Reflections: Bring Us This Day
Lynn Jepsen
That man should never come up for parole. I'm going to stick to that view
no matter how many times Josh talks about the Rule of Law. That's all Sam
and Toby have talked about today, and they're starting to remind me of
real lawyers. They're not you know. Real lawyers that is. I'm rambling.
I've got to stop that. Josh slips his arm around my waist as we head up
the stairs. So many people requested an opportunity to speak that the
parole board is convening in an actual courtroom.
I don't understand how this can be happening. George Miller was convicted
of killing four people. Four counts of murder and conspiracy to kill the
President, and two counts of arson, and God only knows what else, and
eighteen years later he's eligible for parole! I'm starting to understand
why Lisa keeps muttering about Judge Trenton's sentencing guidelines.
This is hell. Josh hasn't looked so sick since Sam was in the hospital,
and I'm not sure what to say. This supportive girlfriend thing isn't my
strong suit.
"AUNT DIANA!" I swear the entire street turns to look at Elle, but she's
oblivious in a way only a child can be. Sam's being dragged along behind
her, and if she doesn't slow down, she's going to drag the poor guy
face-first across the sidewalk. Josh picks her up when she reaches us,
and swings her around. Sometimes I wonder if he was serious about the
no-children-in-this-lifetime pledge. CJ and Toby are meeting with the
lawyers right now to see if they have anything substantive to add to the
proceedings, and I'm sure Lisa is with them. That, of course, doesn't
explain why Elle's here. Sam shrugs when I ask him, and says the lawyers
thought it was a good idea, and she was thrilled with missing school. I'm
not sure I buy that, but I'll let him get away with it.
The courtroom is packed with people, and that doesn't include the press
watching on closed-circuit TV in the next room. Mrs. Bartlet didn't want
to come, but when Josh suggested she stay in New Hampshire - let's just
say I'd never seen one of the famous Abby-tantrums before. It's not an
experience I want to repeat. Josh slides into the seat next to me, and
when we're settled, there's just enough room for Lisa to sit next to Sam
and CJ and Toby to squeeze in on the end. Then it occurs to me that this
guy, the London bomber, the Presidential assassin, he's never going to
get out. Sitting right here, ready to tell the world all the reasons he
should stay in prison, will be a former President, two former First
Ladies, a former Chief of Staff, and three mothers, two of whom practiced
crying in front of a mirror yesterday, just in case the parole board was
composed of bitter old Republicans.
The only thing I remember about the entire experience was Josh walking up
towards the microphone holding Elle's hand. He leaned into the microphone
then, and his voice cracked when he announced that this wasn't "his
Donnatella". He told them that his Donnatella should have been forty-six
years old, and standing next to him while they backed two Presidents
together. You know, a less secure woman might run out of the room at
this, but I'm not, less secure that is.
That moment is still catching up to me when I help Lisa pour drinks later
at the house. Elle has latched herself firmly to Sam's side, and I can't
even imagine what I'm going to say to Josh. He was just vastly more
honest with a room full of strangers than he's ever been to me. Of
course, since he's never pretended Donna wasn't important to him, I'm not
sure why that bothers me. "Diana?" Yeah, I'm coming, should I grab the
chips?
*
"Hey, Diana. Can I borrow you for a minute?" Sam rests his hand on my arm
and doesn't really give me a chance to say no. Not that I would have said
no, because eight years of saying 'yes, Mr. President' have conditioned
my responses. I find myself standing in the backyard, and following Sam
up the ladder of Elle's tree house, when I stop to ask myself if this is
the sanest thing to be doing. It's when I'm sitting in the midst of a lot
of branches, with my knees drawn up to my chest, that I realize this is
probably the only place in a ten block radius where we're guaranteed not
to be interrupted.
"I'm a little scared here, because I make it a point not to interfere
with Josh's personal life, but work with me here." Okay. Okay, sir, Sam,
just get to the point? "What's going on with you two?" What do you mean?
He fixes me with this look then, and out of habit, and fear, and nerves,
'Yes, Mr. President,' sneaks out of my mouth. Sam chuckles, and shakes
his head. "At least learn to lie better." Okay, so I deserved that. "I've
been watching you two dance around each other for how long now?"
Something like fifteen years. Why? "It's been that long?" You were still
governor. "Right. He loves you." Yeah. He loves her too, and I really
can't compete with someone who'll never get wrinkles or get stuck
defending a Republican.
"Just think about it." Sure. I'm, uh, going inside now. Last time I
checked, Toby and Lionel were double-teaming Ainsley, and I can't throw
her to the wolves after all the help she's given us this week.
The kitchen is nearly empty, but there's coffee on, and Josh is drinking
what I think is his fourth cup since lunch. That isn't decaf, Joshua. He
smirks, and he's definitely trying to make me forget that the coffee
isn't decaf. "Come on, Diana. It's been a rough day." I don't care. I
want you around for many more rough days. Put down the coffee and step
away before I wrestle it out of your hands. "Any excuse to feel me up,
right?" I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks as I grab him by the arm,
pry his fingers off the coffee cup, and drag him into the living room.
There are small groups scattered between the living and dining rooms, and
Josh and I join Lisa and CJ by the stairs. Sam wanders in from the
backyard after a few minutes, and then Toby completes the circle. Josh
arms circle around my waist, and I drop a hand on Lisa's shoulder. She
smiles at me and rests her hands on Sam's shoulders. CJ ruffles Sam's
hair and leaves her hand resting there with her free hand slipping into
Toby's. He crosses his arms, letting her hand rest against his chest, and
tries to pretend this doesn't mean anything to him, but finally he drops
a hand onto Josh's shoulder, completing the circle.
Then Elle and Joe barrel down the stairs to say goodnight, destroying any
sense of peace we might have achieved. Josh steps forward to catch them
both in a bear hug, and they make the rounds, say 'goodnight' to everyone
they know - they know more people here than I do.
When Elle hits the stairs again, Lisa calls her back. "Isn't it early for
bed?" Elle wrinkles up her nose, and tries to look innocent. "We're gonna
talk." Lisa's arms cross over her chest, and Sam chuckles. "Talk about
what?"
"Uncle Josh said there's no one any good in politics and so Joe and I are
gonna talk about our campaign." Josh tries to make his escape, mainly
because he's just been caught insulting half the people in the room, and
it's only a matter of time before someone finds out. Lisa has that look
on her face, the one halfway between amusement and frustration. "What
campaign?" Joe is trying to sneak away, but Elle snags his arm. Why am I
getting images of Sam and Josh? Then Elle pipes up. "Joe is gonna be
President, and I'm gonna be his Chief of Staff."
They take advantage of the slightly shocked moment of silence to bound
upstairs. Toby is the first to speak. He turns to CJ and shrugs, "I
suppose we should move back to the States." Sam laughs then, and Josh
snaps me in a quick hug before sneaking off. I know he's getting more
coffee, and in just a minute I'll go steal it away. For now, I just want
to stay here with these people... these people who are brilliant, and
loyal, and friends above all.
Strands of Pearls
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