At Arms Length
Dragging myself back upstairs after confronting Toby I suddenly realize how
tired I am. It's been another one of
those endless days. The ones I used to
have no problem getting through. But
lately it's been a chore to get through an 18 hour day in one piece. It's not just the physical part of it,
although my body does start to protest after about 14 hours, it's more the
emotional part. I just can't seem to
concentrate any more. I feel like things
are still "unbalanced", I'm still not completely back in the loop or
at least I don't feel like I am. I'm
still lacking in confidence struggling with the more than occasional nightmare
and the slightly less frequent panic attack.
I took Donna's advice and went back to see Dr. Collins a few months ago and
I've been seeing Stanley about
twice a month now. Dr. Collins upped my
Paxil and while it's helping the side effects suck. It's robbed me of my appetite and makes me
vaguely nauseous a good deal of the time.
And as my Mom keeps reminding me, I can ill afford to lose much
weight. I've also been going through at
least a bag of hard candy a week. I
fully expect Donna to switch to sugar free and make a dentist appointment for
me.
Wait, I take that back. I don't
expect her to do that. Cause lately
she's been..distant.
Things between Donna and I were really good for a while but these past few
weeks we've been "off" again.
It started with the pardons and has gone downhill. And I certainly didn't help things this
afternoon when I asked her to basically spy on Toby. I should have never asked her to do
that. For numerous reasons, first of
all, what he was doing wasn't any of my business. If it had been my business I would have been
told about it earlier. I was just
feeling left out, like the kid who got left out on the playground, like Rudolph
when he couldn't play in the reindeer games like...like, I don't know, I don't
have the energy for a third comparison.
Plus, as Donna pointed out, it made her uncomfortable. And that was just wrong on my part.
As I hit the bullpen I'm a little surprised to see Donna's computer is
still on. I figured she would be long
gone. And I certainly wouldn't blame
her. She's not at her desk; maybe she's
getting makeup tips from Rina. God, I
hope not, I kind of like Donna's makeup...hair...clothes, just about
everything. Absently, I push the door to
my office open with my foot as I pull a couple of files out of the holder on
the wall.
I've found my wayward assistant.
"Hey," I whisper, just in case she's asleep in my chair. She waves a little, not turning around or
saying anything. I'm thinking that's not
a good sign. She's in the dark, facing
out the window. She's wrapped up in the
blanket I keep in the closet, her bare feet tucked under her. I know her feet are bare because I just
tripped over her shoes, sending the files to the floor. Donna doesn't move to help me as I scoop
everything up and just dump it on my desk.
Donna sighs heavily.
I collapse into my visitor's chair, toe off my own shoes and prop my feet
on the desk.
"Do you want something Josh?" she asks quietly. Guess she's forgotten that she's sitting in
my office.
"No, I was just coming back from the Mess. Toby....Toby,"
"Resigned." she sighs, completing the sentence I couldn't.
"How did you know?" She shrugs
her shoulders and I have no idea what that's supposed to mean. "Donna?"
"He told me," she whispers as she snakes her foot out from under
her and pushes off the window sill, turning my chair around. To get my reaction, I'm sure. I'm not doing a good job at hiding my
surprise.
"Oh," I mutter, not my best comeback, I admit.
Donna sighs and looks at me for a split second before fixing her gaze
somewhere over my left shoulder. "About an hour ago I went over to see if
Toby was in his office."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why did you go over to see if Toby was in his office?" Sounds like a reasonable question to me. But apparently it's not going to turn out
that way.
"Because he's my friend. I was
worried about him and wanted to check on him," she says with a healthy
dose of annoyance. "Like I've done hundreds of times with you," she
adds. I try to look properly ashamed but she’s not buying it.
“Just forget it Josh,” Donna sighs.
“I can’t forget it,” I whisper as I start to stand up and move towards her. She puts her hand up in a gesture that sends
me back into the chair in a hurry.
We sit in silence for a while, in a crazy stand off of sorts. Donna's once again facing out the window,
leaving me to stare at the back of my chair and the very top of her blonde
head. The room is dark but the light in
the bullpen is on so we can see each others reflections in the window.
It's been about ten minutes and I guess she's had enough. With a weary sigh she stands, tosses the
blanket aside and walks out of the room.
Not a word, not a gesture in my direction.
Can I just say I'm actually a little frightened about now.
Part of me wants to follow her, to have this conversation that we need to
have. But the thing is, I'm not sure
what conversation it is that we need to have.
Do we need to talk about what happened today?
Do we need to talk about how my life is going downhill fast?
Does she care that my life seems to be going downhill fast?
Should she even care?
Do we need to talk about how our relationship is still
"unbalanced"?
I don't know.
I pack up my bag and head for the bullpen a few minutes later. Donna's computer is still on. I have a good idea where she is. I'm not proud of myself but I wander...sneak,
over to the communications bullpen. Toby's
door is open a crack so I peek in.
Toby's sitting on his coffee table, Donna's on the couch, her knees pulled
up to her chest, tissue in her hand. I
know I shouldn't be listening on their conversation. But I can't help myself.
"Donna, sooner or later you are going to have to talk," Toby
says. His voice is softer than I ever
heard. "Don't make me drag it out
of you."
"You mean the way I have to drag things out of you?" she
teases. Toby smiles, he actually
smiles. "I don't know know to help him. I see him struggling and I don't know what to
do."
She's talking about me.
"What's changed?" Toby asks as he leans forwards and reaches out
to take Donna's hand.
A shiver shoots through me and I wrapped my arms around myself. The scene in front of me is, quite frankly,
freaking me out. It's like I'm watching
through this warped mirror...or window.
It's like this weird role reversal thing. Everything is rearranged, mixed up and
totally screwy.
Right now Toby is taking on Donna's role of comforter and Donna's occupying
the role of the confused, emotionally fragile one, the role usually reserved
for me. I'm left watching as the far
from innocent bystander.
"Our relationship has changed," whispers Donna. Toby's eyes get wide for a second. "Not
like that," she chuckles as she wipes at her eyes again. "Ever since the Carrick mess things have
been...they've been unbalanced, to use Josh's description. He's floundering and I'm..."I'm,"
she stops and look to Toby to finish her sentence.
"You're flourishing. You've
gotten more responsibility. There's some
professional distance between the two of you and that, tell me if I'm wrong,
that has put some personal distance between the two of you."
Could Toby be a closet viewer of Dr. Phil?
"I guess, in the sense that we have less time together. I spend less time trying to...to keep Josh
together. I've cut the cord and I feel a
little guilty. Can you honestly tell me
you don't think he's struggling?"
Toby just shakes his head.
And I've been caught. He just saw me
reach into my pocket for my handkerchief.
In a split second I silently plead with him not to let Donna know I'm
out here. And to my surprise he doesn't
let on.
"He's struggling but even as his assistant it's really not your
problem." Leave it to Toby to put
things so bluntly.
"But as his friend it is. And
he's shutting me out."
Toby takes a deep breath, probably channeling Dr. Phil. "Is it that he's shutting you out or
that you're not taking the time to drag things out of him?"
Donna mulls over Toby's statement as she blows her nose and take a drink of
her Diet Coke. While she's occupied I
quietly sit down, leaning back against Sam's/Will's/Rina's door. I'm shaking badly as I pull my knees up to my
chest, trying my best to curl up into a ball.
"I've been avoiding starting any in depth conversations. I've been waiting for him to come to
me."
Toby snorts. "You'll be waiting
until HELL freezes over."
Unfortunately, that's probably true.
"Donna, do you remember the night of the State of the Union? When you ran out of the building,” Donna
nods, or I assume she does, I can't see her right now. "What did you say to Josh when he came
outside?"
"That I wanted to learn to keep things at arms length," she
whispers after taking a minute to remember her words. "Oh God, I didn’t mean him," she
sobs. I hear Toby get up off the coffee
table and I assume sit next to her on the couch. They talk for a few minutes but I can't
really hear, between the fact that they're whispering and the fact that I'm
trying not to cry too loudly.
I really, really have to tell her how I feel. I can't go on like this. Everything is just so screwed up right
now. I hear Toby get up and open his
door all the way. I'm frozen to where I
am, unable to get up and sneak away.
"Donna you need to talk to Josh.
Ask him what's been going on."
Toby basically knows what's been going on with me. At least as far as the meds and my
appointments with Stanley. "Trust me." Donna gives Toby a quick hug and turns to leave. They get a few steps out into the bullpen
when Toby reaches out to tap her shoulder and gesture in my direction.
Damn.
As Toby goes back into his office, closing the door behind him, Donna drops
to her knees in front of me. She puts
her hands on my knees and I flinch unconsciously. I can't look her in the eye.
"Joshua," she whispers as she picks up my chin to look me in the
eye. Her eyes are as puffy as mine, her
hair is messed, and her face is blotchy; she's never looked more beautiful to
me. "You feel like going to get
some coffee? Maybe talk for a
while?" she whispers with a small smile.
I can only nod. She pulls me to
my feet, holding onto my hands longer than necessary. I pick up my bag and Donna puts her hand on
the back of my neck, much the same way I did the night of the State of the Union. She gently kneads away some of the tension of
the day as we head back to her desk to get her stuff.
We're silent but we're connected. Maybe
with some coffee and a long overdue conversation we'll be balanced.
I can only hope.
THE END
