22.
“I’m bored.”
“So you’ve said.” She doesn’t even look over at me when she replies.
“I thought we were going to work on your paper together?” I push.
“I have to finish writing it before you can help me edit it.”
“So…how long before you think you’ll be done?”
“I’ll be done faster if you stop interrupting me.” She snarls. “Why don’t you take another walk?”
“I’m not sure I’m up to the excitement of another walk around the house.” I whirl my finger around in
the air to illustrate my point. “I’m bored.”
“Take a book and go out on the deck. It’s a beautiful day outside.”
“It’s…too sunny.”
“Yesterday, there wasn’t enough sun.”
“I’m searching for a delicate balance here, Donnatella.”
“Clearly.” She huffs out another breath. “I’m going to go out on the deck and finish working on my
paper there.”
“But…”
“That’s the beauty of having a laptop. I can take it anywhere.” She stacks up her books on said laptop
and moves quickly out of the room. “And don’t bother with the phone. The long distance has been
turned off.”
Damn it.
It’s been two solid weeks here in Connecticut. Two weeks without access to the White House or
anyone in it. I have recently been allowed access to the internet which includes major newspaper
sites, but if my blood pressure ticks up at all, that privilege will be revoked I assure you.
I guess I didn’t fully appreciate the feeling of being cut off here at home; it sucks. Then there’s the
rehab which is just pain on top of boredom. I need to get out of here; desperately. Donna has been
able to split her attention between my rehab schedule and her last couple classes which is very good.
In fact, it may be the only good thing to come out of this; that and the fact that both she and my
mother are both much more relaxed here. The only thing they have to deal with here is the occasional
stringer looking for an interview. I guess that’s worth more than my desperate need for a west wing fix.
“Stop brooding, Joshua.” Mom has joined me.
“I could if I had something else to concentrate on.”
“Do a puzzle.” She suggests. This has been her solution to all my boredom issues; puzzles.
Crossword puzzles, jigsaw puzzles, 3D puzzles; you name it and she has brought it here. I’m up to my
eyeballs in puzzles.
“I was actually hoping for a little more intellectual stimulation than assembling the skyline of London.”
“It’s a very pretty picture and we’ve almost finished it.”
“YOU have almost finished it. I have watched you almost finish it.”
“It would be done right now if you’d help a little.”
“If I HELPED right now, it would be in the trash.”
“Josh…”
“Mom, I appreciate the effort, I truly do, but my brain is atrophying as we sit here. I can feel it.”
Mom lets out a huff of a breath. “What are we supposed to do Joshua? The Doctor has told us,
repeatedly, how dangerous it is for your blood pressure to go up and you’re dealing with a very
painful rehabilitation process. Can you please just try to relax for a couple more weeks? For me?”
She has me and she knows it. Resignedly, I pick up a puzzle piece and try to fit it in the skyline
somewhere. I am rewarded for my effort with a beaming smile I have no choice but to return. Suddenly
there is a loud bang and I jump, scattering pieces everywhere. Mom looks alarmed.
“Honey it’s just the porch door.” She tells me and places a hand on my arm. I nod in acknowledgment
but my hands won’t stop shaking.
“Josh can you read this over for me and tell me if it’s as garbled as I think it is?” Donna requests and
hands me some hand written notes.
“Sure…sure.” I answer and reach out for the notes, but then the women notice the shaking too.
“You okay?” Donna checks and I nod with what I hope is a reassuring smile. “Meds making you
shake?”
“Nuh-uh.”
“He was fine just a few seconds ago. We were working on the puzzle.” Mom chimes in.
“I’ll get the blood pressure cuff.” Donna decides.
“I don’t need to have my blood pressure checked.” I insist but I might as well be talking to myself.
Donna quickly returns with the offending object and reports a small uptick in my numbers. The women
in my life then exchange ‘the look’. That’s the look where they silently decide who is going to manage
me and who is going to contact the doctor.
“I’m really fine. Nobody has to cal the doctor. I’m simply frustrated at the lack of…everything here.”
You’re right.” Donna agrees.
“Really?” That was WAY too easy.
“I think you need to get out of here for awhile. Let’s take a drive and find something to occupy you
until therapy.” She holds out her hand for me to grasp and I gratefully take it. “Sarah? Will you save
my word document and power down my laptop for me?”
“Of course.” Mom leaves to do what Donna asked her to do. Donna and I walk slowly but purposefully
to the minivan Donna rented to transport me and all my medical paraphernalia around Connecticut.
She starts to open the door for me, but then thinks better of it and lets me open the door myself;
which nearly makes my shoulder sing with pain but I try to hide it.
“Was that ego saving move worth hurting your shoulder like that?” She asks. So much for hiding it.
“Yes, I believe it was.”
“Ah-kay.” She parrots me. “Where are we headed?”
I look at her suspiciously. “I can choose?”
“Well, within reason. We have to be back here for your PT appointment in two hours, but other than
that…”
I break out into a grin. “Take the first left.”
“Where are we going?”
“Donnatella. Don’t you trust me?”
“Do you really want me to answer that?”
“No, not really. Take another left at the stoplight. I can get us there.” Donna followed his directions,
offering a comment here and there about the local color they were passing. Finally, she was directed
into the parking lot of a little brick building with the words Cantina Sforza Trattoria on the side.
“I offer to take you anywhere and you choose a restaurant?”
“A very good restaurant.”
“Where the food is loaded with…”
“I beg you, Donna, do not ruin this experience with vulgar talk about fat content okay?” She takes a
deep breath, blows it out and nods.
“This will be our secret?” I press and she breaks into a grin. “What?”
“Of all the things we do together you want to keep THIS a secret?” She full out laughs now.
“I’m not cleared for anything else, Donnatella.” I grin back and take her hand to lead her into the
restaurant. I request a table in a back corner where we have a bit of privacy. “Do you trust me?”
“Isn’t my presence here proof enough?”
I LOVE this woman. I catch the attention of the waitress. “We’d like one order of Pollo Romagno and
one order of fettucine Caravelle with two waters, please.”
As the waitress leaves to put in our order, Donna leans closer. “The water is for my benefit, right?”
“I figured that ordering a bottle of wine might be pushing it.”
“You’re so smart.” She looks around this favorite haunt of mine. “Tell me the story behind this place.”
“What makes you think there’s a story?”
“Please.” Donna rolls her eyes.
“Our family always came here to celebrate special occasions; birthdays, admission to Harvard, that
kind of thing.”
“The Fullbright scholarship?”
“Exactly.”
“So what are we celebrating now?” Donna asks.
“Freedom. Just a small slice of freedom.” I lean back and breathe in the sweet smelling air of the
trattoria.
“Okay, but I promised the warden you’d be back before lights out.” She snarks. Yes, I know our house
in Westport is hardly a prison, but there are all kinds of prison.
“Donna, I know I said I’d do my rehab here, but…”
“No.” She shakes her head and waves her pointer finger in my direction. “You cannot go back on
your word now.”
“I didn’t realize how…”
“…bored you would get?” She offers.
“How much it would suck!” I exclaim. “It’s driving me crazy. You have no idea.”
“Believe me when I say that I do have some idea, but we seem to be at an impasse.” Donna shrugs.
“You agreed to stay here and take a break from the west wing while you go through rehab.”
“I’d like to renegotiate.”
“I’m sure.”
“Just say…conference calls during senior staff so I can at least stay in the loop of information. If my
blood pressure goes up or it’s causing too much stress, we can go back to the way things are
now…with me dying from boredom.” I offer.
“I think we should talk to your cardiologist first.”
“Seriously?”
“If he has ANY objections, Joshua, the deal is off.” She tells me sternly.
“I’ll take it.” I seal the deal with a quick kiss on her lips. That’s another thing I’ve been dying from lack
of; being close to Donna. At first, I was in too much pain to want to touch or be touched by anyone.
Now it seems like I crave it more than anything else. And I don’t just mean the sex, though that’s
certainly a part of it. I mean holding hands, cuddling, and holding her. Please don’t tell anyone on the
hill I said that. It would ruin my finely honed reputation as a hard ass. “Ah…food. Just smell it
Donnatella. Food of the gods.”
She laughs at my drama but does as I ask and inhales deeply. “Does it taste as wonderful as it
smells?”
“Better.” I promise and give her a bite of my food as evidence.
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“Are you busy?” Josh asks me.
I look pointedly at the three books I have open which I am perusing simultaneously in hopes of finding
some more documentation for the paper I’m working on.
“Okay. Can I interrupt you for a little bit?”
“Sure, but aren’t you supposed to be on your conference call now?” He’s been on the calls for the
last three days and so far, so good. At this point I don’t think they’re expecting much from him though;
he’s just getting back up to speed.
“Yeah…that’s kind of what I need your help with.” He looks sheepish. What’s going on here?
“What is it?” I follow him back to his ‘office’.
“I was just wondering if maybe you could sit in on the call with me…make some note cards?”
“Is your arm bothering you?”
“I’m just…it would be a big help.” He rolls his eyes. “Never mind. I’ll do it myself.” He waves me off.
“No! I’m happy to help. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” I clarify. “You’re sure it alright that I’m on
the call?”
“I sort of asked Leo, he said it was fine.” Josh lifts up a legal pad with half formed sentences and little
doodles on it. “My last attempt at taking notes didn’t work out so well.”
“Get us on the call and I’ll take care of the record keeping.” I assure him and within a couple minutes,
we’re on the phone with the President of the United States and the rest of his senior staff. At first, I’m
kept very busy taking detailed notes on mid-term candidates and policy initiatives, but then the
conversation turns more philosophical and I don’t have to write as much down. That’s when I notice it.
Josh hasn’t contributed much to the conversation in the last few minutes and now he appears to be
staring at the wall. I wave my hand in front of his face and he startles. I cover the receiver with my
hand.
“Do you need a break?” While it’s true that the ‘old Josh’ could handle marathon meetings and
conference calls, ‘recovering Josh’ gets worn out much faster. He shakes me off and tries to interject
himself into the conversation to prove he’s fine, but his effort is weak and there’s an uncomfortable
silence on the phone after his statement like nobody knows why he said it or how to respond.
Something’s wrong.
“I’m sorry, Mr. President, but Josh’s physical therapist is here early.” I decide on the spot. “We’re
going to have to get off now. Is there anything else he needs to know before we sign off?”
“I think we’ve covered most of what we need to Donna, thanks.” Leo answers. “We’ll talk to you
tomorrow Josh. Get some rest.” And with that, our connection is broken. Josh hasn’t hung up the
phone and he isn’t looking at me. I can’t decide if he’s pissed at me or not.
“Would you like me type the notes up or make note cards?” I ask tentatively.
“Whichever. Doesn’t matter.” Josh says lethargically. “You didn’t have to lie to Leo. I could have
finished the call.”
“Maybe, but my arm was starting to cramp and I was getting bored.”
“Uh-huh.” Josh finally places the phone back in the receiver. “I’m going to lie down for awhile since the
therapist ISN’T here yet.”
“Sounds good. I’ll get these notes organized for you so you can review them later.”
“Donna? Thanks.” He leans down and kisses my forehead before wandering off for his rest. I’m
almost done with the notes when I hear him screaming in pain. Sarah and I get to the living room at
the exact same moment; both scared to death at what we might find. But Josh is still lying safely on
the couch, seemingly unharmed, when another scream rips from his mouth. I’m at his side in a blink
and shake his shoulder gently.
“Josh! Josh what is it? What hurts?”
“I can’t breathe.” He gasps holding his chest but his eyes are still closed.
“I’ll call an ambulance.” Sarah informs me and runs for the phone.
“Josh! Joshua, look at me.” I beg him and finally he opens his eyes. He’s still gasping but his
breathing seems to be slowing down a little. “That’s right. Look at me and match your breathing to
mine.” We do nothing but slowly breathe together for the next minute or so until Sarah returns to us.
“They’re on their way.” She tells me with tears running down her cheeks. Josh looks over at her in
confusion.
“Who’s on…their way?” He asks.
“The EMT’s.” I answer for her.
“I’m…okay.” He tries to tell us.
“You seem to be getting better, but we’re not taking chances.” I counter. “How about some water?
Take a sip?” I offer him the glass with a straw. He takes a small sip but I think it’s more to appease me
than a desire for a drink.
Very shortly, he has a medical team taking his vitals and consulting with one of his doctors. It looks
like we’re making a trip to the hospital for some tests and a ‘better safe than sorry’ look/see, That’s
fine with me.
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Chapter 23
“…I can’t begin to diagnose…Is there a medical person there I can speak to?” Jake asks.
“No!” I admit. “If I could get one of them to talk to me, why would I need to call my brother long
distance to diagnose my fiancé over the phone?!” Okay. That had a slightly hysterical tinge to it. I
admit it. Jake, being Jake, isn’t even close to being fazed.
“Donnatella. Take a breath.” He advises. Although I’d like to point out that I was breathing before I
even got on the phone with him.
“Can you at least give me a few possible conditions for the symptoms?” I implore.
“Donna. Josh had heart bypass surgery while they repaired damage from a bullet, lung issues, and
subsequent…”
“I know what he HAD, Jake. I need to know what he has NOW. What the hell did we send you to
medical school for if you can’t answer the simplest…”
“WHO sent me to medical school?” Jake demands angrily. I may have gone a little too far with that
one.
“Donna, honey, hang up the phone.” Sarah instructs me.
“I’m trying to get information from my brother, the brilliant doctor, about Josh.” I tell her.
“Yes, but maybe it would be best to get that information directly from Josh’s doctor instead of asking
your brother to use his ESP abilities to clue in on what’s going on here.” Sarah points to the ER
doorway where it appears a couple medical professionals are waiting to speak to us.
“Bye, Jake. Love you.” I hang up on my sputtering brother and double time it with Sarah to speak to
Josh’s doctors.
“Dr. McIntosh, this is my son’s fiancée, Donna Moss.” Sarah introduces us.
“How is he? Can we see him?” I ask.
“His vitals have stabilized but we’d like to keep him here for observation overnight.” The Doctor tells
us. “Has he had any other episodes like this since his injury in Washington?”
“No.” I shake my head quickly. “He’s been…struggling a bit with his rehab; tired and bored, but
nothing like earlier.” I turn to Sarah for confirmation.
“Other than tiring quickly, which we were assured is normal for someone who has been through all
that my son has, he’s been his normal self.” She fills in. “His doctors in DC would be happy to talk to
you if that would be helpful…” She digs in her purse looking for her pocket address/phone book.
“We’ve spoken to them already.” Doctor McIntosh tells us. “It seems like everything has been on track
with his recovery; medically speaking.”
“I’m sorry. What does that mean, ‘medically speaking’?” I jump on the change in the Doctor’s tone.
“Your fiancé has undergone some very serious trauma, Ms. Moss. It’s not unusual for the victim of a
violent crime to have some emotional trauma that sometimes manifests itself in physical symptoms.”
“Emotional trauma?” What the hell is this man talking about?
“This is Dr. Amanda Stone. She’s done an internship in traumatology. With your permission, she
could begin an assessment of Mr. Lyman.”
“An internship?” I ask skeptically. “What is your specialty, Dr. Stone?”
“Please understand, Ms. Moss, we don’t have staff here that specialize in trauma treatment.” Dr.
McIntosh explains.
“I understand. Your specialty, Dr. Stone?” I ask again.
“Reconstructive surgery.” She admits.
“I really appreciate your willingness to help us, Dr. Stone, but I think if Josh needs someone who
specializes in trauma therapy then we should get him someone who actually specializes in trauma
therapy. Like, perhaps, the person Dr. Stone interned with.”
“Dr. Keyworth is the best there is, but he’s based in California and he’s in very high demand. The
chances of getting so much as a phone consultation with him would be...” I turn away from them as I
call the White House.
“Margaret? It’s Donna…Well, we’re in a bit of a spot to be honest and I need some help. I know he’s
very busy but could I speak to Leo…? Oh, thanks so much, Margaret, I’ll be happy to hold.” I smile
reassuringly at Sarah.
“What is she doing?” Dr. McIntosh asks Sarah.
“Oh, I think she’s getting the President of the United States on the phone to arrange an appointment
for Josh with this Dr. Keyworth person.” Sarah replies. “Could we please see my son now?”
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I just want to go home. And by home, let me be perfectly clear, I mean my apartment in DC. I’m sick to
death of Connecticut. These quacks have no idea what they’re talking about. They kept me overnight
for ‘observation’ which is Latin for ‘charge these dopes a zillion dollars a night for nothing’. Now, when
I’m supposed to be released they’re delaying me so one more doctor can poke an prod me before
discovering that there is NOTHING wrong with me.
“Why don’t you read for a while?” Mom suggests.
“I can’t concentrate with all the beeping going on in here.” I grouse.
“I’m sure they can turn the sound down. Let me ask someone…” Mom gets up and scurries from the
room on her mission to reduce the noise from the myriad machines I’m currently hooked up to. I’d
stop her but the truth is I’m happy to get her out of the room for a few minutes. Ever since we arrived,
by ambulance I might add, she and Donna keep looking at me like they’re waiting for my head to pop
off.
“I just want to go home.” I tell Donna again. She looks very conflicted. See, the thing you have to
know about Donna is that more than anything else, she wants the people she loves to be happy. Now
she knows that I’m very unhappy in the hospital, but she’s also very worried about my ‘condition’ as
she put it. She really wants to take me home, but she’s concerned that the doctors have missed
something that could result in something terrible happening to me. Maybe she just needs a little push.
“Look, I’m sure I just overdid things. You were right; the conference calls were simply too much while I’
m trying to recover. Let’s go home and I’ll tell Leo I can’t do them for a while.” I take her hand in mine
and give her my best conciliatory look. Suddenly, her eyes narrow on mine.
“What are you trying to hide, Joshua?”
“Nothing! I just admitted you were right and I was wrong, that’s all.”
“Exactly. You’d never have done that if you weren’t trying to hide something from the doctors here.”
“For God’s sake.” I moan. “I’ve seen every doctor in the building. Now you’ve sent out for another.
Can I please just. Go. Home?” I exhale loudly.
“As soon as Dr. Keyworth clears you. “ She replies primly and takes a chair near my bed and opens
the bridal magazine she’s been perusing to pass the time while we wait for the noted Dr. Keyworth.
“Thank you so much for coming, Dr. Keyworth. This is my son Joshua.” Mom brings the man himself in
to meet me as if on cue.
“Hello. I’m Stanley Keyworth.” He introduces himself and I give him a nod. “And you must be Donna
Moss.”
“Yes, we spoke on the phone. Thank you SO much for coming all this way.” She effuses.
“I really didn’t have much choice in the matter.” He rolls his eyes. “If you two will excuse us, I’d like to
speak to Josh alone.” The women clear out in record time. I need to learn that trick.
“I’m sorry my fiancée asked you to come here, Doctor. I’m really fine.” I tell him. “I hope the trip over
didn’t put you out much.”
“Just a red eye from California at the request of the President of the United States…just my normal,
average Tuesday really.” He smiles and sits in the chair Donna has just vacated.
“California? The President? DONNA!” I shout the last bit and the exertion makes me pant a little but
my fiancé pretends not to hear me. Oh, I’m sure she’s standing right outside that door. “Why would
they have you come all the way over from California? I thought you must be another specialist from
GW.”
“Ah, no.” Stanley makes a show of adjusting his tie. “Have you ever heard of ATVA?”
“Dr. Keyworth, I work for the Federal Government. Can you possibly imagine how many acronyms
cross my desk each day?”
“The American Trauma Victims association.” He tells me point blank and watches me for my reaction.
Now, there are any number of people who will tell you I have a terrible poker face; that’s fine. It
actually helps me in some cases that people believe it. Then they underestimate me and that’s a
valuable advantage in politics. I’ve been in professional politics for years and there isn’t one person,
even the ones who hate my guts, who won’t admit (anonymously anyway) that I’m damn good at it. I
use every tool at my disposal to school my features into a neutral expression and keep my heart
rate/breathing rate slow and even. Trauma victims? What the hell?
“I’m a little confused, Dr. Keyworth.”
“Call me Stanley.” He smiles. Right.
“Are there certain physiological complications for people who’ve experienced trauma? I was admitted
for medical complications.”
“There are all kinds of complications for people who’ve experienced trauma. Leo McGarry told me
that neither you, nor any of the other victims at Rosslyn have had any post-traumatic counseling. Is
that right?” I flinch at the word victim. Yes, I know it’s technically correct, but I don’t feel like a victim
and I don’t like being referred to as a victim. Stanley Keyworth takes my silence as tacit agreement.
“Then I think it’s time for us to have a talk.”
“DONNA!” I shout again and keep my eyes fixed on the door as Stanley begins to ask me questions,
but it doesn’t open.
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“DONNA!” I hear him shout my name again and move toward the door, but Sarah takes my arm and
leads me quickly in the other direction.
“I think this would be the perfect time to take a walk outside and get some air, don’t you?” I give one
more glance toward the door to Josh’s room before allowing Sarah to lead me away. For now, Josh is
on his own.