A Patriotic Pursuit 1/4
By Lacy


I think I'm pressuring Josh. That is to say, I think he's feeling
pressured…by me. I don't mean to. I try to remember the time when I
left him and he came to my place and begged me to come home. He said
that he could never tire of me. He said that he missed me all the
time.

But, now I'm not so sure.

I began house hunting last week. Hunting for a house…for Josh and
me…together. I'm looking for a domicile in which we can officially
co-habitate. It's a big step.

I'm just saying, that maybe it's a step he's not ready for. I know, I
know -- he's the one who brought it up. He's the one that was all
gung-ho about the idea of us getting a place together. But, now….
Maybe he's feeling a little pressured by it all. Hey, it's just a
thought.

I'm only thinking it because Josh has become…well…fidgety. There's no
other word to describe it. Of course, he's trying to hide it from me.
He's trying to be smooth and confident in my presence but I can tell
that inside he's nervous…and squirmy. Okay, I guess there were other
words to describe it.

He's uneasy and anxious all of the time, and everyday it only seems to
get worse. When he catches me studying him - in an attempt to discern
the problem -- he only goes into 'Mr. Self Confident' mode. Let me
tell you, the presence of 'Mr. Self Confident' is not a fun place to
be.

When we were PR (that stands for 'Pre-Relationship), I actually
enjoyed 'Mr. Self Confident'. He was fun to watch. Plus, humbling
'Mr. Self Confident' was one of my favorite hobbies. But now that
we're together, I see so many different layers to Josh. 'Mr. Self
Confident' has slipped a few notches on my list, especially now that I
know he's just a big old faker.

So, he's probably hiding something from me. Which, you know, makes me
crazy. My first instinct is to ferret out the secret, but I have to
say that I learned a lesson over the whole dress incident. Inspector
Clouseau's got nothing on me.

No offense, but I've really got to talk to someone about this.

It's been too long since I've been down here. I really should
remember that I actually have friends other than Josh. I reach up to
knock on the door and await permission to enter.

"Come in." Ainsley Hayes glances up from her laptop when I pop my
head in the door. "Hey, Donna. Long time, no see."

Okay, now I'm feeling guilty about that, too. "Hey, Ainsley. I know
I haven't been down here in a while."

Months ago, when Ainsley Hayes joined the Administration, no one on
board wanted anything to do with her, for obvious reasons. They
thought she was a ringer - the personification of a
less-than-thought-out political maneuver. Though no one was brave (or
stupid) enough to tell the President so, we all thought hiring a
Conservative Republican to work in the Counsel's office was a decision
severely lacking in brilliance on his part.

She was an outsider from the moment she walked through the security
gates. We believed she would take the first opportunity that
presented itself to run to the press and tell them all about this
madhouse we were running. I'll admit that we probably could have been
more welcoming, if not trusting.

I suppose I could've been more helpful than I was, but the fact is I
was just too preoccupied to care. Josh had just returned to work
after the doctors had given him a clean bill of health. So,
predictably, I was too wrapped up in him to care about the new
addition to the team.

The employees of the White House may circle the wagons when it comes
to outsiders, but when you're inside the circle you hear things. Of
course, I heard the comparisons between our looks. We're both leggy
blondes. So what?

After a particularly hellacious day dealing with my boss, I finally
decided to introduce myself to Ainsley. I'd been putting it off for
long enough. I knew I was being a nuisance to her, but that night I
would've done anything to get my mind off Josh…and his words. Let's
just say he'd been less than kind that night.

I think Ainsley sensed my dejection. So whenever Josh said or did
something that hit me hard, or when Josh was just being Josh, I would
come down here to get away. Ainsley and I would just talk; sometimes
avoiding the subject of Josh altogether even if it was there, hanging
in the air the whole time.

I think she surmised long ago that I was in love with my boss.
Ainsley's pretty sharp that way. Sometimes she would just listen to
me vent, and other times she'd tell me that I was reading too much
into whatever insensitive thing Josh said or did. Once, she even
suggested that I might think about asking for a transfer. Needless to
say, my reaction was an obstinate 'no'. Come to think of it, that
might be when she deduced my feelings.

She's very good at offering advice. You see Ainsley is a beautiful
woman playing what most believe is a man's game. She's a gifted
lawyer who was, prior to taking this job, beginning to make some
serious news in the GOP. But even with all of that - her
intelligence, her competence, her Republican legacy - she was still an
outsider. Then she came here, where she was the lone Republican smack
dab in the middle of a den of Democrats.

She was the ultimate outsider, and sometimes you see more when you're
on the outside looking in. It's all about perspective.

"What did Josh do this time?" she asks with a smile.

I sigh and sink into the chair in front of her desk. "It's not
something he did, it's the whole way he's acting. It's his demeanor,"
I say. "His demeanor is off."

Ainsley hits one of the function keys on her laptop and watches as the
computer saves the document she's working on. When the computer
finishes its task, she closes the lid, crossing her arms and placing
her elbows on top of it. "In what way?" she asks.

I should say -- because I've never mentioned it before - that I really
love Ainsley's accent. It's so homey and welcoming. It's charming,
really. No wonder all the boys were hot for Scarlett O'Hara.

"I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to talk at the Gala," I say, instead
of answering her question.

"Yeah," she agrees, "I kept waiting for you to come over, but you were
too busy watching me from across the room, I guess."

Damn. She's even more astute than I give her credit for. I'm going
to have to remember that. "Not the whole time," I respond weakly.

She smiles. "You looked amazing, by the way. I read in the one of
the columns that the dress was a Vera Wang. You were in high cotton,
Donna."

High cotton? Must be one of her quaint southern colloquialisms. I'm
going to assume that it's meant to be complimentary. "Josh bought it
for me," I explain.

"I heard. Everybody's heard. Even down here, I still get some of the
good gossip. That's a nice boyfriend you've got there."

"Yeah." I may have lacked a proper amount of enthusiasm there.

"What's wrong, Donna? Talk to me. You came down here looking like
your puppy just died. I mean, did Josh say something? I could have a
word with him if you want. I think he's scared of me." She rambles
on without stopping for breath. Classic Ainsley Hayes.

"He didn't say anything." I interrupt her, because I know that she's
got to stop for air any minute now anyway.

"You said his demeanor was off."

"Yeah. He's been jittery lately." I guess I found yet another word
to describe his behavior.

"Jittery?"

"I think he's feeling pressured."

"Pressured to do what?"

"I don't know. We're buying a house, did you know that?"

"I didn't."

"It was his idea - buying a house. I never even suggested it.
Everything he says tells me that he wants to be with me, but…."

"You're still not sure," she finishes. She's very good at reading
people which, let me tell you, is a nice skill to have when you're
working in the enemies' White House.

"Yeah."

"Maybe it's something with his work," she suggests.

"No, it's me," I decide. "It has to be. I must have said
something…or did something that freaked him out."

"Josh loves you, Donna. I don't think he'll ever stop. You should
really be talking to him about this. Not that I don't want you to
come down here and talk to me on occasion. That would be nice. At
any rate, y'all should be communicating. You're great communicators,
at least with each other. Why should that stop just because you're
seeing each other? If you want my advice," she finally takes a
breath, "I think you might be making things more complicated than they
need to be."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"So, I should just confront him about it?"

"'Confront' is an awfully strong word, Donna. Try, 'broach' - it has
fewer hostile connotations."

"Okay, I'll do that. Thanks for your advice, Ainsley."

"Any time. I'll see you later?"

"Sure," I answer. "I'm just going to-" I hook a thumb in the
direction of the door.

"Let me know how it turns out."

"I will. Thanks again."

Ainsley's words comfort me and fill me with a new purpose. I climb
the stairs back to the ground level, my mind forming a plan. I'll ask
Josh to lunch - he's free - then we can talk. Maybe it's nothing.
Maybe he is just bothered by something at work. Maybe there's a
perfectly clear explanation for why he's been acting so restless.

There's another word for it. He's restless.
Of course, I never get a chance to ask Josh to lunch, because when I
pass through the Communications bullpen, Bonnie steps in to walk
beside me.

"Donna. You got a call from someone named," she reads from the
message she's holding, "Cynthia Prewitt. She said it was urgent."
Bonnie hands me the note with Cindy's number on it. I don't need the
number. I have it memorized.

Cindy Prewitt is our real estate agent.

"Thanks, Bonnie. I'll call her right back." When I reach my desk, I
dial Cindy's office from memory. It rings once before picking up.

"District Real Estate, Cynthia Prewitt speaking," she greets.

"Hi, Cindy. It's Donna."

"Oh, Donna. I'm so glad you called back so quickly. I've got great
news for you."

"I could use some great news."

"A house just came up on my listing, and I think it's exactly what
you're looking for."

"Really?"

"Yeah, but we've got to move fast on this one, Donna. I don't know
how long it's going to stay on the market. Is there any way we can
meet today?"

"Well, I can take a lunch."

"Great. Why don't we meet there?"

"At the house?"

"Yes. I'm going to give you the address. It is…1715 16th Street,
North East."

I'm writing down the address when it hits me. "That's not far from
here."

"I know," she laughs. "I can't wait for you to see it. I'll meet you
there in forty-five minutes." She hangs up the phone.

I didn't even get the chance to tell her that there's no way Josh and
I would be able to afford a place that close to the center of town.
Is she crazy? She knows what our financial situation is. I gave her
a specific breakdown of our maximum price.

Josh breezes by as I ruminate on the problem. "Something wrong?" he
asks.

"Cindy just called," I tell him. "She says she found a house she
wants me to look at."

"Good lead?"

"She's excited about it, but I'm not getting my hopes up. It's in too
good of a location."

"Well, you know what they say about real estate?" He smirks like
he's about to tell me a joke he made up all by himself.

I can already see it coming. "Yes, Josh."

"Location, location, location," he proceeds anyway.

"Yes, Josh," I roll my eyes. "Anyway, I'm going to go check it out."

"On a Friday?"

"She said we have to move fast on this one. It's lunch time anyway."

"Okay. Keep your cell phone on."

"I will." I gather my things and watch as he disappears into his
office.

TBC

****