See disclaimers in part 1
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Plans and Privilege 2/6
By Lacy
"What's shakin'?" CJ's leaning against the door jamb, rhythmically
tapping a newspaper against her leg.
"Nothin' much," I answer. "Except Toby's working on what I want to
work on. Five Republican Congressmen are driving me bonkers over the
train thing. We've got the yearly NRC review coming up. And Donna's
cheating on me with Sam."
CJ laughs. She actually laughs at my pain. "I thought it was the
woman who was supposed to have the psychotic mood swings when they're
pregnant."
"This is not about the baby. Something's going on with Donna and Sam
and I'm left out of the loop. You don't happen to know what's going
on with Donna and Sam, do you?"
"I don't," she replies with a toss of her hair. "But I can tell you
with relative accuracy that Donna and Sam are not having an affair."
"Relative accuracy. That's confidence inspiring," I sigh
sarcastically.
"Josh. You're being ridiculous."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome. I just call 'em like I see 'em."
"Why won't she tell me what's going on?"
"Have you asked her?"
"No."
"Well!" she guffaws. "That might be your reason right there! Look,
Josh, I realize that you and Donna have this whole finishing-each-
others-sentences thing down, but she's not that psychic. If you want
to know what's going on inside her head, you have to ask her."
"I don't want to look like I mistrust her."
"Here's a tip, my friend. If you want to know what's going on, you
might try leaving the accusatory tone at home. Ask her, Josh.
Look," she sighs, wearily, "I know there's been a lot going on in
your life lately, and that you have a lot to fret about. But, Josh,
you're jumping to conclusions here. Do I need to remind you what
happened the last time you jumped to a conclusion?"
"Not likely."
"I didn't think so."
"So, just ask her, huh?"
"Usually does the trick. Why do men always have to take the scenic
route?"
"Because love makes us stupid." I've just discovered this.
"I've got news for you, Josh. Men don't need love for that."
"Be careful, CJ. Anyone who doesn't know you might think you have
issues."
"Moi? Issues? The only issue I have is that is that I have to keep
cleaning up your messes."
"There was no cleaning up involved here. Only prevention."
"It's good to know I can occasionally get the opportunity to stop a
disaster before it happens. And, speaking of disasters, I actually
came here to tell you about my plan."
"What plan?"
"Well, it's a non-plan actually."
"How can you have a non-plan?"
"By not having a plan."
"So there's no plan?"
"Right."
"CJ?"
"Yeah?"
"What the hell are we talking about?"
"My non-plan," she says, as though that should clarify everything.
"Yeah, I got that part. We need a non-plan for...what exactly?"
"For Project Procreation," she announces.
"Project Procreation?"
"It's a working title."
"Do we need a title?"
"Probably not."
"Did you just refer to 'Project Procreation' as a disaster?"
"What? No," she denies.
"Yes, you did. You said, and I quote, 'speaking of disasters'."
"I was referring to the possible negative fallout from making an
announcement to the press," she hedges.
"You referred to my unborn child as a 'disaster'."
"I was making a segue," she excuses apologetically. "A clumsy segue
as it turns out."
"Yeah."
"I think I've just entered the Twilight Zone."
"I'm sorry?"
"You got all defensive and protective. It was very fatherly of you."
"CJ," I warn, my eyes narrowing.
"Not that your sudden protective instincts make you any less of a
tough political operative," she clarifies. "Nope. You're just as
tough as you ever were." The nearly invisible quirk in her lips
clues me in to the fact that she's just humoring me.
"So what's your plan?" I reverse the subject. "Excuse me -- your non-
plan."
"My plan is a non-plan," she replies.
"You have no plan."
"No, I have a plan. That's what makes it brilliant."
"Yes, it's so brilliant only your twisted mind can grasp it."
"It's really very simple."
"So, what do we do?"
"Absolutely nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Right. Nothing," she reiterates.
"Your plan is to do nothing?"
"Exactly. I'm going to stupefy the press by making this a non-issue."
"Well, it's working on me already."
"How is it you don't understand what I'm saying?"
"Because this has been a non-conversation?"
"Let me spell it out for you."
"Oh, good."
"We do nothing."
"We've covered that already."
"Shut up, and listen. We do nothing," she repeats. "We make no
announcements. What business is it of theirs anyway? When and if
they begin asking questions, once Donna's condition becomes apparent
to all, we simply say, `Yes, Josh and Donna are having a baby. Isn't
that exciting?' `Yes, they're thrilled.' `No, it wasn't planned,
but they feel that God has given them a gift.' `We wish them the best
of luck with their growing family.' So, what do you think?" she asks.
"I'm razzle dazzled," I deadpan.
"I'm sure at some point you may have to prepare a statement. But
according to my plan—"
"Non-plan," I remind her.
"According to my non-plan, there will be no press conference and no
answering of questions. When it comes your family you are strictly
`no comment'."
"I can handle that."
"There's only one problem," she stops.
"And you're just now getting around to telling me about it?"
"It's the due date," she says.
"Halloween? You think people are going to have a problem with our
baby's due date?"
"People can count, Josh...well, at least in most states of the
Union. My point is that people are going to be counting on their
fingers."
"They have calculators for that now."
"I've done the math myself, Josh. When did Donna conceive?"
"Are your fingers broken?" You know, sometimes I just can't help but
with mess with her.
"I'm serious, Joshua."
"Fine," I sigh. "It was very early in our...relationship."
"How early?"
"Shockingly early."
"I need to know this."
"The first time, okay? It was the first time."
"Are you serious?"
"That's what we think, anyway. We could be wrong. I mean, there was
a lot of sex going on."
"Once again, something I didn't need to know."
"Jealous?" I grin.
"Shut up."
"I'm failing to see the problem here, CJ."
"We had a press conference."
"Yeah, so?"
"We announced to the world that you and Donna had decided to take
your relationship beyond the professional."
"I was there. I remember."
"Do you also remember that you were asked how long you two had been
together?"
"Yes, and I told them about two weeks. And this has to do with the
due date...how?"
"It's not actually the due date I'm worried about. It's actually the
delivery date."
"Oh, for God's sake, CJ!" I say when all the pieces come together.
"What is this...the Victorian Era? Let people count if they want."
"I just think it's possible we could end up looking bad. It could
make us look like liars."
"You're worried about nothing, CJ."
"It's my job to worry. That's actually in my job description, by the
way. `Worry about everything'. It says it right there in my press
packet."
"So, are we going to have send Donna away to live with a `sick aunt'
until the baby is born?" I ask, facetiously.
"It's funny you should mention that."
"Yes, because as you can see I'm busting a gut with laughter."
"That's where the other problem comes in."
"I thought you said there was only one problem."
"I didn't want to get you riled."
"Too late."
"There's one way we can avoid some of the fallout."
"Don't you mean non-fallout?"
"Do I look like I do this job for fun, Josh?"
"Fine. What is it?"
"Get married."
"What?"
"Get married," she repeats in exactly the same tone.
"Get married? Well, there might be a problem with that."
"What problem?"
"She took the ring off, remember?"
"And you haven't given it back yet?"
"No."
"Why the hell not?"
"She hasn't asked for it," I reply, sulkily.
To be honest, a secret part of me has been waiting for her to ask
ever since she returned home. With so much to consider, so many
decisions to make, I didn't want to push her into another. My plan
was to wait until she was ready – wait until she brought it up.
"She's not going to ask for it."
"How do you know that?"
"Because she has pride, Josh," she fires at me. CJ's gone into full
Donna-protection mode.
"So do I," I fire back.
"Well, I guess you're going to have to ask yourself the question
then."
"What question?"
"What's more important to you? Donna or your pride?"
"I don't think she's ready, CJ."
"She's ready. She just may not know she's ready."
"What am I...a magnet for cryptic women?" I ask the gods. "Okay,
CJ. If she's ready, but doesn't know she's ready, how the hell am I
supposed to convince her?"
"You're on your own on that one."
"*Now* you decide to butt out?"
"I can't do everything for you, Josh."
"Just this one last thing," I plead.
"Nope. Sorry," she shrugs. She's got that look on her face that
tells me no amount of begging is going to change her mind. "Look,
Josh. You and Donna changed the nature of your relationship, and the
backlash was non-existent. We got lucky on that one."
"We might get lucky on this one," I suggest hopefully.
"And Texas could secede from the Union tomorrow, but I won't be
holding my breath."
I have to admit she has a point. I mean, from a PR standpoint it
looks bad that Donna and I aren't married. It would be one thing if
we lived in Hollywood and made bucket loads of money for making
movies. But this isn't Hollywood, this is D.C. and in D.C. the naked
truth doesn't much matter. It's the perception of the truth that
matters.
It's the perception of the truth that can ruin a career – or several
of them. Everyone in the White House from President Bartlet on down
has a lot riding on the state of my affairs. Okay, not the best
choice of words, but still.
I put the ring in a safe place I don't think I could ever forget.
But we've never talked about it, and for all I know, she's never even
thought about it. Her parents asked about the wedding, but her
answer was only that we hadn't set a date yet, and then I had been
too much of a coward to broach the subject again. She just seemed
non-committal.
CJ's walked into my office and, for all intents and purpose,
brandished the political version of a shotgun. The discussion had a
distinct I-have-to-make-an-honest-woman-out-of-her ring to it. I
have to marry her because it's my duty. It's my responsibility as
the father of her child. I have to marry her because it will simply
look bad if I don't.
But, I don't want to think of marrying Donna as a duty. I want to
think of marrying her because it's right, not in any moral sense, but
in that cosmic we-were-meant-to-be-together sort of way. Sometimes I
already feel like I'm married to her – have been -- since the day we
met, almost.
I just don't know if she feels the same way.
"Thanks, CJ," I say, remembering that she's still standing in front
of my desk.
"You'll talk to her?"
"Yeah."
"Let me know."
"Sure."
She leaves me brooding in my office. I reach up to smooth the
creases from my forehead, but I find that it has little affect on the
turmoil inside of me. Well, at least I don't have to freak about
giving another press conference. I've spent the last few days
worrying about CJ's plan. Which turns out to be a non-plan.
When Donna and I gave our original press conference there was some
concern, on my part, regarding her well-being. But that was
different -- it was just the two of us then. Now, the bigger picture
is at stake. A child, who didn't ask to be born into any spotlight
but the one her parents choose to place on her.
TBC
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