See disclaimers in part 1
****
Time Table 3/3
By Lacy
The alarm clock doesn't wake me. It's that niggling feeling in the
back of my sleep hazed brain, that tells me I'm being watched. I
open my eyes to find Josh staring down at me.
"What are you doing?" I ask. I glance over at the clock and find its
neon green LED reads 5:45.
"Watching you," he replies. He's propped up on one elbow, holding
his head in his palm.
"You were watching me?"
He nods.
"Watching me sleep?"
He nods again.
"Why on earth were you doing that?" With one hand he brushes a few
strands of hair off of my face.
"I've been thinking," he says.
"This can't be good," I retort, reaching up to rub the sleep out of
my eyes and clear my vision.
"Let's have a baby," he whispers with absolute conviction.
Okay, now I'm awake. Fully awake. I have never in my life been more
awake than I am at this moment.
It should be noted that I can generally predict Josh's moods and what
his decisions on certain issues will be depending on given
circumstances. I lost a little ground during last night's baby
discussion, I'll admit. Because, I didn't have enough background
knowledge from which to work. Hardly my fault, wouldn't you say?
Josh is an incredibly decisive man. It's one of the many things I
love about him. The way he can seek out all the facts and make an
informed decision and stand by it, no matter what. But this. This
is a bit more decisive than even I'm used to.
"What!?" Am I choking again?
"Let's have a baby," he repeats. I notice that there is no less
conviction in his voice than the first time he said it.
"Did you sleep at all?" I narrow my eyes in a search for the truth.
He looks strangely well rested. Not at all the walking zombie he's
been the last few days.
"No," he tells me. "I started thinking and I couldn't go to sleep."
"You're delirious with exhaustion." I sit up and throw the covers
off of me. I'm out of the bed before he can reach for me.
"I'm not," he declares. "I've never been thinking more clearly in my
life. I spent the whole night thinking about the things you said.
You made some points that really hit home with me, Donna. About
leaving behind a legacy and making a contribution to the future."
Well, I'm up, so I might as well get ready for work. I throw open
the closet door and begin rooting through it for something to wear.
The next thing I feel is Josh, wrapping his arms around my waist.
"I'm serious, Donna," he whispers into my ear. "Let's make a baby
together." And then the kissing begins. His lips and tongue are on
my neck and, more than anything, I want to surrender to him -- to
give him what he wants. What we both want. It's been seven -- no
eight -- days, since we last made love.
But is this what he really wants? I resolved to give him time to
think about it, but somehow I was expecting him to need more than six
hours to come to an acceptance -- let alone a purposeful decision.
"No," I say, pulling out his arms and out of lip range. "You can't
do that. You can't say 'Let's have a baby', and then proceed to
seduce me. That's one of the things you cannot do, Josh. Put it on
your list. Right up there with 'No insulting someone else's
religious beliefs on national television' and 'No yelling at the
President in the Oval Office'." I might have raised my voice just a
touch too much there.
"But--"
"No, Josh. You asked for time to think about it, and that's what I'm
giving you."
"I've thought about it."
"Take a little more time, Josh. Take a lot more time."
"Last night you were telling me that you wanted to have children
someday."
"Someday, Josh. There's the key word in that sentence -- someday.
Look," I sigh, "I wasn't giving you an ultimatum, Josh. I wasn't
telling you that I was going to leave you if you decided you didn't
want to have children."
"Well, it's okay, because I've decided that I do. Want to have
children, that is."
"In one night?"
"High pressure decisions are my specialty."
"There's no pressure, Josh! I want to be clear on this. I'm not
pressuring you. Think about it some more."
"Are you trying to talk me out of my decision?"
"No, Josh," I say. "I'm just saying that you can take a little more
time. Don't feel like you have to set our future in concrete in a
single morning."
"I don't understand. I thought this is what you wanted."
"What I want is for you to be absolutely sure. I don't want you say
something now that you'll only regret later. I couldn't bear that."
"I'm sure."
"Josh," I say, exasperatedly. "Last night you were ambivalent at
best, and now, all of the sudden you're raring to go? Where's the
middle ground?"
"I had an epiphany," he tells me, his dimpled grin widening. His
eyes are bright with excitement.
"God help us," I mutter.
"Don't you want to know what my epiphany was?"
"I'm afraid to ask."
"Last night I was watching you sleep." He lowers his voice, trying
to recreate the mood he must have been feeling when this revelation
struck him. "You looked so peaceful, Donna, and so trusting. You
were so secure in my arms. I had this sudden vision of what our
daughter would look like. I've never felt anything like that before."
I'm struck dumb, not only by his words but by the emotions and
honesty behind them.
"Josh, I...I don't know what to say." I watch as he struggles with a
witty retort to counter my confession.
"Say...you'll be the mother of my children."
"Josh."
"We don't have to start now," he assures me, grabbing both of arms
and seeking out my eyes. "We can wait until the timing is right.
We'll worry about other things first. We can get a new place and get
married. We can worry about reelection, and where we're going to be
in two years. But just say it, Donna. Say that you'll have babies
with me."
He's so sincere, I think -- so resolute. Whatever it was that went
through his brain last night has caused a complete turnaround. He's
holding his breath, waiting for me to say the words. Waiting for me
to assure him that our future together will be rich and full of all
the things we deserve.
Once again, he's thrown me off guard. Every time I believe that I
can predict his every thought and every action, he tosses something
new into the mix. He's thrown me for a loop twice in less than
twenty-four hours.
Looking at his hopeful face I, too, have a flash of what our child
will look like. Except that my vision is of our son. Dimpled and
joyful. Witty and vocal and afraid of nothing. This child, in my
mind's eye, is the last great piece to the puzzle that we are. I
look forward to meeting him.
"I want to grow old with you, Josh," I answer. "I want to have
babies with you."
He sweeps me into his arms, but I feel that our conversation remains
unfinished. "But not right now," I say.
"Okay," he smiles, setting me down.
"I'm not ready right now," I qualify.
"Okay."
"We're not completely...healthy yet."
"I know," he says, soberly.
"I'm still on medication, and my therapist says that I shouldn't add
any more pressure to my life at this time."
"No pressure," he says. "I just want you to know that when you're
ready...I'm ready."
"Okay." I wrap my arms around his waist and lay my head on his
shoulder. "Besides," I say, "I kind of like it just being us for
now. Think you can handle that?"
"I can handle that," he says with confidence. He kisses me and I
sense none of the exhaustion that has been plaguing him for the last
week. "Senior staff meeting?" he asks between kisses.
"Eight o'clock," I respond.
He glances over at the clock, which reads 6:15. "We have a little
time," I hint. "If we shower together."
He grins and takes my hands in his, walking backwards into the
bathroom. "We could conserve water." His smile is luscious and
lascivious.
"Among other things," I chuckle.
He leads me into the bathroom and turns the water on in the shower
without taking his eyes off me. I pull my shirt -- his shirt -- over
my head.
We've decided so much in a single day that my mind is spinning. How
did my life change so quickly? He pulls me into the shower, and my
mind turns to thoughts of him, and the marvelous things that only he
can make me feel. We've decided we're going to make a baby, but not
right now. We're going to wait until the time is right.
But that doesn't mean we can't have a whole lot of fun practicing.
The End.