Author's Note: Okay, hey all, I'm back. After a long spate of massive amounts of schoolwork - who'da thunk senior year would be so crazy? - I finally had a moment to sit down and write out one of my many ideas. This one is just a light story, that feels wistful and sorta melancholic (I blame the beautiful Fall weather outside my window and the music I was listening to for this--) but I like it, so I hope you will. I wrote this after reading back over some of my favorite stories - which I've been making an attempt to finally review so return the favor please ;) -and also because I'm stumped on my big, dramatic story that I'm working on. Okay, no more rambling, I promise.
Disclaimer: Let me just put it this way - would I, a starvingly poor college student, who owes the federal government about 18,000 large ones, be so gosh-darn poor if I owned these characters or this show? Case rested. Where is Josh's change when I need it to invest?
Dedication: This story is partially dedicated to the season of Autumn, and also partially dedicated to Swift Quill, whoafterleavingreview-messages back and forth, really helped kick start me to jump on this.
Please Review - seriously, nothing brightens the old girl's day quite like those review notices - or chocolate - or the notices for updates - or mocha coffee - or hearing my man sing --- okay, I'll just leave it at, please review :)
Leaves and Notes
Josh sat in his desk chair, sun on his back belying the chilled wind of Autumn outside, brightly colored leaves of orange, red, brown, yellow, and green floating and swirling past his window, his laptop in front of him, and he was tapping one fingertip at a time against the fading lettered keys. He had to finish what he was doing – it was vastly important. He was going to take his time with this, even if it meant tapping one fingertip at a time against the keys, slowly but surely blipping out the black letters on his white new document sheet.
Josh was still in his chair half an hour later - back to the sun, to the window, to the brilliant leaves, to the world. His back to everything until he figured this work out and got it just right. "DONNA!" Josh scrolled up and hit the print button, grabbing the still warm paper from the printer tray, practically ripping the blank bottom half out of the ink head, and rushed out of his office to stop next to Donna's desk. "Donna."
"Josh." Donna kept rifled through the various files in front of her, highlighter in hand and pen in mouth, and never looked up.
"Donna." Josh shuffled from one foot to the other. He coughed and fidgeted. "Donna."
Donna sighed and lifted her eyes to him. He looked slightly nervous or very sick to his stomach, she couldn't really tell which. Donna smiled cautiously at him. She herself felt kind of sick to her stomach today – it was just too beautiful an October day to be inside working on Congressional drafts and teachers' initiatives and memos and notices and all the other normally exciting things she took part in on a daily basis. At least not without a break. At least not without a chance to experience the smell of the crisp Fall air, and the feel of her new coat cinched around her waist, and her favorite boots crunching over the leaf-strewn sidewalks of the Capital City. Donna sighed and smiled bleakly at him again, taking her pen out of her mouth, quite certain that he was going to hand her more work.
"Here." Josh held out his slightly crumpled piece of paper to her. Donna took it from him, eyeing him up in that way of hers that he knew all too well. She glanced from him to the paper and back to him. "Could you read over that and," cough "proofread it, you know, or," cough, clearing his throat, deep breath, "well, read over it and point out any mistakes to me." Josh stayed next to her for just a minute longer. He liked standing next to her. Donna glanced at the paper again.
"Josh, this is a printed copy of an e-mail to your mother." Donna looked up at him, and he looked back, waiting for the rest of her statement to come. When it didn't, he coughed again and sighed, "I know."
Donna turned her head back to the paper in her hands. She was definitely sure that he had lost it now; in reality, there were times when she was unsure if he ever had it. She looked up at him again, just in time to see him cock his head at her and smile, that sweet boyish smile that he thought got him all the girls. He could definitely get a certain girl with that smile. She was convinced then as ever that, oh yes, he had it. She sighed. "Are you sure that you want me to proofread your personal e-mail to your mother?" She wasn't sure what it was, exactly, that he was up to.
"Donna, please. You probably talk to her more than I do. No, not probably, I'm sure you talk to my mother more than me. Just read it, write down any comments or circle any things that you find wrong – you know, proofread it, and then drop it off back in my office." Josh turned around and headed back for his desk and his laptop and his work. Only this time, he didn't need to tap so slowly. Donna laid the paper down on her desk and picked up her pen. She sighed, not quite sure this was the break from work she had been hoping for.
Hey Mom-
Today is one of those days that you used to try and make me enjoy when I was a kid. Back then I never took the time to enjoy them; I was t.oo annoyed that you had interrupted my memorization of all the voting districts in the state. Come to think of it, I don't take the time to enjoy these days now – too busy dealing with the people those voting districts elected.
This pair of shoes is much less slidey than the last ones. I'd love to thank you in person for them, but I don't know when I'll see you next. I'm always here, day and night, so much work to do – and thankfully Donna usual"ly stays here late with me to try and get it all done. Donna says "Hi-" Mom. She got that package you sent her and she told me to make sure that I thanked you for her. Even though I'm sure she already thanked you herself.
I'm trying hard to stay focused and stay on topic. I can't afford to get distracted, but I just needed to write you a short note. I promise I'll make it longer next time, and I promise I'll call more often Please take care of yourself, and I'll come to visit as soon as the work clears enough. I love you, Mom,
Josh
Donna tucked her hair behind her ear, and sighed. He really could be very sweet sometimes. Donna loved that Mrs. Lyman sent Josh shoes and other things that she felt he wouldn't take the necessary care to get for himself. She skimmed her eyes back up over the words and stopped to cross out the period that was inserted improperly between the O's in too. She let her eyes drift down the page and circled the word "slidey" and scribbled a comment in the margins. She crossed out the mistaken quotation marks in the middle of the L's in usually. She added punctuation to the sentence ending with "often". Donna looked back over the e-mail and stopped when she got to: Donna says "Hi-" Mom. She pulled her pen from between her lips and circled the sentence and rewrote it in the margin to read: Donna says "Hi", Mom in her distinctive penmanship. Donna smiled at the thought that he always included that sentence in some form in every email and call and note he sent his mother. With one last, brief skim of the contents, Donna got up and headed for Josh's office.
She knocked and walked in at the same time, his door slightly ajar. Josh didn't look up from the manila envelope open on his desk, but he knew she was there. He waved her forward, eyes still boring into the words of the report.
"I finished proofreading. Here's your e-mail back." Donna stepped up and laid the paper next to his laptop on his desk, just above the open file. Donna stood there, waiting a minute to see what he was going to do, whether he was going to do anything, and when Josh just kept reading, she turned to leave. At his office door, she turned back, "I going to head to lunch now. It'll be a short one today – we have too much work – but I'm caught up to where I need to be. Do you want anything?" Josh looked up at her, hand moving forward to pick up the email from his desk, and scrubbed his other hand through his hair.
"Um, no thanks. I'm okay." Donna started to turn to leave. "But Donna—" Head over shoulder, she looked back again. "Thanks for this," Josh said, as he held the e-mail in his hand. Donna just smiled and went on her way, and Josh placed the revised copy of the crinkled email in front of him.
Josh grabbed his pen and scanned through her comments and corrections. "Slidey" was so a word. He marked some things down, and overswept some of her distinctive handwriting with his own scrawl. He finally placed his pen down and sat back, looking at the note to his mother, with its lines and crossing-outs and corrections and sighed. The sun was still warm and the wind still coolly wafting the vibrantly shaded leaves about, and the West Wing buzzed outside his office door, and the world still whorled outside his windows, and the universe still exploded and expanded at its ever-multiplying pace, but just then, just there in his office, in his chair, Josh Lyman had a moment to sit back and think. And he took every advantage of that minute – because that's all that it would be. At 0:61 seconds, Josh stood and took the doubly revised paper along with him to Donna's desk. He put it on top of her work there, and scribbled a note before going back to his office and grabbing his suit coat and some files and heading to a meeting on the Hill.
Donna came back from her short lunch break and hung her sweater on the back of her chair. She grabbed a couple of files and binders and papers off nearby desks and out of adjacent shelves and cabinets, and sat down, ready to tackle her work despite her much preferable wish to be outside enjoying the fine afternoon. She caught sight of Josh's note and the re-revised e-mail paper within seconds of sitting down. Donna, look it over again. Tell me what you think. Donna quickly read through Josh's scribbles, which really didn't amount to much -he had pretty much left her corrections as they were -until she got to the middle of the page. She cocked her head to the side, and peered at the paper as if the words had suddenly just appeared to her, as if she had never seen them before. Her corrected sentence was crossed out, and in his unmistakable hand, Josh had written the words:
Donna says, "Hi Mom". ?
Donna paused for another moment, not sure what he meant with his correction. He had included the word Mom into the quotation marks. That made it seem like the sentence read that Donna herself was saying hello to Mrs. Lyman by calling her "Mom". Mom. As if his mother were her own. Donna pulled a couple files on top of the e-mail, still too unsure of her own eyesight to keep staring at it, and started to work. But her mind wasn't up to speed with her hands just yet.
Josh came back from his meeting exhausted and drained; really, kicking Republican ass could take it out of a person. He entered his office, shrugged out of his suit coat, and sat in his trusty old chair. His chair in the warm sun, out of the chilled wind and scratchy leaves, and sighed. His head was in his hands when Donna came in, this time without knocking. She didn't need to knock for Josh to feel her presence. He looked up at her, seeing that she held the paper in her hands. Josh looked at her tentatively, and Donna stared back questioningly. Then Donna took a step forward.
"Here." She reached out the e-mail to him. He stood and came around his desk, taking the paper from her but not looking at it. He just kept watching her face. Donna sighed, and then she opened her mouth, closed it, and sighed again. Josh leaned back on the edge of his desk, now eye-level with her. "I read what you wrote. I'm not sure you have a basic knowledge of elementary grammar."
Josh looked at her. "I know what I wrote. I meant what it said." She looked up at him, meeting his eyes, looking for signs that he was serious. He was serious. Serious as they come.
"You want me to call her Mom?" Donna eyed him skeptically. Josh put the paper on the desk behind him. He eyed her back.
"Isn't that what females call their mothers-in-law?" Josh watched her eyes bug slightly, but really, she took it all in stride. "I mean, only if they want to."
Donna looked down at his hands, sighing, before allowing her eyes to travel up his arms and torso and neck and chin and nose until at last she rested her eyes on his. She nodded almost imperceptibly. "I'd love to," she breathed. Donna swayed backward slightly at the pure emotion of her statement. This time Josh took a step forward and pulled her to him, leaning back against his desk edge again. "And I would love for you to," Josh said in his throaty, only-used-when-talking-to-Donna-and-trying-to-convey-feelings voice. And the boyish grin appeared - the one with the dimples that she loved. He knew he had gotten the girl and she knew that she was got.
And the sun beat warm through the panes of glass, pretending as if the nippy Autumn air was still laden with Summer heat, and not crisp and clean and fresh as it was. And the leaves were tossed about, and the West Wing buzzed, and the world forged ahead with its busy schedule, and the universe continued to increase exponentially. But between that glass and the wood of the door, there was a quiet moment that was a long time coming, andwasn't going to be rushed now that it was here. The paper catalyst sat on top of the desk, unheeded and forgotten for the moment, as the writer and proofreader were tending to other matters. And they owed it all to one set of quotation marks.