Water Balloons and the Big Question
I somehow manage to hold myself together until after Amy waves and goes
back into her office. As I turn to hail
another cab I realize just how badly I am shaking. I haven't felt like this since I hit the
doorframe at the hotel in Manchester. I walk around the fountain a few times trying
to take some deep breaths. It is only
helping a little so I decide to walk back to the White House. Since I left without telling Donna where I
was going I call to say I am on my way back from Amy's office and I am going to
walk. Donna, bless her heart, doesn't
ask why. She just thanks me for calling
to let her know where I am.
The walk helps a little and I am more under control by the time I walk back
into the West Wing. But I know I need to
get to my office in a hurry without running into a whole bunch of people. I manage to make it there pretty
undetected. Donna is on the phone when I
go by her "street corner". I wave with a smile plastered on my face
and close my office door behind me.
Standing with my back against the wall I try to come up with some excuse I
can give Donna to explain why I look like crap.
I don't quite think of one before she throws open the door and nearly
breaks my nose. She takes one look at me
and steers me towards the couch. I sit
down while she gathers up my things, packs my backpack and shuts down her
computer.
"Josh let's go. I'll take you home." she says in that voice that
leaves no rooming for arguing.
I think I nod off on the car. I have almost stopped shaking as she pulls
into the parking space. I slowly follow
her up the stairs and into the apartment.
I change into some sweats and flop down on the couch without a word. Donna just lets me be while she makes herself
busy, probably by cleaning something in the kitchen.
She checks on me twice but I pretend to be asleep both times. I feel her press a hand against my forehead
checking for a fever the first time. The
second time she perches on the edge of the couch and holds my hand for a
minute. Don't really think she believes
I am asleep but she lets me think that I am fooling her.
I come to the conclusion that throwing a water balloon from 2 stories up at
a person who has been shot isn't such a good idea. Throwing it at a person who has been shot and
is still troubled by PTSD is a really bad idea.
While I am on the couch I manage to calm down from the water balloon
incident and get all worried...confused...annoyed about the thing Amy
said. The thing about me needing to be
hit over the head.
Hey, I admit, when it comes to love, I usually do need to be hit over the
head. It's true; I do tumble into a girl
sideways and hope that sooner or later she breaks up with me.
So Amy's comment leads me to a question...a big question.
Was Amy hitting me over the head cause she likes me...or...was she hitting
me over the head so I would realize what's right in front of me. Or rather, in my kitchen, 15 feet from me.
Amy and I go back many, many years.
We met in college and we've been friends off and on since then. Hence the nickname, which by the way, I'm not
crazy about. We dated a few times but
nothing ever really came of it. We run
in the same general circle, although it is obvious she hears more rumors from
that circle than I do.
I have never, ever, heard a rumor about Donna and I. Actually I find that strange in a way. Not that there are rumors but that I've never
heard any of them. I wonder if Donna's heard
them? That's not the kind of thing I can just ask her, though.
I jump at the feeling of someone touching my arm. I roll over suddenly and find Donna kneeling
on the floor next to the couch. It takes
me a minute to realize I'm in my own living room. I must have dozed off for a while.
"Josh, take it easy, it's just me.
Why don't you go to bed, you need to get a decent night's sleep."
she asks as she tentatively reaches out and brushes back my hair.
"I was just, uh, resting for a minute.
I have some stuff to get done before I go to bed."
"OK. You need anything?"
"Advil and a glass of water."
She nods her head and leaves the room. I drag myself up to a sitting
position, intent on reading over some information on Mad Cow Disease and the
oppression of the women in Qumar that is currently littering my coffee table.
Donna comes back in a minute later with Advil and water. "Rough day?" she asks as she sits
down next to me.
"Thanks, and yeah, I did have a rough day. And I appreciate the great restraint you
showed when it came to not asking me what was wrong when I came back from Amy's
office."
"Yeah, I deserve a medal for that one.
But you could have at least explained why you were wet."
"Well, I have to have some secrets, Donnatella." I say, rather
lamely.
"Josh..."
I cut her off with a finger against her lips. She gives me a sad smile and a look I've seen
all too often in the past year and a half.
The look that says 'I know something is wrong and I really wish I didn't
have to drag it out of you'."
"I'm fine, please, I don't want to talk about it."
She gives me yet another sad smile.
"Thanks for everything."
"You're welcome. But Josh...I
didn't do anything."
"Yeah, you did. You were there
for me, you dragged me out of the office and you didn't pry. I couldn't ask for anything more."
"OK. You want me to stay?"
"Nah, go home."
She studies me for another minute, trying to decide if I'm going to put my
hand through the window the minute she leaves me. She holds in her question as long as she can
before she finally spits it out.
"Josh, whatever happened tonight, was it a...were you...did
you...should I make an appointment with..."
"A PTSD episode? Yeah,
probably. Do I need to go see my shrink,
probably. Am I going to hurt myself, no,
definitely not. I swear, if I need
anything I'll call. I promise."
Donna watches with amusement as I kiss my fingers and cross my heart.
"OK. I believe you. Promise you'll get some sleep too."
"I will. I'm going to take a
shower, read for a little while and then go to bed."
Donna watches me for another minute before deciding it is ok to leave me
alone. She kisses my forehead and leaves
without looking back.
I take a hot shower to relax but it doesn't really help. Neither does reading about Mad Cow or Qumar.
So now it's getting late and I'm alone and a little jumpy. I am no closer to an answer to my question
than I was a few hours ago. I'm just a
few hours older, not any wiser and still nursing a headache. I figure Donna's still up, it's not that
late. May I should call her.
And say what?
Hey, Donna care to hit me over the head?
Or, hey Donna, let me tumble into you sideways but please don't break up
with me?
God, I think I need some sleep.
THE END
