A LATE THAW
(post-ep for "17 People")
The night got considerably better once the ice melted.
Or anyway for most of them -- for the ones who were
trying to finish this godforsaken speech.
It was going well. Parts of it were funny. Other
parts were still particularly flat, but the mood was
lifting since Josh and Donna had returned, and Ainsley
with her peach.
They were throwing jokes back and forth. Bouncing
them off each other like a rubber ball off the wall of
Toby’s office. Some of them were good and some of them
were so bad they were funny, but the overall effect
was prolonged laughter, which was of course the goal.
The speech read well out loud, and they even had an
audience, but their audience wasn’t listening and they
knew it.
That’s why it was such a surprise when he started to
laugh.
Aloud. Toby, laughing as if ... well, as if it were
funny, which this particular section wasn’t. They
laughed with him, and when he didn’t stop, they
delivered him another.
The next one wasn't in funny's zipcode, but their
one-man audience kept right on laughing. So did the
writers. Everyone was wired on coffee, and Josh and
Donna were grinning any time their gazes met. Ainsley
and Sam had proven completely their ability to
simultaneously argue and bring the funny.
Paragraph by paragraph it really was shaping up, this
funny speech. And the funnier it got, the louder
everyone laughed, and the louder everyone laughed, the
funnier it got. So when Toby stopped laughing
abruptly, everyone noticed, and everyone pretended
they hadn’t. And because they couldn’t ask him what
was bothering him, since no one would acknowledge that
something was bothering him, they kept laughing out of
desparation. Something was up, and they sensed it, and
he knew it, and they all pretended to ignore it.
***********
"Donn-A!"
"I’m standing right behind you, Josh."
Josh turned around. "I knew that."
Donna walked past him and picked up a pencil from the
table. "Then why did you yell?"
"I like the sound of your name."
"You like the sound of your voice."
"That too."
"So, see, flattery will get you nowhere."
"Sure, but philately – now that’s the key."
"Could you maybe let that go?"
"Could the two of you focus?" Sam interrupted.
"Look who’s talking, Mr.
Watch-Me-Teach-The-Republican-The-Error-Of-Her-Ways,"
Josh protested.
Sam shrugged. "She's wrong. How's this? 'So, the
other day I ran into some protesters from a feminist
organization informing me I've been negligent to the
needs of female citizens. Turns out it was organized
by my –'
"Cut the First Lady jokes," Josh interrupted.
"Aah. I keep forgetting that."
"Maybe that's because you're an idiot who surprises me
by remembering his own name," Ainsley suggested.
"You're so witty I just can't stand it."
"It’s late," she justified.
"The two of you know you’ve surpassed partisan
discussion and moved right on into fourth-grade
recess, don’t you?" Larry asked.
"It’s late," Sam echoed.
"How much more do we need?"
"A few paragraphs. A conclusion."
"More than that," Donna reported, skimming the sixth
draft.
"Why?" Sam asked.
"The jokes are good," Josh added.
"The jokes are great," Ainsley agreed. "Donna? You
want to tell them what we did?"
Donna looked up and smiled. "We left out the plot."
"The plot," Josh repeated.
"The whatever. The moral," Ainsley clarified.
"The moral?" Sam asked.
"We left out the point of the speech," Donna
explained.
"There is no point. It's a correspondents' dinner,"
Josh protested.
"He can't just fire off one-liners all night, Josh!"
"Why can't he?" Sam asked.
"He has to at the very least pretend to have a point,"
Ainsley said.
"It's a correspondents' dinner!" Josh protested.
"Josh --"
"No, seriously, Donna! He's honoring some people. He's
making some statements. He's having dinner. What kind
of point are you looking for?"
"The honoring people and the statements." She waved a
late copy of the speech.
Josh, Sam, Larry, and Ed scanned the text of the
speech for a moment.
"Well, wait. I think the point's still intact. Look
at paragraph two," Ed suggested.
"I think I see a thesis," Sam agreed.
"In what language?" Ainsley asked.
"Yiddish. Who has the third draft?"
"I do." A paper airplane sailed lazily from Larry’s
side of the table.
"Did we get fortune cookies?" Ainsley asked.
"With dinner?"
"No, with draft three, Sam. Of course with dinner."
"Yes, we did get fortune cookies, because we're all
eight years old and insatiably curious about our
future spouses."
"Actually," Josh said, and tossed a fortune cookie at
Ainsley.
"Thank you, Josh," Ainsley said.
"No problem."
"Thank you, Josh," Sam said.
Josh grinned. "No problem."
"So what the hell *is* the point of the speech?" Ed
asked.
"Who cares, as long as it’s funny," Sam shrugged.
"It's a correspondent's dinner," Josh repeated.
"You really want the President to play stand-up
comedian?" Donna asked.
"It certainly wouldn't be the first time," Ainsley
pointed out.
"Was that a President joke?" Sam asked.
"No, Sam, that was a speechwriter joke."
"Paragraph eight," Donna announced.
"Which draft?"
"One."
"You mean the Incurably Unfunny Draft."
"It’s not incurable. We’ve cured it. Now all we have
to do is reinsert –"
"The moral. You know. The plot." Josh and Sam grinned
at each other.
"What's the plot?" Larry asked.
"'Change is on the horizon. Your life will chart a
new course.'"
"That’s a pretty weak plot," Josh said.
"That’s not a plot," Ainsley informed him. "That’s my
future." She waved the slip of paper she’d extracted
from the cookie.
"'Your life will chart a new course'?" Sam repeated.
"Who wrote that?"
"Sam –"
"No, seriously. Is it credited?"
"Sam, please."
"'Your life will chart a new course'? Exactly when
did we give life itself the ability to chart
something?"
"Can we work?" Donna pleaded.
"All evidence to the contrary," Josh replied.
"Also, 'change is on the horizon,'" Larry said.
"It’s clichéd," Ed chimed in.
"And it brings to mind a distant mirage of nickels and
dimes," Larry said.
"How did 'change' get to be used so often in that
tired line, anyway?" Ed wondered.
"'You will find new emotions in familiar places,'"
Donna read her fortune aloud.
"'You will throw caution to the wind and pursue
romance.'" Josh wiggled his eyebrows. Donna tossed
draft four at him.
"More like you'll throw your responsibilities to the
wind and pursue a new career."
"Donna's right; can we work?" Ainsley agreed.
"Nothing to prove it so far," Sam replied. And then,
"'You are good-hearted and kind.' What the hell kind
of fortune is that?"
"Who’s got draft four?"
"You’re holding it in your hands, Josh."
"That's just a description," Sam complained.
"And pretty inaccurate," Ainsley agreed.
"They can't write, these fortune-cookie people."
"Damn them."
"They should hire me."
"Shortly after you get fired from your old job for
failing to do any work."
"Listen to this!" Josh cleared his throat and faced
Toby, who had not moved or spoken since he’d stopped
laughing five minutes ago.
"Josh –" Donna interrupted.
"Shh, shhh." Josh held up his hand and prepared to
read.
"It isn’t funny, Josh."
"What isn’t funny?"
"The bleeding-heart liberal joke."
"Oh, that one is definitely funny," Ainsley protested.
"I cut that one a half an hour ago and it's staying
cut," Donna insisted.
"Then replace it with something," Josh said.
"I could replace it with the point."
"Which is --"
"Oh, honestly, Joshua!" Donna grabbed a pencil and
wrote in a few of the names that had been left out by
draft six. "There."
"That's it?"
"Yes."
"You couldn't have just done that half an hour ago?"
"Maybe if it was my job to be writing these speeches
..."
"Hey, it's not my job, either," Josh protested. "Do
you see me complaining?"
"No. I *hear* you complaining."
Josh gave up. "Toby. What do you think of this one?
'I'm happy to see so many familiar faces here tonight,
and I know you all have burning questions on your
mind, so let me answer a few of those right now.'"
Josh attempted to pause for effect. "'The wine is
Cabernet Sauvignon, the suit is Armani, and I just
don't know who did the decorating.'"
"When did that one happen?" Donna asked.
"That was me," Larry answered.
"I didn't know you were fashion-conscious."
"Last week I got cornered by Melissa from In-Style.
Quite informative, actually, that meeting."
"Of course," Sam said to Toby's absence of laughter,
"that one only works if the wine *is* Cabernet
Sauvignon and the suit is Armani. Do you have any idea
...?"
"It is," Larry assured them.
"Hang on," Ed said.
"It is," Larry repeated.
"The wine is merlot," Ed announced.
"It's cabernet."
"Merlot."
"We can't fill that in later?" Donna sighed.
"We need CJ," Josh said.
"It's cabernet," Larry assured them.
"Yeah, where is CJ?" Ainsley asked.
"Merlot," Ed whispered.
"She used her superior evasive maneuvers to leave the
building before we could catch her," Sam said.
"Lucky woman," Donna sighed wistfully.
"Hey, there, Donnatella, you wanted to help!" Josh
protested.
"Not really. I just needed an excuse to stay here and
fight with you."
"But now?" Josh prompted. Sam, Ainsley, Larry, and Ed
rolled their eyes as Josh and Donna went through the
whole lock-gazes-and-grin-shamelessly thing again.
"Now I want to finish this," Donna lied.
"I think we *are* finished," Josh said.
"We have the funny," Sam agreed.
"We have the plot," Ainsley added.
"What do you think?" Larry asked.
"Can we go home?" Ed suggested.
They were met with silence.
"Toby?" Donna prompted.
Toby blinked. "What?" he asked, speaking for the
first time since he sat down.
"The speech," Josh said. "Do you think we're
finished?"
"Uh ... yeah," Toby said. "Yeah. It, uh -- it's
funny."
"We could tell by the way you maintained a perfect
poker face."
"I laughed some," Toby said quietly. He watched them
gather their things, tossing coats and cookies back
and forth, still laughing over their finished product
as they traded bad jokes and pretended not to be
concerned about tomorrow.
"Good night," they began to call to one another.
"Good night," Toby said quietly, and watched them
leave. He didn't have the energy to register Josh and
Donna still grinning at each other as they left, or
Ainsley and Sam picking up an argument about foreign
relations, or Ed and Larry discussing who would win
some boat race tomorrow, or CJ's absence. He didn't
have the energy to leave the building himself right
now.
Because it may have been unbelievably stupid.
It may have been unthinkably stupid.
But it had happened and it would be dealt with, and
right now he was, but wasn't really, the only one of
them who knew it.
"So," Josh said to Donna as they left the building.
"What?"
"Pretty cold out here."
"Astute."
"A late thaw," Josh said absently, and Donna smiled to
herself. They walked in silence for a minute.
"Josh," Donna said at last.
"Yeah?"
"Toby --"
"I know. It was something."
"You think we'll find out about it tomorrow?"
"I think we'll find out pretty soon."
Silence. Footsteps. They stopped at Donna's car.
"You think it's bad?"
"I think it wasn't our bringing the funny that made
Toby laugh, if that's what you're asking."
"It is," Donna said.
"Yeah. Well. We'll know soon."
"Okay."
"Good night."
Donna nodded, and got into her car. "Good night," she
said, closing the door. She started the car and sat
watching as Josh walked away. He kept glancing at the
night around him. Savoring it. He knew something
without knowing it, and so did she.
But instead of letting herself wonder what it was, she
put the car in reverse and backed out of the space.
It was still night, and they would deal with it
tomorrow.
~Sary
07 April 2001