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Title: Long Time Coming
Long Time Coming
It seemed like just another day in the West Wing...or rather, just like any night. I was up to my ears in strategy, numbers and paperwork while burning the midnight oil, as usual. Most everyone else had left, or they were similarly occupied in their offices, not wanting to be disturbed. What seemed like normal for me though really wasn't. Something was definitely out of balance around the office, and that one thing was Donna. Donnatella Moss, my assistant, my- well, let's just keep it at that since I can't begin to summon the energy to think about how to classify our relationship, such as it is. It certainly goes well beyond the typical boss-employee relationship. Anyway, the problem with Donna is that she's not being Donna. She's usually calm, in control, witty, upbeat, sarcastic, full of useless (and at times, useful) trivia, incredibly organized, and keeps me in line and out of deep trouble. Donna has been angry and volatile lately, and I can't even figure out how I've screwed up to make things right. I know when she gets upset that it's probably something that I've said or done, and usually I know right away what the problem is. The reason for my astounding insight is basically because Donna tells me what I've done or said wrong, then we hash it out in our typical bantering manner and get back to the business of running the country. But the game has changed and I'm not sure what the rules are anymore. For example-this morning she came in to give me my schedule. I'm usually running on 3 hours sleep max, and she has to repeat herself several times because she knows that I'm so tired. However, because I was yawning this particular morning when she asked me if I was ready for my schedule, she turned around and walked back out. No, she didn't just walk out, she stormed out and slammed the door so hard that my ears hurt! It's not the first time she's slammed the door on me in the past few weeks. I had to yell for her about 5 times before she would even answer me after the last slam. She walked in slowly had a deadpan expression. In the most hollow voice I've ever heard her use, she asked: "What do you want, Josh?"
"Donna, what the hell was that about?" "What was what about?" "The door slamming thing? What was that about?" "I have no idea what you're talking about. Now, do you want to hear your stupid schedule for the day or are you going to waste more of the taxpayers money today by asking me about the door and not actually doing your job?" See what I mean? I don't know what's going on, but it's been like that all week. Longer than that, but it's been really bad this past week. I have to walk softly cause I don't know when a folder will come whizzing through the air, or if a stapler is gonna be aimed at my head, or if the door is gonna finally be slammed off of its hinges. Perhaps you are wondering why I put up with it? Well, Donna isn't just my assistant, like I said before. I'm not really sure how to classify what she is to me. It's more than an assistant, different than a friend...I don't know. Our relationship has always been unique. If nothing else, Donna has been loyal to me and has gone above and beyond normal boundaries to take care of me. After the shooting, our bantering relationship changed, got deeper somehow, without becoming physical. We don't talk about it, we seem to just move in sync with each other. Donna nursed me back to health, guarded me from the stress of the White House and made sure my friends didn't overburden me or get me too hyped up. She made sure I ate, slept, and generally rested as much as possible. She ministered me through infections, watched over me during physical therapy, and comforted me during what seemed like endless nightmares. I don't know what I would have done if she hadn't been there every day, every step of the way, pushing me to get better. And yet, I never could bring myself to question why she was doing it all. She always has been strong for me, and for everyone in the West Wing. Even the other Senior Staffers know how strong she is and count on her and her integrity. It's why CJ trusted Donna's hunch during the Stackhouse Filibuster; it's why Sam didn't tell Stephanie Gault her grandfather was a spy; it's why Toby told Donna about the President having MS before any other assistant in the West Wing. She's a decent person and she's someone you trust. But now something is really wrong with her, and I have to find out what.
"Donna!!" Oh, for...what does he want now? "DONNA!!!" "What now, Josh?" "Where have you been? I've been trying to find the file for that meeting on the thing and I can't find the numbers we spent most of the night working on and..." "Jesus, Josh! Are you so completely helpless that you can't lift a few papers on your desk? Try doing it sometime, because the damn file is there, on your desk, right where I put it this morning if you had bothered to pay attention to anything I say to you instead of listening to the sound of your own pathetic whining!" Uh-oh...did I just say that out loud?? I think I just went too far, but I can't stop myself from saying things like that. It's like the words just keep flying out of my mouth. I've tried to avoid Josh, so I wouldn't say things like that. And now he's just standing there, with his mouth open, and I can't even get an apology out of my mouth. I want to throw my arms around his neck and apologize, but I feel like I'm rooted to the spot. Someone, help me... "What- I, uh- Donna? What the hell is wrong with you lately!? This isn't like you...I mean, I can understand being frustrated or overtired but it's not like misplacing a file is really that big a deal..." I swallow hard. Please Josh, don't make me start telling you how I feel...I won't be able to stop. Don't ask me anything, please, and don't look at me like that. If you are sweet to me, if 'Concerned Josh' comes out now, I'll lose it right in front of you and I can't let that happen. "N-no big deal, huh? You obviously don't know what a monumental task it is to follow you around every day making sense of the chaos you leave behind where ever you go. You just stand there, screaming out my name, like somehow I am the one responsible for everything! Day after day it's the same crap with you and you can't even take responsibility for your own mess!" I quickly turn to leave the office, but I hear him behind me as he follows. Please Josh, I can't even breathe around you now. Give me a few minutes to get myself under control. Maybe I could even sneak out and go home... "That's it, let's go." Huh? I turn around to look at him. "Go? Go where?" He stands there with his arms folded across his chest, looking determined. Oh yes, I know that look...that's his bulldog look...and it means he is not going to budge an inch until he gets what he wants. "The basement. Now. You and me. We're having this out once and for all." Oh no, we're not...we can't. I can't. I have to say something, do something, or I'm gonna lose it for real. I'm frantically racing around in my head, trying to think of something to get out of this catastrophe in the making. "Look, Josh, it's 10:45...everyone else is gone and I think we're both really too tired to do this now. Can't this wait until the morning?" I whine and try to give my best pout. Under the circumstances I'm sure it's a pretty good one, but he's not biting. "No. Let's go. I mean it, Donnatella, right now." "Fine." I growl, but he's already turned and waiting for me to walk with him. We walk side by side, perfectly in step with each other. I think I knew this was going to have to happen...I've been hanging on so tight. What am I going to say? What is he going to ask? We walk in silence and then we arrive at the basement sooner than I realized. My future is looking more uncertain now...my future with Josh. I feel more lost now than ever. Standing in front of the agent at the door, we say in unison, "Sagittarius." TBC
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