See disclaimers in part 1
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Time Table 2/3
By Lacy
Josh stayed behind again, promising that he would be right behind
me. This time, however, he does not disappoint. I stand at the
window facing the street and watch as he parks his car outside.
I've been home for an hour, and on the off chance that he would
arrive home before three, I made him dinner. Baked chicken and
steamed veggies and rice. He's going to hate it, but he'll eat it
anyway because...well, I'll tell him to.
I can hear him outside the door, probably trying to locate the key on
his key ring. I decide to help him out and save him the aggravation.
"Hey," he smiles. His eyes crinkle up more than usual.
"You came home," I say. "Did you finish?"
"Finally," he nods. He drops his backpack on the sofa and discards
his jacket.
"Everything went well?"
"His file was clean."
"That's a relief."
He reaches out for me and takes me in his arms, resting his forehead
against mine. "Mmmm," he sighs. "You feel good."
He hasn't held me like this in days, and the feel of his arms around
me is like a long awaited homecoming. "So do you," I reply. We
stand there for a few moments just holding each other. He lifts his
head to kiss my brow.
"Hungry?" I ask. "I made dinner."
"Is that what I smell?"
"Chicken and veggies."
"Do the words 'and French fries' follow that?"
"Not a chance, Josh Lyman."
"Can't blame me for trying."
"High blood pressure, Joshua," I say over my shoulder as I walk into
the kitchen.
"High side of normal, Donnatella," he counters.
"High is high. You're not getting heart disease on my watch," I
vow. "I'm planning on keeping you around for torture purposes for a
long time to come."
"How long?" He follows me into the kitchen, which leaves us very
little room to maneuver. I sense that the tenor of the conversation
has changed.
"A long time," I respond. It's a weak answer, I know, but I'm a
little caught off guard, which is unusual for me.
"Because we've never really talked about it."
"It?"
"The future...our future."
"We've been dating for a month," I say. I'm afraid of rushing him,
so I give him this way out.
"We've been dating for three years." Apparently he doesn't want a
way out. "It's not like we met at a grocery store and started dating
a month ago, Donna. We have history. I think that allows us the
ability to speed up the clock."
"You want to speed up the clock?"
"I want to talk about speeding up the clock," he clarifies.
"So, talk," I say. He opens his mouth to speak but shuts it
immediately after. I grab two plates from the overhead cabinet and
dish out some chicken and vegetables for us.
"Well, now you've put me on the spot," he accuses, as he follows me
to the dining room table, which is cluttered with files.
"C'mon, Joshua. You do some of your best work under pressure." I
chuckle as I move aside some of the file folders to set down our
plates. "Sit. Eat," I order.
"Yes, ma'am," he replies. He drops into a chair and picks up his
utensils. I watch as he mindlessly eats the meal I've prepared for
him. I can see his mind whirl as he tries to figure out how to
broach the subject properly. Finally, he looks up at me. "We've got
history," he says again, pointing a broccoli laden fork at me.
"We've established that."
"What I mean is, we've gone public and the people have been
receptive, if not fully accepting of our relationship."
It's true. Bristol Wallace's exclusive interview of yours truly
pulled in the highest quarterly rating for HeadlineMakers. After the
segment aired, CNN and MSNBC ran even more polls, all of which were
favorable. Apparently, the public thinks we're romantic and that we
should have the right to follow our hearts.
"So, it's like we've been given permission from the people," he
continues.
"The President's permission didn't hurt either."
"I'm not talking about that, Donna." He's very frustrated with
himself. I've seen him get this look on his face when he feels as
though he's not articulating himself clearly.
"What are we talking about?" I ask because I honestly can't remember
what the original topic was.
"Taking things to the next level," he supplies.
"Oh," I respond, "and that would mean...."
"Well, you know--"
"Are you talking about marriage?"
"I'm just saying that...after reelection...I might be open to the
possibility of turning what we have into a...legally sanctioned
union."
Well, there's a politician's answer if ever I heard one.
"And," I smile, "if you were open to the possibility...after
reelection...I might be receptive to certain meticulously specified
offers on the table regarding legal sanctions." Ha! Two can play at
that game.
He nearly chokes on his rice through his laughter. His eyes are
twinkling, and he's more alert than I've seen him in days.
"You forget who you're talking to," I laugh.
"A failed stratagem on my part," he smirks. He narrows his eyes in
scrutiny and I know exactly what's going through his mind. He's
comparing the woman sitting across from him with the girl who usurped
his office at campaign headquarters three years ago. In this moment
I think he's catching some small glimpse of just how much he's
changed me.
"Josh," I sigh. "Is this really how you want to play this?"
"What do you mean?"
"Are we going to talk about it without talking about it?"
"I want to get married, Donna," he blurts out. And now I'm the one
choking on rice. He's out of his chair in a flash and smacking my
back with the heel of his hand.
"Donna?"
"Water," I beg. He races to the kitchen to fill a glass for me, and
his face is filled with concern when he returns. Concern for my
reaction to his announcement as much as for my well being. The cool
water slides down my throat and eases the burning there.
"Okay?" he inquires.
I nod, my hand going to my throat. I use my napkin to wipe the
involuntary tears, caused by the choking, from my eyes.
"I should clarify," he says before I have the chance to say anything,
"that I'm not talking about tomorrow, or next week. Just...in the
future. Down the road, sometime."
"You're serious?" I ask, incredulous. My response is a
miscalculation, because he misinterprets it as lack of interest.
"I thought that was where we were headed. I thought we wanted the
same things."
"We do," I say. "At least...I think we do. But there are a lot of
things we haven't even covered."
"Like what?"
"Like children," I blurt. "What about children, Josh?"
"You mean the small versions of adults, right?"
"Those are the ones."
"To be honest, I haven't really thought about children since my
father died."
"Well, start thinking about it."
"Is there something you're trying to tell me?" He's got the classic
deer-in-the-headlights look."
"Relax, Joshua. I'm not pregnant." I have to stifle the grin that
threatens to explode across my face. I can't help it -- he just
looks so taken aback.
"You're sure?"
"Fairly." I'm just messing with his head, now.
"Donna," he whines.
"I'm sure," I concede. "But Josh, you have to think about it."
"Now? I have to think about it now?"
"Josh, I'm a woman in my prime but, let's face it, you're pushing
forty. Do you really want to wait until you're fifty to decide
whether or not kids might be a good thing?"
"What are my other choices?"
"Huh?"
"You said there were lots of things that we hadn't discussed yet," he
prompts.
"Children," I say. "That was about it."
"Well, what do you think about it?"
"What do I think about children?"
"Yeah."
"I think I don't want to be married to a man who doesn't want to
father my children." I decide to give him a little food for thought.
"So, you're coming down on the 'yea' side."
This conversation has become a train wreck. I realize that Josh
feels as though he's completely lost control of the issue. I sigh.
"I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do," I assure him.
"If I decide I don't ever want to have kids, that would be okay with
you?"
"No," I reply, "it really wouldn't."
"Why do I feel like I'm being blackmailed," he mutters under his
breath.
"I'm not blackmailing you, Josh. I'm only telling you how I feel."
"So, you just want to have kids? No matter what?"
"No, Josh," I whisper. "I want to have your kids. I thought, maybe,
you might actually find the idea of having children with me a
pleasant one." Now I realize that the train wrecked because I was
standing on the tracks. I collapse onto the sofa, my head falling
into my hands.
"Donna," he attempts. "Our lives are full, aren't they?"
"Yes, they are," I agree.
"Then why...all this?" He can't even say it.
"It's not just about fulfilling some need inside of me, Josh. I mean
that's part of it, I guess."
"Then tell me." I glance over to see that he's honestly ready to
listen to me. He wants to hear what's inside my heart.
"It's not about the biological clock that's ticking away inside of
me," I begin. "It's about creating a new generation -- of passing
ourselves along. It's about creating someone who has the potential
to do great things. Every generation we grow smarter and more
enlightened. Don't you want to contribute to that, at all? Even in
some small way? You nearly died, Josh. You were a heartbeat away
from leaving nothing behind but an empty shell and a great political
legacy. But, what about a physical legacy, Josh? It's about holding
a child in your arms and knowing that they're a part of you and me.
Something we made together. I want to leave something behind, Josh.
I want people to be able to say something more than 'she was a great
assistant'. I want someone to be able to say that I was a great
mother. I think that would be a contribution I could be truly proud
of."
He says nothing for a moment, but instead simply stares at me.
"I'm sorry," he breaks the silence. "I didn't realize how you felt
about it."
"That's my point. It's not something we ever talked about, Josh."
"Look," he says, "I'm not very good at these kinds of things. You've
given me a lot to think about, so I guess I'm asking for some time to
think about it. Let's just leave my opinion on children, and having
them, up in the air for now. Would that be okay, Donna?"
"Yeah," I answer. His 'maybe' is better than a flat out 'no'. "I
guess that would be okay."
"Okay."
I implore Josh to take a shower while I clean up the kitchen, which
really means I just want him out of my hair for a few minutes so I
can think. The thing is, I hate it when Josh and I disagree.
Perhaps because it happens so rarely -- in our personal life.
I guess I've always thought that someday, I'd settle down and have
2.5 children and the white picket fence. I have a career I love, but
I also want more, for all the reasons I explained to Josh. I want to
be more than an assistant. I've been thinking about going back to
school and getting a degree someday. I want to have children that
will grow up and be as passionate about changing the world as their
father.
Now, see, I'm assuming too much. It never occurred to me that Josh
wouldn't want to be a father. I mean, it's not like he's been
vocally anti-children. The question I'm asking myself right now is:
Is he just being a guy about all this? I've known several men who
didn't want children until the moment they held their own child in
their arms. I believe that Josh would be this way.
I believe that, emotionally, he'd come through in the clinch. His
life has just been so focused on his career that he's never really
thought about all the other options that are left wide open by his
single-minded purpose. Well, I'm part of his life now, so he'd
better start thinking about it.
And that's what I'm going to let him do. Think about it. He can
have all the time he wants to mull and ponder and weigh the pros and
cons. Standing here in the kitchen, washing the dishes, I've come to
a conclusion. Josh will make a great dad, and I'm willing to wait
until that fact wheedles its way into his incredibly think cranium.
Feeling better about life and the future, I turn off the kitchen
lights and head into the bedroom. I don one of Josh's t-shirts to
sleep in and crawl into my side of the bed. I have a side of the
bed. Just another one of the little details about my life that
continually surprises me.
I'm half asleep when he crawls into bed beside me. He doesn't pull
me into his arms, which is standard operating procedure, so I roll
over and curl up right next to him. Even without opening my eyes, I
know that he's got one arm under his head and he's staring up at the
ceiling.
"Go to sleep, Josh," I mumble.
"I will," he responds. He puts his other arm around me and kisses me
on top of the head as I drift off to sleep.
TBC
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