent, Sam. The
“What do you want me to do?” Sam asked.
“I think we need to talk to the President,” CJ replied.
“No.”
“No?” she asked.
“CJ,” Sam warned.
“He’s the President of the
“I’m a Catholic,” CJ pointed out.
“There’s also a little thing called Separation of Church and State,” Sam replied. “Look, CJ, This is one of those times where it’s best to just leave it alone.”
“Sam…”
“The
CJ sighed in frustration. “We’re not second class citizens, Sam. We deserve every right that a man gets.”
“I know,” he agreed. “Why do you think we’re all here?”
*****************
Josh and Donna’s hotel
room
Wednesday,
Donna sat at the table in the suite, compiling information for Josh’s evening meeting. When they checked into the hotel the previous evening, Donna opted out of the staff get together, citing jet lag. After unpacking their suitcases, she took a quick shower and immediately fell asleep. She never noticed Josh coming into their room, abandoning the staff gathering earlier than normal.
Donna was sifting through some paperwork when she heard a knock on the door.
“Hey,” Sam smiled as she opened the door. “How are we feeling today?”
“I don’t know about you, Sam,” Donna replied, “but I’m fine.”
“We missed you at breakfast this morning,” Sam said.
“Uh, yeah,” Donna returned to the table. “Josh let me sleep in. I had a rough night with the time change and all…”
“Ah,” he nodded. “Not feeling well?”
“Sam…”
“Speaking of Josh,” he said.
“I wasn’t speaking of Josh,” Donna said with confusion.
“I know,” Sam replied. “I was. Or rather, I was going to. Where is he?”
“Um,” Donna paused, “he’s with…oh…well you know…”
“I don’t know. That’s why I asked.”
“Come on,” she pleaded. “You know who I mean. Shorter guy…”
“The President?” Sam asked. “Familiarity aside, Donna, I gotta tell ya, I don’t think he’d be pleased you called him short.”
“No,” Donna shook her head. “He spends every day with him.”
“Leo?”
“Yes!” she snapped her fingers. “Jeez. Why couldn’t I think of his name? I only see it and hear it fifty times a day. I’m sorry, Sam, my mind’s a little frazzled.”
“I see,” Sam nodded as he took stock of her appearance. Donna looked paler than normal (he attributed that to morning sickness), exhausted and out of sorts.
“When I get tired like this, I can’t even remember my own name,” Donna began as she fought back a yawn. “I’ve lost my pen three… No, now four times since lunch. I tried to open our door with Josh’s keyless remote for his car.”
“Why do you have his car keys?” Sam asked. “You both took the plane here with the rest of us.”
“I stopped asking myself those questions,” she said. “And to top that off, this morning, I couldn’t open my water bottle.”
“Cap on too tight?”
“No, I was using a can opener rather than my hands,” she nodded. “It took me a few minutes to figure it out. Thankfully, Josh saw what was happening and came to the rescue.”
“Speaking of Josh,” Sam began again.
“He’s with Leo,” Donna informed him.
“Yes, we established that,” Sam replied.
“We did?” she asked. “Right. We did. See, I’m coming out of it. It just takes a little longer when I’m tired.”
“Right,” he nodded knowingly. “How’s Josh?”
“Fine I would guess,” she answered. “Why? Have you heard something? I know he and Toby are a little displeased with the itinerary.”
“No, I didn’t mean about the Richter meeting,” Sam said expectantly. “I mean about the news. I had a strange conversation with him. Actually, he said something strange to me and I was wondering why.”
“You’d have to ask Josh,” Donna said focusing on the pages in front of her.
“I’m asking you,” Sam smiled easily. “Donna, what’s going on?”
Donna said nothing. Josh had promised her he would speak to Sam and make it so that she wouldn’t be put in this position. Donna swallowed hard, the tightness that she felt each time she was reminded of what was going to happen. She didn’t know what he had said to Sam, but apparently it wasn’t sufficient. She blamed that on two things: Sam’s insatiable curiosity and Josh’s sudden preoccupation with the President’s meeting with some academic whose name she had a hard time recalling. She knew Josh was fighting a losing battle with Leo on whether the President should have a closed door meeting with the influential economist; he and Toby had deep reservations that were boiling over into elevated decibel discussions regarding the man. Donna hadn’t followed the main argument mostly because she was having a hard enough time concentrating on keeping Josh on his schedule—something she previously could do without thinking but that now was taking all of her energy.
“Sam, I don’t want to talk about this,” she said. “I’m too busy to think about anything except getting the OMB to finish the last part of this report before dinner tonight.”
“Is this about me?” Sam asked. “Did I do something?”
“No,” she shook her head.
“’Cause if Josh is mad at me…,” he continued.
“Sam, I’m just too busy,” she said. “I’m really can’t talk about this, okay? Josh spoke to you because… This is the way it’s going to be. It’s… complicated. I’m not ready to….”
Sam nodded and held his grin in check. He thought he understood.
“Gotcha,” he said with a wink. “He wants to do a whole thing about it. Okay. That I understand. Mum is the word. I’m not going to say another word. No sir-ee. Not me. You can count on the silence of old Uncle Sam.”
“Thank you,” she said quickly.
“I’ll act surprised when the time comes… for whatever,” Sam continued. “I can do that. It’s like speech writing. You play the role.”
“Break a leg, Sam,” she replied and began searching for her pen so she could finish with her notes.
“Total shock and amazement,” he said. “I’ll can do that. That’s what friends are for… I mean, not deceiving and putting a false front, though I suppose you could make the case for it in…
“Sam.”
“Right,” he nodded. “Not another word.”
“Thank you,” she growled through clenched teeth. “God, where did I put that pen? Josh hates it when I switch colors and I’ve already started these notes in blue ink. I just don’t want to start over.”
“Donna?”
“Yes?”
“Your pen is in your ponytail,” he pointed. “You stuck it there while you were talking.”
Sensing she wanted to be left alone, Sam departed. He was on his way to his room to make a few calls of his own before staffing the President’s meeting with Richter. Leo had thought it best, considering Josh’s unwavering opinion that the meeting was a bad idea, that the Deputy Chief of Staff be given another assignment during that hour of the day. That and because no one, including Josh, thought he could keep his opinion off his face much less off his tongue during the meeting. The President and he had exchanged stern words over impact of the meeting that morning at breakfast, reminding many of the staff of the not so warm days leading up to the election when the President and Josh were not on cordial speaking terms. However, all fears of a new rise in the cold war were set aside as the day progressed. This was a one issue stumbling block and Josh wasn’t in it alone. Toby was flying Josh’s banner of caution as well. Leo’s judgment overrode their objections and the meeting was set.
The
meeting occurred and the world did not come to an end as the two staffers
prophesied. Neither were
pleased even after its completion, though all discussion of it was tabled. The administration completed its three day
trip to
*****************
Leo’s Office
Monday,
Josh
entered Leo’s office holding the short note in Margaret’s
handwriting—apparently dashed off moments after she entered the office. It was never good to get notes from
Margaret. It meant whatever the boss
wanted couldn’t be sent in email. A
summons of this sort usually meant something in the early morning papers or TV
reports had soured his breakfast.
Normally, those same things would give Josh a high blood pressure day as
well, but he hadn’t caught the morning reports that day. Donna had been exceptionally ill and he
hadn’t wanted to leave her to get into the office early. For that reason, he was 30 minutes behind his
normal schedule and while still early for the normal
Josh entered as he knocked on the casing of the door to find Leo seated behind his desk with his reading glasses on and deep furrows in his brow that were matched in severity only by the taut line of his mouth.
“You wanted to see me,” Josh said as he approached the desk.
“Nice of you to show up,” Leo said.
“Leo, it’s
like
Leo’s stony did not change. Josh had expected at least a deflated sigh followed by his name in the form of a mildly scolding shake of the head for his irreverence. This was the typical treatment for his early morning sarcasm from the man, but the non-reaction spoke volumes. There was a problem. A big one.
“What’s up?” Josh asked.
“You did it again,” Leo said forcefully as he stood suddenly from his chair. “Just when I think you may have actually learned to reign in your mouth, you prove me wrong.”
“What?” Josh asked mystified.
“This!” Leo barked and slapped a copy of the New York Times on his desk. “You know, for a smart guy, you really are an idiot some days, Josh. Which makes me the leader of the idiots because you’re my guy and I’ve kept you this long knowing what an idiot you can be!”
Josh
dismissed the insults easily. He didn’t
mind too much when Leo berated his intelligence. Occasionally it was deserved, other times he
merely attributed it to him accidentally putting decaf in his mug. What interested Josh more was whatever was
the source of the latest bout of ire in the Chief of Staff’s world. He scanned the headlines and did not have to
go far. On the international page there
was a follow up story about the President’s recent visit to
“Leo, the schedule was out there,” Josh replied. “It’s not a secret that he had a meeting with…”
“I don’t mean the actual meeting,” Leo said. “Calling the guy a Nazi in a room when it’s just you and me is one thing, but this…”
“That’s what you think?” Josh snapped. “Leo, I didn’t call this reporter.”
“No, you didn’t have to,” Leo seethed. “Your mouth attracts them from long distances.”
“I’m saying that…,” Josh began but was cut off.
“You’ve said more than enough,” Leo said. “I don’t know that I want to even hear your voice for the rest of the week.”
The President appeared in the door leading to the Oval Office. Josh turned to face him. He was wearing a dour expression that told Josh all he needed to know about the man’s day so far: He’d had a meeting with Leo and read the paper.
“Good morning, Mr. President,” Josh said.
“Don’t pause on my account,” Bartlet replied. “I’m just going to stand here and let Leo beat the hell out of you for a few more minutes. When Leo’s done, it’s my turn.”
“Sir,” Josh said.
“No, Josh,” the President shook his head. “I don’t want to hear it. Not this time.”
“Okay, the unnamed source aside,” Josh said disregarding his command to remain silent, “it’s not like there isn’t sufficiently credible information that…”
“Since when do you care about evidence?” Leo asked sternly. “Have you ever even stepped in a court room in your life? No, this isn’t about evidence or your allegations. It’s about the maelstrom from the press and the European community we’re going to have to weather now after your, you know, colossally stupid and possibly libelous remark. So the guy may have a few questionable political leanings and might send his money to support people we wouldn’t want to invite to dinner, but that doesn’t make him a Nazi. The guy is not Eichmann; he’s a college professor.”
Josh glared back at Leo, a thousand thoughts swirling in his head along with but one image. It was a series of numbers in small, fine handwriting: 389447. Those numbers were tattooed on Josh’s mind in an indelible fashion just like they had been on his grandfather’s forearm. All his better judgment said he should take this beating and let Leo and the President cool their heels before he could restate his case in a more rational atmosphere, but those numbers screamed at him and over rode any opportunity to keep quiet.
“My grandfather wasn’t thrown into a box car by Eichmann,” Josh said simply, his voice as flat as his stare. “It was done by a school teacher—his own neighbor, in fact. The camps were run by shopkeepers and doctors and restaurant owners; the executions and tortures were done by clerks and bankers and accountants and tailors. It was the everyday people who lived in the towns who supervised and ran daily operations at the camps. A well-respected academic decided my entire family and thousands more like us had no right to exist—that we were a sub-race, a scourge—that needed to be massacred and cleansed from the face of the Earth. But it’s a five inch story on page 12 of the Times that you find offensive? I understand the storm we could be facing for the next day or so in the media, but you have absolutely no grasp of the real issue here if you think my opinion was wrong or that I’m going to apologize to you or to anyone for that story or my opinion.”
Silence filled the room for a few seconds, but was graciously and mercifully broken by the arrival of Margaret who entered. She apologized for the interruption and said Congresswoman Pelosi’s office had just called and needed to meet regarding several budget issues.
“She’d like to see Josh right now at Rayburn, if possible,” Margaret said. “What should I say?”
“He’s on his way,” Leo said.
Josh merely nodded and stepped out of the office. He said nothing further and headed for his office to grab his notes.
Bartlet sunk his hands into his pockets and sighed and shook his head. Leo leaned on his desk.
“It’s not as simple as he makes it sound,” Bartlet said after a moment.
“No,” Leo agreed.
“Then why do I feel like I’m the one who should apologize?” Bartlet wondered. “It’s two generations before him, but he doesn’t forget. How did I?”
“You didn’t, sir,” Leo said. “Like you said, it’s more complicated than that.”
“Is it?” Bartlet asked. “I mean, really, for Josh is it? He didn’t want me to meet with the guy, but we didn’t just ignore his objection did we? This guy’s ideas were worthy of our time.”
“The European community seems to think so,” Leo said.
“But is there a greater good served by making a moral stand?” Bartlet wondered.
“These people are our allies and they’re allowed to have their own opinions” Leo offered.
“This is the same community that rounded up people to…,” he began.
“No, sir,” Leo said. “This isn’t 1939 and these are our friends.”
“And we’ve
never been friends with bad people,” Bartlet remarked. “We were going to catch heat for this
somewhere. After the thing in
The
incident with the
“We did think it through, sir,” Leo assured him. “We had our answers ready, and it’s not like this guy marches around in jackboots or flies the swastika in his front yard.”
“Yeah, I recall,” Bartlet remarked. “Toby made a remark—he pretended he didn’t, but I heard it on the plane—about waiting to be trotted out as the staff’s token Jew for the talk shows. We don’t use them like that.”
“Well, like it or not, Mr. President, we do,” Leo said. “He and Josh from the senior staff have been put in front of the camera because of their background in the past. CJ gets it for certain women’s issues. Miguel Fernandez at Labor fronts for us on Hispanic issues. We go to Eli Wright and Betty Thompson for certain things that involve African Americans. These are our people and this is part of who they are. We’re not ashamed of it and neither are they. You and I both know the Republican’s march out their one openly homosexual Congressman whenever there are allegations they’re homophobic. Same thing happens to their few black members. It’s the nature of our business. After that Jewish Wonder Twins comment one of a certain southern Republican last year, we sent Josh and Toby out every place we could to make the Republicans nervous and muscle some leverage on them for a few things that had nothing to do with the Congressman or his mouth.”
Bartlet sighed. He knew how the game was played, but that didn’t mean he liked all of it.
“Just when you think we’ve come far enough to see progress, we are reminded that we perpetuate racism and bias every time we think we are taking measures combat it,” the President said solemnly. “Hatred comes with some impressive credentials. We blew this one, Leo.”
“If you’re worried about Schulman…”
“Yeah, I am,” Bartlet said. “What’s more so are you, but what I meant was, we got a warning and chose to ignore it. I’m not saying that news article is right. I don’t know that Reichter is a Nazi; I don’t know what the man truly believes. What I mean is that we didn’t listen carefully to our own people and at the very least we should have.”
“It got missed is all,” Leo said.
“That’s not good enough,” Bartlet said.
“Yeah,” he nodded.
“You’ll smooth this thing over?” Bartlet asked.
“We’ll see to Schulman,” Leo said.
“Josh?”
“He’s probably the only one the rabbi will talk to right now,” Leo said.
“No, I mean, set it up for me to speak with him about this alone—before the day is done,” Bartlet said. “Toby, too. But do it separately.”
“Sir, I still want his head on a pike for opening his mouth at the wrong time,” Leo said. “You don’t owe him an apology for having a meeting, Mr. President.”
“Yeah, I do,” Bartlet said. “Maybe he didn’t earn it, but his family did. Set it up.”
*****************
Operations Bullpen
Toby walked down the hall with a purposeful stride. He had just had a meeting with Leo and next the President where he received an apology when he was the one expecting to be giving it. What he learned from both men set his temples to pulsing. He didn’t like it when people did him favors that he didn’t ask for and liked it even less when they covered for him when he wasn’t asking for it. Josh had done that on several occasions during their tenure at the White House, but at least in those instances, Toby was in on the meetings where the strategy was forged.
He found his shield standing a fax machine, reading the pages as they were spit out. Toby pointed to Josh’s office and signaled that he needed to speak with him alone. Josh nodded and followed him into the dimly lit room and closed the door.
“So I just got an apology from the President,” Toby said. “Because you allegedly opened your mouth to a reporter and called Richter a Nazi.”
“I heard,” Josh replied. Charlie had informed him of Toby’s meeting already.
“Imagine my surprise to learn that you were the one who said such a thing,” Toby continued. “I say surprise because you and I don’t use the same speech patterns and we usually pick very different moments to screw ourselves over. You prefer public venues to shoot off your mouth where any idiot would know they were being watched; whereas I tend to do it in more reserved places when I don’t think anyone of consequence is listening. This quote in the Times, it wasn’t a public thing.”
“I didn’t say it,” Josh said.
“I know,” Toby replied. “And how I know is that I did. Josh, I said it. I’m the one.”
“I thought so,” Josh nodded as he took his seat.
“And you didn’t think to tell Leo?”
“No,” Josh said. “I happen to agree with it.”
“That’s not my point,” Toby chuckled in a strained manner. “My point is, why did you let them think it was you all day? What do you have going on that you’ve set yourself up as the sacrificial lamb?”
“Nothing,” Josh replied honestly.
“I don’t believe that,” Toby said, pacing. “You’re looking for a fight—I got that much from the recapping of the history lesson you gave the President and Leo. You’ve been snapping at Sam and while I’m all for taking his head off when he deserves it, I prefer to be the one doing the beheading. It looks to me like you’re either looking for a fight or are practicing some form of self persecution. Why, I have no idea. So I’m just asking you this once: What the hell is going on with you?”
“With me?” Josh said. “Nothing.”
****************
Office of the Deputy
Communications Director
Wednesday,
“Sam?” Donna knocked on his open door.
“Huh?” he replied, not looking up from his reading.
“Got a minute?”
“What?” Sam asked, looking up. He saw his visitor and stood. “Donna. What? Oh, sure. Come in.”
“Thanks,” she smiled and shut the door.
“You closed the door?”
“Yes.”
“I'm just saying, you closed the door, so is something wrong?” Sam removed his glasses and walked around his desk.
“No,” Donna assured him. “Nothing's wrong, Sam. I just need to talk to you.”
“Okay,” he nodded and gestured to a chair.
“Okay,” she replied, taking a seat. “Here's the thing...”
“There's a thing?” Sam perched himself on the edge of his desk. “I thought there was no problem.”
“There isn't a problem,” Donna repeated. “It's a good thing.”
“Yeah?” he grinned, knowing what would be said next. “So this means...”
“I want to have a party,” Donna stated.
“Well, that's great,” Sam’s smile widened. “I mean, I was wondering when you were going to do something. But isn't this the kind of thing that someone else plans for you? Not that showing initiative is a bad thing, but I thought that normally someone else would take charge.”
“Why would anyone other than me plan this?” she looked at him curiously. “They're not married to him.”
“Well...” Sam paused, “I'm sorry? Married to whom?”
“Josh.”
“Don't they normally have a party for you?”
“When it's my birthday,” Donna answered. “Yes, I'd like to.”
“I'm sorry,” Sam apologized. “I'm a little lost. What are you talking about?”
“Josh's birthday,” Donna explained. “It's this week.”
“It is?” Sam twisted to look at his desk calendar. “Oh, yeah. It is. But he doesn't like his birthday--something about a clown, right?”
“Yes,” Donna nodded. “But we're not having a clown. I would like to throw together a simple get together with his friends.”
“Okay.”
“So,” Donna hedged, “you're his friend...”
“I'm one of his friends,” he declared. “One of his better friends, in fact. His closest one in the building and probably in the District and since he doesn't really leave the general area that often I'd venture that I'm....”
“Sam.”
“Yes?”
“Would you help me plan it?” she asked.
“Plan what?” he asked. “The party? Oh...Here's the thing, Josh doesn't come to any party I plan.”
“He doesn't?” Donna cocked her head.
“No,” Sam shook his head. “It's not that he objects to my plans, it’s just that it's kind of like a jinx. Like a few years ago, I had this thing at my place and we were supposed to play golf that morning and well, he couldn't.... Granted, he was in the hospital, but that was just one time. I mean, he missed his own bachelor party which I threw together so you’re seeing the pattern, right?”
“Yeah,” she nodded. “Anyway, you're not the sole person planning this thing. You're just going to help me.”
“A helper?” Sam mused. “That I can do. Sam Seaborn's Party Assistance Services is at your... uh... service. What do you need?”
“First, I need a place to have it.”
“Okay, I can work on that,” Sam replied. He moved around to his chair, pulled out a pad and began jotting down notes. “How many people are you planning on?”
“Perhaps ten, but no more than fifteen.”
“So 30,” Sam nodded. “Maybe 40. So what day are you looking at?”
“Friday evening at about eight,” she replied.
“Is it his night off?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, so he'll be free
by 9,” he scribbled. “Actually, more
like
“He'll be done by eight, Sam. Count on it,” Donna assured him. “I know his assistant.”
“Okay then,” he looked at her dubiously.
“So you're all set?”
“Let me see,” Sam said, reviewing his notes. “You want a place to gather, mingle. Nothing too fancy, I take it? “
“Right,” Donna agreed. “This is Josh, so...”
“Right,” he continued, “Okay, well...”
A knock on the door interrupted them. President Bartlet appeared in the door holding a leather folder and sporting an expectant expression as he regarded the speech writer.
“Mr. President,” Sam stood.
“Hey Sam,” Bartlet entered. “Oh hello, Donna. Don't get up.”
“Good morning, Mr. President,” Donna smiled.
“I'm sorry,” Bartlet apologized, “am I interrupting?”
“Not at all, we're just wrapping up,” Donna replied, standing.
“We're planning a surprise birthday party for Josh,” Sam explained. “It's a surprise, isn't it, Donna?”
“Well, yes.”
“So we're working on it,” he continued. “I'm helping--not planning--just helping. I'm supposed to find a place where people can gather and mingle and...well, I guess eat cake. You can’t have a party without cake, right? Donna, is the President invited? Oh, I suppose I should have found that out before I said anything.”
“Of...course he's invited,” she smiled, cutting her eyes at the speechwriter. “But I completely understand if you're too busy, Sir. But I will pass on your best wishes if you'd like me to.”
“Nonsense,” he waved it off. “When is it?”
“This Friday evening.”
“You're going to find a place on short notice, Sam?” the President asked.
“Well, now that you mention it,” Sam said, “that might prove difficult, but I'd like to think that's why Donna assigned the task to me.”
“Right,”
Bartlet nodded. “Who is on the guest list?”
“So far, you and…. Well, me,” Sam said. “I’m invited, right? I’m not just here to work?”
“Yes, you’re invited,” Donna said, then turned to the President. “We haven’t gotten that far yet, sir. It will probably just some people from the office. Nothing big.”
“About 30 people,” Sam interrupted. “The staff mostly. I mean, Josh knows half the city, but a lot of them don't like him.”
Donna turned to eye the speech writer.
“Well, it’s true,” Sam shrugged and adjusted his glasses. “A lot of them don’t.”
“Sam,” she shook her head.
“Oh, you probably just meant the guest lists is your part,” he surmised as she nodded in acquiescence.
“Well, Sam’s right and there are a few people in this building who don’t
put Josh on their Christmas card list,” Bartlet said.
“Which is probably a good thing seeing as he’s Jewish,” Sam noted then
looked at the President’s flat gaze and apologized quietly. “Very sorry.”
“I meant to say that if the crowd isn't too risqué, and you don't mind my meddling, we could gather in the residence,” Bartlet offered. “That is, if you wouldn't think it too awkward. It's been a while since the staff had a relaxing evening to enjoy each other's company. I could bake something.”
“Oh, Sir, you really don't have to,” Donna said. “I mean, it's...it's very, very thoughtful of you but...”
“It might be the only place that keeps Josh from leaving or even refusing to be a part of his own party,” Sam smiled. “You're quite a strategist, Mr. President.”
“I
amaze myself some days, Sam.”
“Well,” Donna sighed, “Okay. Well, we have the place and Sam's working on the guest list.”
“Actually, I was the one mentioning all the people who don’t like Josh,” Sam offered and again received stares from both. “But the guest list is right up my alley. Indeed.”
“The only thing left is the cake,” Donna said. “I’ll order one and….”
“Nonsense,” Bartlet interjected. “I could bake something.”
“Sir, aren’t you too busy to…,” she began.
“I can multitask,” he assured her. “I’ll have Admiral FitzWallace help me with the measuring and brief me about his take on the Pentagon’s latest line items in the budget. Donna, just get the details to Charlie. I take it this little endeavor is to be a surprise?”
“It has to be,” Sam nodded in a conspiratorial fashion. “Josh doesn't like birthday parties.”
“The clown?” Bartlet wondered
“Yes,
sir,” Donna nodded and somehow made it seen dignified.
“Okay
then,” Bartlet turned to leave. “Oh, Sam. We need to
talk about the environmental treaty. That's why I'm here. I had a thought.
Bring your notes and thoughts from
“I have faxes to… fax,” Donna said as she turned to leave. “Thank you again, Mr. President.”
“Any time, Donna,” the
President smiled. “This is just what he needs. Josh has seemed a bit... well,
not completely himself since he came back from
“Uh, yes,” Donna looked away briefly. “We've all been a bit weary lately.”
“We've all noticed,” Bartlet agreed. “This will good for everyone. CJ should be back on solid food by then. Yes, this will be an event. Come to think of it, Sam, you'll need to write me a toast. You know…something appropriate and embarrassing.”
“Yes,
Mr. President.”
****************
Josh’s Office
Thursday,
“Donna, what's this?” Josh asked as she came into his office with their lunch.
“It looks like a piece of paper,” she explained, setting the cartons down on his desk.
“It's a guest list,” he explained. “For a surprise party. For me.”
“It's a...a what?”
“Guest list for the surprise party you and Sam are planning for my birthday,” Josh reiterated.
“I don't know what you're talking about,” Donna said quickly.
“Well, here,” he
pointed, “across the top in Sam's handwriting it says ‘Guest List for Josh's Surprise Birthday Party’ and on the bottom it
says to RSVP to Donna by
“It says that?” she asked, taking the paper from him.
“Yeah,” he grabbed his lunch.
“Damn,” she winced then watched him unwrap the sandwich. “That's mine.”
“It's all the same stuff.”
“Yes, but mine has mayo on it.”
“Ick,” he tossed the carton towards her and took the other.
“Sam can be so smart on some occasions and others...” she sighed.
“Yeah,” Josh agreed. “Call it off.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I can't,” Donna said.
“Why not?”
“Because it's out of my hands now.”
“Tell everyone that a pipe burst at the house and the place is a mess,” Josh offered.
“It's not going to be held at the house,” Donna replied.
“You rented a place?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “Donna, you know how I don't like birthday par...”
“It's in the Residence,” she blurted.
“You just said it wasn’t at the house,” he said confused. He was becoming conditioned to her slightly more advanced flightiness in the last week or two but did not mention it, figuring it was a side effect of what he was only able to call the process. “Which is it?”
“Yes,” she nodded. “It's not at our house. It’s in this house. The White House.”
“Fine, then I can call it off,” he grabbed his phone. “I run this place.”
“Not so much, no,” she shook her head and took a quick bite of her sandwich as she eyed him cautiously.
“No,” he sighed and dropped the phone before pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Yes.”
“How the hell...”
“He came by,” Donna interrupted, “when Sam and I were talking and he sort of...”
“Never mind,” Josh held up his hand. “I know how that works. Damn.”
“I'm sorry,” Donna apologized. “I just wanted to do something nice for you.”
“You don't have to,” Josh said softly.
“I do,” she countered. “You needed something to be happy about.”
“I'm happy,” he scowled. “I'm a happy person. I don't need a reason or a party.”
“Then I need something to be happy about and this was going to make me happy,” she sniffled.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
“Let's just...” she sighed. “Let’s just go there and celebrate your birthday. You will be around your friends wishing you well. That’s a good reason to have a party.”
“Can't we think of another reason?” Josh asked.
“No.”
“It's not someone else's birthday?” he continued.
“I'm sure somewhere in
“I mean here,” Josh clarified. “In this building. There has to be or it would be just ridiculous; 1300 people work here. Someone else must have a birthday this week.”
“You oversee them,” Donna smirked. “You should know.”
“I'm checking personnel records,” Josh stood and began to leave.
“I'm gonna eat your chips,” Donna said as she popped a couple in her mouth.
“You're not supposed to eat stuff that’s ba....” he stopped. “Sure.”
“You have a meeting on the Hill in half an hour,” Donna pointed out as she took a bite of her sandwich and tore open the pilfered back of chips.
“Okay, here's what we're gonna do,” Josh grabbed his coat. “You find some other reason for the... Ah ha! That's it. That's why we don't go. It's simple, but I think it works. Yes.”
“Brilliant idea?” she asked, taking a sip of her water.
“I know about it so it's not a surprise party, so the whole thing is blown,” Josh grinned. “Tell them that since I know the fun is gone and you're canceling. That should work. I actually have to meet Katz before my meeting so try to leave some of my lunch. Okay? Great.”
“Josh...” she sighed, watching him leave. “It's not going to work.”
Her words disappeared as quickly as he had. Whether he heard her or not she did not know. Chances were that even if he had he hadn’t listened. He would be obstinate about not going to the party; she planned to be equally adamant that he would. It was anyone’s guess who would win the battle of wills, though with the President playing quasi host, Donna thought the odds were in her favor. Rather than think about it further, she sighed in the relative quiet of the office.
Donna remained in the office and finished Josh’s lunch along with hers then later wished she hadn’t. Both meals sat on her stomach like a rock. Luckily, the afternoon was busy and kept her moving and gave her little time to think about the queasy feeling that followed her after the meal. She didn’t think it was morning sickness. She was no expert on such things, but she thought it was unlikely. She also didn’t want to ponder the possibility. To do so would mean acknowledging this part of the process had arrived. Anything that reminded her of what she was never to have and what was going to happen any time soon brought on horrible dark feelings of despair for her that she found it best to avoid the subject entirely.
The day wore on and Donna felt her
energy beginning to ebb greatly. Josh’s
meeting was running late, as she looked at her watch, and she had begun
rescheduling other appointments on his calendar to compensate. By
“Hello?” Abbey Bartlet said in a manner that let Donna know it was not the first time she had spoken. “Donna?”
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Bartlet,” Donna slowly stood to greet the First Lady. “I’m sorry. I was wrapped up in…. What can I do for you?”
“No, don't stand,” she replied. “Have a seat. Has Josh gone to the Hill?”
“Yes Ma'am,” Donna replied, returning to her seat. “He had to meet Congressman Katz and Senator Cummings. Is they're something I can help you with? A message you'd like me to pass onto him?”
“No,” Abbey said, closing Josh’s door. “I was actually looking for you. I wanted to talk with you in private for a moment.”
“Okay,” Donna said slowly.
Abbey perched herself on the
edge of Josh’s desk and took stock of Donna’s appearance as well as the lunch
on the desk.
“How are you?” Abbey asked.
“I'm fine, Ma'am,” Donna answered. “How are you?”
“Great,” she smiled. “I
just got back from
“The President must be glad to have you back,” Donna noted.
“Not really,” Abbey shook her head. “It means he can't have whatever he wants for dinner now. So anyway, I thought it was time I catch up with you.”
“With me?”
“Yes. How are you?”
“I'm fine.”
“Sleeping okay?” the doctor continued her inquisition.
“Fine, ma’am,” Donna answered.
“Everything okay at home?” Abbey asked. “I know that Josh is a pain in the ass here in the office; I can't image it gets much better at home. But everything is going well between you?”
“We're fine,” Donna assured her in a cautious tone, feeling like there was something dangerous on the horizon.
“You know we care about both of you, don't you? The President and I and your friends.”
“Yes ma’am,” Donna said. “Mrs. Bartlet, I’m not nearly as good at determining the reason for a fishing expedition, as Josh calls it, but I know one when it’s going on. So, pardon me if this is overly blunt: What's going on?”
“See,” Abbey began, “when you got married and I heard the whole ‘the office is the office’ play you and Josh were going to run around this place, I said they're both nuts; I thought you’d never make it work. But you've managed it—quite well in fact. I didn't think you could, but you have. Too well, I think. Half the people in this building think it’s just a rumor that you’re married. But those of us who know you know differently. You know we care for you both and we know you're married and that's not a problem for us, right?”
“We didn't think was a problem,” Donna said, feeling nervous about the direction of the conversation.
“It's not,” the First Lady assured her. “I'm just checking on you. You know that you're allowed to have lives outside this building and from time to time that is going to cross that imaginary barrier you've erected between your married and working lives, right?”
“Yes, Ma'am,” Donna agreed. “There are times where our personal lives will cross with our professional lives, especially at social functions. Are you saying that something's coming up that will disrupt that?”
“Oh, I would expect so.”
“Well, I…. What ever it is, I can fix it,” Donna said quickly. “We can… Oh god, you're telling me because you think I can break the news better to Josh.”
“If Josh doesn't know this already, he has no business helping run this country,” Abbey said firmly.
“What is it?”
“Donna, you're pregnant,” Abbey pointed out. “Aren’t you?”
“I...” Donna paused as her jaw hung open. She blinked several times and slouched in her chair, wanting to hide behind it. After a moment of guilty silence, she spoke quietly. “How did you know?”
Abbey laughed at the look of
confusion on the assistant’s face.
“Mrs. Bartlet?”
“Donna,” Abbey chuckled. “I'm a doctor and a woman and a mother. I also have eyes which is all I need to figure this mystery out.”
“You're the only one who has then,” Donna pointed out.
“Well, the staff is focused on other things and I'm frankly surprised their clothes match when they come into work some days,” Abbey reasoned. “Josh knows?”
“Yes,” Donna lowered her head.
“Am I prying?” Abbey asked. “Donna, I'm asking you this because I'm worried. When I first noticed, I thought you were keeping things quiet for the first trimester. But must be near or just passed that point by now, aren't you?”
“Yes Ma'am,” Donna said painfully but refusing to break down.
“How far?” Abbey asked. “That is if I’m not prying too much. I’d estimate between 15 and 18 weeks.”
“Next week would be 14,” Donna said softly.
“Would be?”
“We’re not there yet,” Donna said stiffly.
“I see,” Abbey wrinkled her nose as she looked at Donna again. “I guess I’m just losing my touch. But that’s not the point. You do know that normally after 12 weeks it’s generally okay to pass around the news. I’m saying this because your news doesn't appear to be general knowledge around here.”
“No, ma’am,” Donna said stiffly. “We haven’t said anything yet.”
“You and Josh? This was a joint decision?”
“Yes Ma'am.”
“I'm asking because I was afraid that perhaps this baby was not good news,” Abbey explained. “The way you seem to be acting is not what I would expect. Don't get me wrong, I love Josh like a member of my family—a sarcastic, overbearing, high maintenance member, but family no less. I also know that his sense of duty to this job and this administration knows no bounds. I was worried that perhaps he was pushing the ‘office is the office’ too far.”
“No, it’s not like that at all,” Donna assured her. “It's just that...”
“Donna?”
“You're right,” Donna replied softly as her throat tightened. “It's not a good thing.”
Donna heard the words tumble out of her mouth and knew she could not stop the rest. She had been fighting with her mother in recent days about her decision to let her body take its course. Her mother had suggested what Josh had when she first gave him the news. Her mother, for all her good intentions, did not understand Donna’s reasoning any better than Donna suspected Josh did. She felt quite alone for that reason. She wanted to someone to hear her point and agree with her and she wasn’t sure why. Before she realized it, she had told the First Lady the entire saga.
“Oh Donna,” Abbey soothed, petting her hand comfortingly. “Who is your doctor?”
“Fiona White,” Donna wiped a tear away as she finished the tale.
“I know Fiona,” Abbey
nodded. “She was head of obstetrics at John's
“I know, but we both know I’m just a science project here, Donna said. “There’s nothing that can be done.”
“You considered all your options?” Abbey asked in a clinical fashion.
“I chose this,” Donna said simply.
“Then that was the best choice,” Abbey said. “It’s whatever you think is right, Donna. Now, I can see for myself, but I'll ask anyway: How are you dealing with this?”
“One day at a time,” Donna shrugged. “I haven't really altered anything in my life. I go on as if there’s… nothing going on.”
“You know they have counseling services for families with reproductive issues,” Abbey pointed out.
“I'm fine,” Donna lied. “I have my mother and I have Josh.”
“How is he dealing with this?” Abbey asked. “Or is he?”
“He's... dealing.”
“Donna, I've known Josh for a few years now,” Abbey reminded her. “I know how he is. Repression can be his middle name sometimes.”
“I know,” Donna concurred. “But that's Josh. I can't change him.”
“I know that,” Abbey replied, “but it's not healthy for him or you. Are you talking to each other about this?”
“We talk.”
“But about this?”
“Sometimes,” Donna admitted.
“What does that mean?” Abbey pressed.
“Should the subject arise,” Donna paused, “we deal with it and move on.”
“In the morning, he asks how you feel and you say everything is fine,” Abbey concluded.
“Yes,” Donna nodded. “He tells me to sit when I come in his office.”
“Donna, that's not enough,” the First Lady disagreed. “And you're going to have to deal with this more directly.”
“I mean no disrespect, Ma’am, but I’m dealing with all I can deal with right now,” Donna sighed. “The end is in sight and once that is over, we can grieve and move on.”
“So long as it is a secret and
no one else knows,” Abbey said. “But
that’s not going to work much longer.”
“Well, this won’t last much longer,” Donna said petulantly, sorry she had
opened her mouth at all.
“Maybe not, but people are starting to notice, Donna,” Abbey said.
“You're going to get the question soon. These people may be focused on their
jobs, but they are not blind. And more importantly, they’re your friends. They
are going to notice and ask you and what you tell them is your business, but
you are going to have to say something.”
“I was hoping it wouldn’t go that far,” she said softly.
“I believe it was Josh who was quoted during one of the campaigns as saying that hope is not a course of action,” the First Lady countered. “On that, I agree with him. Consider this: it might be good for you to let people know. You have a lot of support here. We're your family. A big, sprawling, dysfunctional family. We care for you, Donna. If there is anything we can do to make things easier, we'll do it. I want you to believe that. We care about you and we are here for you--for both of you.”
Donna thanked her. They sat quietly for a few moments until the door opened inward suddenly. Josh stood there mystified at the two women cloistered in his office.
“Mrs. Bartlet?” he asked with a quizzical look. “What are you...?” Is something wrong?”
“No,” Donna replied. “I was about to tell Mrs. Bartlet about the party tomorrow night.”
“Donna?” Josh asked, seeing through her lie easily.
“Actually, I was here to see
Donna but now
that you’re here, I have a bone to pick with you as well,” Abbey said. “Josh, I read your suggestions for the next
round of cuts in the budget. My office
thanks you for leaving Head Start and Planned Parenthood alone; however we will
be talking about….”
“Ma’am, 345 is not going to make it out of committee and there’s nothing
anyone can do to change that so there’s no point in
allocating funds,” he said instantly.
“Everyone in this building agrees with me.”
“I’m in this building,” she replied.
“Okay, then everyone who works in this side of the building,” he stated.
“We’ll be talking,” she promised as she patted him on the arm as she began to exit. “I'll see you tomorrow night.”
“Uh,
I think we're canceling tomorrow night,” Josh disagreed.
“No,
you're not,” Abbey winked. “The President wants to pretend he baked a
cake. He’s not going to, but he wants to
enjoy the thought that he might.
However, I make no promises about rumors that he plans sing Happy
Birthday to you in Middle English. See
you both tomorrow evening.”
She departed and left the door open in her wake. Josh watched her leave and shook his head. Budget battles with the First Lady and her staff were never enjoyable, even when he won. Part of him worried that her staff had small voodoo dolls in his likeness poised and ready for when the debates got intense.
“Sorry,” Donna apologized as she prepared to leave the office and return to her desk. “I don't think we can get out of it.”
“Middle English?” Josh remarked, turning to Donna. “Yeah, we're canceling.”
“Josh...”
“No, Donna,” Josh cut her off. “That is cruel and inhuman punishment. We tell people that he wants to do that and no one will show. Hey, that might be a good idea...”
“Josh.”
“Yeah?”
“She knows,” Donna confessed.
“Yeah, she lives with him,” he agreed. “I'm fairly certain he was bragging to her that he'd do it.”
“No, Josh,” she shook
her head. “I mean she knows.”
“She knows?” he repeated and looked up at her with a knowing expression.
“She knows...” Donna said and crossed her arms over her slightly distended showing midsection.
“Uh...” he stammered, “um... how?”
“Because she’s a woman and notices things,” Donna sighed.
“What's that got to do with...?” he stopped. “Look, can we talk about this later... not here?”
Donna nodded stiffly then left his office.
****************
Lyman House
Thursday,
Donna lay in bed, reading. She was also trying to stay awake for when Josh came home. After a long shower earlier in the evening, Donna knew that the First Lady was correct. The pregnancy, complicated as it was, was not going to stay hidden for much longer.
Donna heard the door to the house open and close. She hoped that Josh wouldn’t go straight to his office – as he occasionally would do when coming home from the White House. She was pleased when she heard his footsteps ascend the staircase immediately after locking up for the night.
“Hey,” Josh said. “You're still up. It's late.”
“I was waiting for you,” Donna smiled, placing the book on the nightstand.
“Miss me that much?” he smirked.
“I saw you seven hours ago,” she reminded him.
“And you've been pining every since,” Josh replied, stripping off his tie.
“Right.”
Josh continued removing his clothing as he went into the bathroom. He
started telling Donna about his last meeting of the evening with Toby – a
strategy for the upcoming education reform discussions.
“So in the end,” he emerged from the bathroom, ready for bed, “we just said screw it, let's do what Toby proposed three hours ago and that was that.”
“So you would've been home earlier had you listened to Toby,” Donna concluded.
“Well, that's one way to look at it,” Josh crawled into bed and kissed her.
“Josh,” Donna sighed. “We need to talk.”
“Hey, I can't always just agree with Toby because it makes the day shorter,” Josh argued as he crawled into the bed and lay his head back and closed his eyes.
“You can't sleep yet,” Donna ordered.
“I can't?”
“No.”
“I think I could,” he yawned. “I'm tired.”
“Not yet,” she disagreed.
“I'm not tired yet?”
“Josh,” she started again. “We have to talk.”
“You wanted to talk to me about something,” Josh remembered.
“I do,” Donna nodded.
“Okay,” Josh turned to face her.
“We have to talk about this,” Donna placed her hand on her abdomen.
“Okay,” he said tensely.
“I think we need to tell the staff,” she replied.
“Tell them what?” Josh asked.
“That I'm pregnant.”
“Why?” he questioned. “I thought you didn't want to tell anyone because you'll... I mean.... you know...”
“I know, I know,” Donna sighed. “But Josh, Mrs. Bartlet made a good point this afternoon.”
“She did?”
“Yes,” Donna nodded. “I mean, she
noticed right away. She didn't say anything at first because she was heading to
“They might not,” Josh countered.
“They will,” she disagreed. “I can't carry those binders around too much longer. And I can only wear certain clothing that's...forgiving for so much longer either. So... when do you want to tell them?”
“Me?” Josh sat up. “It's up to you. If
you want to do it quickly, just tell Margaret and everyone will know by
“It's up to both of us,” Donna said firmly. “You're in this as well. And I don't want to tell them via the White House grapevine.”
“She's efficient.”
“She's nosy,” Donna huffed. “I don't want it to be done that way. It's cheap.”
“Whatever you decide is fine with me,” Josh laid back down. “But what are you going to tell them? Everything? I thought the reason you didn't want anyone to know is because you didn't want pity because that would make you feel worse.”
“We're only going to say that we're expecting,” Donna replied. “We don't have to tell them we're expecting the worst.”
“If that's what you want,” Josh acquiesced.
“What I want can't happen,” she said sadly.
“I... Sorry.”
“Stop it,” Donna requested, caressing his cheek. “Stop saying you’re sorry. You haven’t done anything wrong and you can't fix this. I can't fix this. Whatever happens… happens.”
“Yeah,” Josh sighed. “I know. So we tell people.”
“We have to,” Donna nodded. “What do you think we should say and who do we tell?”
“Just tell whoever you want,” he replied. “Everyone else will know pretty quickly after that.”
“Well then, how about tomorrow night?” Donna asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Why not just get it over with at the party?” Donna inquired.
“The party?” he repeated. “That wasn't the reason you did this, was it?”
“No,” Donna shook her head. “I wanted to celebrate your birthday that was all.”
“Okay,” Josh put up his hand. “I didn't mean to accuse you. I was just.... It's just strange how it happened. That's all.”
“It’s one less thing that I can be stressed about,” Donna reasoned, turning off the bed lamp. She settled in for the night next to Josh.
“Donna?”
“Hmm?”
“You’re absolutely certain about this?” Josh asked. “’Cause once we tell them, that’s it.”
“I’ll handle it—I have no choice,” Donna replied. “Go to sleep, Josh.”
“Yeah,” Josh said, suddenly not tired.
Up next: Chapter 17: Judas and Brutus