The Calendar is Not an
Excuse
By the time I look back
over my shoulder Amy's already turned the corner, hurrying off to her
place. I lean up against a street lamp
and trying to calm down. I take a few
deeps breaths cause frankly; I'm not feeling very well at the moment. A million things are going through my mind; I
can't seem to get my breathing under control.
A car just backfired a few blocks away and someone's stereo is blasting
out an open window. I'm in PTSD
hell. If my current situation doesn't
send me head first into an episode I think maybe I'm slowly but surely getting
better.
I somehow manage to
stumble back to the White House in one piece, not sure how I did that. Much to my disappointment Donna has gone home
for the night. I shouldn't be surprised;
after all, it is almost one in the morning.
But she left a note on my desk.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Josh,
Couldn't get you on your
cell. I'm worried about you. Call me, doesn't matter what time it is.
Donna
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I drop into the chair and
reach for the phone. As I hit the speed
dial number I realize I have no idea what I'm going to say. I try to take a deep breath while I wait for
her to answer the phone.
"Josh?"
"Yeah it's me."
"You ok, I couldn't
reach you on your cell."
"Had a little
accident in the kitchen with my phone."
"Whatever. I, uh, heard what happened in the Oval
Office. You want to talk about it?"
I hear the worry in her
voice and I can picture her pacing around her apartment.
"I don't know. It's late, you should get some sleep." I
mutter.
"Josh, do you want
me to come back? We can work for a
while." she offers.
"No, I don't see
myself getting anything done now. It's
just...I don't know...it's just..."
"May?"
"Yeah." I
whisper.
"OK, pack up your
stuff and go home, I'll be over in half an hour."
"Donna, it's one in
the morning. You really don't have to
come over and watch me wallow in self-pity."
"Josh, I'm coming
over so just hang up the phone and get going."
"Fine."
We hang up and I grab my
bag and head out to my car.
Forty minutes later I've
taken a shower and I'm standing in front of my bathroom mirror wearing boxers
and my untied bathrobe. I'm trying to
decide if the scar on my chest is any less noticeable than it was the last time
I really took a close look at it a few weeks ago. I don't think it really is
but it's faded a lot in the past two years.
I can't believe it has been two years already.
The sound of Donna
letting herself in with her key brings me back to the present.
"Josh?"
"In the
bathroom."
I hear her in the living
room, probably hanging up my bag that I dropped in the middle of the floor.
A minute later I look up
to see Donna's reflection in the mirror.
She lifts her eyes, moving her gaze from my chest up to meet my
eyes. I can feel myself turn red as I
quickly tie my robe closed. I turn
around and hop up to sit on the counter.
"Hey. You really didn't need to come over, I'm
fine." I mutter, trying my best to actually look fine.
"Josh, I've known
you long enough to know when you're fine and when you're not. You're not."
She takes a step forward
and wraps her arms around me. My head
drops to her shoulder. I chuckle to
myself as I realize the nice fabric against my face is the soft flannel of
Donna's pajamas.
"Pajamas?"
"Well, I figured I
would eventually end up falling asleep." she says with a laugh. "You want to talk?"
I shake my head and she
starts to rub my back gently. That's
what undoes me and the tears and everything I've been holding back for what
seems like days floods out.
Donna silently comforts
me, letting me get it all out. I pull
myself together after a little while.
She wipes my tears and kisses my forehead. She reaches over my shoulder and grabs the
bottle of Advil out of the medicine cabinet.
I take two with some water as I watch her hang up my towel and toss my
dirty clothes in the hamper. This should
really be awkward but it's not, it's just us.
Donna finishes her cleaning and leans up against the counter next to me.
"So, you think maybe
we could actually get out of the bathroom?" she asks with a smirk.
I nod and slid off the
counter, pulling Donna out of the room by her hand.
We settle down on the
couch, under the quilt my mother made.
"So, ready to talk
now?"
"Suppose. How much do you know about what happened in
the Oval Office?"
"Enough to know I
should probably check up on you. Enough
to feel the need to ask if you had a...thing." she asks quietly, using the euphemism that
encompasses a wide variety of "things".
"No, I didn't. Thought I was headed in that direction
though." I say with a heavy sigh.
Donna scoots to one end
of the couch and tosses a pillow in her lap.
I smile at her wordless invitation and curl up with my head in her
lap. She brushes back my still damp hair
and motions for me to continue.
"He was right you...
the President. Everything he said was
right on the money. I have been screwing
up left and right for a long time now.
Tobacco, the tape, the welfare bill.
Who knows what else I'll screw up this month?"
"First of all, you
didn't screw all those things up this month."
"Whatever."
"Josh, it's
May.."
"I can't go on using
that for the rest of my life, Donna. The
damn calendar is not an excuse." I say as I try to sit up but am held back
by Donna's arm across my chest.
"Listen to me,
please?" she says quietly, a hint of pleading in her voice.
I nod for her to continue
as I curl back up.
"You ever stop to
think that the month of May is hard for everyone, not just you? You were all victims at Rosslyn; you all took
Mrs. Landingham's death very hard last year.
And to some extent you're still dealing with the MS issue. The election is picking up, you're all
tired. Things just get said in the heat
of the moment. Do you really think the
President planned on reaming you out in front of a room full of people?"
"No. I think he was as shocked by his words as I
was. He also said some things
about..."
"Amy?"
I can only nod.
"What's going on
with the two of you?"
"I don't even know
where to begin. I like her, I really
do. We have fun together. But I get the feeling she's using me."
"Joshua, sorry to
put it so bluntly but anyone with half a brain can see she's using you. She's a power-dater, remember."
I open my mouth a few
times to say something but don't actually utter any words. I'm a little shocked at how blunt Donna can
be when it comes to Amy.
"Sorry."
"No. Don't worry about it. If the shoe fits and all that crap. I mean, she tossed my phone into a pot of
stew..."
"She what?"
asks Donna, trying not to laugh hysterically.
"You heard me, look
I don't want to talk about it anymore. I
just...I'm so tired of coming up with excuses, tired of having a million and
one problems to solve at one time. Tired
of looking at the damn calendar on my desk and seeing the month of May."
"Do you honestly
think things are going to drastically improve when you tear that page
off?"
"No, but I think
that my outlook will. People will stop
staring at me with a look of pity, waiting for me to lose it."
"Have I been doing
that?"
"What?"
"Giving you the look
of pity?"
"Yeah, but it's ok
coming from you." I say with a grin.
"I know it's cause you care."
Even in the dimly lit
room I can see her blush. "Yeah, I
do care. I wouldn't be here in my
pajamas at almost 2 in the morning if I didn't care."
I find the power of
speech has once again left me so I settle for squeezing Donna's hand to convey
my thoughts. My eyes are getting heavy
and I hear her whisper, "Close your eyes, it's ok, I'm right here,"
as she runs her fingers through my hair.
An hour or so later I
wake up suddenly. Donna's sound asleep
at the other end of the couch. Our legs
are tangled up under the quilt and she has one hand wrapped around my right
foot. I pull the quilt up a little
higher under my chin and close my eyes again.
Before I drift back off I
vow to make this day a better one. One
where I don't need excuses for my actions, one where I don't blame anything on
the calendar.
The End
