Monster
Ali Cherry
We have a monster we never knew we had.
And his name is Sam.
Sam, a monster. I would never have used those words to describe him. He is my best friend, my confidant, my partner in crime. The man who takes my blame, the man who takes all our blame. He is our whipping boy.
He isn't bound to the administration. We're just now realizing it.
I'm bound through Leo. He saved me from Hoynes. He saved me from my mistakes. He has accepted me when any smart Chief of Staff would have dumped my ass. Leo is my knot. He holds me to the President as easily as I hold Donna, the woman who I saved from Dr. Freeride.
Toby was saved from the chopping block, rescued from another failure by Leo. Saved from another night with just his whiskey, by the sheer brilliance of Leo Thomas McGarry and a president who likes smart people who disagree with him. And he has been accepted, even though his arrogance has cost us dearly, even when his surly temper has made some of the bad days unendurable. He is knotted to us through our acceptance of his imperfections, our ability to look past them and see the genius behind the grumpiness.
We are knots on a rope. We hook together; we're dependent on the open-minded forgiveness of Leo and the President. Like CJ with her big mouth, and classy ways. Even though she has helped destroy parts of our message with her words, she is still here, as we all are because she is knotted to us, to Toby and to me.
Sam is a monster because he is not knotted, because he has no connection to this administration. I didn't realize that until a month ago when he stood in Leo's office and told him off.
Sam could walk away right now and not suffer.
He is a monster, and I don't trust him.
I can see it in CJ and Toby's eyes. They don't trust him either. He isn't knotted to our section of rope. Even Ainsley is more connected than Sam. She is a pariah outside of the White House; we made her one by accepting her.
I don't trust my best friend. And I think he knows it.
I think I see the pain every time we stop speaking around him. I wonder what he does late at night when he is still here working and we've gone home. Is he searching for things to take to the press, to write in a novel when all is said and done?
I hate that I think this way, but the thoughts are there. Ginger or Bonnie have started staying as late as Sam, in case he needs anything. I tried staying once, but I fell asleep before Sam finished and there are three hours unaccounted for.
I think my best friend is a spy.
I think he might be working for one of the House Oversight people. He can't be trusted because he isn't knotted to us.
I should tell Leo. I should tell Leo soon that. . .
I should tell Leo that Sam needs to be fired.
It's just not something I can put on the agenda. Fire Sam. Reasons: Loose Cannon.
Tomorrow, I'll talk to Leo tomorrow.
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It's harder today than yesterday to enter Leo's office with this task. I brought Sam in and now I have to be the one to cut him loose. The speeches are good; his work is excellent. He is amazing, but he owes nothing to this administration, to Leo or to the President. He has no reason to stay, so he must be gone.
I knock and open the door to Leo's office late in the evening. Margaret is around somewhere, not here though. I see Leo waving and I enter. I have a memo, but I need to say the words. I sit down opposite Leo's desk as he finishes his memo.
I'm nervous.
“Yeah, what do ya need, Josh?”
“I wanted to talk to you about Sam.”
“If you're thinking about the other day in the office. He apologized. He just needed to blow off some steam.”
“It's not just that, Leo. Sam isn't…he shouldn't…I think we should fire Sam.”
I can see the words forming on Leo's face, but then his eyes shift to over my shoulder. I turn to see Sam in the doorway leading to corridor. I was so nervous I hadn't shut it. And standing behind Sam were Doug, Connie and Ginger.
I look at the floor because I can't think about looking at Sam's face. I know this is bad for him, but I think it has to be done. I still do, even though I just ripped out his heart.
“Yeah, Sam?” Leo is looking expectantly over my shoulder.
“We have a new draft of the speech for you.” Sam moves quietly into the room, his footsteps are sure and confident. When I look at his face, his cheeks are white, and his lips pinched, but his blue eyes are blank. Maybe he didn't hear me. He sets the speech on Leo's desk. I look back at the stunned looks on Doug, Connie and Ginger's faces.
He heard.
Sam walks out and shuts the door to Leo's office. I turn to see Leo's face turning red before me. I know what words will explode when he opens his mouth.
“What the HELL were you thinking?” The words are fast and hot, scalding my face as Leo sends his chair slamming back.
“Just listen to me for a second, Leo —“
“That man has walked over coals for this administration. That man spent hours berating himself for doing his job while you were in surgery. That man sat on the doorstep to my apartment complex on Christmas Eve waiting to hear what happened to you. He loves you and you just—“
“He needs to go, Leo. He has no reason to stay. If we let him stay, he could walk and take everything with him. He's a boy scout. He's naïve. If we ever — if he finds out — he'll leave. Jesus, Leo, he's a liability. He has no reason to stay,” I cry out. Why isn't he listening? He should see this.
“He has every reason to stay, Josh.” The words are quiet, understated, so unlike Leo.
“I can't think of one reason.”
“I can think of three big ones.” Leo waits for me, but I don't get it. I've thought this through. There is no reason for Sam to stay.
“Honor, loyalty.” Leo leaves the words there.
I remember Sam ranting about whatever happened to loyalty. But the problem is that loyalty has left DC. It's gone from the Democratic Party and it has been proven to have deserted this administration. Loyalty is a bygone thing, and Sam should know better than most.
“And the third thing?”
“Love, Josh.” Leo shakes his head and walks out of his office, leaving me sitting in my chair.
I thought about love. I imputed it into my thinking. It doesn't save Sam, it doesn't save any of us from the pain that Sam can inflict when he leaves.
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I know that Sam is in his office with Doug and Connie, trying to write a speech that everyone agrees on. I know the door is shut and that the blinds are half-drawn. Sam can probably see the pointed looks thrown his way because I know that Ginger had to tell Bonnie, who had to tell Ed, who had to tell Larry. And I know that everyone knows now.
Donna slapped me when I got to my office, and then told me I had a meeting in five minutes. I'm still holding tight to my memo, the one I should have left on Leo's desk but didn't.
I know that Sam loves us like a family, but that could change.
He could leave the next time Toby uses the bell to call him like a dog, or the ball accidentally hits him in the head on its return bounce. He could abandon us in our time of need.
We don't need that right now. I don't think I could handle that right now.
CJ tried it and she found that she was knotted to this administration so tightly that she can't breath. She saw, she knew, she had the time to wonder, she knew there was a problem. She saw the shots.
Betaseron.
We've never let Sam get that close to the President. Toby, Leo, and I have held him back. I used to think it was unfair, now I understand the necessity of it. Sam was too loose, he could have walked away and it's taken this for me to realize it.
Leo should understand.
Maybe I should talk to Toby.
Maybe with Toby and CJ—
“What in hell were you thinking, Joshua?” CJ slams into my office and the door cracks with the impact of hitting the jamb closed. I open my mouth to explain, but her hand slashes through the air. “I don't want to hear it. You want Leo to fire Sam for no reason. Because you think he has no tie to this administration? Is this some part of your Post Traumatic Stress thing? Because that makes absolutely no sense. This is Sam we're talking about. He's your best friend, your partner in crime. The man who took the blame for a fire you both set and then went to see Karen Cahill at Ben and Sally's, a woman, I'll remind you, who has terrified him since the moment he met her.”
She sighs and shoves her bangs up with her hand, her hip cocked. “God, Josh. Do you realize the damage you did? We need Sam. We honestly need him. If he left. . . if he leaves . . . Toby would come unhinged. We'd have to deal with whatever Doug hammered out with his crayons and patriotic coloring book. He is one of the few stable things left in this administration. Everything else has gone wonky.” Her voice winds down to a soft whisper, and she looks at me with tired eyes and drops her hand from her forehead.
“We need Sam. And if you think about it, you'll realize you need Sam. We're co-dependent, Joshua. We can't exist without each other.”
“He can. He can leave right now, and we'll be the only ones who suffer. We need to learn to. . .”
“To what, Josh? We need to learn how not to depend on him? We had faith when you were shot that you would be back. That you would survive. Sam had faith in you, why can't you have faith in him?”
She throws me a hurt look and walks out my door, closing it softly behind her.
I'm not moved. I'm not swayed. Sam may be my best friend, but he is still a monster. I don't understand how they can ignore it.
Sam is a monster, isn't he?
He has to be because soon he's going to walk in and hand Leo his resignation, and he'll say that he felt unwanted, but what he really means is that he's going to get a cushy job on some network, telling the people how politics is supposed to be, and how we never played by the rules.
Any minute now, Donna is going to barge in here and tell me that Sam resigned for personal reasons.
Any minute now.
Soon.
I should look surprised when she does. I should . . . I should read this briefing memo that Sam wrote on—
I should read this other thing on political strategies.
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It's late. Sam's still in his office with Connie and Doug, and Donna left me with a hurt look to go home.
She never came. She was supposed to come and tell me Sam was resigning but she didn't tell me to spite me. Obviously Sam just wants to finish this speech before he resigns. Or maybe he's in there packing up, giving Doug the tour so that it's easier for him to move in. Giving him hints on how to deal with Toby, how to convince a Republican that it's easier to make a deal with the devil rather than taking his chances with the voters.
Sam's packing right now. And I should tell him it was nothing personal, that I still love him. He just isn't connected to us right now.
It wasn't personal.
It really wasn't.
Not really.
Toby is in the doorway with that ball in his hands. It is red and rubber. And I think, if the way his hands are wrapped around the ball are an indication, I should be ready to duck.
“I've been trying to figure out all day,” he begins quietly. Quiet is never good for Toby. “Why you would try to sabotage us.”
“I'm trying to save us. All of us.”
“You think Sam is a threat?”
“Yes.”
“The man that trips over his own feet.”
“He isn't . . . You should understand, Toby.”
Toby sighs and rubs his forehead. “I know that without Sam, Doug would be dead right now. I know that without Sam, you would be dead right now. I know that without Sam, CJ would be dead right now. He has saved us from ourselves, and when he has failed — when we have failed him -- it's because we weren't listening. He has saved us from ourselves.”
“He shouldn't be here.”
“That's a totally different thing, Josh.”
I sigh. I should just hand him the memo outlining the reasons for Sam's dismissal. I should —
“Toby?” Sam's at my door, and his face is composed. He is so incredibly strong.
“It's done?”
“Yeah.”
“I'll go look at it.”
Sam moves out of Toby's way as he leaves my office and then takes a seat.
“So?” He sits there looking like a GQ model, even though its midnight and he was here at six in the morning.
I just stare at him, trying to see the monster behind those eyes. He's right; he does have a better poker face. I can't see anything beyond those blue irises.
I've loved Sam for a long time; he has been my brother and my strength through the bad times, and I've never understood what it was that called him to me, what it was that led him from his corner office and fiancée to this cold world of subpoenas and Congressional hearings.
“Have you typed up your resignation?”
“No.” He looks at me quietly, judging me. “I'm not going to, either.”
“You should.”
“Why? What could I have possibly done to make you think I'd leave, Josh?”
“You don't have any connections to us.” I cut off his reply. “You have no reason to stay.”
“You know I'll stay, Josh. There is a voice inside of you that's telling you I'm not leaving. You just aren't listening.” Sam shakes his head. “How long ago, Josh? How many years ago was it?”
“I don't—“
“Bullshit. How many years ago? How many times are you going to ignore it and let it sneak up on you? It'll always be there, Josh. You know that.”
Sam sighs and walks towards the door. He closes it and turns back to me. “How long ago did Joanie die, Josh?”
“Thirty-one years.”
“You shouldn't try to save me, Josh. I'm just as screwed as the rest of you. Kicking me out of the clubhouse isn't going to stop the hearings. I'm the White House Deputy Communications Director, I'm a lawyer and I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah.” I think there are tears in my eyes, but then again, Sam could have brought a freshly cut onion before he came in here.
He sighs again. His lips purse and his eyes close. He stares at me sadly. “Call Stanley.”
“Yeah.”
He opens the door and turns back to me. “Call me when you're done, we'll grab a beer and watch the game together.”
I look into Sam's eyes and I see the hurt I put there.
Do monsters hurt?
Do they have hearts to rip out?
Do monsters invite you over for a beer?
“Yeah. After I call.”
“I'm sorry, Josh. I wish I could give her back to you.”
“I know.”
I watch him stroll out into the darkened bullpen.
“Sam?” I call after him. “I love you.”
“I know. I love you too, Josh.”
But the hurt is still in his eyes. He goes back to his office, leaving me alone.
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